The Butcher of Smithfield by Susanna Gregory

Author:Susanna Gregory [Gregory, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780748124541
Google: VkP-uNw2OsoC
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2010-12-01T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The following day, Chaloner was disconcerted to wake to the realisation that he had been dreaming about Joanna. He could not imagine why, as he usually preferred women with more spirit, and he sat up feeling vaguely ashamed of himself. He recalled her invitation to dine at noon, and found he was looking forward to it. His occupation played havoc with any social life he might have had, so such occasions were rare for him. The notion of pleasant company, good food – or any food, for that matter – and perhaps some music was an attractive proposition for a man who knew so few people in the great, seething metropolis that was London.

The streets were bathed in the kind of dull, grey light that presaged more rain, and his cat was sodden when it nudged open the window and made its way inside. It had a rat in its mouth, which it left by the hearth. Chaloner hoped it would restrict itself to rodents, and not graduate to birds, because he liked birds. He was going to toss the rat out of the window, but there was already too much traffic, and he did not want a fight to ensue because it hit someone. As it was too large to fit comfortably in his pocket, he placed it on the mantelpiece, intending to throw it out when he returned that night.

A sixth sense warned him that someone was lurking in the shadows near the door when he started to leave the house, and his landlord was lucky not to find himself slammed against the wall with a dagger at his throat. Chaloner had warned Ellis before about loitering in the dark, but as the man did not know what Chaloner did for a living, he had no way of knowing that ignoring the advice might have potentially fatal consequences.

‘The rent,’ said Ellis, rubbing his hands together like a fly. Surreptitiously, Chaloner returned his knife to its customary hiding place. ‘It is overdue. And you owe me for August and September, too.’

‘I know,’ said Chaloner apologetically. ‘There has been an administrative hiccup at the Victualling Office, but it should be resolved by Monday.’

That was the Earl’s deadline, and by then, Chaloner would either be able to request an advance on his salary, or would have to acquire the money by some other means. Of course, if Mary and the Hectors had their way, he might also be dead, which would be a pity for Ellis; the man had been remarkably patient with his impecunious tenant, and Chaloner hated being in debt to him.

Ellis continued to rub his hands. ‘I shall have to charge extra for the tench your cat had yesterday. I left it on my kitchen table, and she made off with it when my back was turned. Then she had the gall to sit on the roof and devour it before my very eyes, bold as brass.’

‘Christ!’ muttered Chaloner, hoping the animal would not transpire to be expensive.

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