The Price of Murder (34 page)

“I cannot suppose,” said he, “that Lord Lamford will be with us for more than a couple of hours.”

“But he may well see me from a distance. Are you prepared to account for my presence, should he ask?”

“Oh, that’s all taken care of,” he assured me. “I told him you were Bennett’s brother and had come to claim the body and cart it away.”

Thus was it set, and all was ready for me as we entered by the dirt track that led off the main road. It had taken a good hour to get there, yet it was still quite early, owing to our departure time. The place was quite as I had expected, though I will say that Bennett’s description of the manse as the “big house” did it little justice. Oh, it was indeed big, yet it was also comparatively new and far more stylish in design and execution than one would expect so far out in the country. As for the rest of it—the outbuildings, et cetera—they were no better and no worse than one might happen to see anywhere in the realm. The stable was not ramshackled, nor did it lean to any extent. Still, the fact that under its broad roof were housed the stable boys and, until night before last, Bennett as well, made for a larger structure than one might have looked for here. There were, after all, only six horses a-gamboling in the meadow.

Mr. Deuteronomy caught me studying them at a distance, shielding my eyes from the morning sun.

“Don’t look for Pegasus out there on the green. Lord Lamford decreed that he must wait in the stable till Lamford has arrived with the painter fellow.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who? The painter?” Deuteronomy frowned in his effort to remember. “Reynolds, I think—something-something Reynolds.”

“Sir Joshua?”

“That’s it!” said he, brightening. “Why? Do you know him?”

“I met with him once. I don’t recall that I was introduced to him, though. He’s terribly good, you know.”

“He better be, for what he’s charging. Two hundred guineas to paint a picture. Could you suppose such a thing?”

“That’s fifty guineas more than he was set to charge Sir John.”

“Lord Lamford told me to help him set up. What’s that mean, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just do as you’re told.”

He smiled rather bitterly at that. “I’ve got pretty good at that. Had a lot of experience doing what I’m told.” Then, more to himself than to me: “Not for long, though.”

As Mr. Deuteronomy had warned me beforehand, the two stable boys had little more to say than what they had already said to the local magistrate. They had been wakened by angry voices the other side of the wall. About the only words they understood for certain had been, they agreed, spoken by Lord Lamford: “You dare to judge me?”

Quite frankly, I was surprised that the two had gone that far, for their master had evidently had some difficulty explaining to the local magistrate just on what matter it was Mr. Bennett had dared to judge him. After he had tried twice (“I’d had a bit to drink, after all, and . . .”), the magistrate had dismissed it as “probably of no importance, anyway.”

All this was told me by the two of them who were from the same village in Kent, as they loaded Bennett’s body into the wagon for the trip back into the city. They covered him over with a horse blanket and made a pillow of straw for his head.

“He was a good sort,” said one of the boys, the one who had introduced himself to me as Amos. “Taught us all we know about horses.”

“Well,” said the other, “Mr. Deuteronomy taught us some, too. He’s going to look after us.”

“So he says,” said Amos with the modicum of doubt which that implies.

“One thing I’ll say for Deuteronomy,” I put in, remembering him back in Newmarket, “if he said it, you can be sure that he means it.”

Then, as if summoned by our words, he appeared in the door to the stable and called me over to him.

“Get anything from those two?” he asked me.

“Just what you had already told me.”

He nodded at that and whispered, “They’re good lads, though not the brightest. But Jeremy, tell me, do you know anything about these painter fellas?”

“Not much, but what is it you wish to know?”

“Well, he’s just out there drawing pictures of the horses, quick little line things.”

“Sketches.”

“I guess that’s what they call them. Shouldn’t he be painting, instead of that?”

“No, they don’t just start in laying on the paint right away, they have to work up to it. Last thing he’ll do is draw a kind of big picture of the picture he’ll paint—and then he’ll start painting.”

“Well, now he’s sent me off to bring out Pegasus. Says he wants to meet him.”

“That seems reasonable, doesn’t it?”

Mr. Deuteronomy considered that for a long moment. “I s’pose it does. You wouldn’t want to paint a picture of a man without meeting him first, would you? Horses are a lot more like people than you’d ever guess.”

“Come to think of it,” said I, “Pegasus and I have never been properly introduced.”

“It ain’t necessary. He knows you—likes you, too.”

“He does?” I chuckled. “When did he tell you that?”

“Oh, some time ago, back in Newmarket. He thinks you’re very polite. Horses admire that in people. It’s a rare quality, after all.”

I laughed at that a bit uncertainly, unsure whether or not he wished to be taken in earnest. He gave no indication of which it might be as he excused himself and made for the stalls toward the far end of the stable.

When he brought forth Pegasus, I half-expected to see the animal agitated, or at least frisky, having been shut up so long whilst his fellows were free to skip about and frolic over the meadow. But no, the horse moved in a dignified, almost stately fashion. It could hardly be said that Deuteronomy
led
Pegasus, yet there was a leadrope dangling from the bridle, and the jockey had a loose hold upon it. Yet, at the same time, he whispered into his ear. Pegasus bowed his mighty head that he might catch every word and once or twice did whinny in response. It was almost in the nature of a conversation between the two, man and beast. Particularly noteworthy was the fact that the stable boys paid them no attention whatever. They seemed so well-accustomed to such occurrences that they were of no interest to them.

I went direct to a window in the stable that promised the best view of the meeting of artist and horse. Sir Joshua Reynolds hung back a little as if shy or slightly fearful. I hoped Pegasus would take it for politeness, for Sir Joshua seemed to want in the worst way to be accepted by the horse. The artist turned to Mr. Deuteronomy and said something quite unintelligible to me, with a wall and a windowpane between us. Deuteronomy certainly understood, however, for he smiled, and nodded, and said something in response. Only then did Sir Joshua dip into the deep pocket of his rather elegant coat and come up with an apple. He extended it carefully to Pegasus, holding it loosely in his palm, and, with a single bob of his head, the horse took the apple from his hand. Sir Joshua did then laugh in delight as Pegasus began nosing about the pocket from which the apple had come in hopes that there might be another inside it. This was cause for great merriment among us all.

The three of us within the stable were drawn irresistibly to the door, where the view was undeniably the best. At least, in my case, this proved to be a mistake, for I had hoped to stay out of Lord Lamford’s sight for the length of this visit. Yet here he came, rounding the path from the big house, emerging from the stand of trees, which had hidden him until that moment. He waddled as he walked, like some great fat goose.

“Here now, to work with you,” he shouted. “Get that horse saddled. And you there, whoever you are, go to the house and get a stepladder.” As this last came from him, he raised his arm and pointed direct at me.

What was I to do? I could not turn my back upon him, much as I would have liked to do just that. Nor could I have explained to him that I was neither servant nor employee, and I had no obligation to obey his orders. I had no wish to call attention to myself, for I was there under false pretenses. And so, having no choice in the matter, I simply put my head down and ran for the house. I was some distance from him when we passed. I chanced a quick glance and found him staring fixedly at me. Turning sharply away, I continued to run, listening fearfully for him to call me back. But no call came. Though I had probably looked familiar to Lord Lamford, he had not recognized me.

Blustering into the kitchen by way of the back door, I announced to the cook that the master was greatly in need of a stepladder—and that was all it took. One was hustled into my hands by a wan-looking kitchen slavey, a girl of little more than twelve by the look of her.

Though the cook paid me no heed, the girl blinked and asked me in a puzzled manner, “Who’re you?”

“Just helping out,” said I. Then, thanking her, I took my leave and hurried back toward the stable. Did I say that I “hurried”? Well, let it stand that I went as fast as I could whilst hauling an object as cumbersome as a stepladder.

Burdened as I was, I felt the danger of discovery even more than before. Yet luck was with me, for I stopped at the stand of trees and, peering through them, I saw that Lord Lamford had taken Sir Joshua off for a stroll of the grounds and, with his back to me, was pointing this way and that at the six horses as they flashed by at play. I moved forward and deposited the stepladder at approximately the same spot where Deuteronomy, Sir Joshua, and Pegasus had stood but minutes before. Then did I run for the stable.

Inside, Amos and his mate were just finishing all that needed be done to prepare Pegasus for the honor to be bestowed upon him. (After all, how many horses manage to have their portraits painted?) He was properly saddled, bridled, combed and curried, and otherwise prepared for his appointment with Sir Joshua. Mr. Deuteronomy took no part in all this, for he was once more busy whispering messages of a secret sort into the horse’s ear. Pegasus listened closely, head bowed, except once when, I swear, he did nod his head in understanding to Deuteronomy.

“Hey in there,” came Lord Lamford’s shout from outside, “are you not ready yet? Bring out the animal, if you please, and let us start. I’ve not got all day, you know.”

Then did Mr. Deuteronomy a most peculiar thing: he laughed—something between a giggle and a cackle it was. And so, gathering it from deep within him, he bellowed forth a most compliant and polite response.

“We are ready, my lord, and Pegasus the most ready of us all.”

At the mention of his name, the horse beat his front hooves upon the rough boards of the stable’s floor. Laughing again as he had before, Mr. Deuteronomy grabbed up the reins, and, with Pegasus beside him, he jog-trotted out and into the light. Then did the two boys scramble to the window through which I had earlier watched. I wondered why till I took a spot that they had made for me: In my absence, as I had watched the preparation of Pegasus, someone had set up Sir Joshua’s kit—yet set it up, I was sure, so that the better view was through the window; no doubt this had something to do with the movement of the sun and the consequent shifting of the light.

I sensed the rising excitement in the two boys, and I wondered what they might know that I did not.

“What’s going to happen?” I asked them. “What goes on?”

“We don’t know,” Amos declared. “But by God something will. That horse out there will do anything Mr. Deuteronomy says, and Deuteronomy’s been talking to him the whole day long and part of yesterday.”

Outside, I saw that Deuteronomy had led Pegasus to a point opposite that which Sir Joshua had claimed as his own.

“Who moved things around?” I asked.

“Oh, that was Deuteronomy, whilst you was in the big house. Didn’t take but a minute.”

“Oh, my God, will you just look at that,” the nameless lad marveled. “Lord Lamford’s actually going to try to mount Pegasus. Look, he’s moving the stepladder up close.”

“I wondered what that was for,” said I, “yet I never really gave it much thought.”

“He’s tried it once or twice before.”

“But never with a stepladder.”

Lord Lamford had pushed it so close to Pegasus that its top rung (or step) pressed into the horse’s ribs.

“Oh, Pegasus don’t like that at all.”

“Foolish thing to do. Lamford’s going to be sorry. Just you wait.”

“You see,” said Amos to me, “Pegasus won’t let anyone ride him but Deuteronomy—not even Mr. Bennett when he was alive.”

“And he
liked
Mr. Bennett.”

“Just imagine how he’s going to feel about it when someone as big and fat as Lamford tries to crawl up on top of him.”

“Well, quiet down, you two,” said I to my informants, “because it certainly looks as if he’s going to allow him to remain up on top of him this time.”

And indeed it did. Lord Lamford had inserted his boots into the dangling stirrups. He now shifted his great weight in the saddle and called out something to Mr. Deuteronomy.

It is rather difficult to describe the appearance of the nobleman upon that horse, for he certainly did not appear noble upon it. The way that he overflowed the small racing saddle made him look quite like a huge bear perched tentatively upon a small pony. Yet, still, the horse held his ground, his four hooves planted solidly beneath him.

Deuteronomy came over, no doubt in response to Lord Lamford’s call. An order was given. Deuteronomy collected the stepladder and backed away quite some distance. And then, as I was wondering why he had gone so far, the answer came in a series of powerful leaps—four in all. On the second of them, Lord Lamford lost his hold upon the stirrups. The third unseated him and landed him flat upon his back. The fourth leap seemed to be executed simply for the grand sport of it. For his part, Lord Lamford found no pleasure whatever in his grotesque position. He struggled to right himself and regain his feet. Shouting for help, he demanded a hand up.