Chapter 10: An Arrest Is Made
Jones seized the front door handle when a movement in the parlour next to the foyer caught his eye. Without thinking he continued to twist the handle and pull the door open while glancing simultaneously over his shoulder. Blast, he swore to himself as he caught a glimpse of the coroner walking about the room, peering closely at the body still lying in front of the fireplace. I can't leave without avin' a word with the govner in there.
Reluctantly he closed the door and swiveling on his heel, headed into Mrs. Young's private parlour.
"Good Morning, Sir."
Jones nodded his head respectfully in his direction and the Coroner did likewise.
"Rather an unpleasant way to start my day Jones, getting interrupted at the breakfast table. Had to leave everything all sixes and sevens. This is a rather ghastly scene – not sure I have any appetite for breakfast now. Once we've finished here, I'll have to nip back. My first patient is scheduled for just after luncheon."
Ignoring his rumbling stomach, a spot of tea and a roll was not his customary breakfast, Jones reluctantly agreed with his superior.
"So I suppose there will be an inquest, then sir?" he queried politely, averting his eyes from the beautiful but lifeless body.
"Quite, quite! I need only to decide where to have it, I don't suppose there is a pub nearby where I could convene it, I'll need a room to accommodate anywhere from 15 to 25 men." He glanced about the parlour and shook his head. "Definitely not a big enough space to do it here. No workhouse nearby, eh?"
"There is one about two miles out, sir. Ahhh – in regards to the uh… body?"
"Hmmm, oh right – perhaps you can let Mrs. Young know she can have her manservant move the body back to her room for preparation for the funeral. Has the victim's family been notified?"
With that question, Jones realized just how deftly Mrs. Young had stepped aside from answering his question as to the where abouts of the victim's husband and he decided to follow suit.
"I believe the funeral will take place here, sir. If you are not needing me anymore here sir – I believe I have a strong idea who the thief might be and I mus…"
"THEIF? I thought we were just dealing with a murder here? Blast man – what else has happened?"
Jones quickly filled him in on the details of the missing jewelry and his thoughts that one of the men visiting her earlier in the week might have been the thief but neglected to pass on his thoughts about the murderer and thief being one and the same. He didn't want to spoil the glory of the moment should he be able to, as the saying went, 'kill two birds with one stone'.
The corner flipped a pence in the direction of Jones; "Here man, grab yourself hack chaise and hie yourself over to the club and see if one of these gentlemen has those jewels on them. Won't look good in the papers if we let both a thief and a murderer get away."
Jones snatched eagerly in the air at the coin, caught it and deftly slipped it into his coat pocket before leaving. Once outside he bounded down the steps, hurried to the corner and caught the first empty hack chaise passing. As the wheels of the carriage rumbled their way to the gentleman's club Jones wondered if his name would be included in any reports in the paper about this crime and if that might improve his chances with the cook next door. Surely someone in the downstairs servants' quarters could read and would mention it to her. A foolish grin spread across his face as the carriage pulled up and he leaped down. He straightened his coat and assumed a grave expression before preparing to talk his way in through the front door of the club. If he were not so worried about one of his suspects leaving while he made his way in through the customary means of entering through the servants back door he would not be bothered to go through this effort.
He pulled himself up to his full height intending to use every inch of it to bolster his demands to see Mr. Darcy "h'mediatly!"
Darcy was carefully going over each piece of parchment that Wickham had applied his signature to while Wickham himself sipped on his third cup of fresh coffee and happily consumed his fourth roll. Mr. Gardiner looked on with apparent disgust of Wickham's gluttony. Unexpectedly, loud voices carried through the heavy oak door of their private room and Darcy looked up in surprise and irritated concern. Mr. Gardiner's eyes also shifted toward the angry voices. Wickham simply kept chewing his roll.
Darcy made a soft noise of disgust and swiveled in his chair just as the door jerked open and a red faced manservant pushed through behind a very large man dressed in a heavy blue jacket. This caught Wickham's attention but he quickly checked himself and looking unconcerned, leaned back casually. He took a long draw at his coffee cup and coughed suddenly, dropping the china cup. His left arm shot out wildly and grasped Mr. Gardiner's shoulder while his other hand searched wildly as if looking for a napkin or handkerchief.
Mr. Gardiner pulled his eyes away from the disturbance at the door and stared at Wickham with not a little concern.
"Good Lord, Wickham! Whatever is the matter?"
Perspiration beaded across Wickham's forehead and he gratefully accepted Mr. Gardener's handkerchief and leaned over the table, his hand clutching his chest. His hand once more grabbed Mr. Gardeners in an attempt to stand and Mr. Gardiner was pulled toward Wickham. Wickham leaned in close to Mr. Gardener as he hoarsely whispered; "Water!"
However, as Mr. Gardener attempted to stand to get it, Wickham leaned even more deeply into Mr. Gardiner and then as suddenly as the choking fit started, it passed. Wickham wiped his lips with the initialized hankie and then began to stuff it in his vest pocket and waved Mr. Gardiner away.
"Excuse me, Wickham…" declared Mr. Gardiner with a slight look of disgust on his face. "That would be my handkerchief you are stowing away in your pocket!"
"Oh, right you are.", replied Wickham who appeared to need to struggle to get the hankie back out of his vest and once freed he leaned over and stuffed it deeply into Mr. Gardiner's vest pocket, pushed his chair back from the table and walked away from it. With Wickham seeming to be fully recovered from this choking fit, Mr. Gardiner turned his eyes towards Darcy who was in deep discussion with the manservant and what appeared to be a common runner or what was it the papers had been calling them of late – Constable?
"Just what is the meaning of this?' Darcy barked in a cold crisp voice that brought the Constable up short. Jones bowed towards the man who was clearly in charge of this meeting and pulled his arm out of the manservant's grasp.
"Sir!" answered Jones. "I am here investigating a theft and murder that took place at the residence of a Mr. Wickam whom I understand is in a meeting here with you."
"Murder?" muttered Wickham as he glanced wildly at both Darcy and Gardiner both of whom looked as shocked as Wickham.
Jones pushed on, oblivious to their reactions. "My interviews have lead me to believe that one of these two gentlemen' he jabbed his finger at Wickham and Mr. Gardiner, "was seen leaving the room of the murdered woman late on the evening of which she was murdered. Based on the description of the colour of that gentleman's coat it is my strong belief that one of these two men is the culprit and I wish to examine the contents of their pockets!"
Darcy's eyes squinted as he looked at Wickham.
"Wickham – empty your pockets immediately!"
Wickham threw up his arms in protest. "Oh come now, Darcy, surely you are not going to accuse me of being a common thief now are you?"
"Empty your pockets now!" Darcy insisted.
His face as innocent as a lamb, Wickham pulled out his room key and a few coins clattered onto the table.
The Constable strode across the room and glancing at the scant items on the table, he demanded that Mr. Gardiner empty his pockets.
"Here now", complained Darcy, "surely you are not accusing this good man!"
Wickham gave a derisive snort while murmuring 'Ha but you jolly well accused me, Darcy!"
Mr. Gardiner shrugged. "Darcy, I might as well empty my pocket and let this constable get on with his duties." He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a pound note, his penknife and a few coins.
The Constables eyes narrowed at the sight and then lighted on Mr. Gardiner's vest where he noted that the pocket bulged much more than it should.
"Ere then", the constable growled. "What 'ave you got in your vest pocket… Sir!?"
Mr. Gardiner's eye's widened at the biting tone in the man's voice and his cheeks reddened at the implied accusation. His neck stiffened as he replied – "My handkerchief!", and just barely refrained from adding imbecile to his answer.
"Well, let's 'ave a look at this 'ere hankerchief then!" commanded Mr. Jones.
Darcy stepped between the two men "See here now!' he snapped. "Mr. Gardiner is a very respectable gentleman and my guest, while you are simply a runner, a night watchman. Mind how you speak before I have you expelled from here. "
Mr. Jones puffed his chest out even more before answering Darcy.
"Sir, I am here on the authority of the Coroner."
Darcy stared at him. "The coroner? He actually sent you here?"
"Yes sir, and if you please sir I need to see what your friend has in 'is vest pocket."
Darcy heaved a heavy sigh.
"My apologies, Mr. Gardiner. Let us just humour the man so that we can get this wretched paperwork finished so we can move on with getting the nuptials over and done with!" With this he glared at Wickham who shamelessly shrugged his shoulders while popping the remnants of yet another roll into his mouth.
Nodding his acquiescence, Mr. Gardiner pulled at the corner of the handkerchief that was peeking out his vest pocket and as it unfolded a slight gold chain unfolded with it while two ear rings sparkled as they hit the ground and bounced under the table.
The room filled with silence.
Wickham noiselessly finished chewing, his roll and swallowed while staring at the gold chain now dangling from Mr. Gardiners shaking fingers.
Mr. Jones reached forward and flipped the corner of the handkerchief up and read the finely embroidered letters on it.
"Would those be your initials, then Sir? He asked bruskly.
'Yes they are, my wife… my wife… "
Darcy placed his hand on Mr. Gardiners shoulder. "Say no more. Mr. Gardiner. We do not need to share any more information with this man."
Darcy then whirled on the constable and demanded: "Enough of these charades. What is your name and who do you answer to?"
"Jones, sir and I answer to the magistrate, as you well know. And I will be arresting this 'ere gentleman for the theft of these 'ere jewels as were stolen from the rooms of Mrs. Young as well for 'er murder… sir."