A bully trap - a brave man of mild appearance

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

 

Ash wondered if he might lose his stomach for the second time that day as Inspector Formby walked into the room flanked by his constable. Both of them were grim-faced, and it seemed to Ash that the inspector was giving him a particularly searching look.

Once Grant had removed himself, Ash took a breath and his courage in his hands.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, inspector?” he demanded, hoping he sounded as cool and irritated as he’d meant to and not as if he were quaking in his boots.

The inspector gave Ash another measuring look that made his heart kick behind his ribs before taking out his blasted notebook. Ash was of a mind to have that notebook from him and throw the damn thing in the fire, he was so sick of seeing the wretched thing. But the inspector took his time, flicking through the pages one by one and then reaching for his pencil, licking the end with a thoughtful expression which nearly had Ash reaching for his pistols again in frustration.

Of course, he knew the inspector was doing it simply to rattle him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t working.

“Ah yes, here were are,” Formby said, sounding satisfied and looking up at Ash with a smile that seemed wholly inappropriate. “I had an unexpected visitor this afternoon,” he said, scratching his chin and staring at the book as though the secrets to the universe were written there. Perhaps they were, but Ash wished he’d bloody well get on with it. “Reckons he saw you at the scene of the crime, your grace.”

Formby looked up from his notebook to stare at Ash. “What do you say to that, sir?”

“I say it’s a hum,” Ash replied, turning away to fix himself a drink and taking care that his back was to the inspector so that he couldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking. He took a fortifying swallow of brandy, closing his eyes for a moment before turning back to the inspector. “You see, I had a visit myself, rather earlier than you did,” he added with a thin smile. “From a man who said he would tell you he’d seen me at the scene if I did not pay for his silence.”

Ash had the pleasure of seeing that he had surprised Mr Formby.

“I see,” the inspector replied, staring at Ash as if he could read his thoughts if he looked hard enough. “I take it that you did not pay?”

“Of course he didn’t pay,” Keziah retorted, glaring at the inspector. “Why should he? He’s done nothing wrong, and the man is a thief and criminal.”

Formby’s eyes narrowed. “You know who it was, then, Lady Todd?” he asked, his tone curious.

Keziah nodded. “I can take a guess based on the description of the man Lord Ashwicke told me about. I would suggest that it is Martin Snyder, my father’s valet and often partner in crime.”

“Ah.” The inspector nodded, but continued to study Keziah in a manner which made Ash nervous, so heaven knew what it was doing to her. Not that Ash could perceive the slightest sense that she was ruffled. He was aware of a rush of pride as he looked upon her. She was fearless and strong. Many of the young females that fluttered around him, hoping to snare a wealthy duke, were simpering, giggling, spoilt creatures with empty heads. He wondered how any one of them would survive everything that Keziah had and still come out fighting like a lioness. He made himself a silent promise that no matter what happened, he would protect her and see her cared for. She deserved a little ease and comfort after all she had endured.

“So, may I take it that you refute the accusations against you?”

There was lump of ice sitting heavy in Ash’s gut but he nodded, keeping his face expressionless. “You may,” he said, taking a moment to finish the last of his drink. “If I am to take it that you won’t be arresting me on the say-so of a man whose testimony would be torn apart by any decent lawyer, I would ask you to leave now.”

Inspector Formby nodded and grinned at Ash, apparently not the slightest bit perturbed. Somehow it only served to make Ash more nervous still.

“Oh, I’ll go, your grace,” Formby said, looking far too pleased with himself for comfort. “But I’ll be back again.” He stood and stared at Ash, the amusement falling away from his expression. “Damned if I know what’s going on here,” he said, his voice low and considering, as if he spoke only to himself. “But I don’t reckon I’m being told the God’s honest truth. Not by either of ye,” he added, sounding rather annoyed now. Suddenly, the smile was back, though, and he wagged a finger at them. “But I’ll get to it, don’t you worry. I’ll get to it.”

“I wish you luck with your endeavours,” Ash said, and for once he was pleased to hear his words dripped ice.

“Don’t need luck, Lord Ashwicke,” the fellow said, chuckling to himself as he made for the door. He turned and tapped his finger to his nose. “Just a bit o’ nouse, is all.”

***

Two days passed, and Mr Formby found himself becoming increasingly impatient. The duke was right about one thing: Mr Snyder, valet to Viscount Rennard, was not a respectable man. His testimony alone would not be enough to convict a peer of the realm, but Formby was damn sure that the duke had been there. The fellow was quite obviously head over heels with Lady Todd, and Formby too long in the tooth to judge on appearances alone. He might look like a foolish young dandy, but people could surprise you when the things they held most dear were put at risk.

What he needed was evidence that placed him at the scene. Another, reliable witness would do it. Getting to his feet, he stuck his head out of his office to call from constable Greenly.

“Here, sir!” called a voice from the cells.

Making his way down to the holding area, Formby nodded a greeting to his colleague, who was holding a young boy of perhaps eight or nine by the ear.

“And the other one,” Greenly instructed, as the boy scowled at him and reluctantly turned out his pockets.

“What you got ‘ere, then?” Formby asked, grinning at the boy who glowered back at him.

“Caught this natty lad picking outside the Assembly room, sir,” Greenly replied as he continued to pat the boy down. “Ah, an’ what’s this, then?” he demanded, lifting the boy’s coat tails to discover a secret pocket sewn on the inside. Greenly reached in and pulled out a watch. “Well, I’m blowed,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve had a good day, eh, my lad?”

Greenly held the watch up to the inspector, who whistled low through his teeth. The watch was obviously gold, heavily engraved and worth a not-so-small fortune.

“Give that here,” Formby said, holding out his hand. Somewhat reluctantly, Greenly passed it through the bars.

Formby handled the pocket watch with care, intrigued and awed by the level of craftsmanship.

“Let’s see if we can find the owner of this little piece, then,” he said, opening the cover and then staring in awe at the inscription he found. With wide eyes, he looked up at the boy and gestured for Greenly to open the door.

Formby walked into the cell and crouched down, looking the lad in the eyes as he held out the watch.

“Now listen to me, you young Tyburn blossom, and listen good. I want to know about this watch, where you got it from and when, and …” Formby held up a finger before the lad could tell him to go to the devil. “And if you tell me everything you know, I’ll not only let you go with no charges, but I’ll give you half a crown for your efforts.”

Greenly made a sound of protest, but Formby ignored him as the lad returned a suspicious expression.

“No charges?” he repeated, clearly thinking it a trap.

“None at all,” Formby agreed. “And as a sign of good faith, Constable Greenly here is going to go and fetch you a cup of tea and cake. Aren’t you, Constable?”

Greenly gave him an unloving look, but agreed that he was, so Formby turned back to the boy.

“Now, then, my lad,” he said with a grin. “Tell me what you know.”

***

It had taken some doing, but Ash had managed to avoid his grandmother since the meeting with Formby. In fact, the past few days had been rather pleasant. He’d spent a lot of time with Keziah, which he knew was probably a mistake, but which he had been quite unable to resist. The more he saw of her, the more they spoke, the more he understood many of the hardships she had endured, the more he admired her, the more his heart ached that she should see him as anything other than her foolish friend. He knew she was grateful to him for what he had done, and was determined to see his name cleared. But once this had been accomplished … though Ash was by no means certain of that outcome, well, then she would leave and make her way in the world.

Ash had already told her that he would see her safe and cared for, and that she had nothing to fear for, but she would just smile and thank him. He felt sure that a proud woman like Keziah would not allow a man to have any hold over her, even a man he hoped she counted as her friend.

The idea of Keziah leaving and never seeing her again, of not knowing if she was safe, if she was well or cared for or happy … it tore at Ash’s heart and made him long for a different outcome. But Keziah had made her feelings plain, there was little he could do except hope that by some strange miracle she would change her mind.

“Felix!” Ash jumped as his grandmother’s voice jolted him from his thoughts.

“Grandmama,” he said, moving to kiss her cheek as she walked closer.

“I want to speak with you,” she said, walking away, as straight-backed as ever, and ordered Grant to bring them tea as she went. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her eyes glittering with irritation.

Ash said nothing as he closed the door behind him. He quite obviously had been avoiding her and so there was no point in denying it.

“I won’t allow you to marry that girl,” she said, turning to stare at him, her arms folded, he elegant figure taut with indignation.

Ash looked back at her and felt his heart sink. The last thing he had the energy for was trying to stand up his grandmother. Somehow, no matter what he did, he found himself talked around and bent to her will. Not that there was anything he could do about this one, either way. Keziah didn’t want him.

“There’s really no need to get hot under the collar,” he said, feeling irritation prickle under his skin at having to admit yet another failing to the woman. “She won’t have me.”

“So she says,” she retorted with a sneer, looking suspicious and extremely vexed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s her father’s daughter, she’s playing a deep game, that’s for certain.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ash shouted, finding some measure of satisfaction in her look of surprise at his burst of anger. “I offered for her. If she’d wanted me for my money and title, don’t you think she’d have snatched at the opportunity?”

Lady Margaret just glowered at him, a common response if she could think of no obvious retort.

“I don’t trust her,” she replied, as if that was answer enough.

“Good God, Grandmama, you don’t trust me!” he threw back at her, suddenly too weary and sick at heart to try and avoid the inevitable row.

She snorted at that, shaking her head in disgust. “And with good reason. You’re a fool, Felix. A fool and a fribble. Good Lord, your father would turn in his grave if he could see what you’ve become.”

For a moment, the furious words bubbled on his tongue, acid and vitriolic, but if he let go of his anger now, perhaps he would say too much. His emotions were too disturbed, too unsettled, to allow himself to lose control. So he swallowed down the rage her words brought bursting through his chest before he said something he might regret. The fear that she was perfectly correct was harder to swallow, though.

That anxious, disquieting feeling that he was lacking, that he was, and never would be, good enough wrapped around him like a wet cloak. Making him feel weak and hopeless all at once.

Apparently oblivious to his distress, his grandmother moved to one of the chairs by the fire. “And why was that grubby inspector here again the other night, poking his nose where it’s not wanted?” she demanded as she sat down, glowering at the idea of some common fellow digging into their private affairs. “There is a lot of talk flying around the ton. Wanting to know how we are involved in this, and what that blasted girl is doing here!” She banged her hand on the arm of the chair, looking furious. “It’s turning into a scandal and I won’t have it,” she barked in fury. “She’ll have to go.”

“No.”

Lady Margaret gave him a hard look. “Do not defy me on this, Felix.”

“You forget yourself, Grandmother,” Ash replied, staring down at her and wondering what she could see in his eyes now. Did she still think him a fool and a fribble, seeing the implacable look that must be in his eyes? It was true that he felt sick to his stomach at defying her, knowing she would likely make his life hell in retaliation, but there was no power on earth that would make him turn Keziah out. “I am the Duke of Chartley. This is my house, you stay at my pleasure.”

She snorted, her face full of the contempt she felt for him. “Think you’ve got it in you to turn me out, do you?”

Ash looked away from her. “Perhaps not,” he admitted, disgusted with himself, but then, she was his grandmother, she was not as young and strong as she might like people to believe, and he wasn’t so heartless as to damage her reputation or create a scandal for her at this late stage. “But if you think you can force me to make Lady Todd leave, you have greatly overestimated your influence.”

Her lips compressed into a thin line of displeasure.

“You are wrong, as usual,” she replied with a sneer. “I have only underestimated the influence she has over you.”

Ash blushed and held his tongue as she laughed at his reaction.

“Fool.” She sat back in her chair and they were silent as Grant brought the tea-tray in. Ash refused any, wanting to get out of the woman’s company as fast as he may, but he had not yet been dismissed.

“You never answered my question,” she said, once the butler had removed himself. “What did Inspector Formby want with you?”

Ash narrowed his eyes at her and sat back in his chair. He felt all at once that he would very much like to shock his aged relation. Shock her so much that she might actually have to re-evaluate him. “He would like very much to arrest me for murdering Viscount Rennard,” he said, wondering what she would say if she knew the truth. He didn’t have to wonder for long as she burst out laughing.

“You?” she said, mirth glittering in her eyes. “You murder a man like Lord Todd?”

She threw her head back and laughed until tears rolled down her face, and Ash watched as his fury grew, bubbling in his gut, boiling in his blood until it threatened to consume him if he did not find some release. “Oh dear,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “What an idea.”

“It’s true.”

For a moment she simply blinked at him and then her face grew cool and stern.

“Don’t joke about such things,” she snapped. “And certainly don’t lie. I cannot abide liars and cheats, and I thank God that you are merely a fool.”

“I’m not lying,” Ash replied, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction as the shock grew in her eyes. “The night he beat Keziah, after I’d seen what he’d done, I took the pistols which are at this moment hidden in my study and I went to his house … and I shot him.”

Lady Margaret simply stared at him, looking at him as though she’d never before seen him. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered, all the colour drained from her face.

Ash shrugged and looked away from her, sorry now to have caused her distress despite his earlier anger. “Well, whether you do or not, Inspector Formby knows I was there. There is a witness.”

Lady Margaret put a hand to her throat, shaking her head in horror.

“Who?” she demanded, her voice trembling now.

Ash shrugged. “No one with any standing. The viscount’s valet, a shady character himself ,by all accounts. It isn’t enough to convict me.”

“No, but the scandal would destroy us.”

Ash snorted and got to his feet. He should have known that would be her first concern. With a soft laugh, he decided he’d had enough of familial affection for one day.

“If you’ll excuse me, Grandmother, I have things to do.”

She made no objection as he got up and left, and Ash felt a strange and rather twisted sense of victory as he closed the door on her.