A Canterbury story - a long, roundabout tale

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

 

Mr Formby sat back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at the young rascal in front of him and wondering how far he could be trusted to tell the truth. There was always the chance that Lady Ashwicke was paying the fellow to lie through his teeth. The inspector was pretty certain that whoever took his place when he retired would spend a deal of time chasing Frankie and being led a merry dance for his troubles, too. However, he was inclined to think the lad was telling the truth. Still, there was someone else who ought to be present for this little recitation.

Mr Formby got up from his seat and stuck his head round the door and motioned constable Greenly over.

“Fetch his lordship up here, quick-smart, lad.”

Greenly nodded and Mr Formby closed the door again, going to stand in front of the fire for a moment in the hope of drying his sodden clothes.

“Alright then, Frankie,” he said, before leaning over and picking up the last biscuit from the plate, offering it to him. “This is what I want you to do. Start at the beginning, and tell me everything that you remember. How came you to be in the Todd household to begin with?”

Frankie paused in the act of reaching for the biscuit, guilt written all over his face in large, frightened letters.

Mr Formby sighed. “I ain’t interested in what you may or may not ‘ave filched, so stop looking like you’re on the road to the scragging post. You’ll walk out of here when you’re done, you’ve my word on it.”

Frankie considered this, pursing his lips before taking the biscuit.

“I was walking across Abbey Green,” he said, stashing the biscuit in a pocket as he spoke. “When I noticed the front door was wide open.” He shrugged and cast Keziah an apologetic look. “Well, I ‘adn’t eaten for a day or two, an’ I reckoned maybe there was somethin’ small I could lift,” he mumbled.

Lady Ashwicke laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “It’s alright, Frankie, we all do things we ought not if we’re desperate enough.”

Frankie looked guiltier still, which Mr Formby could well understand in the light of such understanding. The boy jolted as a knock sounded at the door and Greenly appeared, escorting Lord Ashwicke into the room.

“Ash!” her ladyship cried and ran to him. The inspector watched, curious to note how obviously relieved she was to see him, the way she clung to him, sobbing. It had been obvious to him from the first that the young duke loved her enough to do something foolish, but he hadn’t before noticed the same depth of emotion from his wife. In fact, he’d been quite prepared to believe she was simply using him. But seeing her now … perhaps he had misjudged her after all.

“There, there, love,” the duke said, his voice soft as he smiled down at her. “I’m alright.”

“Oh, Ash, why did you do it? You must know I’m not worth it,” she sobbed, clinging to his lapels.

“I know nothing of the sort,” he retorted, his eyes growing dark. “You’re worth everything I have, and far more besides. I’d be lost without you, you must see that?”

Lady Ashwicke just sobbed harder and her husband began to look a little distressed himself. “Oh, come now, Keziah, love, you’re ruining this jacket, you know, and it’s one of Weston’s best,” he remonstrated, provoking a muffled squawk somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she clung harder. “And now you’re ruining my cravat, too,” he added with a genuine touch of reproach this time.

“Oh, Ash, you are absurd,” she said, laughing and looking at her husband like he’d hung the moon.

Well, well, thought the inspector.

Lord Ashwicke tugged his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his wife. “Now dry your eyes, love, I think the inspector wants to talk to me.”

“No actually, my lord,” Mr Formby replied, gesturing for him to sit. “Just to listen for the moment.” He turned back to Frankie and gestured for him to continue.

The lad cleared his throat, looking around the assembled company with a little trepidation. “Well, so I went inside the ‘ouse, all quiet like, and that’s when I saw ‘im, that oily valet, draggin’ Lord Todd into one of the rooms from the hallway. Well, ‘e ‘ad a bleedin’ great ‘ole, right ‘ere,” he said, pointing at his chest and grimacing. “So I just turns and legs it, right? But that fella, ‘e sees me afore I go. So I’m running across Abbey Green when I sees this right flash cove,” he said, pausing to point at Lord Ashwicke. “And I run into ‘im, accidentally on purpose like, an’ lift ‘is watch as I go.”

“I remember you!” Ash said, sounding indignant. “You’re the link boy. Why, you little devil, and after I gave you a crown tip, too!”

“Sorry, mister,” Frankie replied, looking miserable.

“Oh, never mind that,” Lady Ashwicke said, waving away Ash’s protest, her eyes wide now. “But, Frankie, you never told me you only saw Ash after Lord Todd had been killed.” She clutched at the boy’s arms, looking rather frantic. “You mean to say that my father really was dead before Ash even got there?”

“I jus’ said so, didn’t I?” Frankie replied, looking perplexed by her outburst.

“Yes, but I didn’t realise it was actually true,” she burst out, before flushing and staring at Mr Formby with chagrin. The inspector just waved a hand at her, feeling he was really past caring what she’d been plotting as long as he heard the truth now.

“But that’s not possible!” Ash retorted, looking really indignant now. “The devil fired a shot at me and I shot him in return. I heard him fall, dammit!”

“Ash!” Keziah exclaimed in horror, grasping his arm as the colour drained from his face. “Don’t you dare say another word,” she warned him and his grandmother tutted with impatience.

“Do try and avoid getting yourself hanged, Felix.”

Ash scowled at the dowager, but said nothing more and Mr Formby decided he had some questions that needed answering right away.

“You’re quite sure Lord Todd was dead, Frankie?” he asked, keeping his tone mild so as not to unsettle the boy any further.

“’Ow many bleedin’ times ‘ave I gotta say it? I’m sure!” the boy retorted, folding his arms and scowling. “’E ‘ad these staring eyes, ‘orrible it was, too, but ‘e was dead, alright.”

Mr Formby nodded and turned his attention to Lord Ashwicke. “Now, my lord, you say you went to Lord Todd’s house, that he shot at you, and you returned fire.”

Lady Ashwicke sent her husband a pleading look, but he just sighed and took her hand. “Well, I can’t very well take it back now, can I, love?” he said, sounding apologetic but turning his attention to the inspector. “After what he’d done to my wife, I was in a blind rage, inspector, I don’t mind telling you. Though I think you might wish to know that the reason Lady Ashwicke came to know me was that she had discovered her father intended to marry my mother and to murder me in order to get control of our fortune.” He paused to give his wife an adoring look before he carried on. “Keziah here is a very brave woman, Mr Formby, braver than me by far, in truth. If you knew what she had suffered at the hands of that … that …”

Mr Formby held up a hand, shaking his head. “You don’t need to explain that, at least, my lord. I’d been trying to pin something on that slippery devil for two decades or more. He was a wrong’un and I pity anyone who had to deal with him.”

Lord Ashwicke nodded, patting his wife’s hand, as she was holding onto his sleeve as though she feared he’d disappear. “That’s why he beat her so badly, inspector. He discovered that she’d been with me and must have guessed that she’d warned me of his plans. I couldn’t let him get away with it, you must see?”

Mr Formby felt he did see, only too clearly, and in Lord Ashwicke’s position, he’d likely have done the same thing. But sadly, his job was only to uphold the law, not to decide who was guilty or innocent, so, for the moment, he held his tongue.

“So you’re telling me that Lord Todd fired at you?”

“Well, someone did!” Ash said, sounding a touch defensive. “Look, when I got there, the house was in darkness, the door wide open. So I went inside, quietly, which was damned hard as I could hardly see my own hand, and I made my way to the parlour. Well, I’d barely set foot in the room when there was a flash of light and a bullet hit the door jamb beside my head. After that … well, to be frank, I simply reacted and fired in return. I heard the crash of a body falling and … I ran.” Lord Ashwicke shrugged, looking rather awkward. “Not very heroic, I’m afraid,” he muttered.

“Yes, you are,” his wife whispered, smiling at him. “You did it for me, and I think you’re terribly heroic.”

“You do?” the duke replied, brightening considerably.

“Yes, well, if we could keep to the point,” Mr Formby said, interrupting before things could get mushy. “On speaking to the neighbour …” He paused for a moment as he flicked through his notebook to the relevant page. “Ah, yes, a Mrs Richards. Well, it appears she heard three shots that night. The first, which she didn’t recognise as a shot until we spoke again earlier today, seeing as she was down in the cellar and the noise was muffled - and then two more some minutes later. So that would fit with your stories,” he replied. “But also, on inspecting the site and reading the surgeon’s report, only one bullet was found in the body, and as our young friend here is certain that happened before you arrived on the scene, my lord, and as I discovered another bullet lodged in the wall some distance to the right of where the body was discovered …”

“You mean to say I missed?” Lord Ashwicke said, sounding so dejected that Mr Formby almost laughed.

“Might I remind you, my lord, that this is a good thing,” he said, his tone stern as he scowled at Lord Ashwicke.

The duke snorted and didn’t seem to be of the same mind, but going on the expressions carried by Lady Ashwicke and his grandmother, he was the only one.

Mr Formby returned to his seat behind his desk and gave a sigh. “Going on what I’ve discovered so far, I would say that it happened like this. An unknown assailant gained access to the house and shot Lord Todd. His valet, Martin Snyder, was panic struck for two reasons. Firstly, the fat pigeon he’d been using to line his own pockets was gone, and secondly, it would mean the law poking about. Snyder knew well that Todd kept evidence hidden somewhere in the house. This was what he used to blackmail his victims and it included evidence of Snyder’s own crimes.” Mr Formby nodded as Lady Ashwicke’s eyes grew wide with horror. “Yes, Mr Snyder was wanted for murder, I’m afraid, and your father kept that information to use against him. So, I reckon, in his panic, he sought perhaps to save Todd, perhaps simply to get the answer as to where he’d hidden the proof against him, or, more likely, in my view, to gain enough time to discover the means to continue blackmailing all those that Lord Todd had in his pocket.”

“Good heavens,” the dowager duchess said, shaking her head with a look of repulsion. “What vile and loathsome men they were. I would think we might shake the hand of whoever did commit these crimes, heinous as it may be.”

Mr Formby narrowed his eyes at the dowager, but continued with his theory. “Anyways,” he said as Lady Margaret rearranged her skirts with a nonchalant air. “I reckon Snyder was dragging Lord Todd to the seat by the fireplace, either to help him or just keep him out of sight, when you came in, my lord. It seems reasonable to suppose that the fellow might be armed after hearing shots fired in the house, and that he’d be on his guard. Hearing an intruder in the house, it stands to reason that he might react and fire upon you, perhaps believing the murderer had returned.”

“But I heard a body fall, it sounded as though I’d killed someone,” Ash objected as Mr Formby gave a grim smile.

“Aye, and so you did hear a body fall: Snyder dropped Lord Todd in shock as the gun fired, but, happily, your shot went wide and lodged in the wall. You’re clear of Lord Todd’s murder, my lord, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, Ash,” Lady Ashwicke exclaimed, shaking her head in dismay. “Need you look so dreadfully disappointed?”

“Well, dash it all, Keziah, a fellow likes to think he’s done something heroic, just once in his life, and now …” He let out a breath, and Mr Formby noted the flush of chagrin in the young man’s face. “I couldn’t even hit the devil when he was stood right in front of me.”

“It was dark, though,” Lady Ashwicke pointed out, which fact seemed to sooth her husband not at all.

“Well, then, inspector, if that is all,” the dowager said, getting to her feet as Mr Formby raised a hand to stop her.

“Not quite, your grace,” the inspector said, his tone firm as he gestured for the Lady Margaret to return to her seat.

The woman scowled at him, her green eyes impatient and disdainful.

“Very well, inspector, what now?” she demanded.

“What now?” Mr Formby repeated, sounding as though his patience was in danger of being used up really rather quickly now. “What now … is that I have no murderer for Lord Todd, and there is still the little matter of who killed his blasted valet!”

“Well, really, Mr Formby,” the dowager replied, her cut glass tone mocking. “I don’t see why your incompetence is any affair of ours.”

Formby bristled and took a moment to grind his teeth rather than risk uttering something he’d no doubt regret once his superiors came to hear of it.

“For starters,” he replied, his tone even, as he studied the dowager, “is the fact that I know damn well that someone has orchestrated this whole blasted affair, and that as many suspects as there may be for doing away with Lord Todd, the Chartley family had the most to lose. Snyder had seen the duke there when he came to kill Lord Todd, and he knew Lord Ashwicke believed himself guilty of murder. He tried to blackmail him, and when that didn’t work, he decided to give evidence against him. Now, perhaps, it would have been enough to hang Lord Ashwicke, perhaps not. Happily, we’ll never know,” he said, watching as the Duke of Chartley tugged at his cravat, looking a little green. “But at the very least, it would have created a scandal that would have taken decades to die down. I doubt any of you wanted that,” he said, looking from the duke to Lady Ashwicke to the dowager.

“Well, obviously we didn’t,” Lady Margaret, replied, sounding exasperated. “But unless you have proof that one of us shot Martin Snyder, in what I understand to be quite extraordinary circumstances …”

“Actually, I might at that …” Mr Formby replied, his face grave and feeling suddenly that he truly wished he hadn’t.

“I already told you, I did it,” Lord Ashwicke said, standing up as his wife gasped and tugged at his arm.

“Ash, no! You don’t understand,” she cried.

Mr Formby frowned, looking between the two of them as he bid Lord Ashwicke sit down again. “Whilst I admire your chivalry and determination, your grace,” he said to the duke, “I wish you will not waste my time. If you couldn’t hit Lord Todd at less than ten paces, I severely doubt you capable of killing Martin Snyder in what could only be described as a remarkable shot. However,” he said, pausing as he turned his attention to Lady Ashwicke. “There is someone here who could.”