The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [73]
Helen drew a very deep breath. “Our secret is out, Spenser.”
“It could have been a common thief, after the silver,” Douglas said.
“It is possible,” Helen said, “but I don’t think so. Common thieves wouldn’t come to Shugborough Hall. We have a reputation, you see.”
“I can only imagine,” Lord Beecham said. “I am sorry for this, Helen. Still, Flock saved the day. I hope Teeny is better disposed toward him?”
That made Helen grin. “She was mumbling beneath her breath about the utter embarrassment her future children would feel whenever they had to say their mother’s name.”
Douglas said, “No one really knows all that much about anything at this point. But the lure of hidden wealth is enough for many men to break into a house and murder a man of the Church.”
“And that means,” Alexandra said, “that someone discovered that Helen was involved and has moved very quickly.”
“I don’t like this at all,” Douglas said. “I am going to have my brawniest footman, Kelly, begin immediately to follow Lord Crowley.”
“I shall assign Crimshaw to Lord Crowley as well,” Lord Beecham said. “He was raised in the stews and is tougher than an old boot. This Bow Street Runner, Ezra Cave, we will tell him to hire two more men to follow Crowley.”
“I will see to this right away,” Douglas said and gave his hand to his wife. “You, my sweet, will come with me. I have this feeling that Heatherington and Helen here have a number of things to speak about.”
“Yes,” Alexandra said slowly, looking from one to the other, “I do believe you are correct.”
“You will keep us informed,” Douglas said and took his countess out to their carriage.
Lord Beecham turned to Helen, who was staring at him, her eyes so intense he wondered if she was seeing directly into his brain, “As for you, Miss Mayberry, I have just decided that you and I are going to return to Court Hammering. But first, we are going to visit Old Clothhead Mathers, Reverend Mathers’s brother.”
Old Clothhead was drunk when they arrived at Reverend Mathers’s small town house near Russell Square.
“ ’Tis near to puking on my clean carpet ’e is,” said Mrs. Mappe, Reverend Mathers’s housekeeper whom Lord Beecham had met the week before. “Och, my poor master, all kilt by some evil bastid.”
“You already know of this, Mrs. Mappe?” Lord Beecham asked.
“Oh, aye, milord, I know. Jest look at ye!” she said, beaming at Helen. “Ain’t ye a purty big girl.”
“Lord Hobbs came?”
“Aye, strange feller that, all dressed in gray like a man what knows ’e’s got to dress special to ’ave folk pay attention to ’im.”
After ten minutes of weaving in and out of Mrs. Mappe’s very fascinating but nearly unintelligible English, they were shown in to see Old Clothhead.
“I killed my only brother,” wailed Old Clothhead, who was curled into the fetal position on Mrs. Mappe’s clean carpet. “I told anyone who paid for a mug of ale all about what he was doing. I killed my brother. He was always warning me about hell being at the end of my road. I have no chance at all now.”
Lord Beecham came down to his knees beside Old Clothhead, a skinny little man who looked as if he hadn’t eaten a good meal in ten years. “Give me the names of the men you told, not just the common variety of alley criminal, but the important ones, the men with money.”
He had to repeat the question three more times before Old Clothhead understood. “Reverend Older, not that he ever has a groat in his pocket. Titus filled my gullet with brandy, not ale, he was so thrilled about this scroll, though, perhaps his last groat. Then there was Lord Crowley and James Arlington and—”
Old Clothhead didn’t vomit on Mrs. Mappe’s clean carpet, he just passed out in midsentence.
Lord Beecham rose and looked down at the unconscious little man.
“He’s pathetic,” Helen said, “and he is right. He is responsible for his brother’s death.” She drew back her foot to kick him in the ribs. Then she stopped and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, no, I am as guilty as he is. I found the damnable thing in the first place.