“Not often,” she said quietly.
“But it has happened before?”
She nodded under her hood, and I knew from the way she moved her head that she was crying.
Oh, how I hated Melbury at that moment! I could have torn the arms from his body. Had not this lady suffered all her life, shuttled from family to family, from one keeper to another, until the most fortuitous of events had left her financially independent? I could not have been more astonished when she had sacrificed that independence to a man like Melbury, but she had taken a risk, such as we must all take in life. It was a terrible tragedy that she was to suffer for her venture.
“Is he violent with you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, not with me.”
There was something she would not yet say, yet I knew I could draw it out. “Tell me,” I said.
“He breaks things,” she said. “He smashes them. Mirrors, vases, plates, and goblets. Sometimes he throws them in my direction. Not quite at me, you understand, but in my direction. It is unpleasant enough.”
I drew both hands into fists. “I cannot endure this,” I said.
“But you must. You see, this is why I wanted to meet with you. I knew you would not rest until you found the truth, so I came to tell you the truth, but you must bother us no more. Griffin is not a perfect man, but he is a good one. He means to do important things for this country and to unmake this knot of corruption that binds our government.”
“I don’t give a fig for the knot of corruption,” I said, “only for you, Miriam.”
“Please don’t address me so familiarly, Mr. Weaver. It is not right.”
“Is it right that you should be under the torments of a tyrant?”
“He is no tyrant. He is but a man with weaknesses, such as you all have. It is only that some of his are more pronounced.”
“Such as gaming,” I said. “And debts.”
She nodded. “He does have those weaknesses, yes.”
“It is well, then, that you settled separate property upon yourself, lest his debts destroy your fortune.”
She said nothing, so I knew then what I had already suspected. “He has destroyed your fortune, hasn’t he?”
“He needed money to obtain the seat in the House,” she said. “He lost so much at play that he could not afford to stand for Parliament as he had long meant to do, as others in the party had expected him to do. But there were debts. He assured me that once he was elected there would be opportunities to make the money back. So you see it is vital that he get his seat, for if not we shall be quite ruined.”
“This is the good and virtuous man who will unmake the knot of corruption?”
“He is not the only man in this city to succumb to the evils of gaming.”
“True enough, but if he picked pockets he would hardly be the only man in this city to be guilty of that crime, either. That would not mean he was the more virtuous for it.”
“You are a fine man to talk about virtue,” she said.
I turned to her, but she looked away.
“Forgive me, Benjamin. Mr. Weaver. That was both cruel and false. Whatever else may be said of you, I know you are a man who loves what is right above all else. But though you strive to do what is best, you sometimes do what you know may be wrong. I don’t believe that makes you a bad man any more than it makes Mr. Melbury one.”
“The difference is that these things I do that you frown upon are in the service of what I think my duty. I can hardly believe that Mr. Melbury thought it his duty to destroy his wealth and that of his wife at playing whist.”
“You are unkind.”
“Am I? You talk of being ruined. What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I say. We shall have no money, no credit. Should he not win the seat in the House and receive the protection members enjoy, and if creditors press their case, we shall have nowhere to live. Mr. Melbury’s parents are long since dead. He has no siblings, and he has pressed those of his extended family as far as they will go. He must be in Parliament. He will do such good there. And—” She paused. “And only Parliament can save us now. I don’t know what you need or expect from him, or what you hope to gain by making Mr. Evans his fabulous friend, but you must know that you are playing with my life as well as his. He must win that seat. He must have it.”
“And do you think I wish to keep it from him? You must know, Miriam, that I have invested everything in your husband’s election. I am Dogmill’s enemy, not his. I cannot say I am delighted to be in such a position, but the truth is that I also wish for him to obtain the seat in the House.”
“Why should you want that?”
“Because when he is elected, it is my hope that he will use his influence to help me.”
Miriam turned away from me. “He will not,” she said quietly.
“What? How do you know? He has no idea who I am. He cannot know that I am not Matthew Evans, can he?”
She shook her head. “No, you can be sure he does not. But he will not help you, all the more when he discovers you have deceived him with your masquerade.”
“But surely he will understand the necessity—”
“He will understand nothing,” she hissed. “Can you not see that he hates you? Not Matthew Evans, but Benjamin Weaver. He hates Benjamin Weaver.”
I could not understand it. “Why should he hate me?”
“Because he knows—he knows we once meant something to each other, and he is jealous. It is because we are of the same race. He fears I will revert. Every time your name is raised, he seethes with anger. He cannot forgive that you have brought him votes, that you, no matter how unwillingly, have aided his campaign, for in doing so you have worked your way into our lives and our home.”
“There is no need to be so ungenerous with your lives and your home.”
“There is for Mr. Melbury. He has an idea that I will sneak off in the night to run away with you.”
“I have the same idea,” I said.
“Can you please pretend to gravity?”
“I’m sorry. But why should you have told him about us?”
“He wanted to know if I had entertained any lovers between my first husband’s death and my marriage to him. I did not want to tell him, but I did not want to lie either, and so he learned who you were to me. I never had any intention of telling him such things, but he has a way of making people say what they do not wish to.”
“Yes, that way most likely involves throwing things at you. Can you not see he is a cruel master, Miriam? Can you not see he has a black heart? He may not be inclined to villainy, but there can be no greater encouragement to baseness than debt. You speak of the good he will do in the House, but if you think that a man who faces ruin will vote his conscience rather than his purse, you are sadly deceived.”
“How can you say so?” she cried.
“How can I not? Melbury speaks of Parliament as saving him from debt, but you know full well a member makes nothing for his service. The only money to be made in the House is through the sale of favors and by making great friends among the powerful and cruel.”
“You may speak of destroying Mr. Melbury on principle, but would you sacrifice me for your principles as well?”
“Never,” I said. “I would give you the bread from my mouth. But you must know that, because of what I have seen, I would not hesitate to see Melbury destroyed. I will not go out of my way to harm him—I will swallow my anger and do what you wish—but I will not protect him either, and I will not serve him.”
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other,” she told me.
“How can you tell me so?”
“Are you mad?” she asked me. “He is my husband. I owe him all the loyalty in the world. You speak to me as though he were but a rival to you. But you must understand that you can be nothing to me now but a friend, and you decline that role. You would do what you wish in order to satisfy your own sense of right and wrong, but it is not only Mr. Melbury who
will be trampled, it is me as well.”
“What do you ask of me, then?”
“You must promise me to do nothing that will harm him.”
“I cannot. I have told you that I will not seek to harm him, but I will not protect him, and if I have the opportunity to sacrifice him to serve my aims—knowing what I know of him now—I must take it.”
“Then you are no friend to me at all. I will thank you to stay away from me and my husband. I understand that you must encounter him now and again in your guise, but if you come into my house again, I will tell him who you are.”
“You would do that to me?”
“I do not want to have to make a choice between you, but if you force my hand I will choose my husband.”
CHAPTER 25
MY DECEPTION was coming undone rapidly, so I had no choice but to act. Miriam had made it clear I could hope for little from her husband. The debt collector Miller knew who I was, and I could not count on his remaining quiet for even as long as he had agreed.
None of this came as a surprise, of course. I had known I might be discovered before I had secured my liberty, and I had been contemplating a plan for some time now. I therefore risked contacting Elias and met with him in a coffeehouse. He was none too thrilled with what I asked of him, but he agreed in the end, as I knew he would.
That resolved, I contacted those who needed to know of my plans. I then took the notes that Grace had given me, those written to Dogmill’s contacts in the country who had spent time in Jamaica, and fashioned an answer that best suited my purposes.
Grace was, in a very passive way, central to my plans, and I met with her in a chocolate shop that I might explain everything to her. She had shown herself to be nothing but an ardent supporter, but I was nevertheless preparing to move against her brother, and I could not take her cooperation for granted.
She arrived before I did at the shop on Charles Street, looking radiant in a wine-red dress with an ivory corset. The other men—and indeed the women—stared at her openly as she sipped her dish of chocolate.
“I am sorry if I’m late,” I said.
“You’re not. I only wished for the chocolate.”
“Many ladies would hesitate before drinking at a chocolate shop alone.”
She shrugged. “I’m Dennis Dogmill’s sister, and I do what I like.”
“Even to Dennis Dogmill?” I asked, as I took my seat.
She stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. “Even so. How hard will you be with him?”
“No harder than I have to be. For your sake,” I added.
She put both hands on her dish but did not raise it. “Will he live?”
I laughed aloud, which might have been unkind, given the gravity of her question, but I had no plans to act the assassin. “I am not so foolish as to pursue perfect justice, or some flawed idea of what that would be. I want my name and my freedom. If the guilty can be punished, so much the better, but I have no illusions.”
She smiled at me. “No, you don’t. You see everything clearly.”
“Not everything.”
She laughed now. I saw her lovely teeth dark with chocolate. “You mean me, I suppose. You want to know what happens with Grace Dogmill when all of this has resolved.”
“It is a luxurious question, for it depends upon my having escaped the hangman’s noose and regained my reputation. But yet, I have wondered.”
“It would be improper for a woman of my station to have a friendship with a man of yours.”
“I understand,” I said. I had heard this position before, after all.
She smiled once more. “But if I find I have had something stolen, I may need to pay you a visit. And, sadly, I am none the most cautious of my belongings.”
With Miss Dogmill fully willing to lend me aid, I had nothing to do but wait to take the appropriate steps on the heels of the notes I’d sent. It seemed to me unwise to wait too long. Twenty-four hours were enough to induce the anxiety and anger I wished for. More than that might produce action. Less would result in insufficient emotion. These were, however, a very anxious twenty-four hours, and I knew I should be happier if I found some occupation for myself. Fortunately, there was one more task left to me, and if it was not wise, it was at the very least justifiable. I therefore found myself in need of calling one more time upon Abraham Mendes.
He answered a note I sent him and met me that evening in a tavern off Stanhope Street near Covent Garden. There was something amusing upon his face as he saw me. Perhaps he thought that if I should manage to extricate myself from my dangers, I should never bear the same contempt for him or his master. How little he knew me if he believed it. Nevertheless, Mendes served me as I hoped he would, and I left my meeting with him hopeful that all should go as I wished.
As I anticipated, I received a note the next day, and it was very much to my liking.
Evans,
I know who and what you are, and I promise you that you cannot succeed in any plans you may be pursuing. If you end this charade now and vacate the metropolis, you may yet live.
Dogmill
I wrote back at once, suggesting that Dogmill meet me that very evening at a tavern close by Whitehall. I chose the location because I knew it to be popular with Whigs, and I believed it would make him more comfortable and confident. Such was what I required of him. When I received a note in return confirming our rendezvous, I made my final preparations and fortified myself with a glass of port.
I arrived nearly half an hour late, for I wished Dogmill to be there in advance of me. I had no doubt he had arrived early, but I had no wish to surprise him and catch him unprepared. I arrived and asked the innkeeper for Mr. Dogmill and, much as I had anticipated, he told me I might find him in one of the back rooms.
I walked into the room to find Mr. Dogmill sitting at his table with Hertcomb at his side. Standing behind them, with his arms crossed, was none other than Mr. Greenbill. I was surprised that Dogmill should want another man to threaten violence, but perhaps he was, in this case, not willing to take risks. I was further surprised that he would risk Greenbill’s presence in the room, for he had obviously gone to great lengths to hide his association with this porter. I could only presume that Dogmill had little intention of leaving me in a state fit to report what I knew.
All appeared agitated, as well they might be. I grinned at Dogmill and Hertcomb. “Good evening, gentlemen,” I said, as I closed the door behind me.
Dogmill glared at me. “You will have to be very careful if you do not wish to die this night.”
“I cannot say how careful I shall be,” I told him. I took a seat at the table and poured myself a glass of his wine. I sipped it. “This is quite good. You know, from the look of this place, I should hardly think they would have claret of this quality.”
Dogmill snatched the glass from my hand and threw it against the wall. It did not break, no doubt to his disappointment, but it did splatter rather ferociously, staining Mr. Greenbill, who attempted to appear as though his dignity had not been assaulted.
“Where is my sister?” Dogmill demanded.
I stared at him. “Your sister. How should I know?”
“Allow me to put him to the question, Mr. Dogmill,” Greenbill said, taking a step forward.
Dogmill paid him no mind.
“I know who you are,” he told me, through his teeth. “I took the liberty of writing to some gentlemen from Jamaica.” He now held up the letters I had forged. “I have been informed that you have used the name Matthew Evans before, though it is not your true name. Instead, you are a scoundrel known as Jeremiah Baker, a confidence trickster, who has made his wretched living by abducting young ladies and then demanding money for their safe return. One of these gentlemen, upon receiving my note, rode all the way to London to warn me of you. Shortly after receiving this intelligence, I thought it wise to make certain of my sister’s whereabouts, but she had not then been seen for more than a day.”
I took a glass that
I presumed to have been Dogmill’s and emptied the contents upon the hard dirt floor. I then poured a fresh helping from the bottle and sipped from it. “You have thus saved me the trouble of informing you of the current situation. We may now agreeably come to terms.”
Dogmill slammed his hand upon the table so hard I thought it should break. “There are no terms but that I shall get my sister and then I shall rip your head from your neck.”
Hertcomb reached forward and put a hand on Dogmill’s shoulder. “I don’t know that you are giving the fellow a reason to negotiate in good faith.”
“Nicely said, Hertcomb.”
“Don’t think to play my friend,” he said petulantly. “I restrain Mr. Dogmill out of concern for his sister, not you. You betrayed my trust.”
“Your trust is hardly so precious a thing that one need treat it with care,” I answered.
Hertcomb opened his mouth but said nothing. I thought he might weep, and I confess I felt some remorse at having spoken to him so, but I played a part, and I would play it to the end.
Dogmill took a deep breath and turned to me. “You had better understand, Baker, that you have chosen to cross the wrong man.”
“This,” I asked, “is your idea of negotiating in good faith?”
“It is,” he said, “for I tell you the truth. You shan’t get a penny from me. Not a farthing. I will not endure that a fellow of the lowest sort like you should force me to pay to see my own sister returned. Instead, I shall offer you something else. If you send my sister back unscathed, I will give you a single day before beginning my pursuit of you. In that time, if you are wise, you can get yourself gone and from my grasp, for if I do catch hold of you, I will rend you to pieces. That is the best offer I can propose.”
I shook my head. “I must tell you, it is not what I had in mind when I took your pretty sister, tied her hands behind her back, and shoved a rag in her mouth.”
Greenbill, standing behind his master, suppressed a grin. Regardless of his loyalties, he liked a good bit of violence against a young woman when he could have it.
I thought that Hertcomb would be called on once more to restrain his friend, but Dogmill did not move. “You may have thought to gain something else, but you shan’t. You must now decide if you wish to sacrifice your life along with your hopes of wealth.”