Deryn Lake: Death and the Black Pyramid

What a sad ending, thought John, and remembered the woman’s dying words and how at last they were fitting into the jigsaw. Unconsciously he turned his head towards Paulina Gower and she, seeing him look at her, raised a supercilious eyebrow.

‘No doubt you are wondering where I fitted into the household.’

‘The thought did occur.’

‘I was a lady’s maid, first to Mrs Bassett, secondly to Helen. I knew all her secrets — and she knew mine. How I longed to go on the stage because my mother had done so. How all I needed was a chance. It was she who advised me to leave my position and try to make my way in London. And thank God I took it and went. But not before I knew my little lady was pregnant by a black slave and had Lucinda’s solemn word that she would care for her and keep the child in secret.’

John cleared his throat. ‘So I presume you all decided to murder the man?’

Richard spoke. ‘We decided to be avenged for Helen’s death and put down a being who wasn’t fit to live. But we had great difficulty in hunting my father down. It took years but my son, Charles — the boy who staggered off the coach the night you got on it, Mr Rawlings — finally found him and followed him and told us his movements.’

‘Bassett’s own grandson!’

‘Yes. Never seen by him because he had run away and hidden before I was even married, let alone had a child.’

John shook his head, his mind almost cracking under the weight of the facts which had just been given to him.

‘But how is it that he didn’t recognize you all and get off the coach?’

‘I think you can put that down to the passing of the years,’ said Cuthbert Simms, speaking for the second time. ‘Alas we are all a little fatter — or thinner as the case may be. We have lines and wrinkles. We do not look the same.’

‘And you forget one thing,’ said Paulina Gower. ‘They were all altered facially by the use of theatrical make-up.’

‘Except for me,’ replied the Black Pyramid. ‘The bastard recognized me. Did he not complain to Martin Meadows that he had seen me before somewhere, that he believed that there was a plot abroad to kill him?’

‘Yes, he did. And Mr Meadows asked me about it.’

Richard spoke again. ‘The truth is that I think he recognized all of you and knew that his life was in danger.’

‘Then why did he not get off? Why not change coaches?’

‘Who knows? Perhaps he thought he could outwit the lot of you. It was part of his character so to do. And it was an evil, black character, Mr Rawlings. He had done much harm in his life and so, finally, the man got his just deserts.’

‘So which of you committed the crime?’ John asked.

There was a moment’s silence and then the Black Pyramid answered slowly, ‘We all did.’

John held out his glass and Richard filled it without saying a word. The Apothecary was quite literally speechless. He had never in his life heard such a story, almost to the point where his brain rejected it. Yet he knew it was true. That everyone of those present had gone into that room and beaten their tormentor about the head. It was a terrible, ghastly thought but yet there had been a dark justice in it.

Though the Apothecary was staring into his drink he knew that every eye in the room had turned upon him expecting some reaction. Eventually he said, ‘It’s a terrible story,’ but could think of nothing further to say.

‘My father was a terrible man,’ Richard answered solemnly.

‘Indeed he was,’ Jemima added quietly.

There was a weighty silence into which spoke a familiar voice.

‘If any of you daredevils so much as approach my son I’ll blow your blasted brains out, so I will.’

John shook his head and almost laughed aloud. Sir Gabriel had crept up on them intent on saving the day. John rose and went towards him, where he stood outside the French doors one of which he had opened quietly.

‘It’s all right, Father. Put that pistol away. I shall leave here quite safely, I can assure you.’

Sir Gabriel glanced round the room. ‘A dastardly clutch of criminals,’ he murmured under his breath. Then he paused, ‘’Zounds, isn’t that Miss Lovell? What is a decent girl like her doing with this motley crew?’

‘She’s the Black Pyramid’s daughter,’ John said with a smile, and watched his father go pale and sink into a chair.

Richard spoke. ‘It would seem, Sir, that your father has come to collect you. I take it that you will not be visiting Vinehurst Place again.’

John nodded. ‘No, we shall go back to London first thing tomorrow morning. Provided, that is, that I can find my daughter.’

‘The little imp was brought back to the coach by Irish Tom and I must inform you John that I gave her six smacks on her derriere.’

‘Which she richly deserved.’

John bowed to the assembled company who were still staring at the amazing sight of Sir Gabriel decked out in stunning black and white, his three-storey wig adding to his already considerable height. Then Jemima Lovell found her delightful voice.

‘Goodnight, Sir Gabriel, goodnight, Mr Rawlings. I trust that you will keep the promise you swore to honour.’

‘I assure you, Madam, and the rest of you,’ answered John, giving another, more formal, bow, ‘that the secret shall go with me to the grave.’

Despite the fact that he wrote several times to ask how she was faring John had no reply from Elizabeth until early in the month of December when a letter arrived telling him that she had returned to Devon. He was overjoyed to get it, naturally enough, but for all that he could not deny that he had thoroughly relished his time in London — living in Nassau Street, seeing Rose every day, working contentedly in his shop in Shug Lane. But when the letter came it contained a charming invitation for the entire family, including Sir Gabriel Kent, to join her at her house for Christmas. John had been hoping all along that this would happen and immediately wrote back accepting.

This time they travelled in John’s coach with Irish Tom driving, a footman with him carrying a shotgun, and Emily inside to look after Rose’s requirements. It was difficult to say who was the more excited but John thought it was probably the maidservant rather than his daughter.

‘Rather different from your last trip, John,’ said Sir Gabriel drily.

‘You mean the one that ended in murder?’ He had checked that Rose was asleep before mentioning the word.

‘I do indeed. What an extraordinary night that was in Vinehurst Place. To see them all gathered together and hear them admit jointly to the crime. What a terrible person Fulke Bassett must have been to raise such emotions in the breasts of everyday people.’

‘I think the last straw for them all was the shooting of Helen. They were all devoted to her in their different ways.’

‘Quite so. I take it you are not going to do anything about it with regard to our friend the Blind Beak?’

‘What can I do? I am sworn to secrecy. As for you, it would be only one man’s word against all the others. I think the best thing we can do is forget the whole incident.’

‘I think, my son, that you are right.’

Stopping every night for the sake of Rose and Sir Gabriel — though he would rather have died than admit that he could no longer travel at speed through the countryside — it took them several days to reach Devon. Thus they arrived at Elizabeth’s home just as the evening was drawing in. Sir Gabriel looked up at the house, etched dark against the twilight sky.

‘Damme, but she has a fine place here, your Lady Elizabeth.’

‘Yes, and I think it has become the hub of her universe. She won’t come to London despite everything I say.’