The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) (14 page)

‘You are mistaken,’ said Wolf coolly. ‘My name is Peregrine. John Peregrine.’

The magistrate gave a fat chuckle.

‘Is that what you are calling yourself?’ He lifted a printed sheet from the desk and glanced at it. Even in the lamplight Wolf could see that it was creased and yellow with age. The only word he could read from this distance was the one in large thick letters stretched across the page. ‘Reward’.

Hatcham continued to scan the sheet. ‘It says a tall man, six feet five inches, near black hair and violet-blue eyes.’ He came around the desk and stared up into Wolf’s face. ‘Well, I can’t see the colour of your eyes in this light, but I think the description is sufficiently close. Put him in a holding cell.’

‘Will you not grant me bail?’ demanded Wolf as the constables began to hustle him from the room.

‘You are wanted for the murder of your wife and the theft of her diamonds, and now you have been caught red-handed taking the life of another poor wretch. No, sir, you will not be granted bail!’

* * *

Wolf woke up in near darkness, feeling parched and uncomfortable. He was wrapped in his black domino and lying on bare boards that ran the length of the cell, but they were several inches short of his height, so he was not able to stretch out. His ribs hurt, too; his captors had been none too gentle in their treatment of him. The only sources of light were the grille in the door and a hole in the ceiling, too high and small for a man to climb through, but within minutes of his waking he discovered it was large enough for the guards to pass down a flask of small beer and a crust of bread for him to break his fast. A short time later the door opened and a guard appeared, a black outline against lamplight from the corridor.

‘You have visitors. Upstairs.’

‘I am glad you do not expect me to receive them here.’

Wolf took time to fold his domino and put it on the boards before he accompanied his gaoler up the stone steps. Above ground the sun flooded in through the windows and he blinked uncomfortably in the light. His escort ushered him into a small panelled room, sparsely furnished with a square wooden table and four chairs, where he found his visitors waiting for him; his brother and a tall veiled lady that Wolf knew immediately was Grace. His spirits leapt, but plunged again when she lifted her veil. She looked so pale and drawn he guessed she had not slept and it was as much as he could do not to reach out for her. His frustration manifested itself in a scowl.

‘You should not have brought her here, Richard.’

It was Grace who replied, saying quietly, ‘I insisted upon it.’

Wolf’s scowl deepened. ‘You were at Vauxhall—can you doubt the evidence of your own eyes and believe me innocent?’

‘Your brother and I were watching more closely than the others. You did not stab that woman. Your past may be very dark, sir, but you are no murderer.’

He was shaken by his sense of relief. It flared like a torch, but he could not bring himself to admit to it. He responded gruffly.

‘I still say you should not be here. You should not be alone with any Arrandale!’

Richard scowled back at him. ‘You need not concern yourself with the propriety, Wolf, Phyllida accompanied us. She is waiting in the carriage.’

‘Trying to distance herself from her wicked brother-in-law,’ said Wolf bitterly.

‘No, she is trying to spare you embarrassment, you ungrateful cur!’

Wolf put up his hand, at last acknowledging his ill humour.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, Richard. I am grateful, truly.’

‘Aye, well,’ growled Richard, rubbing his nose. ‘It isn’t only that. She is in a delicate condition.’

‘Then I am obliged to her for coming even as far as the gates with you,’ exclaimed Wolf. He gripped his brother’s hand. ‘I felicitate you, Richard, and I am even more grateful that you should be here. But I am surprised. I expected to see my rascally lawyer.’

‘I sent word to Baylis to come as soon as he can,’ Richard replied shortly. ‘We have just had a most unsatisfactory interview with the magistrate.’

‘Gilbert Hatcham?’

‘Yes. He refused bail for you.’

‘He told me as much last night.’ Wolf glanced to check that the door was closed and that they were alone before inviting them to sit down. ‘How much did it cost you for this meeting?’

‘Enough. This may be a new model prison, but a few pieces of silver can still achieve a great deal. Although not your freedom, Brother.’

Wolf grunted. ‘Hatcham said he was expecting me. He had an old poster on his desk. Odd, do you not think, that he should have a ten-year-old notice so readily to hand?’

‘Damned suspicious,’ muttered Richard.

‘How are they treating you?’ asked Grace.

Wolf shied away from the concern in her voice.

‘As you would expect them to treat a murderer,’ he replied lightly. ‘They barely gave me time to wash the poor woman’s blood from my hands before they hustled me into a cell.’

He knew they must both have seen the dried blood on his clothes, although no one mentioned it.

Richard said, ‘You were lured to that meeting, Wolf.’

‘Yes, and I think I know by whom, although I cannot prove it while I am locked in here.’

‘Then we must do it for you,’ declared Grace.

Her vehemence touched him, but he hid it behind a rueful smile and a light word.

‘I fear I have led you woefully astray, Miss Duncombe. What would your fiancé say if he knew you were here?’

‘He would want justice, as I do.’

‘But not at the expense of your reputation.’

‘At any expense!’

She looked so resolute that his heart swelled.

‘Why were you both at Vauxhall last night?’ he asked.

‘Miss Duncombe suspected a trick.’

A tinge of colour stole into Grace’s cheeks. ‘Your note said Annie Meesden had sent you word, but I distinctly remember she cut you off before you could tell her how to contact you.’

‘Yes, I realised that, too, but only later, after I was locked up. A stupid error on my part.’

‘So who did know how to contact you?’ asked Richard. ‘Apart from myself?’

Wolf met his eye. ‘Sir Charles Urmston. I foolishly thought he might have information that could help me, so I told him how to reach me.’

‘By Jove, that makes perfect sense!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘But how did he know where to find the woman?’

‘I am not sure,’ said Wolf slowly. ‘I know he was looking for Annie Meesden, because he asked me if I knew anything of her. I did not tell him and I made sure we were not followed when we went to see her the other day. So either he picked up her trail or—’

He broke off, but it was too late.

‘Or someone told him her direction,’ said Grace. She put her hands to her face, a look of horror shadowing her eyes. ‘If only I had not pressed you to set up a pension for her.’

Richard looked from one to the other. ‘What is this?’

‘After we had seen Meesden I persuaded your brother to arrange a small annuity for her,’ explained Grace. ‘For that he had to tell his lawyer where she was living.’

‘There is nothing to say Baylis passed on that information,’ said Wolf quickly.

Grace shook her head. ‘You said yourself this man, Urmston, first came up to you directly outside the offices of Baylis & Thistle and at that stage—apart from Aunt Eliza and myself—the only person who knew you were in London was your lawyer. Perhaps it was inadvertently done.’

‘Whatever it was I think the Arrandales will be finding themselves another lawyer,’ exclaimed Wolf wrathfully.

‘Yes, well, I have been thinking that myself,’ said Richard. ‘I have suspected for years that Baylis has been creaming off the profits from your estate but nothing could be proved, and with you still nominally head of the family I couldn’t turn him off, either. I will deal with him, don’t worry, but for now we need to get you out of here.’

‘You won’t do it. Hatcham as good as told me last night I am here until my trial.’

And he expects me to hang.

He stopped himself from saying the words aloud and he met Richard’s eye, sending him a silent message not to give Grace any more reason to worry.

His brother nodded. ‘We shall make enquiries on your behalf, Wolf. Our first call will be Meesden’s lodgings. Miss Duncombe has a gown to collect and we shall see if we can learn anything there.’

‘Good,’ said Wolf. ‘You had best find Kennet, too. He will be at my rooms in Half Moon Street. Tell him what has occurred and ask him to bring some money. At least I may buy some comforts in this hellhole.’

He was giving them directions when a burly turnkey came in to tell them their time was up.

Wolf rose. He nodded to Grace, not trusting himself to go near her. Then he turned and gripped his brother’s hand. ‘Do what you can for me, Richard, and you had best engage another lawyer with all speed!’

* * *

Grace pulled her veil over her face and accompanied Richard Arrandale from the building. Her legs felt very weak and she was relieved when they were once more sitting in the carriage with Lady Phyllida. The sight of Wolf, unshaven, his eyes troubled and still wearing his bloody evening clothes, had shaken her to the core. Until then his predicament as a wanted man had seemed a distant threat, but as they drove away her eyes were drawn upwards to the roof of the prison and the black timbers of the scaffold, outlined against a lowering sky.

‘We cannot let him hang.’

She did not realise she had spoken the words aloud until Richard replied.

‘He won’t, you need not worry about that. The Arrandales have had plenty of practice at cheating the gallows.’ When her eyes flew to his face he added quickly, ‘We will do the thing by fair means, if we can, but if not—’

She put up her hand.

‘Please, do not tell me anything more.’

‘I agree,’ said Phyllida. ‘Pray do not burden us with unnecessary conjecture, Richard.’ She turned to Grace. ‘Would you like to go back to Hans Place now? We can collect your gown for you, if you would rather not be mixed up further in this affair.’

Grace clasped her hands together and stared out of the window, but all she could see was Wolf’s haunted eyes.

‘I do not have any choice,’ she murmured, almost to herself. ‘I must see this through.’

* * *

They drove quickly to Half Moon Street to speak to Wolf’s valet and then went on to Leg Alley. It was just as grim and daunting as it had appeared at Grace’s first visit. Richard insisted his wife remain in the carriage while he and Grace picked their way through the rubbish to the house. The door was closed, but Richard’s firm rap upon the weathered boards brought a plump, sharp-eyed woman in a grubby apron to open it. She declared she was the landlady and demanded to know their business.

‘I have come to collect a gown from Mrs Meesden,’ Grace explained.

The woman shook her head.

‘She’s dead. Murdered.’ She said it with such relish that Grace did not have to feign her look of horror.

‘Good heavens, when was this?’

‘Last night. She went off to Vauxhall with her man friend and never came back. He’s been arrested for her murder.’

Richard’s brows went up. ‘The fellow came here?’

The landlady leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

‘Aye. I told the constables as much. He called late in the afternoon and they stayed upstairs ’til about nine o’clock.
She
said she had work to finish, but if you ask me they was carousing, for she was so drunk she could hardly get down the stairs when they left. He almost carried her out.’

‘How dreadful, but I should still like to retrieve my gown,’ said Grace. ‘It is a yellow muslin with green embroidery at the hem. Perhaps I might step in and look for it?’

Richard held out a coin. ‘I assure you, madam, we want only to collect the lady’s property.’

The landlady’s hand darted out to take the coin.

‘Aye, well, I don’t suppose it will do any harm if I takes you up there now.’

She waddled away and they followed her up to Annie Meesden’s tiny room. Grace tried to take in as much detail as possible. It looked more untidy than she remembered, a chair was tipped over and on the table stood two glasses and an almost empty bottle that Richard picked up and held to his nose.

‘Was the lady in the habit of drinking brandy?’

‘Not that I knew of. If she had been I’d have sent her packing long ago. This is a respectable house.’

‘And the man who came to see her, was he a regular visitor?’ he asked.

‘Never seen him before, but then I don’t see everyone who comes and goes. As long as my tenants is quiet and pays their rent I don’t interfere.’

‘But you saw the man who called yesterday,’ Richard pressed her. ‘Was he as tall as I am? Taller, perhaps?’

The landlady regarded him with her sharp eyes but said nothing. Richard pulled another coin from his pocket. ‘Well?’

‘No, sir, he wasn’t as tall as you.’ The money disappeared into her pudgy hand. ‘Fashionable swell, though. Handsome. Black shiny hair and a fine set o’ whiskers.’

‘And you would be willing to swear to this in court?’

Immediately the woman looked wary and Richard said impatiently, ‘Surely the constables asked you to describe the fellow?’

‘No, sir. They said there was no need. They said her killer was locked up right and tight. Now, is that your dress on the table, madam? Yellow muslin with green stitching, you said. Mrs Meesden was working on it when I showed her gentleman friend upstairs.’

‘Yes, that is it,’ said Grace.

The gown was neatly folded and weighted down with Meesden’s Bible.

‘Well, you should take it and go. I’ve got to clear this room today, I’ve another tenant wanting to move in.’

The landlady ushered them out of the room and down the stairs, closing the door behind them with a bang. Richard took Grace’s arm and escorted her back to their carriage.

‘Well,’ demanded Phyllida as they set off. ‘What did you learn?’

Grace said slowly, ‘Meesden’s visitor was not your brother-in-law.’

Richard agreed. ‘The description the landlady gave us
does
fit Charles Urmston, though. I think he wrote the note to Wolf, then came here to take Meesden to Vauxhall, where he killed her.’