Antonia Hodgson - The Devil in the Marshalsea

Gilbourne sat back, startled. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed. ‘I am sorry to hear it. He was killed in the riot?’

I frowned. Gilbourne did seem genuinely surprised by the news. ‘Someone cut his throat while he was sleeping.’

‘Murdered in his bed! Poor devil.’ Gilbourne shook his head. He twisted in his seat to look at Acton. ‘But then, I suppose he did have many enemies. In and outside the prison…’

I couldn’t bear the hypocrisy another moment. ‘Yourself included, Mr Gilbourne.’

He laughed, feigning astonishment. ‘Good heavens! You are not accusing me , surely? I was one of the few who defended him! My dear Mr Hawkins, forgive me. You seem a little frantic. I fear your grief is affecting your judgement.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps you liked Mr Fleet a little too well? I believe he had that effect on certain… gentlemen. ’

I said nothing. What could I do? I needed Fleet’s help to catch a snake such as Gilbourne. What use was I on my own?

‘Well,’ Gilbourne sighed, reaching for his gloves. ‘This has all been most diverting. But if you would excuse me, gentlemen, I think I shall return to town. I’m meeting friends for dinner.’

Acton stepped forward and shoved him back into his chair, holding him firm. ‘This is my Castle, Mr Gilbourne. I’ll say when you can leave.’

Gilbourne’s face darkened but he was no fool – he held still and waited.

When Acton was sure his point was made, he stepped back to guard the door again.

Gilbourne turned his gaze on me, cold and contemptuous. ‘So. You wish me to defend my honour, is that it? A butcher and a failed rake. Very well, sirs. I could not have killed Mr Fleet last night. I was at a lodge meeting at the Anchor and Crown in Shorts Gardens until three, then took a room in a bagnio for the rest of the night. I have friends who will vouch for me. Powerful friends.’

I raised my hand to stop him. ‘I know you did not kill Mr Fleet.’

Gilbourne blinked in surprise. ‘Then what, pray , is all this nonsense?’

I hesitated. The room was stifling and I could hear the blood roaring in my ears.

‘For God’s sake, Hawkins,’ Acton growled. ‘Show your hand, you cork-brained fool. He says you murdered Captain Roberts, Gilbourne. And I swear to God if you’re the reason my Castle’s been in uproar these past months I’ll hang you myself.’

For a second I caught a glimmer of fear in Gilbourne’s eyes. And then he smiled and shuffled back in his seat, like a child waiting to be told a bedtime story. ‘So, I murdered John Roberts, eh? Well, well – how astonishing. And why would I do such a thing?’

I rubbed the sweat from my brow, cursing Acton under my breath. There was nothing for it; I would have to accuse him and hope to God I could force him to confess. ‘Mr Gilbourne. I know that you offered Captain Roberts a sum of ten guineas to rape his wife. When he refused, and threatened you with blackmail, you slipped into the prison through the cellar and killed him, with the help of an accomplice.’

And there it was. The simple, ugly truth.

‘Son of a whore,’ Acton whispered, though he was probably just thinking of the ten guineas. Gilbourne said nothing.

I leaned against the mantelpiece, mouth dry, sweat sticking my shirt to my back. ‘Roberts told Fleet everything. You guessed that, but didn’t care so long as he kept his mouth shut. But when you heard he was helping with my investigation you sent your accomplice to cut his throat.’

I waited. This was the moment for confession, for Gilbourne to break down. And then I would have him. But something was wrong; the moment was slipping away from me. I had expected rage, denial – violence, even. But Gilbourne seemed quite unmoved. He brushed a piece of dust from his breeches and gave me a thin, condescending smile. ‘And you have proof of this?’

I stood a little straighter. ‘Mr Woodburn accused you of it this morning, sir. In front of witnesses.’

‘ Did he?’ Gilbourne frowned. ‘How strange. Well, the fat old fool never did like me. He accused me of stealing charity money once, can you imagine that, Mr Acton…?’ He fiddled with a lace cuff. ‘I suppose I stabbed poor Mr Woodburn, too?’

‘No. He… stabbed himself.’ I felt my face flush. It sounded ludicrous, even to me.

Gilbourne sniggered. ‘He stabbed himself …? Extraordinary!’

My heart sank. It was no use – Gilbourne had defeated me, without leaving his chair. I couldn’t even avenge my friend’s murder, unless I simply ran my blade through Gilbourne’s black heart before he drew another breath. I confess, in that moment I considered it.

Gilbourne rested his chin on his hand. ‘D’you know, I could almost pity you, Mr Hawkins.’

Acton was growing impatient, rocking back and forth on his heels. ‘Is any of this true, Gilbourne? God knows you’re capable of it.’

Gilbourne sneered at him. ‘Oh, that is precious, coming from you… Yes. As it happens I did offer Captain Roberts ten guineas for his wife. What of it? It was a generous offer, I thought.’ He smirked. ‘ Lady Roberts, gliding about as if the whole world should kiss her feet. She’s just a common slut who ran away with the first man who charmed her legs open. I thought it would be amusing to fuck some sense into her.’

This was too much, even for Acton. ‘You planned to rape Mrs Roberts for sport?’

‘It’s hardly rape , sir, if the husband consents. Oh, he refused at first, I grant you. And he did try to blackmail me, poor fool – but once I explained to him it would be his word against mine, and how many of my friends were lawyers, and magistrates… he soon had a change of heart. A man will do just about anything to stay alive. The trick is knowing his price, isn’t that so, Mr Acton?’

Acton shrugged his agreement.

Gilbourne stood up and stretched, considered his reflection in the glass and began adjusting his cravat. He caught my eye in the mirror and smiled. ‘Roberts sold his only son to escape the Common Side. Why not sell his wife to buy his freedom? So we shook upon it and I paid him the five guineas in advance. Unfortunately someone murdered him that same night and stole the money.’ He picked up his hat and gloves. ‘If you ever do find the real killer, I’d be most obliged if you could return it. I have my eye on a new pair of boots for the winter. Or perhaps you might explain to Mrs Roberts that her husband has sold her to me for a guinea a fuck?’

I could take no more. I drew my dagger and held it across his throat, pushing him back to the mantelpiece.

‘Acton!’ Gilbourne cried. ‘For God’s sake pull him off me!’

Acton chuckled. ‘Let him murder you, what should I care? They’ll hang him and I’ll be done with the pair of you.’

I lowered the blade slowly, keeping the tip at Gilbourne’s chest. Acton’s words had struck home. This man was not worth hanging for. ‘Why did you help Catherine with her ghost?’

Gilbourne raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh… you know of that?’

‘What’s this?’ Acton asked sharply. ‘What do you know about Roberts’ ghost, damn you?’

Gilbourne rolled his eyes. ‘There is no ghost. It was all a foolish hoax, plotted by Mrs Roberts. I helped her, Mr Hawkins, because she paid me to. And she is so very grateful. I must confess I have laughed long and hard about that.’

I dropped the dagger, sickened by every word. My shoulders sagged. What more could I do?

‘ Ohhh ,’ Gilbourne simpered. ‘Am I free to go, sir? You’re too kind.’ And with that, he gave me a low, mocking bow, and left the room.

Acton considered me in silence for a moment. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered, and followed Gilbourne through the door.