Andrew Pepper - The Revenge of Captain Paine

‘One could just as easily claim the Liberals are being quite successful at guiding the radicals down manageable paths.’

Later, when Pyke thought about the conversation, he was struck by the deft way in which Peel had steered it away from awkward subjects.

‘I’d say Bellows is worth keeping an eye on,’ Peel said, trying to sound as though the issue wasn’t an important one.

‘Why’s that?’

Peel tapped on the glass and the footmen hurried around to open the door. ‘You’re the investigator. But I’m told he’s recently purchased rather a lot of land in the vicinity of the New Road just along from Battle Bridge near Somers Town.’ He smiled coldly. ‘You might want to look into that.’

As Pyke threaded his way through the phaetons, broughams and cabs on Lombard Street, he looked around and noticed Gore at his side. His smiling face was covered in sweat. ‘All these damned people wanting to shower me with their religious homilies and fake piety.’

‘I would have guessed from your eulogy that you claimed a Christian belief, too.’

‘Oh, that?’ Gore chuckled. ‘Isn’t that the kind of thing one is supposed to say at a funeral?’ He must have seen Pyke’s expression because he added, quickly, ‘Don’t get me wrong, Pyke. I meant every word of what I said about Morris. But I threw in the religious sentiments as a sop to the congregation. Personally I find the idea of praying to some kind of God a little mystifying.’

Pyke couldn’t help but smile. Such an admission was rare in an age when people used the church to secure their social standing.

They came to a halt, Gore turning to face him, his top hat balancing precariously on his head. ‘I wanted to ask you whether you’d thought any more about the offer I made after that blasted coroner’s meeting.’

‘I told you then that I’d do what I could.’

Gore nodded genially. ‘Quite, quite. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you…’

‘But?’

‘But I thought you might take a closer look at that odd fellow with the burnt face and the dog. For a start, I’ve no idea what he was doing at the ball.’

‘He was invited by Morris’s wife.’

‘Yes, well, I found him to be a shifty sort of fellow. Untrustworthy and capable of violence, I’d say.’

Gore’s assessment tallied with Pyke’s own view of Bolter but he kept this thought to himself.

‘I couldn’t help but notice you get out of the carriage belonging to Sir Robert Peel. I have to admit I’m intrigued.’ Gore swung his arms from side to side as though the issue he’d just raised were unimportant.

Pyke let Gore’s remark pass without comment.

‘Do you know him well?’

‘We’re acquainted,’ Pyke said, nonchalantly. ‘Why? Is he a friend of yours?’

‘A friend?’ Gore laughed. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m something of an old Whig. I’m sure Sir Robert would regard me as a dinosaur.’

‘You’re too modest,’ Pyke said, trying to read Gore’s opaque expression. ‘As your intervention in my uncle’s trial demonstrates, your influence would seem to extend right to the top of government.’

‘Well, like all businessmen I have my contacts, I suppose. And come election time they expect me to make a generous donation to the party coffers.’

‘Pigs at the trough?’

This time Gore’s laugh came from his belly. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’ He glanced up at the seagulls circling above them. ‘But you’re right. I do have some political connections and from time to time they tell me things.’

‘About?’

‘Take Sir Robert, for example. I’m told he’s become obsessed by a headless body that was found near Huntingdon.’

‘Obsessed in what sense?’

‘Do you know he even visited Huntingdon in person?’

Pyke tried to assimilate this information without giving too much away but such was his shock that he may not have been successful. Peel, in Huntingdon. Pyke thought back to his conversation with the magistrate. What had Yellowplush said, when Pyke had told him about Peel’s interest in the body? Something like: I can’t understand why Peel’s so interested in it. And another thing: Yellowplush hadn’t seemed surprised when Pyke mentioned Peel’s involvement. I can’t understand. Yellowplush knew about it already because Peel had been to see him.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Pyke waited for a moment. ‘Is it something you just guessed I’d be interested to hear?’

Gore shrugged. ‘I told you because it’s the only morsel of information I’ve heard about the Tory leader in a while.’

‘From where I’m standing, it looks very much like you’re trying to smear him.’

‘Whatever you might think, Pyke, it’s the truth. I’m not the kind of man who tells lies about other people.’

‘Judicious editing of the truth can sometimes be more effective than blatant lies.’

‘Can I be more honest with you? I fear that Sir Robert suspects my involvement in inciting the navvies in Huntingdon to violence. Just as you did and, for all I know, maybe still do. I also fear that he’s trying to do what you just accused me of. Smear me with the taint of association.’

Pyke had wondered about Peel’s motivation all along and this finally made some kind of sense.

The fact that Gore, when pushed, had been honest with him in a way that Peel still hadn’t suggested the banker’s innocence. And Pyke knew that Peel wasn’t above stirring up rumours to besmirch those who threatened him.

‘And you had nothing to do with what happened in Huntingdon?’

Gore stared pleadingly into his eyes. ‘As I’ve said before, Eddy was my friend, my best and oldest friend, and I would never have done anything to harm him or his interests. If nothing else, you have to believe that, Pyke.’

Through the thinning crowd, Pyke saw Marguerite chatting to Emily. They were standing on the pavement next to his carriage, their heads nodding as they listened to one another talk. Briefly Pyke paused, more in horror than fascination, to look at both women and try to assess their mood.

Emily noticed him first. Her expression was unreadable but she didn’t break into a smile. ‘I was just passing on our condolences to Marguerite.’

‘Thank you so much, my dear.’ Marguerite trained her stare at Pyke. ‘I’m so glad that you and your husband could come. I can’t tell you what it means having a friendly face from the old days here.’

Just for a moment Pyke thought — hoped — that Emily had missed the implication of Marguerite’s deliberate attempt at sabotage. She looked between them, Marguerite and him, and frowned. ‘I’m sorry, but do the two of you know each other?’

Marguerite tried to appear contrite and muttered, ‘Oh? Didn’t he mention it? Well, we didn’t know each other well but we certainly knew each other.’ She didn’t look across at him. ‘Before a few weeks ago, we hadn’t laid eyes on one another for, perhaps, fifteen years.’

Pyke laughed, trying to make light of it. He wanted to wring Marguerite’s neck, of course, but that would draw further unwanted attention to their former attachment. ‘Yes, I almost didn’t recognise her.’

‘I suppose we’ve both come a long way since those days.’ Marguerite put on a sad smile and added, ‘If you’ll excuse me I have other people to greet.’ She looked across at the funeral cortege and shook her head. ‘When you called at the house the other day,’ she said, looking directly at Pyke, ‘I wasn’t doing very well, but perhaps once today is out of the way I’ll feel more like facing up to my responsibilities.’

Pyke said nothing as she disappeared into the crowd, but when he turned around to look for Emily she had already taken her place inside their carriage.