Page 1 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 1

A Fox - a sharp, cunning fellow

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

"Enough is enough," Inspector Formby said with a furious mutter, though he appeared to be speaking to no one in particular. The inspector leant back in his chair, staring out of the window at an unpredictable grey-blue sky with a determined mien.

Peter Greenly, his young colleague, kept his trap shut, knowing full well what the problem was and that it would do him no good whatsoever to ask questions about it. He never invited trouble if he could help it and the reason for his superior’s black mood was clear enough.

Mr Formby's nemesis, in the formidable and handsome personage of Viscount Rennard, had just taken a house close to their office in Bath. A younger Mr Formby had begun his career in Bath before heading off for some years to the bustle of London. Now, however, he had returned to settle down to a quieter life than could be found in the big city.

Recalling this troubling history, Formby spoke as if to himself. “I first encountered the Viscount, Lord Todd that is, in an alley with a bloody sword and a corpse, and my opinion of him hasn’t improved any.” Greenly watched as his boss recalled the past and knew that Formby’s humiliation at Todd getting away with murder was as fresh now as it had been then. “He was guilty as hell and we both knew it,” Formby continued, folding his arms and scowling as he looked up at Greenly. “The corpse had been his lover’s husband, poor devil.” Formby’s lips settled into a grim line, his expression dark and angry. “You should have seen Todd,” he added, clearly still seething over it. “He laughed in my face. He seemed to believe the law was only for others. Turned out he was right an’ all.”

Mr Greenly shook his head in sympathy at the bitterness of the words but didn’t venture any comment. He knew the story off by heart in any case. It was a thorn in Mr Formby’s side that was often recalled when his boss was in a bad mood.

Having come late to his career, Formby had been new to the force, and Lord Todd a young, powerful and vastly wealthy nobleman. The result had been inevitable.

Formby had taken a keen interest in Lord Todd’s life ever since and in the fact that the murdered man's wife soon after became the victim of a robbery, during which her finest jewels were spirited away. Then there was his marriage to an heiress, where she sadly died in a riding accident not long after the birth of a daughter. Ten years ago, the man had remarried, this time to a wealthy widow, who then also died suddenly and inexplicably in what looked to Formby like very shady circumstances. Yet no one had rung any alarms and Formby was left to simmer in fury.

And now the devilish Viscount was back.

Mr Greenly understood that his unhappy employer had established, from a discreet amount of digging, that Lord Todd had run through his money, and then some, with the costs of his dissolute lifestyle. His pockets were to let, in fact, and he would need another fat pigeon quick-sharp to bear the costs of keeping his expensive person.

He was hunting another unfortunate victim.

Bath was indeed a fertile hunting ground for those seeking to ensnare the wealthy and lonely widows who came for gentile society and the improving waters when the season was over. Much cheaper, too, to find your quarry without having to endure the expense of a London season.

Formby’s thick, grey eyebrows drew together with a determined slant, and sharp eyes turned to rest on Greenly. "I won't have it, Mr Greenly. That man is a menace, and this time I mean to find a way to stop him."

Mr Greenly nodded but made no comment, still feeling that none was required of him, until his own thoughts fell on a piece of information that he had heard himself just that morning.

"I've ‘eard his daughter is with him."

Formby looked up with interest and approval at Mr Greenly, who preened just a little.

"Is she, now?" Mr Formby mused, getting to his feet and going to stare outside at a day that could not yet decide between rain or shine. "She must be twenty or more, by my reckoning."

"So I've ‘eard, an’ pretty as a picture, too," Greenly added, warming to his theme.

Formby's approving expression darkened a little at this frivolous piece of information and Mr Greenly decided he'd said enough.

"Hmm," the inspector mused, clasping his hands behind him and rocking back on his heels. "I wonder what the daughter of such a man would be like?"

***

Keziah Todd looked around at the chaos of half-unpacked boxes, of dark, damp corners that scurried with thick-bodied black spiders, and the glamorous figure of her father as he closed the door on it all.

Glowering and muttering curses that a young lady of her station really ought not know, she returned her attention to the job at hand. She knew she ought to be thankful that they'd found such a good house for their purposes: putting on a good front while, in truth, everything crumbled. The outside was elegant and well-placed, facing onto Abbey Green. It was a three storey house with a mansard roof, and the top two thirds of the building were clad in Bath stone. The sash windows on the first storey were full height, making the rooms bright and airy, but also freezing cold and dreadfully hard to heat at this time of the year, even when the chimneys didn’t smoke. If the place had been in good order on the inside, they'd never have afforded it, though. As it was, Keziah just hoped she could get rid of the damp and musty smell that was clogging her throat alongside the dust.

Her hands were already chapped and red from scrubbing floors and cleaning windows, but no amount of complaining would change her lot. They were stuck here until her father changed their fortunes, and she was stuck with him until he did.

The thought did nothing to lift her spirits.

"Should I make some tea, Miss?"

Keziah looked up at the anxious face of her abigail, who'd become a maid of all works over the past few years as their finances had continued to flounder.

"Oh yes, do, please, Molly," Keziah replied with a sigh, pushing thick blonde hair from her eyes. "My throat is full of dust and I'm quite sure I've swallowed a spider."