Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

Your letter received and noted. Your request granted. The amount is agreed on condition proof is provided that the subject is not damaged in any way. JW

They argued over whether Williamson’s name should be added, and eventually agreed that JW would ensure that the notice would be recognized for what it was, without alerting anyone else.

Armed with a fair copy and the price of a personal notice, Joseph’s steward was despatched to Thorpe’s printing house in Fleet Street. ‘If you have any difficulty, use my name,’ he told the man. ‘I know Thorpe. He’s a sound fellow.’ It was the business of the head of the king’s security to know the publishers of all the London newsbooks.

When the steward had left, Charles returned to Piccadilly to give Mary the news. She would be enraged that this had happened to Madeleine and even more enraged that Thomas had been involved. Reassurances about the ransom being paid would help but little. He advised Thomas to take his time returning.

‘Will you really call in your men?’ asked Thomas when Charles had gone.

‘Except for Mottershead, yes. I trust him not to stir the pot but I will tell him to be doubly careful.’

‘Is there still nothing on the murders?’

‘Only the disfigured foreigner. Nothing else.’

‘And what about the Post Office?’

‘We have interviewed every clerk. Bishop is still complaining about lack of staff and Squire is suspicious of Morland, although there’s nothing new in that. Morland is still being obnoxious and demanding more money.’

‘The man’s insufferable.’

‘Indeed he is. But also well connected. The more I think about it, the more I believe he’s involved. That is partly why I did not give him the encrypted letter and why I have not told him that you were right about it. He is clever enough to have evaded discovery, but I dare not take action without good reason. He would go straight to the king. Then it will be me who finds himself in the Tower, or worse.’

The notice appeared in Thorpe’s newsbook the next day. Mr Thorpe had obligingly printed it in a box at the bottom of the front page, where it would not be missed. Thomas read it to Charles and Mary. She had spent the two days venting her fury on Thomas for becoming involved and for putting Madeleine in danger, had told him to pack his bags and go home, only to rescind the order when she saw the misery on his face, and had forbidden him from having anything more to do with the matter.

‘You’ve done enough damage, Thomas,’ she shouted at him. ‘Leave Joseph to find her. And leave him to deal with his problems at the Post Office himself.’ Thomas had nodded meekly and wished the door would open for Madeleine miraculously to walk in.

Joseph’s reply to the ransom demand calmed Mary a little. Thomas could only sit alone in his room, staring at the wall and seeing nothing but Madeleine on the rack, Madeleine on the wheel, Madeleine in the scold’s bridle. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, only for the images to return more sharply. He tried reading and he tried writing. Both were useless. Sleep was out of the question, food and drink unwanted intrusions. Any thought other than a thought of Madeleine was shameful. He must concentrate everything on her.

On the third day after their reply appeared in the newsbook, Josiah arrived. Mary showed him up to Thomas’s room and left them to it. Thomas needed only to see his face to know that there had been no news. ‘Nothing, Josiah?’ he asked, without even rising from his chair.

‘Nothing, sir. Mr Williamson told me to be careful but I’d ’ave wagered ten guineas we’d ’ave ’eard something by now. If anyone knows anything, they’re not saying. Devilish queer, it is.’

‘How do you account for it, Josiah?’

‘Must be powerful forces at work, sir. The men who took Miss Stewart are no ordinary kidnappers.’

‘Let’s hope the notice in Thorpe’s newsbook gets us somewhere. Is there anything else we can do?’

‘We need a stroke of luck, sir. ’Enrietta’s been making enquiries. I’m off to see ’er this morning.’

‘I shall accompany you, Josiah.’

‘Shall you, sir? What about Mrs Carrington?’

‘She will not be informed.’

Josiah looked worried. Of enemies armed with muskets, swords and pistols, he was not afraid. Of a woman’s wrath, especially Mary Carrington’s, he certainly was. ‘I do ’ope you know what you’re doing, sir. My life’ll be as good as over if I bring you back injured.’

‘Then you had best keep me safe.’ The thought of actually doing something had lifted Thomas’s spirits.

‘I shall wait here, Josiah, while you go quietly down the stairs to check if Mrs Carrington is in her sitting room. Try not to be seen. If she’s engaged, we’ll slip out through the kitchen door. Off you go.’

Josiah was soon back. ‘All clear, sir. Mrs Carrington’s in ’er sitting room talking to a lady visitor.’

Thomas managed the stairs without a sound. Then they were through the kitchen and into the street behind the house. They circled around back into Piccadilly and found a coach to take them to Drury Lane. If the coachman was surprised at their destination, he did not show it. The lane attracted gentlemen from every part of London.

When they arrived in Wild Street, Thomas paid the fare, and just as he had before, Josiah knocked three times. The panel in the door was pulled back and the same pair of black eyes inspected them. The door was opened by Oliver and they were shown to Henrietta’s room.

As far as Thomas could tell, Henrietta had not moved since his last visit. She sat in her chair, glass of port in one hand and clay pipe in the other, watching her customers enjoying themselves in the courtyard. She wore the same orange wig and the same black patches on her face. Rupert stood beside her.

‘Good day, Josiah. Brought your cousin with you, I see. Washed his hands, has he? And found his tongue yet?’

The time for dissembling was over. ‘I have found my tongue, madam,’ replied Thomas, ‘and I apologize for the deception when last we met. I am Thomas Hill.’

‘I know. Josiah’s told me. Not that I was fooled. Men pretend to be all manner of things in this house. I see through them all, don’t I, Josiah?’

‘That you do, ’Enrietta. ’Ave you ’eard anything?’

‘There’s no rush. Sit down and have a drink with me. Glass of port, Thomas?’

‘Thank you. Just the thing,’ replied Thomas. This lady would not respond well to being pushed or rushed. He took a glass and handed another to Josiah. ‘Your excellent health, madam.’

‘And yours, gentlemen.’ Henrietta took a gulp of port, belched loudly and lit her pipe. When it was drawing to her satisfaction, she turned her attention to her guests. ‘I’ve done as you asked, Josiah. There’s a good few who owes me favours and I’ve been calling them in. Wouldn’t do it for anyone else, you know. Can’t imagine why I’ve got a soft spot for you but I have. Makes no sense to me.’ Josiah blushed but said nothing. ‘The strange thing is, there’s no word of it. No one knows about any lady being attacked or carried off. Not a whisper.’

Thomas’s heart sank. Not a word, not a whisper. ‘Why might that be, do you think?’ he asked.

‘There’s two possibilities. Either she’s dead and the fish are having her for their dinner or she’s not in London.’

The first possibility made his stomach heave, the second had not occurred to him. He had simply assumed that she was being held in the city. But she could as easily be elsewhere. ‘If you were holding her, Henrietta, where would you hide her if not in London?’

‘Well now, if I didn’t want to be too far away I’d take her somewhere where no one lives. Epping Forest, perhaps, or the marshes. Very lonely in the marshes. Not many go there. Easy to guard and unlikely to be heard or seen.’