The Regency Detective (6 page)

As the service neared its close, a gentleman arrived at the cemetery entrance. This was Edmund Lockhart. He made his way prudently through the gate and stood behind a clump of bushes for a few moments, assessing the situation. After deciding his course of action, Lockhart crossed a small path and discreetly took a place at the back of the mourners.

If one wished to be thoroughly pedantic, and there were plenty amongst Bath’s social echelons that would wish to be so, then it could be held that the gentleman was inappropriately dressed for the funeral; the grey clothes he was so attired in being a colour normally reserved for the later period of half-mourning. In his defence though, he had only this very hour returned to Bath from his business trip and had no opportunity to change his apparel. He was embarrassingly late but would hopefully still be able to console Mary. And besides, no one had seen him enter, so he could have arrived at any time after the start of the service and merely choose not to interrupt proceedings, especially as he could see there was already a gentleman beside her, who he surmised to be the brother arrived from London.

Lockhart had been surprised when Mary had first mentioned she was going to attend the funeral and it had briefly crossed his mind to persuade her otherwise. On realising her mind was made up though, he decided instead to do all he could to support her. It was, after all, this spiritedness which had first attracted him to her. He was, however, late and there was no way around this fact. The coach he was travelling back to Bath in had broken a wheel and it had taken an inordinate amount of time to fix. Once he reached his destination, he had hailed a fast gig and come straight to the church on the outskirts of the city.

The service finished and the mourners began to offer their condolences to both Mary and Swann. Lockhart slowly moved forward to where they stood. As soon as she saw him he raised his arms in an apologetic manner.

‘My dear Mary, my lateness is unforgivable,’ Lockhart said, ‘but my business in London detained me longer than I had expected.’

‘Do not concern yourself Edmund, as it is good to see you here. Now, let me introduce you to my brother,’ she said, as Swann finished talking to Fitzpatrick nearby. ‘Jack, I wish you to meet someone.’

As Swann turned to be introduced to Lockhart, they instantly recognised the other as travelling companions on the Royal Mail coach the previous day.

Wicks looked out from the window at the top of the warehouse and surveyed
his
city. From where the building stood, on the Bristol Road, he could look back across the river and see the entire length of Avon Street and the surrounding district, known locally as ‘the hate’. This was where Wicks had been born thirty years earlier and even at that time it had acquired the reputation for being the most notorious area in the city. His gaze now moved upwards, to the roofs and upper floors of the houses of the well-to-do that climbed in rows up the sides of the encompassing hills. Then finally, further up the slopes, to the crescents and mansions within which the real wealth of the city waited to be plundered.

It had taken Wicks eighteen months to attain this position of power; eighteen months since he had docked at the port in Bristol and returned to the city of his birth. The first thing he had done on his arrival in Bath was seek revenge on the thief-taker who had set him up and got him transported to Botany Bay ten years earlier. Wicks was prepared to take that length of time again to track the man down, but in the end found him in the first place he had looked; the pub in Walcot Street that the man had been known to haunt all those years before. The city was strange that way, Wicks thought; as much as things constantly changed, you could leave it for a decade, as he had done, and yet still find things the same on coming back.

The man who had convinced Wicks to rob a house, then arrested him on his way out in order to collect a reward, had not recognised Wicks when he entered The Bell. He had not recognised him either, when Wicks had sat next to him and engaged him in conversation. It was only in the moment before Wicks killed the corrupt thief-taker did he tell him who he was. After the two men had their fill of ale, they both staggered out and, at Wicks’ suggestion, headed back to the centre along the river. But Wicks was merely acting and as his companion stopped to relieve himself, he readied himself for the kill. As the man turned back, Wicks looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Remember me?’ There was the briefest moment of recognition on the part of the thief-taker before Wicks stabbed him through the heart and the body fell backwards into the water. Wicks watched as it was carried away downstream, where it would be discovered a week later in a state of severe decomposition.

After he had taken his revenge, Wicks joined a gang based in the Avon Street district and waited for his chance. It came swiftly. Three months later, the leader of the gang had been murdered by Malone, after trying to seize power from him. Through a combination of force and quick wits, Wicks assumed control of the Avon Street gang and in a short space of time had made it the most feared and powerful in the city, after Malone’s. He always stayed on the right side of the crime boss; not out of fear, but in order to bide his time. He had paid him to be allowed to operate his rackets in ‘the hate’, an area Malone believed beneath him and not worth the effort of exploiting. That had been his first mistake. Whatever reputation the district held, to Wicks it was at the heart of his successful rise, a place where the toughest fighters and most adept thieves could be recruited and where valuable information regarding Malone’s operations could be gained from those who worked in the upper town but lived in the lower one.

And he maintained this control by knowing each of the men recruited to his gang inside out. He knew their strengths and their weaknesses and, when it was necessary, how to pit one against another. That was why he was going to keep Tyler where he was. Although it had been Tyler who had brought Wicks into the gang in the first place, he knew to ‘promote’ him would bring trouble. If Tyler was allowed to collect protection money from the upper town, he would become greedy and Wicks would have to make an example of him. And he did not want to lose such a good man through killing him. He had grown up with Tyler, had roamed the same streets as him, but the ten years away had changed Wicks beyond almost all recognition. Tyler had thought he recognised him but Wicks had denied it. The less people knew about you and your past the better, because in the criminal world you always had to keep alert and maintain an edge. It was a business after all. That was what Malone hadn’t realised. He had become lazy and lost touch with what was happening in the city. You had to constantly watch your back, as there would always be others prepared to take advantage if you didn’t, which is what had allowed the meeting between Wicks and Malone’s London connection to take place right under his nose.

Wicks had been impressed that those in the capital had known all about his operation and in their opinion was the only man to take over from Malone. He didn’t know what had happened to turn them against their former associate and he didn’t ask, it was not wise to do that. Wicks had begrudging admiration for Malone though, especially for the fact that he had built up such a large network of spies and informers throughout the city, but either he had become greedy and been caught taking more than his share or else he had done something which had angered them. Whatever he had done, he had become a liability and Wicks had been approached to take care of it. Now that he controlled the city, he would not make a similar error.

The ‘friend’ from London, as the contact had referred to himself, was on his way down to meet Wicks again, the next morning. No doubt they would discuss his part in the criminal ‘triad’ that also included Bristol. All goods that arrived at the docks bound for London passed through Bath, by one means or another, and similarly the other way. And Wicks received a share from everything both ways. He had now moved into the big league, he was someone. The person that controlled the Bristol-London road, as everyone knew, held the power of the whole South West in his hands. And Wicks had big plans. Only the day before, a potentially lucrative scheme he had initiated and which involved all three points of this triangle, had been put into action.

And with Kirby in his pocket, he also had the law on his side! An addiction to gambling and child prostitutes had made it easy to get incriminating evidence on the magistrate and lure him away from Malone, although he had seemed only to willing to change sides and betray his former boss. Now that Wicks ‘owned’ him, Kirby would ensure that he oversaw any cases connected to Wicks and thereby secure the ‘right’ verdicts.

It all seemed too good to be true.

It was.

‘Edmund, this is my brother, Jack Swann,’ said Mary. ‘Jack, this is Edmund Lockhart.’ The two men bowed courteously to each other as if having never met before, although both had instantly recognised the other from the journey they shared the previous day from London.

‘Mary has told me a great deal about you,’ said Lockhart.

‘Then you have the advantage over me, sir,’ replied Swann.

‘Edmund was detained on business in London until this morning,’ said Mary.

‘Indeed,’ answered Swann.

‘But I knew he would be here,’ his sister smiled.

‘Nothing would have prevented my being at your side in this time of great sadness, Mary,’ said Lockhart. ‘I must now, however, ask for your utmost forgiveness once more. I have an urgent business engagement back in the city and the man I am to meet there insists on punctuality. I have kept a gig waiting for me outside to take me there.’

‘Then you must go, Edmund. I know how important your business is and I do not therefore wish to detain you any longer than is necessary. I will expect you at the house later today, as arranged, to collect me?’

Lockhart hesitated, aware of Swann’s surprised reaction.

‘Are you sure that is wise, Mary?’ replied Lockhart.

‘But Edmund, you were in perfect agreement before you left for London.’

‘And so I was, my dearest, but since that time I have considered the matter more thoroughly and on reflection, believe it prudent if you do not attend.’

‘Prudent or not, I know my own mind and therefore I will expect you at six o’clock. Please.’

Lockhart nodded reluctantly, made the customary farewells and left.

‘You have an engagement this evening?’ asked Swann.

‘Yes, Edmund is escorting me to the Charity Ball at the Upper Rooms.’

‘Mary, I am not a great advocate of many of the social mores prevalent today, as you know, but I am concerned about your reputation. Your presence at the funeral could be perceived as understandable,’ said Swann, ‘but to bestow your presence at a place of entertainment may be quite another matter entirely.’

‘I think it shows spirit,’ said a voice behind them.

They turned and saw Lady Harriet Montague-Smithson, a woman whose diminutive figure belied the indomitable influence she enjoyed throughout most of the capitals of Europe.

‘Aunt Harriet,’ said Mary. ‘I did not realise you were here.’

‘If I am honest, my dear, I only arrived slightly after the gentleman who has this very minute departed. My driver is new and became lost on our way here. I am present now though and I am very sorry for your loss, both of you. Your mother was a dear sister and although we did not agree on many topics, I will miss her kind-hearted demeanour and gentle ways. As for you attending the ball, my dear, I believe she would have approved most sincerely.’

‘With Mary’s best interest at heart, Lady Harriet, may I enquire as to why you believe it acceptable for her to deliberately flout established rules of etiquette and risk bringing her standing into disrepute?’

‘If you are referring to those confounded rules laid down by that wretched man Nash, who had as much decorum as a French peasant worker, then I hardly believe flouting them would bring as much disdain as you believe, especially as the man has been dead for the best part of forty years. Besides, when have you cared about society’s opinion? I assume you to be first to applaud her action.’

‘You would, of course, be correct Lady Harriet, if it was my standing at stake, but as the head of this family I believe I have an obligation to Mary and that is why I feel she should not attend this evening.’

‘As Mary’s closest remaining blood relative,’ retorted Harriet, ‘I believe I also have an obligation and I believe she should …’

‘Jack, Aunt Harriet, you converse as if I am not here,’ interrupted Mary, ‘or else I am still a minor in need of guardianship. I thank you both for your concern but I am quite aware of what I am doing. And please, let us not forget where we are and why we are here. Now, if you do not mind Jack, I would like a few moments to converse with Aunt Harriet on a certain matter.’

‘Very well, I shall go over and resume talking with your Mr Fitzpatrick,’ said Swann, who then walked off to where the magistrate diplomatically waited.

‘That is the trouble with men,’ said Harriet, a little exasperated. ‘They believe themselves right even when they are so blatantly wrong.’

‘Jack was only trying to protect me, Aunt Harriet.’

‘I know you think fondly of your adoptive brother, my child, but he does not understand what you need. And as much as my sister, your mother, was dear to me, God rest her soul, we differed in our views regarding the raising of a female child. I am sorry to be this forthright at her funeral, but this age upon us is not one for hesitation. Now that your mother is gone, I feel it my moral obligation to assume responsibility for your wellbeing and to educate you appropriately.’

‘I do not wish to cause any offence Aunt Harriet, but I am twenty-four, not fourteen and my education was extensive and well-rounded. I was sent to …’

‘My child, I know
exactly
where you were sent and I know
exactly
what you were taught there: facts, figures and all the other subjects that fascinate men. No, my child, the truth is that you have been educated like a man, but it is time to educate you as a woman. Your resolve to attend the ball this evening and your presence at the funeral show you have the right attitude. We just need to ensure it is developed properly and so, with that in mind, I wish to extend an invitation to my house tomorrow evening from eight o’clock. I am having a gathering of like-minded women and there will be a guest speaker. I believe you will find it most illuminating.’