Much Ado About Murder

“And again, ‘twas not really the sort of house that one might expect a wealthy merchant from Genoa to buy,” Shakespeare continued, taking another sip from his tankard. “We had discussed that, as you will recall. We had thought, perhaps, it may have been only a temporary residence, meant to serve until such time as he could build himself a better one, or mayhap ‘twas only that he was a simple man who did not require much more than a simple house. That could be, as well. But why no coach or carriage? Why no Genoan governess for his lovely and eminently marriageable young daughter? Why only three servants? And why only engage those servants for one week at a time? Good servants are not that difficult to come by, and ‘tis customary for the better classes to engage them for a month or more, at least. Should they not prove suitable, they can always be dismissed. There is no need to tell them that their initial period of employment is probationary; that sort of thing is taken as a matter of course. On the other hand, if a man does not have very much money, but wishes to appear as if he does, then he might well conceal his poverty ‘neath the cloak of practical frugality. And he would drink beer or ale in the local tavern, as opposed to wine.”

“None of this makes any sense to me,” said Molly, looking confused. “What does Ben have to do with any of this?”

“Ben created Master Leonardo,” Shakespeare said. “Or at least, he created him in the sense in which we knew him, as a wealthy merchant trader from Genoa who desired to retire from the sea and settle down in London with his riches. But ‘twas all an elaborate scheme of cony-catching, a very clever and ambitious scheme, indeed. And it very nearly worked, save for one small problem. Along the way, somewhere a mistake was made. A mistake that, sadly, cost a man his life and may yet cost Corwin his, unless we are able to move swiftly. Ben, the time for dissembling is past. We need the truth, and we need it now if we are ever to help your friend, Corwin.”

Dickens sighed and nodded. “Very well. There is no point in trying to hide it any longer. Leonardo was a Genoan only on his mother’s side. His father was an Englishman and he was born in Bristol. I met him in the Netherlands, when I booked passage on his ship. As we grew to know each other, I discovered that he had grown tired of his life at sea. His ship was old and badly in need of repair and refitting, but he could not afford to have the work done. For several years, his luck had run poorly and he was nearly destitute. He had already decided to sell the ship for whatever he could get for it when we arrived in London and try to find some other trade with which to earn his living. And ‘twas then the scheme occurred to me.

“I had made some money of my own while fighting in the foreign wars,” Dickens continued, as the others all hung on every word, “but not nearly as much as I had hoped, not nearly enough to serve my purposes. I desperately needed more. And so I proposed a scheme to Leonardo whereby we both might profit if we played our cards well and wind up wealthy men. All he needed to do when we arrived in England was to sell his ship, just as he had planned. We would then combine our resources and our efforts in an attempt to make our fortunes. The money from the sale of the ship would go to buy a house. Even if ‘twere just a modest house, ‘twould be enough, for he could always claim ‘twas merely a temporary residence until his business interests in London were established and he could build a larger home. But ‘twas here that Leonardo took the risk, for if he spent most of the proceeds from the sale of the ship upon a home, then he would have next to nothing left with which to set himself up in some trade. And indeed, thanks to the poor condition of his ship, that was just what happened.

“He had enough to buy the house,” Dickens went on, “and hire a few servants and stock his larder for a week or so, but beyond that, his money would soon run out. And here was where I would share the risk. My money would go to help maintain the illusion of Master Leonardo. I purchased several suits of clothing for him, tailored in the height of fashion, bought him a new sword, a fine plumed hat, and paid for the carriages he hired. ‘Twas my money he carried in his purse, to make himself look prosperous, and ‘twas my money he had spent in entertaining the conys that we hoped to catch.”

“You mean us?” asked Burgage. “ ‘Twas us you planned to fleece?”