Death at the Devil's Tavern by Deryn Lake Page B

actually related. My father took him on as secretary some years ago. I believe he is a younger son of some noble house with no hope of an inheritance. Anyway, despite the fact that he is not tied to us by blood, he lives with the family and seems one of us. He is as devoted to Papa as a dog. Was as devoted …’
    Her voice trailed away sadly and Julian put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Shall we go now? Controlling emotions can be very difficult and the strain is beginning to tell on you, I think.’
    Intensely sorry that two such burnished and beautiful individuals were having to carry so cruel a burden of sorrow, John got to his feet.
    â€˜I regret that I have been the bearer of such grievous news.’
    â€˜Someone had to tell us,’ Julian answered sensibly.
    â€˜But a family member might have been better.’
    â€˜Not at all,’ Juliette continued. ‘They are all so strange, in their different ways, that I preferred to hear the facts from you.’ She curtsied and held out her hand. ‘Goodbye Mr Rawlings. I hope that we can meet again soon.’
    â€˜So do I,’ said John, and bowed.
    A voice spoke from the doorway and all three of them turned to see that Roger, very white in the face and clad from top to toe in black, in fact in the very same clothes he had worn to Sir William’s wedding, had come silently into the room.
    â€˜Lydia has informed me that you wish me to accompany you to the mortuary, there to lay claim to my father’s remains,’ he said theatrically.
    â€˜And to make formal identification of the body to the Coroner.’
    â€˜I thought that had been done.’
    â€˜No, Sir. Identification has been surmised from the effects. It is the duty of a close friend or relative to do the rest.’
    Roger staggered slightly. ‘I hope I am up to this.’
    â€˜Of course you are,’ said Julian shortly, as he led his twin from the room.
    â€˜It’s all very well for him,’ remarked Roger pettishly as the door closed behind his younger siblings. ‘He hasn’t got to do the ghastly task.’
    â€˜I’ll be there,’ said John. ‘And I can give you some physic before you go in which will help to keep you strong.’
    Roger looked at him moist-eyed. ‘How very charming of you, my dear fellow. I shall hold you to that.’
    â€˜Do,’ said the Apothecary and held the door politely as his companion went out.
    In order to avoid putting any extra strain on Roger’s fragile nerves, it was decided that the first part of the journey, beyond London Bridge as far as Billingsgate Stairs, should be undertaken by coach. Consequently, John found himself bobbing down the length of The Strand and Fleet Street in one of the most luxurious and expensive equipages in which it had ever been his good fortune to travel. Wealth and opulence breathed from the highly polished wood of the body work, the large and finely balanced springs ensuring as comfortable a ride as possible to the passengers, while the four generous windows allowed a good view of the passing parade. Outside, the carriage was decorated by panels depicting roses and fat naked cupids with bouncing buttocks. Within, luxurious padded red velvet covered the seats and there was a hand-painted chamber pot discreetly hidden beneath one of them lest there should be an urgent call from nature.
    Seeing John’s admiring glances, Roger said carelessly, ‘Do you like it?’
    â€˜Very much.’
    â€˜It’s mine. Father would never have allowed such ornamentation on his carriage. He was somewhat staid, you know.’
    â€˜Not as regards keeping a mistress, though.’
    Roger frowned. ‘Oh you’ve heard about that, have you? It’s true, alas. He fell in with a grasping chit who insisted upon marriage once my poor mother had gone to her rest.’
    â€˜But Sir William never attended the ceremony. Presumably because he was already