Page 28 of Beatrix

The White Hart proved to be a large, though otherwise unremarkable, public house with the usual number of rooms, including one respectable enough that Charlotte would likely have found very little to object to except perhaps the smell of pipe smoke creating a pungent haze over the proceedings. They entered through the door to the saloon, which was busy enough that three more strangers did not attract any particular notice.

The clerk was already there when they arrived, tucked into a corner table with his back to the wall and a glass of beer that he currently appeared mesmerised by. He’d changed out of his office clothes into something plainer, and without the overlarge suit and sharp collar, he looked even younger… and considerably more frightened.

‘Mr Noon.’ He half rose, then seemed to think better of drawing attention to himself and sank back down, adding, ‘Mrs Noon.’ He gave a small, unhappy smile.

‘Please, call me Beatrix,’ Bea said, taking a seat opposite him. ‘And this is Billy.’ She was aware of Rob’s slight frown at her lack of formality, but she’d already decided that whatever else the evening held, insisting on the correct etiquette was unlikely to help matters.

‘Edwin Marsh,’ the clerk answered, his words stilted and anxious. Plainly, the act of offering his name cost him visible effort, as though he’d crossed a line he couldn’t now retreat from.

While they waited for Rob to get drinks, he kept glancing towards the door, clearly on edge. In truth, Bea half expected him to scarper.

Only when Rob returned, seating himself with his back to the door, effectively blocking Marsh’s view, did the clerk finally relax a little. ‘You said you had to speak to someone,’ Rob said quietly, ignoring the loud slurping sound Billy was making next to him as the boy drank his ginger beer. ‘I’d like to know why you chose us.’

Marsh traced a finger around the top of his glass, not looking up. ‘Because I overheard your conversation with Mr Holt and Mr Grainger. I heard you mention the Society for the Advancement of Industrious Children.’

‘You wos earwiggin’’ Billy declared, reluctant admiration in his voice. ‘I thought yer wos out the back makin’ a cup o’ tea.’

‘Not for long,’ Marsh retorted. ‘I wasn’t going to leave the likes of you unsupervised.’

‘I din’t nick anythin’’ Billy answered, outraged.

‘Not for want of trying, I’ll be bound.’

There was a short silence. Then Billy gave a sigh. ‘True enough,’ he said, ‘There were nowt worth pinchin’ anyway.’

Rob gave the boy a hard look, and he subsided sulkily. ‘So, you know my godson Tom was taken by this society?’ he clarified to their informant. ‘Do you know what happened to him?’

Marsh shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I don’t know exactly what has happened to your godson,’ he answered, ‘but I’ve long suspected that Mr Holt’s dealings with certain clients are not entirely as he’s presenting them and one of their biggest patrons is that bloody Society.’ Beatrix saw real fear behind the composure he was fighting to maintain.

He took a long swallow of his mostly untouched beer before continuing.

‘A woman came into the office. Not a client – or not the usual sort anyway. She was agitated, frightened even, but trying not to show it. She asked to speak with Mr Holt alone, and when he came out afterwards, he was in a state I’ve never seen him in before. White as a sheet he was. Asked me to destroy an entire day’s correspondence without reading it. He’s never asked me to do such a thing before, not in four years…’ He paused. ‘Then a few days ago I overheard two of the senior clerks discussing a woman found dead in a house in Bristol… They didn’t use her name where I could hear it, but they said she was found in the Society’s headquarters. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about her since.’

‘And you think the woman who came into the office and the woman who died were one and the same?’ Beatrix asked.

Edwin Marsh gave a quick, jerky nod. ‘Whatever he had me destroy that day was because of something she told him and I’m certain it was something to do with the Society for the Advancement of Industrious Children.’

‘Did you manage to take a look at any of them?’ Bea quizzed him. Marsh shook his head.

‘You sayin’ yer din’t even ‘ave a sneaky look?’ Billy couldn’t contain his incredulity.

‘It was more than my job was worth. He’d have fired me on the spot.’ Marsh looked between his listeners before adding defensively, ‘I have an elderly mother to support, I can’t risk being sacked with no references.’

‘Well, you’re talking to us now,’ Rob observed. ‘What changed?’

The clerk took another long swallow of his beer. ‘Yesterday, Mr Holt went up to London, and this morning he told me to take tomorrow as a holiday. A holiday.’ The clerk shook his head and gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘I’ve never had a holiday since the day I started.’

‘I assume it’s because he wants you out of the office,’ Rob guessed.

Edwin Marsh nodded. ‘I think that whatever Mr Holt destroyed after that woman came in was a copy. I know for a fact that the true records – the ones that matter, aren’t kept in the front office at all. He has a small strong room in his private study. Had built behind some false panelling some three years back. He reckoned it was for clients’ valuables.’

‘You’ve seen inside it?’ Beatrix asked.

‘Only once, by accident but thank God he didn’t see me.’

‘And you think he keeps all the important records in there?

‘The ones he actually relies on. The ones that would tell anyone with the wherewithal to read them exactly what that Society really is and who profits from it. Perhaps even information about your godson…’