see the value in giving myself some new task or other. Besides, the name Sarah Decker sounded familiar to me. I could not quite place it, but I knew that I had heard of it sometime in recent weeks.
Miriam excused herself, and Isaac sent in the lady. I immediately felt gratified that I had not sent her away, for she was an astonishingly beautiful woman of shining yellow hair, ample eyebrows, and a round, delicate face. She wore a dress of ivory with a blue petticoat and a matching bonnet. Her demeanor was genteel, but I could see she was ill at ease, calling upon a man such as myself in a neighborhood such as Dukes Place. I bade her sit and asked if I could offer her a refreshment, but she would have none.
“I come upon a difficult matter,” she said. “I have long thought that there was nothing I could do to better my state, but it has grown worse, and when your name was mentioned to me, Mr. Weaver, I thought of you as my last hope.”
I bowed. “If I may be of any assistance, it shall be my honor to serve you.”
She smiled at me, and for such a smile, I believed, I would serve her in any way I could. “It is awkward to discuss, sir. I hope you will not grow impatient with me.”
I would soon need to leave for the theater, but I nevertheless assured her she might take as long as she required.
“It is about Sir Owen Nettleton. I believe you know him.”
I nodded. “Yes, I expect to see him at the theatre this very night.”
“Do you believe him to be a man of honor?”
It was a delicate question, and one that I had to answer cautiously. “I believe Sir Owen to be a gentleman,” I said.
“You performed a service for him, did you not? Did he mention my name to you?”
I now knew how I recalled her name, for Sir Owen had told me of his plans to marry Sarah Decker.
“Sir Owen mentioned you in only the most laudatory terms,” I said. “May I ask why you inquire?”
She shook her head. “I hardly know how I can explain it,” she said. “It is my hope that you might be able to speak with him, to make him see reason. I know not what else to do. I have discussed the matter with a man of law, but there is no crime he has committed. My brother has told me he will duel, but I know Sir Owen to be my brother’s superior with the sword, and I could not stand that something should happen to him on my account.”
“Madam,” I said, “you must tell me the nature of your difficulty. Have you and Sir Owen had some sort of rupture?”
“That is the very thing,” Miss Decker said. “We have never had anything that might be ruptured. I have met him on some social occasions, shared some words with him, but he and I are no more than distant acquaintances. Yet he tells the world that we are to be married. I know not why he does it. Everyone who is acquainted with him believes him to be sound of mind in all other respects.”
“Does he attempt to visit you? To see you socially?”
“No. He merely speaks publicly of his engagement to me.”
I regretted most sincerely that Miss Decker had declined refreshment, for I found myself in want of something of more than the usual strength.
“I do not understand,” I told the lady. “He spoke of you to me in the highest terms. I should have had no reason to doubt that his engagement to you was genuine. Indeed, when he spoke of it, he framed it as though it might cast him in a bad light because of the recent death of his wife. I wonder if this fancy of his that he will marry you is some sort of delusion brought upon by grief.”
“But Sir Owen was never married at all. He speaks of his late wife, and none of his friends know how to respond, for Sir Owen has never had a wife.”
“Gad,” I breathed.
Miss Decker shook her head. “You must understand, Mr. Weaver, that I neither know nor any longer care. These lies of his damage my reputation. They drive off gentlemen my father might think appropriate suitors, though he refuses to act on the problem, and my brother can think of no solution but violence. I hoped that the cooler head of a woman might find some alternative course—an intermediary such as yourself. If only this would end, for it is in no way fitting, I think, for me to be associated with a man like Sir Owen, hardly more than a common stock- jobber.”
“Hardly more than
Miss Decker shrank back, recoiling in horror from my advance.
I lowered myself to my seat. “I did not mean to frighten you, but I have never heard—that is to say, I was unaware that Sir Owen had the reputation of dealing in the funds.”
She nodded. “He does it quietly, for fear that it might injure his reputation, but it is known all the same. I think I have heard that when he deals in the funds he uses a false name, as though he could shield his reputation from the taint of stock-jobbery.”
I barely dared to breathe. “What is this false name?”
“I hardly know,” she told me. “But surely you can see, can you not, why I should wish to have nothing to do with this man. Can you offer me some assistance?”
I rang the bell and rose to my feet. I began to pace about the room. “I shall offer you every assistance, madam. Let me assure you of that.”
Isaac entered, and I bade him fetch my outerwear, for I should be leaving the house immediately.
Miss Decker was all confusion. She had removed a fan and was waving it vigorously before her face. “Have I somehow offended you, Mr. Weaver?”
“Madam, do not allow my agitation to distress you. I believe you have provided me with an important piece of information for another matter in which I am deeply concerned.”
“I do not understand,” she sputtered. “Will you not talk to Sir Owen?”
“I shall.” Isaac arrived and helped me into my coat. “I shall see to it that he never mentions your name again. You have my word upon it.”
I asked Isaac to show Miss Decker out while I headed toward the theatre where I knew Sir Owen would be seeking his evening’s entertainment.
THIRTY-THREE
IT OCCURRED TO ME as I approached the theatre at Drury Lane that I had no evidence with which to call in a constable, but I could wait no longer to confront this man. He had killed Kate Cole because she was able to identify him, and it was likely that he would kill again to keep his secret. After all, he had little to lose. Were he caught, he could be hanged but once, regardless of the numbers of dead attributed to his wickedness.
My heart hammered within my chest, and I found it difficult to think clearly. In my mind I had a vision of Sir Owen at my mercy as I beat him and beat him again until he confessed to the villainy of his actions, until he begged my forgiveness for all he had done. I knew I had to guard against my impulse to act out this dangerous fancy, for I should not find the consequences pleasant were I to attack a baronet, without clear provocation, before a crowded theatre. But what other choices did I have? I could bring him before South Sea House and ask them to tend to their counterfeiter. I could not be sure they would punish him, however. They might be content to send him out of the country with a promise never to speak of what he knew. There were certainly other options. I could ruin Sir Owen’s reputation, publish a pamphlet exposing him as a murderer and a stock-jobber. And if that approach did not prove sufficient, I knew no small number of blackguards who would gladly do far more permanent damage in exchange for a kind word, a few shillings, and a promise of a full purse to be found upon Sir Owen’s body.
I was pleased to see that the theatre was quite full, in part, no doubt, because the opening piece of German jugglers and ropedancers was a significant attraction in the city—certain unruly elements enjoyed spending their time hooting and throwing refuse at Germans, and the rest of the audience enjoyed watching the assault. For Elias’s sake I hoped that the crowd would give the evening’s comedy a warmer reception than they gave our King’s countrymen. By the time I arrived, the opening performers had completed their act, and the audience engaged itself in the pleasantries of the social world while awaiting
The lower level of the theatre was crowded with the sort who frequented the pit upon such occasions. There were, of course, many of London’s lower orders who could afford only the mean price of a pit ticket, and intermingled amongst them were the young sparks who approved of the freedom the pit gave them to make merry
