The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2) (12 page)

S
amuel Werrett
, Master of the Norwich Guild of Dyers, was a small man. Yet his meagre stature in no way reflected his importance in the affairs of the city. The Norwich Dyers and Hot Pressers were essential to the success of the worsted trade. The richness of the colours they could produce, coupled with the sheen or moiré patterns made by hot pressing, gave Norwich stuffs one of their main attractions to buyers. Other woollens were fulled and felted, giving a thick, somewhat heavy cloth. Norwich men made worsteds from mixed yarns, with the pattern of weaving still visible. And where some cloths were woven first, then dyed a single colour, each yarn used in Norwich weaving was dyed before the weaver set it on the loom. Thus Norwich stuffs abounded in stripes, flowered patterns, brocades and damasks. The dyers also produced many dark colours, hard to achieve elsewhere. The rich, lustrous black of Norwich bombazines, for example, made them nearly essential for mourning wear amongst the better classes.

After affable greetings, Master Werrett came straight to the point. ‘I want to buy this book, Mr. Foxe. Now, I could try to play tricks with you, pretending I have no interest to make you lower the price. I will not. Halloran here tells me you are an honest man whom I can trust to deal fairly.’

‘I believe I am, Master Werrett. It is important to me to have customers who will recommend me to others. That is worth more than to make a few extra guineas, while earning a dark reputation.’

‘So I have heard. Now, let me tell you what you have here and why I will pay a fair price for them. The book itself, as you no doubt guessed, seems of little value. I do not know. I have no interest in alchemy. It is the annotations which I will pay for.’

‘I have come to the same conclusion as you, Master Werrett. Books on alchemy are seldom valuable today. Yet your interest in the annotations intrigues me. Annotations in a book generally reduce its worth, unless they record the thoughts of some famous person. I will be honest with you, sir, as I hope you will be with me. On the face of it, this book, from an incomplete set, is worth barely four or five shillings. Maybe less.’

‘I appreciate your openness, Mr. Foxe. Now, let me explain why these particular annotations may be of much greater worth.’

It was as Foxe had by now suspected. Master Werrett explained that the receipts written by hand into the book were for making various colours of dyestuffs. Some of them must be more than a hundred years old, handed down within families of master dyers. Such men defended the secrets of their trade with notable fierceness. That might be why these had been concealed by writing them on free pages and spaces in a printed book. Few dye receipts ever became available outside the original family. Indeed, it was the near-invariable custom for any written records of dyestuffs to be destroyed, if there was no son to inherit them.

‘From the languages used,’ Master Werrett said, ‘these must relate to a Huguenot family. The family lived at first in some place where they spoke French. Then they moved – perhaps on marriage – to Flanders or the Spanish Netherlands, and finally to England. The family's dye receipts were written down in this book and passed from generation to generation. At last, the family changed their business so the book was no longer valuable to them. I am surprised it was not burned, but there you are. Did you obtain it from someone associated with the cloth trade?’

‘Not at all, Master. I am puzzled how it might have come into the hands of the person who has now asked me to handle a discrete sale of certain volumes. Indeed, I suspect he has no idea he owns it, nor the other that goes with it …’

‘There is another volume, annotated like this one?’ Master Werrett’s excitement was plain.

‘Indeed so. I have both. Since I did not know what they were or might be worth, I left one with Alderman Halloran to seek his counsel.’

‘Both are for sale?’

‘Perhaps. The owner has given me a free hand to choose books to sell for him. I have promised to select the smallest number that will provide him with the sum he requires.’

‘Name your price, sir!’

‘It is not quite so easy, Master Werrett. You have trusted me and I will not betray your trust by raising my price to some giddy level, simply because I sense your eagerness.’

‘I am eager, Mr. Foxe. The reason is simple. I judge these receipts to be concerned with the dying of silks and to contain shades we have not known exactly how to reproduce. Any dyer would be eager to lay his hands on them. Used well, they might bring him great reward. He would also want to be sure that they should not fall into the hands of a competitor. There, now you know all.’

‘Thank you, sir. But I still lack one piece of essential knowledge. You say that they might bring commercial rewards. How great? The worth of the receipt must depend in large part on the value of what might be made from it.’

‘I see you are indeed a man of business, Mr. Foxe. Now, I cannot give you a plain answer. I have had little time to peruse these receipts or try any out. You have also told me there is a second book. Does it contain a similar range of shades and types of dyes? Are more or fewer already known to us?’

‘Yes, I see the problem. Well, let us help one another. You have trusted me by helping me understand the true worth of what I have here. I will trust you by sending the second book to your house. Then I will allow you time to examine both and estimate what they may be worth to you and your business, before making an offer. I will let you tell me a fair price, sir, and will sell them to you for that amount.’

‘My good sir, you do me a great honour! Be assured I will not betray you. But send me the other book and allow me a week to consider what they contain and I will set as fair a price as I can – aye, and pay it willingly.’

‘
Y
ou have made a friend there
, Foxe,’ the alderman said after Master Werrett had left. ‘I have known Werrett for many years. He is both honest and fair in his dealings. Indeed, I imagine he will be so eager to prove that he has not cheated you that the price he sets will be a high one.’

‘So I judged, Alderman. I must be fair to my client as well. He too is trusting me. Now, with your permission, I will take my leave. I have much to think about.’

‘You haven’t got hold of some books from a family in the cloth trade, have you Foxe? Some large clan with past interests in dyestuffs as well as yarn or pressing? Huguenots, Werrett guessed. That would make sense, especially since he thought the dyes were for silk. A family from Smithfield originally?’

‘It is no good, Alderman. I will not let slip anything about my client in this matter, however hard you try to tempt me. Be content that I believe I will have some books to offer you in a few days that I am sure you will like. Now, good day to you, sir. Thank you for your help in this matter. I will not forget, though you know me better than to believe my gratitude will be reflected in the prices I ask. Still, I may just bring one or two books to you first, rather than offer them to others I think might be willing to pay more.’

‘Foxe …’ But the alderman’s guest was gone.

Foxe did not go home when he left the alderman’s house. Instead, he turned east a little and sought out the premises where his friend, Nathan Hubbard, did business as a lawyer. He would now be in his office, though he might have someone else with him already. If so, Foxe would arrange a convenient time to call later. He needed a piece of information a lawyer would be best placed to give. But only one he could trust to stay silent afterwards.

Once again, luck was with him and Mr. Hubbard agreed to speak with him right away.

‘What has brought you to my office, Foxe? I warrant you need some information! I have never known you to make a social call on anyone, without some hidden motive in your mind.’

‘Good morning, Hubbard. You are correct, of course. I do need information. But I also need your promise to say nothing to anyone about what I must ask. Secrecy is vital in this matter.’

‘When was it not, with you? And when have I ever blabbed?’

‘True enough, my friend. I do not doubt you, or I would not be here, but I must say it just the same. I’m sure you will have wit enough to work out the matter that engages my attention at present. It is coming to a head and even the smallest slip may yet ruin all.’

‘How do you get involved in such things, Foxe? You are – or claim to be, for none knows with you – a simple bookseller.’

‘I am indeed a bookseller, Hubbard, as you know very well. As for simple – no, I never claimed that.’

‘Just as well, or you would be foresworn twenty times over and more. Now, I am a busy man today, so come to the point.’

‘Suppose you were party to a conspiracy to bring someone’s business to ruin, then step in and secure it for yourself at no cost. What documents would you need to have had forged?’

Mr. Hubbard sat back in his chair, his mouth open and an expression of complete shock on his face.

‘What…? Forged…? I would never…! This trumps all, Foxe. Do you take me for a criminal?’

‘Not at all, friend. Just a most careful and experienced lawyer. Imagine if you had a client who had just died and whose business seemed likely to be falling into bankruptcy. Many creditors are waiting to place a claim on the estate – yourself included. Then a person comes along and says that the whole stock and business is his, sold to him before the man died.’

‘Bonneviot! I should have known you must be meddling in those murky waters! Is that the way of it then?’

‘I said you would be clever enough, did I not?’

‘Right! I see how to answer you now. I need not concern myself that you have somehow either decided to become even more of a rogue yourself or make me out to be one. Well…in the first place, is this supposed buyer a master weaver of this city?’

‘Let us say that he is not.’

‘Then his scheme is over before it is begun. Let him have a mountain of documents to prove his ownership of Bonneviot’s business and it will be of no use to him. The Company of Weavers would never allow anyone not possessing the freedom of this city to do business here. His purchase, even if it were fair and legal otherwise, would be worthless.’

‘Hmm…perhaps I am on the wrong track after all. Is there nothing that might be of use to him in claiming to own such a business?’

‘Well, let me think. Not if he wants to carry it on here. Nor would it be possible to do so elsewhere, unless he has the freedom of another place like Bradford, or Halifax, or Paisley. He could not even sell any stocks of finished cloths in this city…’

Foxe sat upright at that. ‘And outside? Could he sell the stocks outside?’

‘I imagine he could. If he could prove he owned them, he could sell them just as any mercer or intermediary might do.’

‘Overseas? London?’

‘Most certainly. Nearly all the trade in Norwich stuffs passes through the hands of London intermediaries.’

‘So he would not need to lay claim to the business, just the stocks of unsold cloth.’

‘That’s right. Though few master weavers hold large stocks in their warehouses. A stock of materials is already going out of fashion and is worth nothing until it is sold.’

‘But if this man believed his prey did hold large stocks, and those of recent manufacture?’

‘Then, if he obtained them by fraud rather than purchase, he would stand to make a fortune.’

‘And what legal documents would he need to prove his ownership?’

‘Nothing but a proper bill of sale, signed and sealed before Bonneviot’s death, of course.’

‘That is the answer! I knew I could rely on you, Hubbard.’

‘Even were such a document genuine, he might expect every lawyer working for the creditors to subject it to most careful scrutiny. It would deprive their clients of most, if not all, of the funds that might otherwise settle their debts. If it were to be a forgery, it had better be a convincing one.’

‘Indeed it would. And I imagine our man knew that. If I am right, he went to see the best forger in the city. One whose documents already reside in many a lawyer’s strongbox – even yours, I dare say.’

‘Do not say so, please, not even in jest! Every lawyer lives in fear of encouraging a client to rely on documentation produced to support some claim, only to find that it is a forgery. Who is that forger? If you know his name, let him be brought to justice at once, I say!’

‘Calm down, Hubbard. I assure you that, if all goes as I plan, the man will not be a trouble to any of your profession in this city in the future. As for the past, who can say?’

‘May God guide your hand then! Now, I beseech you, give me no more shocks of that kind. There is only so much a man can take on a Monday.’

‘Fear not! Only keep silent and I will rid you of this rascal – and, if I can, the man who hired him. Now I must fly, for there is much to do in a short time and all depends on it. Be of good courage, Hubbard, and stay silent, I beseech you. Then all may yet be well.’

‘
I
don’t know
, Foxe. Sure you aren’t making things worse?’ Evening had come at last. Brock and Foxe had first taken supper together. Now they sat in comfortable chairs in Foxe’s study. Naturally, they were talking over the matter of Bonneviot.

Brock looked at his friend and shook his head. ‘Run through this business about the books again for me.’

‘I’m almost as confused as you are, Brock. Let’s start with the facts. The sixth earl, the current one’s grandfather, bought various books from Jerome Bonneviot, Daniel’s father. Jerome must have been the book collector. He sold books from time to time in the way all collectors do – to make room and raise cash for more.’

‘But I thought Jerome Bonneviot was a Calvinist. Now you say ‘e collected books by alchemists, freethinkers and heretics.’

‘The one doesn’t necessarily rule out the other, Brock. We know he was religious in his old age and just assumed that was the typical Huguenot Calvinism. Perhaps it was not. Perhaps he allowed people to believe he was a Calvinist as a way of deflecting too great an interest in his true inclinations.’

‘Perhaps if I goes outside they’ll be pigs flyin’ around the cathedral steeple!’

‘Only if you drink much more than you have so far, Brock. Be serious! Jerome Bonneviot sold a small number of books of that kind to the sixth earl. That doesn’t make him some kind of wild heretic himself, any more than it makes one of the earl. He may have been curious. He may have believed in knowing your enemy.’

‘Then Daniel sold the rest of his father’s books to Pentelow Hall, you said.’

‘Yes. Well, most of them, but over time as he needed money. He sold a few to the sixth earl – who was by then an old man – and more to the seventh. He also sold books in groups, sometimes of many volumes. My guess is that he had little or no interest in his father’s collection. To him, they were a convenient source of cash whenever he needed it. I imagine the sales helped him extend his business or avoid taking on debt to do so.’

‘And these two books Master Werrett is so mad about?’

‘Daniel sold them to the seventh earl about two years ago, as part of a large group of books on alchemy. It looks as if Daniel didn’t recognise them for what they were. Maybe he didn’t even open them first. The seventh earl simply found them amongst the group.’

‘Did the earl know what ‘e had bought?’

‘I doubt it. I imagine he found two books forming an incomplete set. That’s what happens when you buy a large number of books at one time. You always run the risk of getting a few you don’t want. So he tucked them away on that top shelf out of sight until he could decide what to do with them.’

‘So … I’ve been patient, Foxe, but I can’t see why you think all this ‘as anything to do with Daniel Bonneviot’s murder.’

‘Suppose Daniel did have the third volume. Suppose he even had other notebooks of dyers’ receipts and secrets. Master Werrett thought the book I showed him contained notes made by a Huguenot family … a family like the Bonneviots. The Bonneviots were weavers – at least in recent years – but might they have had relatives who were dyers; or been dyers themselves, sometime in the past. According to Master Werrett, some of these receipts must be more than a hundred years old. Perhaps Daniel Bonneviot recognised the other receipts he has for what they are. He may have missed these, because they were written in books he never opened. Now, we know of late he needed money badly. What better than to sell whatever other receipts he has for something closer to their real value. Besides, the seventh earl was dead. The eighth has no interest in buying books, I assure you.’

‘And …’

‘Say Bonneviot tries to sell his other dyers’ receipts – or some of them – to someone else … say Hinman. Why not? But Hinman decides to get them free, as well as the cloth. He calls Bonneviot to a meeting, pays McSwiggan to slit his throat and takes the notebooks.’

‘There’s a terrible lot of supposes, guesses and imaginings in that. In the end, it still comes down to McSwiggan bein’ the killer and Hinman the one who paid ‘im. Gets us no further, if you asks me.’

Foxe looked miserable. ‘When you put it like that …’

‘Unless, of course, there were two plots. In the middle of Hinman tryin’ to get the cloth, Bonneviot tries to sell ‘is books to someone else and gets murdered as a result. That makes Hinman a cheat, but no murderer.’

‘My head aches! I was so sure I had it right. Now I may have been right and wrong at the same time.’

Foxe put his head in his hands in such a comical expression of despair that Brock had to laugh. ‘Serves you right,’ he said. ‘Keep things simple, I says. Anyhow, I’m for my bed. Thank you kindly for supper, Foxe. You’ll puzzle it out. You always do.’

F
oxe had
to admire young Charlie Dillon. The boy had sensed some important matter was afoot and there could be a good number of errands as a result. According to Alfred, he had been hanging around close to Foxe’s house for most of the day. Now his patience and persistence were about to pay off.

The day had begun with Foxe’s usual trip to the coffee house, followed by a walk around the Market Place. But as soon as Foxe arrived home, he told Alfred to dispatch Charlie to find Brock and summon him to the house as quickly as possible. It was important that they planned the next stages of this affair with the greatest care. Timing would be crucial. And with so much to be done in the space of a day at most, Foxe would need Brock’s help.

When Brock arrived, Foxe took him into the parlour and called for a jug of punch to be brought. Then, while he served Brock with the drink, he ran through again what they had learned so far. When he finished, Brock grunted his approval and waited for what would come next.

‘There are, as I judge things, only three people involved in this conspiracy,’ Foxe said. ‘McSwiggan carried out the murder. The forger, Joshua Underhill, produced the necessary document. Mr. James Hinman is the mastermind behind it all.’

’No extra person buying receipts for dyestuffs?’

‘No … at least, I don’t think so. If there is, we’ll find out when we question McSwiggan. Until then, I’m following your advice to keep things simple.’ Brock grunted as before, so Foxe continued. ‘Hinman’s plan is to use his forgery to claim ownership of Bonneviot’s large stocks of finished cloth. Thus he will pay nothing and sell them at a huge profit. At the beginning, he may have envisaged a genuine partnership with Bonneviot. I do not know. Then, somehow, he discovered that Bonneviot was planning to back out of the deal. In his anger, he decided on this new plan. It would allow him to make a vast profit and punish Bonneviot at the same time for his treachery. I suppose it might even have been his plan from the start. Hinman uses people to serve his own ends. He has no interest in them beyond that.’

Foxe paused to drink his punch. Since Brock was still silent, he pressed on. ‘What I think he has not found out about – Hinman I mean – is the action by Bonneviot to take out a loan to keep his business going on its own; nor the agreement with Mr. Burford to sell the stocks of cloth on Bonneviot’s behalf. If he had, he would have acted by now. As it is, he’s in no hurry.’

‘Why’s that?’ Brock asked.

‘Hinman is cunning, but careful too. As matters stand, there is nothing to connect him with Bonneviot’s murder. He can acknowledge the proposed partnership and portray himself as just another one of the many people that Bonneviot has cheated and left with debts unpaid.’

‘What about the other creditors? Won’t they want to sell Bonneviot’s stock to raise money to settle their debts?’

‘Assuredly. But if Hinman came forward too quickly, it might look suspicious. He will wait until all the creditors are invited to present their claims. His believes his forged documents will give him the stock in spite of them. Remember, it purports to show that Bonneviot sold all the stock to Hinman well before his death.’

‘When will he make his move?’

‘If I can bring things off as I wish, he will do so at a time of my choosing.’

‘Right,’ Brock said. ‘What’s the plan and what’s my part in it?’

‘First we have McSwiggan and Joshua Underhill arrested. We need to do that as quickly and as secretly as possible. I don’t think it will panic Hinman into making a run for it, but I don’t want to take the chance either. It would make him nervous though and I want him to believe that he can act boldly when the time comes.’

‘D’you think either would testify against Hinman?’

‘It’s up to us to ensure that they will. We may be able to bring him to a successful trial without their help. Yet it would be far easier if we could produce their evidence to back up our assertions that Hinman is behind it all.’

‘Persuasion?’ Brock frowned and bunched his fists. ‘I doubt McSwiggan will be much problem. We think ‘e’s already drunk all his money. Give ‘im another day or so without grog and ‘e’ll agree to anything for a single taste. Underhill, the forger, is another matter.’

‘I expect so. We’ll visit each of them together. If you’re right about McSwiggan, the main thing will be to frighten him enough to make him keep his word. I’ll speak to the alderman. We may be able to promise to save McSwiggan’s neck if he turns King’s Evidence. Transportation instead of hanging.’

‘Either way, ‘e’ll be dead soon enough,’ Brock said. ‘He’ll find some way to get ‘is grog, even in the gaol. The state he’s in, it won’t take much more to send him into eternity.’

‘As you said, the forger will be harder. I may be able to offer him a way to avoid prosecution altogether, if he co-operates. Then it depends if he believes me.’

‘Leave that to me,’ Brock growled. ‘I’ll guarantee to make that kind of feeble pen-pusher see where ‘is best interests lie.’

Foxe regarded his friend for a moment. They had known each other for many years and he knew he could rely on the older man for anything. Foxe also knew that Brock’s rugged exterior hid a sharp mind and a good heart. Even so, the man was tall and powerful and not much given to tolerating opposition. To cross him in any important matter would be no small thing. No, the forger would definitely come off much the worst if Brock lost his temper.

‘Very well. We may both need to apply our own methods of persuasion, Brock, since time will be against us. I wish to know I can rely on the witness of the other two conspirators before confronting Hinman. There seems to me to be little chance he will confess. He’ll try to brazen it out to the end. What has he got to lose? If we gain a conviction, there will be no lessening of his sentence.’

‘So … that’s our plan. What first?’

‘An advertisement in the paper asking all Bonneviot’s creditors to present their claims to the lawyer handling probate. Meanwhile, be ready, Brock. If I can, I will induce Hinman to come forward almost at once. The instant he does that, we will have the other two seized and go to work on them.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘In the meantime, have the watch on each applied with even more care. None must escape, especially Hinman.’

Brock looked at Foxe and shook his head.

‘I do not doubt you, friend. You know that. It is my anxiety about this affair that speaks, not my reason.’

‘I know,’ Brock said. ‘Set your mind at rest. Those three can’t take a pee without me knowing of it, much less leave the city. Can I go now?’

‘It’s not like you to be in a hurry, Brock.’

‘I’ve got an hour before I must relieve one of my watchers, if you must know. I’ve also got my eyes on a frisky young mare who needs an old stallion. If I go now, there may be enough time to see ‘er smile and still be on time to let my friend go home for ‘is oats too. Good enough reason?’

‘The very best!’