Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

He adjusted his wig and wiped his face with a pink handkerchief. ‘Good day, gentlemen. How can I be of service?’ The smile was as wide as ever.

‘Just a few questions for clarification, Lemuel. How long was the encrypted letter on your desk before you opened it?’ asked Joseph.

‘I was away for two days.’

‘And you opened it as soon as you returned?’

‘I did, and took it straight to Henry. I thought that best.’ He sounded apologetic.

‘Why did you think the seal might have been tampered with?’

‘There was a small mark on it which could have been made by a knife. Perhaps someone changed his mind, or thought he was being observed.’

‘Lemuel, who could that have been?’ asked Thomas.

Squire clasped his hands over his stomach and took a moment to answer. ‘Morland would have had the opportunity and so would Roger Willow, my chief clerk.’

‘Do you suspect either of them?’

Another long pause. ‘Willow is a loyal colleague.’

‘And Morland?’ asked Joseph.

Squire held up his hands. ‘I have said enough, gentlemen. I should return to my work.’

‘Of course. Our thanks for your cooperation. Can you spare Willow for a few minutes? We’ve seen Morland.’

‘I will send him in. We must dine together again soon, Thomas.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ replied Thomas with a smile. He could not help liking this overfed, overdressed gargoyle.

Since Thomas had last seen him, Roger Willow looked to have shrivelled. His face was even thinner, his shoulders more hunched and he peered at them over his spectacles with eyes the colour of claret. ‘We have some questions, Willow,’ said Joseph. ‘Nothing to be concerned about.’

Willow scratched his ear nervously. ‘Is it about the letter addressed to A. Silver in Aldersgate?’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘We heard Mr Squire and Sir Samuel arguing about it and the clerks are saying that it must be something unusual and important. Also, Sir Samuel has been particularly ill-tempered since Mr Squire returned from his sickness. He berated me for not showing the letter to him. He knows my instructions are to pass letters to be opened to Mr Squire and no one else, but still he insisted that I should have given it to him. The episode has made me quite unwell.’ The words came out in a rush.

‘The letter had come from Holland and the address was unknown to you, so perhaps you should have given it to Sir Samuel, or even Mr Bishop.’

‘Mr Bishop dislikes the opening of correspondence. He would have told me to put it on Mr Squire’s desk.’

‘Mr Squire thinks that the letter might have been tampered with. There was a mark on the seal,’ said Thomas.

Willow looked up sharply. ‘Mr Squire has said nothing about this to me. What sort of mark?’

‘One possibly made by the point of a knife.’

‘Impossible. Anyone taking a knife to a letter would be observed. And the letter was brought over from Love Lane and given directly to me.’ The blood rose to Willow’s face. A slur on his clerks was a slur on him. Thomas and Joseph exchanged a look. If Willow was dissembling he was a fine actor. ‘I must say, Mr Williamson, that I resent any accusation that I or one of my clerks acted improperly. As always, I carried out my duty exactly as expected of me.’

Williamson stood up. ‘Very well, Willow. For now the matter is closed. But we might have more questions in due course. Good day to you.’

Willow’s face was set. ‘Good day, gentlemen.’

When he had left them, Joseph shook his head and said, ‘Well, I do not think we learned much from that.’

‘Only confirmation that Morland is uncouth, Squire is a popinjay and Willow looks on the sorting office clerks as his children. Nothing about Madeleine,’ replied Thomas.

‘Morland’s fury at not being given the letter is hard to understand. Willow acted quite properly.’

‘Perhaps Morland’s self-regard is such that it can affect his judgement. You saw what he was like when you gave me the letter to decrypt. He was apoplectic.’

‘But if there is an enemy in our midst we’re no closer to finding him. We must redouble our efforts to find Madeleine.’

THOMAS WAS DOZING when Mary woke him the next morning. ‘A messenger has just come from Joseph. He wants you to meet him in an hour.’

‘Where?’

‘At the coroner’s house.’

‘Oh God.’ Thomas was wide awake instantly and pulling on his shirt. The coroner’s house could mean only one thing.

‘Charles will come with you, Thomas. He wants to.’

‘If he wishes.’

‘And you must eat. The cook is preparing something to take with you. Eat it in the carriage.’

On the way to Manners’ house, neither Charles nor Thomas spoke. Thomas managed to wash down a hunk of bread and cheese with sips of warm milk while Charles sat staring silently out of the window. When the coach drew up outside Manners’ house, they were out before the coachman could jump down to open the door. Charles knocked loudly on the coroner’s door, which was opened by the ancient clerk Thomas remembered from his previous visit.

Williamson was waiting for them inside. ‘There you are, Thomas, and Charles too. Good. Manners knows I’m here and I’ve told him not to keep us waiting this time.’

‘What do you know, Joseph?’ asked Charles.

‘Only that the body of a woman of about Madeleine’s age was found under London Bridge this morning. I do not have a description.’ Williamson began pacing the room. ‘Where is that damnable man?’

A woman of Madeleine’s age. Thomas’s throat tightened and his legs buckled. He struggled to breathe and grabbed Charles’s arm to steady himself. Charles put an arm around his shoulders and helped him to a chair, where he sat head down and in silence. Not Madeleine, surely not Madeleine.

When, after a few minutes, Manners entered through a door at the back of the room, Williamson shouted at him. ‘For the love of God, Manners, you’re holding a body which might be my cousin and we’ve been kept waiting again. We will see the body at once.’

What passed across Manners’ face was very like a smirk. ‘I have been busy, Mr Williamson. A coroner has many important tasks to perform.’

Williamson grunted. ‘I daresay. Well, come on, man, take us to her.’

But Manners was not to be hurried. ‘Before I do, gentlemen, you should know that the face of the dead woman has been cut with a sharp instrument. A knife, possibly. And there are other matters. Identifying her will not be straightforward.’

Thomas stood up and sat down quickly. ‘Would you prefer that Joseph and I see her?’ asked Charles gently.

For a moment Thomas was tempted to say yes. An image of Madeleine lying dead and disfigured on the coroner’s table would stay with him for ever; it might be wiser to leave it to the others. But he had to see her. It would be a betrayal not to.

‘No, I’ll come.’

‘As you wish,’ said Manners pompously, ‘but you have been warned. Follow me.’ He led them through the house to the room in which Thomas and Joseph had inspected the body of Henry Copestick.

Unlike that of Copestick, this body was covered by a black sheet. Manners strode up to the table and drew back the sheet to reveal the woman’s face. Thomas’s hand went straight to his mouth and he turned his head away. Again he felt Charles’s arm around his shoulders.

For perhaps thirty seconds the room was silent. Joseph was the first to speak. ‘Where and when exactly was she found, Manners?’ he whispered.