Page 60 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 26

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!”