The Tavistock Plot Page 17

  Malcolm took another drink of porter. It reminded him of his student days when he and his friends had frequented coffee houses and taverns, though he drank plenty of porter and stout these days. "Do you think there's any chance Thornsby could have been spying for your father?"

  "Lewis?" Roger laughed, then sobered. "Do you have evidence he was?"

  "Not precisely. Cordelia and I called on Lady Shroppington just now and Cordy noticed a card of invitation with the Beverston crest. You've confirmed the connection. Russell's second identity and the skill with which he set it up strongly suggest he was working for someone. If he didn't do it in the service of the Levellers, as you both confirm, one option is that he's working for Carfax. That doesn't fit how Carfax is behaving, but then, Carfax is hard to read. But once we realized his connection to your father, it occurred to us that the League might also want to plant a source within the Levellers."

  "My God," Roger said. "Of course they would. I don't know why—"

  "Possibly because we were too busy worrying about Carfax." Kit turned his tankard on the table top.

  "Carfax admitted he has a mole in the League," Malcolm said. "What if there are two moles?"

  Roger drew a hard breath. "One working for Carfax and one working for the League?"

  "God help us." Kit took a long drink from his tankard. "But yes, that would make a certain sense."

  "The League don't like reform," Malcolm said. "But they aren't as wholly dedicated to opposing it as Carfax is."

  Roger grimaced. "No, they're dedicated to advancing their own interests."

  "Precisely." Malcolm leaned forwards and looked between the two younger men. "So why are they so focused on the Levellers? They were trying to blackmail Percy and Mary Shelley to get information about the Levellers a year and a half ago."

  Roger's mouth twisted. "It's certainly not because I'm a member. Father's never been much interested in my activities. You're right, the League's goals tend to be pragmatic and focused on personal gain. So one can only assume they feel the Levellers stand in their way somehow. I'd like to say I know—I'd like to say I believed—we have that much power, but in truth, I don't have the least idea why they would care."

  "Nor do I," said Kit. "I'd never even heard of the League until I went to Italy. Until I met you and Mélanie. And Sofia." He took another drink from his tankard and stared into the depths. Sofia's father had been working for the League. "But they certainly seemed interested in us then. I could believe they planted a mole in our midst. I'd never have believed it was Lewis Thornsby. At least, not until this."

  Malcolm sat back against the high bench and took a drink from his tankard. It was a good porter, though on the bitter side. "How well did Lewis know Kitty Ashford?"

  "Mrs. Ashford?" Roger frowned. "I'm sure he knew her, they were both about the Tavistock enough, but I can't imagine he knew her well. Can you?" He looked at Kit.

  Kit pushed his tankard from one hand to the other. "I don't—"

  "It's an investigation," Malcolm said. "I need the truth."

  Kit met his gaze in the flickering candlelight. "I think—I think Thornsby admired Mrs. Ashford."

  "He did?" Roger took a drink from his tankard. "From what I saw, Thornsby had eyes for no one but Miss Blanchard."

  "There are—um—different types of admiring, sometimes," Kit said.

  "Meaning Thornsby wanted to bed Mrs. Ashford but wouldn't have dreamed of offering such advances to Miss Blanchard unless he married her?" Malcolm said.

  Kit's fingers slipped from his tankard. "Good God, Rannoch."

  "Some men divide women into the two categories," Malcolm said. "The fact that I deplore it doesn't make it any less true." His brother had certainly been one of those. With disastrous results, where Kitty was concerned.

  "If you put it that way—yes." Kit couldn't quite bring himself to meet Malcolm's eyes.

  "Do you have any reason to believe Thornsby actually was bedding Mrs. Ashford?"

  Kit clunked down his tankard, spattering porter over the tabletop. "My God, Rannoch, we're talking about a lady. A friend of yours."

  "Yes. And if she's connected to a murdered man, I need to know how. For Kitty's sake as well as the sake of the investigation."

  "Have you asked Mrs. Ashford?" Roger asked. "Forgive me, I know that would be damnably awkward, but in the circumstances—"

  "I have," Malcolm said. "She says there was something brief between them that Thornsby took more seriously than she did. I don't believe she's telling the truth."

  "Don't believe she took it less seriously than Thornsby or don't believe he took it seriously either?" Roger asked.

  "I don't believe it ever occurred. I think Kitty's covering up something else."

  Kit pulled out his handkerchief and blotted the spilled porter. "I can't speak to that. But I can attest that Thornsby admitted to an—attraction to Mrs. Ashford. I think it confused him—he asked me about it once. If I noticed other women once I met Sofia."

  "That's different," Roger said. "Everyone notices—"

  "Yes, well, in Thornsby's case I think it was more than that." Kit stared at the sodden handkerchief. "He said he wasn't sure if Miss Blanchard would ever forgive him. That he wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself." He looked at Malcolm. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't for the world have said anything to sully—"

  "Oh, Kitty won't mind. In fact, she'll be relieved to have her story confirmed, I expect." Malcolm took a drink from his tankard. "I'm still not sure I believe it, though. Among other things, Thornsby had apparently just asked Miss Blanchard to marry him."

  "If he was conflicted he might have rushed into that as a way to settle the conflict," Roger said.

  "He might," Malcolm conceded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a copy he'd made of the list of dates Thornsby had decoded. "Do these mean anything to you?"

  "November 3 is the protest meeting where Will got arrested," Kit said without hesitation. "In Lancaster."

  "Yes, they all seem to be the dates of Radical disturbances, from what we can make out. Will was at several of them. So were others in the Tavistock company."

  Kit sat back in his chair. "Are you suggesting the Levellers were behind all of these?"

  "Were they behind any of them?"

  "Of course not."

  "There's not necessarily any 'of course' about it, Kit," Roger said. "Not if you're Rannoch. He has to ask the questions."

  "I know." Kit reached for his tankard and took a drink. "I'm sorry. But whatever Carfax may say, we're not in the habit of causing violent disturbances."

  "Could Will Carmarthen or others be involved in doing so on their own?" Malcolm asked.

  Kit opened his mouth as though to protest, then frowned. "One can't be certain of anyone—that's what you'd say, isn't it? But I have no indication that he was. He's bright, he has a caustic tongue at times, he gets frustrated with the slowness of action, but he's shown no willingness to do anything violent."

  Malcolm reached for his tankard. "He has an interesting history. According to Simon, he showed up at the Tavistock one day last spring and asked for an audition. Simon was about to politely decline when Will launched into the St. Crispin's Day speech and stopped him dead in his tracks. He engaged Will on the spot. But he says he has no idea where Will came from or where or if he acted before." Malcolm looked between Kit and Roger. "Has he said anything to either of you?"

  "No, now that I think of it," Roger said. "Will's always been a bit quiet. Not about reform and not about the theatre, but about his personal life. That is, his life before he came to the Tavistock. Most of the other Levellers—both the actors and the stagehands and those who aren't from the theatre—drop a comment here and there. A dinner with their parents, their sister's wedding, playing with nephews and nieces, time at university. I've never heard Carmarthen say anything."

  Kit sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "What are you implying, Roger? That Will may have been planted amongst us?"

/>   "Christ, Kit. You know I like Will. What's more, I respect him. He has a keener mind and better instincts than many of the Levellers. And a more generous spirit. But given everything we're learning, how can I not but wonder?"

  Kit scraped a hand over his hair. "It doesn't prove anything."

  "No, of course not. But have you ever heard him talk about his past?"

  Kit frowned for a moment. "No. At least I don't think so. But there could be lots of reasons for that."

  "There could," Roger agreed.

  Malcolm took a drink of porter. "Carmarthen admits to being fond of Miss Blanchard."

  Roger reached for his tankard. "Yes, I suspected as much. Surely you did, Kit."

  "I—ah—tried not to notice."

  "Difficult to do that without being blind," Roger said.

  "And though he didn't come out and say so," Malcolm added, "I had the impression the affection had been reciprocated, at least for a time."

  Roger shifted on the bench. Like Kit, he had strong instincts about the respect due to ladies. Admirable in general. But a bit challenging in an investigation. "I—ah—I had that impression too."

  "Until she met Thornsby?"

  "Possibly even after." Roger wiped a trace of liquid from the side of his tankard. "I saw her looking at him one night in the green room—"

  "Thornsby's valet heard Carmarthen and Thornsby arguing two nights ago," Malcolm said. "Carmarthen admits to it and says he went to confront Thornsby about his intentions towards Miss Blanchard."

  "Says?" Kit asked. "You think he's lying?"

  "Not necessarily. His account was very convincing. But he's also a very good actor. And we only have his word for the substance of his confrontation with Thornsby. He appeared at the Tavistock suddenly with no explanation for his background and quickly became part of the company and one of the Levellers. He's connected to a number of incidents on a list Thornsby had apparently decoded."

  Kit and Roger exchanged glances.

  "Just because it sounds damning doesn't necessarily mean it is." Malcolm said. "Evidence can seem to correlate without actually being connected. Believe me, I know. I was once arrested for murder." Of his half-sister. That had been its own particular hell. He'd only survived thanks to his wife. Who he hadn't yet learned was a French agent.

  "But you're going to talk to Will again," Kit said.

  "I'm going to talk to Will again. I'd appreciate your not warning him. Or mentioning the list of dates and places to anyone at present."

  "Of course," Roger said.

  Kit gave a curt nod and pushed back his chair. "I must go. Sofia's waiting for me. Unless you need more, Rannoch?"

  "No, not now. I appreciate what you've given me."

  "Going to the House, Rannoch?" Roger asked. "I'm walking that way."

  Malcolm hadn't intended to, but he sensed Roger wanted to talk further, so he nodded. They left the inn, said goodbye to Kit, and started along the street.

  "It's a damnable business," Roger said, turning up the collar of his greatcoat. The wind had whipped up. Winter seemed to cut unusually sharp this year. "So many friends involved."

  Malcolm studied Roger. "Could Thornsby have been involved in something with the Levellers you didn't know about?"

  For a moment something flashed in Roger's eyes that might have been recognition. But he said, "Anything's possible. But I've always been fairly well apprised of the Levellers' activities."

  "You're an MP, Roger." Malcolm glanced at the Houses of Parliament in the distance, the place he spent much of his life, a center of pride and frustration and occasionally hope. "Simon keeps things from me because I'm an MP. He keeps things from David. Could there have been something afoot they were deliberately keeping from you?"

  Roger turned away for a moment. "I said we met in smaller groups. And of course there are activities we don't all share with each other. But Lewis wasn't close to anyone who might have been orchestrating such activities. Truth to tell, no one took him very seriously. Least of all me. I suspected he was doing this partly to be close to Letty, partly to shock his father, and only tangentially because he had any concerns about injustice."

  "Yes, that was my impression as well," Malcolm said, "though I didn't know him as well, obviously. And his having an undercover identity implies he wasn't the man either of us thought."

  "No." Roger frowned. "But if he had that undercover identity in the service of the Levellers, surely I'd have known of it. Have you asked Simon?"

  "Yes."

  Roger watched him for a moment. "But you don't think he's telling you the truth. And you don't think Kit is. At least, not the full truth."

  "I think we all pick and choose which parts of the truth to share, consciously or unconsciously. And how to shape it. That's why an investigator has to talk to so many different people. I don't know that we ever arrive at the truth, but different perspectives help us get to a closer approximation." Malcolm hesitated a moment. "Under normal circumstances, I'd say you were very right to keep things from me. But Thornsby's murder changes the equation."

  Roger continued to watch him. "Is it just that? Or are you afraid we may be involved in something you'll feel you need to stop?"

  "Christ, Roger," Malcolm said without entirely planning his speech, "how could I not have been afraid of that from the moment I learned about the Levellers? Not so much that I'll feel I should stop it as that it will be something I legally should stop but am all too inclined to let go. Simon's been one of my best friends since I was at Oxford. I'd have been a Leveller myself in those days."

  Roger nodded, hands jammed in the pockets of his greatcoat. "Kit's one of my best friends. Has been since we were at Oxford. We started the Levellers together. Kit wasn't overjoyed when I stood for Parliament—you know that. I told him it wouldn't make a difference. That there were different ways to fight for the same things." He shot a look at Malcolm. "I still think I was right about that. But I was wrong that it wouldn't make a difference. I can't help but think about it. What the law is. What I'm duty-bound to do. How far I can stretch things. I haven't come to a full-on confrontation between my two worlds." He looked at the churning sky. "At least I hadn't until today."

  Malcolm waited and didn't say anything. The wrong word could send Roger back into silence.

  "You're probably right that there are things they don't tell me," Roger said. "And it's also certainly true there are things I'd as lief they don't tell me." He went still for a moment, turned to Malcolm, who had stopped beside him. "I said I doubted Lewis was involved in a Leveller plot I didn't know about. And that's true. But a week ago, Lewis came to me and said he had reason to believe some of the others were involved in a plot that could be treasonous."

  It was something Malcolm had suspected. It fit with a number of the facts. So there was no reason for him to feel as though he'd been dealt a punch to the gut. "Did he say who he thought was involved?"

  Roger dragged his gaze back to Malcolm as though in meeting Malcolm's gaze he was forcing himself to confront the reality of the situation. "Kit. And Simon. He wasn't sure who else."

  "What was the nature of the plot?" Malcolm kept his voice even as a gust of wind howled round them.

  "Lewis said he wasn't sure. He said he'd come back to the theatre one night in search of Miss Blanchard, who was rehearsing late. He found the door unlocked, so he thought they were still rehearsing. He heard voices from the stage, but as he got closer, he realized it wasn't the rehearsal. He heard Kit say, 'We're flirting with treason,' and Simon say, 'We were always bound to at some point,' and ask Kit if he wanted out. Lewis thought Kit said something like, 'No, we've come this far.' Lewis told me he moved closer to try to hear better and he stepped on a creaking board. He head Simon and Kit ask who was there and he said all he could think to do was beat a hasty retreat and hope they wouldn't follow. He said he'd been stewing for over twenty-four hours about whether to confront Simon and Kit, or say nothing or tell someone else. Finally, he'd decided to tell me."


  "Nothing like having someone dump a dilemma in your lap. What did you say?"

  Roger grimaced. "I asked a lot of the same questions you're asking now. I told him I needed to think about how to proceed, that I'd look into it and get back to him. Not to tell anyone else for now. I was still mulling it just now when Kit came to tell me Lewis had been killed."

  "You didn't say anything to Kit?"

  "I almost did. I might have done if you hadn't come in. He's my friend. My best friend. But there's only going to be one chance to confront him with this and gauge his reaction. And you can do that better than I can. The same goes for Simon."

  Malcolm nodded. "A lot of things are classified as treason. A lot of things that shouldn't be. A lot of things you and I might do ourselves, under certain circumstances."

  "Yes, I know," Roger said. But Malcolm could see the other possibilities chasing themselves behind his eyes.

  "I don't know Kit as well as you do, but I know his decency. God knows I know Simon's. I trust them both."

  "But you're concerned?"

  Malcolm hesitated. "I've been surprised too many times by too many people. So I always wonder. Of course, the fact that Lewis was undercover changes things a bit."

  Roger frowned. "You think he was making it all up? Acting as an agent provocateur for Carfax or the League, trying to sow discord among the Levellers?"

  "It would be comforting to think so. And I could see a plot by Carfax or the League to do as much. But Letty Blanchard told Mel she overheard Lewis talking to someone else about something he said was 'treason.'"

  "Who?"

  "Letty said she couldn't make out who. But the person apparently said, 'What did you think you signed up for?'"

  Roger frowned. "You think Lewis told another of the Levellers, who was advising him to turn a blind eye?"

  "That's one explanation. Or it might not be this supposed plot of Kit's and Simon's that was the treason at all. Lewis might have been talking to his handler. He might have been protesting something he was being asked to do."

  "And calling it treason? The League might ask him to commit treason, but surely Carfax wouldn't."