Bruce Alexander - Jack, Knave and Fool

“I quite understand,” said Sir John. “But you have at your disposal books such as might give some light on the matter?”

“I do, yes, and I mean to study them tonight in order to explore this possibility, this ‘doubt’ of yours. In all truth, I was quite dissatisfied with the opinion I gave to Lady Laningham as to the cause of her husband’s death. I told her that her husband had died of circulatory failure. This is very like saying that he died because his heart stopped beating. That, of course, is the ultimate cause of all death.”

“Would you hazard a guess as to the penultimate?”

“I should be reluctant to do so. It seemed to be a gastric disturbance of some terrible proportion. What might cause such has me quite baffled. Barring further study of the kind I mentioned, and barring an autopsy of Lord Laningham s corpus, there would seem to be no way …” Mr. Donnelly paused, a frown upon his face, a look of frustration.

“What is it, sir? Something has occurred to you.”

“Indeed something did occur-though now quite useless to us. It came to me that had we saved that which Lord Laningham vomited from his stomach and brought it to a competent chemist for analysis, he might have told us if there was some foreign element in it which could have caused such a violent reaction. But you, Sir John, gave permission to the innkeeper to clean up the stage after the body had been removed.”

“Ah, so I did. It seemed only proper.”

“As we left, I happened to notice one of his servers with mop and pail making rid of the mess.”

“Well, perhaps another time — though indeed I hope there be no other time.”

Through this conversation which took place between Sir John Fielding and Mr. Gabriel Donnelly, the two other gentlemen had remained silent-yet their attitudes differed greatly. For his part, Mr. Humber was clearly fascinated by all that passed between them. Mr. Goldsmith, on the other hand, seemed merely tolerant, bound by his affection for his friend Mr. Donnelly and his respect for Sir John to let them have their say. When a brief silence ensued upon their conclusion, I was in no wise surprised when it was Mr. Goldsmith who broke it.

“I have but one more objection to make, if I may.”

“Make it then, by all means,” said Sir John, flapping a hand indifferently in the air.

“It is this, a simple appeal to good sense: If one were to wish to poison another, one would not choose a setting as public as these Sunday concerts. After all, up there on the stage? With hundreds looking on? It makes no sense, sir.”

“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Humber, swayed once again in the other direction, “Mr. Goldsmith brought that up on our walk from the Crown and Anchor. It does seem a good point, Jack.”

“Ah, but is it?” questioned Sir John. “What was it that those hundreds saw? An old man of seventy-five who had probably eaten too much and certainly drunk too much, up there before them, prancing about as one his age should not have done, playing the fool as he had often done in the past, overexerting himself. Many there knew he was not a well man. There could have been little surprise at his collapse. Some indeed may have made such dire predictions, attending simply in the expectation that it would one day happen just as it did and they might be there to see.” He shook his great head and quaffed the last of his brandy. “No, I reject Mr. Goldsmith’s final point more emphatically than his others. I believe contrariwise, that if one were to wish to poison another — that other being Lord Laningham — he would choose just such a time and place as the Crown and Anchor stage within the process of a Sunday concert.”

As we climbed the back stairs to the kitchen, I heard the voices of Annie and Lady Fielding raised in such a way that it seemed they were quarreling. While that proved not quite to be so, they were certainly in disagreement.

“But Annie, you must!” Lady Fielding’s voice rang insistently as we reached the top of the stairs. “It is a great honor to be chosen.”

Then, as I opened the door and Sir John followed, Annie, her back to us, responded vehemently, “M’lady, that is just what I was told by Mr. Wills, the choirmaster. But how can it be an honor when it will only lead to my shame?”

We two walked into the kitchen, and the two females fell silent for a moment-but only for a moment, for both turned to us, each to argue her case. Sir John stood in bafflement, preparing himself for the assault.

“Jack,” said Lady Fielding, “you must talk a bit of sense to this girl.”

“Sense, is it? It seems just now to have come in high fashion. Forgive me that remark, Kate. I have just now left a discussion in which many appeals were made to good sense. My adversary seemed to think I lacked all trace of it. But let that pass. What is the trouble?”

“Annie here was invited to join the Handel Choir specially by the choirmaster. The other two volunteers were dismissed with thanks after the sadly aborted performance. But our girl Annie was asked to become a permanent member of the choir. He was most flattering about her voice — she admits that — told her it was quite outstanding. And do you know how she replied? She told him that she was employed as our cook and had no time lor racfa things.”

“Well … does she? That is to say, we do depend upon her for our meals, do we not?”

“Of course we do. But it seems that she told him in such a way as to offend him — I hope not overmuch — as if to say that music was of little importance when put against her daily duties.”

“Why, I think that quite admirable. Bravo, Annie, good, loyal girl!”

“Jack, no! She has a talent. It has been recognized. She should be given the opportunity to cultivate it. I have put myself forward to fill in for her here in the kitchen on those Sundays on which concerts are to be given. There are rehearsals, but they take place during the day.”

“Well, yes, I see what you mean, Kate. Only on Sundays, eh?”

“And not every Sunday- only on concert Sundays in the season. In fact, we have taken advantage of her willing nature since she has been with us. In many households, cook is given Sunday-or allowed to prepare an early meal so she may have the rest of the day to herself.”

“Ah, yes, hmmm, I see.” Sir John rubbed his chin in thought, nodded in much the same way as he might when weighing testimony in his courtroom. “This must, however, be Annie’s matter to decide. We cannot force her to go off Sundays and sing Handel merely because we think she should. Perhaps it was not because she wished to serve us better that she gave this as her reason to the choirmaster. Perhaps that was merely an excuse to cover another, more personal.” Then did he turn in her direction. “Annie, tell me, as I entered just now did I not hear you mention ‘shame? I believe you asked, ‘How can this be an honor when it will only bring me shame?’ — or words to that effect. You did say that?”

“I did. Yes, Sir John.”

“What did you mean? How would it bring you shame?”

“She cannot read music,” put in Lady Fielding.

“No, it’s true I can’t. When they handed me the music sheets, all the notes was like so many flyspecks upon the page. One of the ladies sang me my part, and I got it right enough as far as she was able to take me — I’ve a good ear for a tune — yet we had soon to go on the stage, and she could only take me so far. No farther could I go. Mr. Wills, he said he knew right when I quit, for the life went right out of the sopranos. Which was meant as flattery, but indeed it made me feel ashamed that I could only open and close my mouth and pretend to be singing with the rest.”

“I see. Well, perhaps at a proper rehearsal you could be taught the rest and sing it entire.”