ONCE BITTEN

THIRTEEN: LYNN LIVERMORE

It watched from the shadows and waited.

      Her bedside light was on, and it could see her on the bed.

      They were both naked.

      She was straddling her client, moaning gently, lowering herself on to him.  His eyes closed in ecstasy.

The beast waited patiently. Watching.

*

Archibald Bitten remained a singular fellow.  He possessed and, in truth, exceeded the observational and deductive prowess of his younger brother, and his memory happened to be like a librarian’s card catalogue, ordered and accurate.

            He could recall the smallest detail, straightaway, cross-reference it to a hundred other things he’d encountered in a heartbeat and, thus, see straight to the to the core of convoluted matters in as much time as it might take to bat away an annoying fly.

            However, great men have great flaws, and Archibald remained both indolent and antisocial. He also showed a tremendous lack of ambition.  Despite this, he had managed to make himself indispensable to the British Government.

            Given some weeks, and the assistance of talented civil servants, a government minister might be able to discover that a harsh winter in New Zealand and an outbreak of rinderpest in California would drive up demand of beer in the Shires, and thus, lead to unrest on the streets of Maidstone.

            That assumes that the fellow had the foresight to ask the right questions.  Archibald, meanwhile, would have recommended some extra policing in Kent within three seconds of receiving news of the foreign events in question.

            So, when Archibald asked his brother and Constable Wilk to attend a certain private party at the home of Lord Lawes in Suffolk, and keep our eyes open and report their observations, his brother agreed, readily.  He would not have gone to the rigorous exertion of ordering a boy to bring a note to us without some urgent necessity.

            They arrived at Barham House on the afternoon of a Saturday in late January, as the day drew to close.  The festivity of the Christmas period having long departed, and the countryside seemed devoid of cheer.

            The snow served to elongate their train journey by several hours, and they were both somewhat out of sorts when their carriage delivered them to their icy destination. Barham House appeared to be a handsome enough mansion, but Inspector Bitten and Constable Wilk were so cold they paid it little attention.

            They were welcomed by an obsequious butler and shown to a suite of rooms on the third floor.  Dinner, they were informed, would be served at 8 p.m. Until that time, they were free to join the other guests in the ballroom, where diverse refreshments were available, or to otherwise amuse ourselves as we preferred.

            In short order, Inspector Bitten and Constable Wilk, found themselves in a fashionably accoutered ballroom with a curious selection of other individuals, two score or more.  They met a merchant banker, a Suffolk farmer, a high court judge, a prima ballerina, a chandler, a Lloyd’s ‘name’, an actress, a coal miner, a philosopher, an engineer, a duchess, a dandy, a widowed politician, a salty old fishermen from Cornwall, an industrialist, an explorer, a celebrated surgeon of whom even Constable Wilk had heard of, two peers and a manufacturer of bicycles.

            Inspector Bitten murmured the profession of each one to Wilk before they were introduced, with the exception of the Lloyd’s name, whom he instead correctly picked out as a Lincolnshire landowner. Each of these guests were accompanied by a husband, wife, or other companion.  All except one.

            His Royal Highness, the Duke of Clarence and Avondale.  The eldest child of the Prince and Princess of Wales and from the time of his birth, he was second in the line of succession to the British throne.

            Albert Victor's intellect, sexuality, and mental health had been the subject of speculation. Rumours in his time linked him with the Cleveland Street scandal, which involved a homosexual brothel; however, there is no conclusive evidence that he ever went there, or was indeed homosexual. Some people argued that could be Jack the Ripper.

            The Cleveland Street scandal occurred in 1889, when a homosexual male brothel on Cleveland Street, London, was discovered by police. The government was accused of covering up the scandal to protect the names of aristocratic and other prominent patrons. At the time, s****l acts between men were illegal in Britain, and the brothel's clients faced possible prosecution and certain social ostracism if discovered.

It had been rumoured that Prince Albert Victor, had visited, though this has never been substantiated. Unlike overseas newspapers, the British press never named the Prince, but the allegation influenced the handling of the case by the authorities and had coloured biographers' perceptions of him since.

The police acquired testimonies that Lord Arthur Somerset, an equerry to the Prince of Wales, both he and the brothel keeper, Charles Hammond, managed to flee abroad before a prosecution could be brought. The male prostitutes, who also worked as telegraph messenger boys for the Post Office, were given light sentences and no clients were prosecuted. After Henry James Fitzroy, Earl of Euston, was named in the press as a client, he successfully sued for libel.

The scandal fueled the attitude that male homosexuality was an aristocratic vice that corrupted lower-class youths.

            Inspector Bitten now knew why his brother had invited him here.  He suspected Prince Albert Victor of being the werewolfipper.

            The small-talk in the ballroom continued to be enthusiastic but possessed undercurrents whose nature quite escaped the Detective Inspector.  Everyone appeared quite cagey regarding their presence, preferring to heap praises on their absent host and his legendary soirées.

            The cliques that emerged in the room were likewise odd, and somewhat fluid, and transcended the natural boundaries of class and gender.  Constable Wilk could see why the philosopher and the engineer might have common ground, for example, but their abstruse discussion also included both the farmer and the ballerina’s youthful understudy.  The young policeman found it all most perplexing.

            Inspector Bitten, of course, seemed perfectly content to stay on the edges and devote his mental energies to cataloguing and storing all that he observed.  People came and went, and no one, staff or guest, remained in the ballroom for the entire two hours.

            Wilk had been in the process of pondering an oddly unpleasant prawn canapé when Inspector Bitten direction his attention to the hall outside the room.  Several members of the household darted past the door in clear alarm, and the Inspector bade them to follow.

            The hubbub led them through the kitchen and out into the night at the rear of the house.  The temperature felt well below freezing and, although the snow, had finally stopped, but Wilk felt chilled to the bone.  A group of people were standing on the gravel path, from which the snow had been cleared and they joined them with discretion.

            Everyone’s object of interest appeared to be a pine ladder perhaps eight feet in height, which rested on the icy crust of snow covering the flower beds.  It led up to an open window on the first floor.  The room inside looked dark, and a curtain flapped gently in the bitter breeze.

            “This is an utter disaster.”

            A rich gentleman said.  He sounded every bit as distraught as his pronouncement suggested.

            A fellow nodded, and Wilk recognized him as the industrialist.

            “These documents are vital, Lawes.  Old Bill means well enough, but I little trust his grandson.”

            “You have a copy?”

            The Lord asked.

            “Of course, but their content must not escape.”

            Lawes gestured at the gravel we were standing on.

            “It already has.”

            He said in a sombre tone.

            “The thief probably had been up and down in seconds and, if he kept to the footpaths, we don’t even know his route out of the estate.”

            “Or she.”

            The industrialist said.

            “What?”

            Lawes blinked at him.

            “He or she.”

            The industrialist said.

            “We must not assume that the papers were taken by a man.”

            Inspector Bitten stepped forward.

            “Forgive my intrusion, gentlemen.  It may hearten you to know that this ladder is nothing more than a simple diversion.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Lawes barked.

            “If you examine the base of the ladder.”

            Bitten said.

            “You will see that it is sat on the crust of ice that covers the snow.  This is perfectly reasonable for such a construction of light wood on a cold night.  But if it had borne a man’s or woman’s weight, even for an instant, it would most certainly have sunk to the ground beneath.  It was placed there to give the impression that the theft has been committed by an intruder.  It is highly likely that this gentleman’s documents are still in the house.”

ii

Lord Lawes led the group back into the kitchens of Barham House, to everyone’s relief.   He took Inspector Bitten and Constable Wilk to one side, while the rest of the group went about their various businesses.

            “I’m so glad your brother convinced you to attend this evening, Inspector.”

            Lawes said.

            “I feared something like this might happen.  There is sensitive business taking place here tonight, more than one strand of it, in fact, and I am not at liberty to reveal the finder details.”

            “There is no need.”

            Bitten assured him.

            “You believe foreign espionage to have taken place, and that is why the Duke of Clarence is here.  It is always a risk when Her Majesty’s less overt agents are conducting business. You attempted to disguise the nature of this meeting by burying it under several layers of intrigue, negotiations to secure passage of a particular item of legislation through Parliament, a confidential commercial plan, a meeting of members of an evasive mystical order and, I believe, an alienist’s experiment of some obscure type, and yet even so, your most urgent secrets, which pertain to a new development in steel production have been plundered by agents of the Hohenzollerns, the German Royal Dynasty.”

            Lawes shook his head with regret.

            “Let me say then than I am not at liberty to confirm your deductions.  I took an oath and will respect it.  If you are correct that the stolen documents are still within Barham House, and I now have absolute faith in your faculties, sir, it is vitally important that they not be allowed to leave.  Discerning the identity of the…the thief is a secondary concern, but one which would please the ministry greatly.”

            “I will, of course, turn my efforts to both of those goals.”

            Bitten assured him.

            “I had thought that my brother had asked me to come here so I would discover the identity of the Ripper, but it seems once again that my brother has outwitted me.”

            Lord Lawes held up a hand.

            “That might as yet happen, Inspector.”

            “Very well.”

            Bitten said, with reviewed hope.

            “I have noted that your guests have the run of the house.  It is to be expected; you can hardly facilitate cover discussions otherwise.  However, the danger permitting clandestine engagements as a disguise for one’s own discreet discussions is that this same disguise is a very useful cloak for hostile operation.”

            “Indeed.”

            Lawes murmured.

            “The house has quite an extensive staff.  You have some people in service whose loyalty to Queen and Country you are able to trust more, perhaps, than their skill with a duster and garden shears.  Most, but not all of them were with you when you were examining the ladder.  I’m sure you have already thought to ask them about any signs of treachery amongst the rest of the servants.  The guests, of course, are all behaving suspiciously, but I will endeavour to identify the traitor.”

            Lord Lawes looked relieved.

            “My thanks, gentlemen.  I will, of course, have you notified if anything of use is revealed.”

            They were shown back to the ballroom.  The party appeared to be as much as they had left it, enthusiastically genial, but rife with undercurrents.  Wilk attempted to identify some of the groups that Bitten had mentioned.

            The two peers and their aides seemed likely to be part of the legislative group, he’d described, possibly also with the engineer, industrialist, and duchess, but, if that were so, the polite conversational groups they were in did little to reveal the fact, which, after a moment’s reflection, made sense.

            A short time later, Wilk found himself discuss policing methods with the surgeons wife and the ballerina’s husband, a veterinarian, as it transpired, when Bitten touched his arm.  Wilk made his apologies, and a familiar looking fellow led them to a small drawing room.

            A maid waited in there.  Their escort introduced her as Miss Lynn Livermore and said that his Lordship thought she might know something useful.  They took their seats, and the fellow left us to it.

            Miss Livermore appeared to be in her early twenties, a pleasant looking woman with a tidy, acorn-coloured hair and hard used hands common for her profession.  She stood and bobbed a curtsy when they had entered, and then sat back down, looking attentive.

            “You saw something odd, Miss Livermore?”

            Wilk began.

            “Well, yes, sirs.  I supposed that I did.  I’d gone out for Cook, to get another sack of potatoes from the root store on the other side of the croquet lawn.  I’m not usually set to kitchen work, but it’s been that busy today, what with all the preparations, that I was told to make sure they didn’t need anything. That was all fine and I was bringing the sack back as best I could when I though I saw a flicker in the music room.”

            “The music room?”

            Bitten said.

            “On the ground floor, looking out over the croquet lawn.  It’s closed up most of the time, excepting when someone wants to hack away at the piano, begging Her Ladyship’s pardon.  There certain wasn’t any reason for someone to be in there at the time.  I thought maybe it was fire, so I dropped the potatoes straight off and dashed over there.  The windows were all fogged over, which is maybe what she relied on, see?  Anyway, I wiped a corner off and peeked in.  What do I see but a girl with a small candle, poring over a folder full of papers.”

            “You identified her?”

            Bitten asked.

            “It wasn’t easy, sir.  I only had a little corner to look through, and she was being very furtive.  But, yes, she did look up and I saw it was Kimberley Patton.  She’s one of Her Ladyship’s parlour maids.  A pretty young thing, Kimberley is.  Only been with us a few weeks, since Ashlyn had to leave us to go look after her mother in Barnet.  She seemed all innocent and sweet, too.  Kimberley, that is.  I don’t know much about her.  None of us do, really.  We all thought she might just be shy, you know how some girls are.  Anyway, I didn’t know what to think about it.  I mean, it’s not against no law to read a letter, even if you do it all secret.  But then I hear as His Lordship want to know about anything suspicious and, well, I thought I better say something.”

            “Yes, I’m deeply alarmed.”

            Bitten told the girl.

            “If you’ll excuse us a minute.  Constable, a word outside, please?”

            Wilk followed Bitten into the hallway, and he shut the door behind them.

            “You should fetch Lord Lawes immediately, Constable.  I will remain with Miss Livermore and ensure she does not try to escape.”

            “Escape, sir?”

            Wilk asked, confused.

            “She may well be working with the traitor, Wilk.”

            “Really, sir?”

            “Honestly, Constable.  Weren’t you listening?  Her whole story is a fabrication.  When a window is misted over in winter, it is from the condensation on the inside, not the outside.  There is no possible way to wipe a bit of it clean from outdoors.  Now, please, fetch Lord Lawes.

Iii

The mendacious Miss Livermore went utterly blank faced and silent the instant she realized that her lie had failed.  Lord Lawes’s men led her away and we returned to the ballroom.  Dinner was soon to be served, and the number of guests in the room diminished somewhat as people took themselves to their chambers to change, Bitten, ever fastidious to a point but utterly disinterested in fashionableness, declared himself perfectly satisfied with his current outfit, but Wilk took the opportunity to arm himself with a freshly starched shirt and more suitable jacket.

            When he returned, he found Inspector Bitten where he had left him, but with a certain gleam in his eye.

            “You have spotted something, sir?”

            Wilk suggested.

            “Many things, Constable.  But of pertinence, I detect a subtle shift in the mood of the room, an impatience in certain of the participants in tonight’s little play.  I do not think it is merely anticipation of dinner, fine as that may be.  No, one of our factions is nervous.  Do you see the way that the dandy is worrying at the quick of the thumbnail, or how the fisherman’s boot taps to a rhythm only he can hear?  Some brows are perhaps slightly more sheened than the comfortable temperature should account for.  I believe our mystics foresee some cause for concern.”

            Wilk looked around, and had to admit, that it did seem he could perceive a certain tension that has not been there before.  Then again, as Bitten had pointed out at great length, the young Constable, was not over-possessed of such sensitivities, so perhaps it might have been the influence of the Inspector’s words.

            Maybe ten minutes passed, and then the Duke of Clarence entered the room.  Conversation died away and all attention turned to making small talk with the second in line to the throne.

            They drifted in the direction of the Duke, using the explorer’s husband as an excuse for their movements.  Bitten got the fellow started on his wife’s achievements in Greek archaeology, and Wilk let his attention drift to the Duke and the peer, and the philosopher who was with them.

            “It was horrible.”

            The Duke of Clarence said.  He spoke with a total absence of affectation or haughtiness.

            “Took hours to get out of Hampshire.  I should have gone via Alton, I suppose, but Basingstoke is so rarely snowed under.  Anyway, I eventually switched trains at Liverpool Street, and a hansom from Ipswich saw me here.  Then, of course the fellow got swamped by the snow halfway up the driveway.  The gravel path had been cleared at that point, so I took pity on him and finished my journey on Shanks’s Pony.”

            The peer, an earl of somewhere, as Wilk recalled, said something he didn’t quite catch, and the philosopher nodded.

            The Duke looked interested.

            “Oh? Well, that’s intriguing. Lawes’s bashes are always so eventful! I saw a couple of chaps down the side of the house as I approached, in fact.  I only took any notice because it seemed as if one of them came out of the gardens and then returned that way,  and it’s a blessedly cold night to be out and about.”

            “Come, Wilk.”

            Bitten said.

            “Let us see if there is anything of interest to spot.”

            Grumbling, Wilk followed Bitten back out into the night.  The clouds had finally lifted, and a half-moon cast the estate in attractive silver light.  Wilk got a better idea of the extent of the house, which appeared to be significantly larger than he initially imagined.

            No wonder Lawes needed such a big staff to help manage the place. Trees snaked along either side of the smooth white of the driveway like crumbling pillars, escorting it up to the road.

            Bitten clapped Wilk on the shoulder. 

            “The sooner we examine the side of the house, old chap, the sooner you’ll be back in the warmth.”

            Wilk enthusiastically agreed and they made their way along the gravel path and round the side of the house near to the gardens.  Lawes’s men had indeed cleared it of snow before nightfall and it remained easy to walk on.  Just around the side of the house, we came to a junction with a path leading off between rows of statuary glimmering in the moonlight.

            “This gravel isn’t going to show any footsteps, sir.”

            Wilk observed.

            “Someone could quite easily have walked along here, and it would be perfectly possible to see that on the way in.”

            “All too true, Constable.  We should find Lord Lawes at once and let him know that the Duke of Clarence and Avondale is most certainly a traitor.”

            “What?”

            “Its obvious really, Wilk.  The Duke’s story echoes that of the maid’s in a curious manner.  It’s also extremely convenient that the Duke should, on his way into the house, happen to see something that would lead us to believe that the documents have been removed from the house.  But both could be coincidence.  What is undeniable, however is that the Duke said that his cab brought him half-way along the driveway, and yet the snow is unbroken for its entire length.  He must therefore have lied about his arrival, to rule himself above suspicion regarding events that occurred supposedly before he arrived.  He is, I strongly suspect, the thief.  He is probably being blackmailed by someone.  Let’s face it, the Duke’s private life is quite colourful.  I should imagine the Duke, has been off in some unobserved corner of the house for several hours.  We will find the documents when we find his hidey-hole.”