David Liss - A Spectacle Of Corruption

“Aye,” she said. “And after Mr. Dogmill come here himself, I thought I should never say a word of this to anyone.”

“What is this?” Littleton spat. “Dogmill come here? When?”

“Just after I laid Walter to his rest. He come and pound on my door and tells me that he can’t say if I knew what Walter known or not, but if I do and speak of it to anyone, he’ll see me in the ground next to my husband.” She stared at Littleton. “He grabbed me then in a place that’s none of his business and told me that a poor widow belonged to any man that wanted to take her, and I should remember that if I wanted to stay alive.”

I expected to see something more of a rage in Littleton, but he only looked away. “The laws belong to those which have the money,” he said softly. “They can do what they please and they can take what they want- or at least they think so.” He rose and walked over to Mrs. Yate and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’ve been hardly used, my love. I won’t see it happen again.”

If I found Littleton’s calm impressive, I could not say I shared it. With each passing day, the idea of fleeing the country appealed to me more.

No amount of questioning revealed more information. Mrs. Yate knew neither the name nor the station of the spy, only that he was an important Whig. After I had fully interrogated her, she retired to bed and Littleton uncorked a bottle of surprisingly drinkable claret. The need to drink wine exorcised all earlier needs to rid himself of my company.

“How could Yate have learned of this?” I asked.

Littleton shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s plenty of boys on the quays that raise a glass to the king across the water, but that’s all talk that comes from the bottle. I can’t think that Yate had any great connections with the Jacobites that he could learn a secret like this.”

“But it seems he did.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “And now what? What will you do with this knowledge that you wrung from me woman?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I will do something. I knew that I would have to find something to frighten Dogmill, and I believe I have discovered it at last- at least I have discovered what it would be. I am close, Littleton. I am very close.”

“You’re close to death is what you are,” he said. “I just hope you don’t take the rest of us with you.”

ON RETURNING HOME, I drank the better part of a bottle to port to calm myself and went through the letters that had collected that day. I had begun to receive invitations to outings and parties and gatherings. People who read the name Matthew Evans in the paper wished to make my acquaintance, and while in some odd way I could not help but be flattered, I declined them all. I had achieved what I wished with Mr. Evans’s reputation, and I had no desire to make him more conspicuous than I had to.

Of far more interest was a note from Griffin Melbury, saying that he would be by at ten to pay me a visit. Here was good timing, I thought. Or perhaps bad; I could hardly say which. My mind was already muddled with drink, and I did not know whether I was equal to formulating the questions I wished to ask.

Melbury’s equipage pulled up precisely as the clock struck ten. The man came inside and greeted me warmly but refused to take any refreshment. “Have you heard today’s tally?” he asked. “One hundred ninety-nine for Hertcomb and two hundred twenty to our side. We lead by nearly a hundred votes, and the election is but five days old. I taste victory, sir. I taste it. I tell you, the people of Westminster have had enough of corruption, of these Whigs who sell the soul of the nation to the highest bidder. But there is no time to rest. There’s work to be done, Mr. Evans, and as you are eager to aid the Tory cause, I thought you would care to join me in it.”

“I should be honored,” I told him, attempting to hide my confusion. It was not the suddenness of the offer that put me off my balance, but the familiarity Melbury showed me. I had wanted him to like me, and now he appeared to do just that. I had wanted to make him my ally, and he was becoming so. But my feelings were uncertain. I disliked him, but not nearly as much as I wanted to. Melbury was stiff in the way of old-money men, but not hard or cruel or insufferable, and though his politics were not mine, he appeared to believe them with great passion.

I could only tell myself that the fates had shown Melbury their kind faces, and he did seem poised to win Westminster. I flattered myself that when I revealed my true name, and when I told him all I knew of the Whiggish corruption, he would do all in his power to aid me. That I found him too superior (or too married to Miriam) for my tastes hardly signified. And so the two of us entered his equipage, which began to roll noisily toward Lambeth.

Melbury hummed a few times and then coughed and snorted. “Look here, Evans. I like you tremendous or I would not have asked you to come with me tonight, but there is something I must say to you.”

“Of course,” I replied, not a little uneasy.

“I know things are oft different in the colonies, so I understand fully well you meant no harm. You must understand that I am not for a moment insulted or angry. It’s just a bit of friendly advice, you see.”

“I should be honored,” I assured him.

“It’s just not the thing to dance with another man’s wife, you understand.”

I felt my guts turn sour. “Mr. Melbury, you must not think that I mean-”

“Please,” he said, with forced cheer. “I will not have any explanations or apologies. I only tell you this to keep you from perhaps finding yourself in an unpleasant situation with a less liberal gentleman. Or perhaps, if I may be so bold, a less uxorious one. I surprise you? Well, I think it no crime for a man to dote upon his wife.”

“I should not think it was,” I said stiffly.

“I presume one of the reasons you have come to London is to search for an appropriate wife?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“I tell you, marriage is a fit and proper state for a man. I have no regrets of it, but rather rejoice each day. But you’ll get nowhere dancing with Whig harlots like Grace Dogmill or other men’s wives. Perhaps it is the wrong thing to have spoken to you, I don’t know. I only mean to aid you- though I admit to being of a slightly jealous temperament when it comes to my beautiful Mary,” he said with a laugh.

“I do beg your pardon-” I began.

“No, no, I need no apology. Now, we shall say no more of it. It is forgotten. Are we in agreement?”

Here this villain wished to chastise me for dancing with Miriam when he had all but stolen her from my arms. I would have loved nothing more than to run my blade through him- if I were not depending on him to save my life. “We are in agreement,” I assured him, grateful he could not see my face in the dark of the coach.

He said nothing for some minutes, and while I was glad not to have to make chatter with him, I began to find the silence oppressive. “May I inquire as to why I have been thus honored with an invitation?” I asked at last.

“You did express a desire to involve yourself in this race,” he reminded me.

“I did, and earnestly too, but I doubt that every man who expresses such a desire receives the honor of an outing with Mr. Melbury.”

“Well, there can be no doubt of that, but most men who wish to involve themselves in politics have not saved me from a Whiggish brute, so I am not as inclined to like them as I am you, Evans. Have you an engagement for two nights hence?”

“I believe not,” I said.

“Then I shall provide you with one. I host a small dinner gathering where you will, I hope, meet some men of mutual interests. I beg you to join me.”