The Enforcer: Viscount Sidmouth

Henry Addington, the first Viscount Sidmouth and home secretary since 1812, was a consummate politician. He had been Prime Minister of the nation between 1801 and 1804 and his term in office was noted for the doubling of income tax, the construction of the Martello tower sea defences along the south coast and the raising of more than 600,000 men at arms. It can be fairly said of Sidmouth that he understood how to apply the smack of firm government though, to give him his due, during his administration Napoleon was at the zenith of his power, bestriding the European landmass like a colossus, albeit a five foot one.

From Chapter 8, The Jane Austen Murders.

The Royal Connection 2. Princess Charlotte Augusta and Prince Leopold

A long case clock at one end of the room struck six and doors, which Doyle had not noticed before, opened. Through them walked a young woman of small stature and somewhat plump. Yet Doyle recognised the nose and jowls from cartoons and pamphlets as being unmistakably Hanoverian. She was wearing a simple white silk and muslin evening dress embroidered all over in small white glass beads – some could be pearls, Doyle later thought – which caught the reflection of the light. The dress had an ivory silk Van Dyke collar, with ivory silk cording on the puffed sleeves. In her hair, which was up, sat a delightfully small tiara of diamonds and pearls. But what surprised Doyle most was that the dress, tiara and its wearer headed directly to the chair next to him.

From Chapter 2, The Jane Austen Murders.

Leopold George Christian Frederick, Prince of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha and Duke of Saxony was, at 27, five years younger than Doyle. When he was five, he had been made a colonel in the Imperial Regiment of Russia, and at 16 was taken by Napoleon to Paris where he was offered the position of adjutant to the French Emperor. This he refused, instead joining the Imperial Russian cavalry and fighting against his erstwhile employer at the battle of Kulm in 1813, a bloody victory for the allies against the French where over 25,000 men lost their lives. Two years later he was made a general of the Imperial Russian Army, but last year he married Charlotte Augusta and had become a member of the royal family, exchanging the Russian Order of St Andrew for the British Order of the Garter. Had Doyle known any of this, he might have not been so forthcoming in his conversation with the Prince. Instead, the doctor saw before him a decidedly fashionable young man dressed soberly in a dark blue morning coat and immaculately tailored matching cream waistcoat and pantaloons. This gained Doyle’s immediate approval far more quickly than any number of titles and honours.

From Chapter 17, The Jane Austen Murders.

The Royal Connection 1. The Prince Regent

The State Barge which picked up the Prince was itself a picture of majesty, so far as paint and gold could make it – even the rudder was emblazoned with golden dolphins. The Prince embarked generally from the Old Pump House groyne, one of the wooden projections from the cliffs into the sea which helped break up waves and protect the town from adverse weather. Sometimes the Prince stepped from the groyne into the barge, and at other times he was taken out in the royal bathing machine. The sailors on the barge were attired de rigeur in blue caps and scarlet jackets, and sat with oars erect until the Prince found his place.

Doyle watched this spectacle four times before he tired of it. It had been his first opportunity to see the man at close quarters, and the doctor was suitably taken by the quality of his clothes and the condition of his body. He must weigh more than 350 pounds, the doctor guessed, and his ruddy, slightly bloated face was an indication of a life too well lived. The fullness of the face gave him an adolescent look, as did the wavy brown head of hair: did he use a vegetable dye or was it a very clever wig?

From Chapter 8, The Jane Austen Murders.

Clipping From The Brighton Herald, July 1817

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 6. The Old Ship Hotel

Doyle knew the hotel well, as it was one of the oldest, as well as the busiest, in Brighton, with a lavish assembly room in the Adams style – it was the venue for many social events, including the grandest of balls and, at which, Doyle had paraded peacock-like on occasion. The bar he knew less well, and couldn’t recall seeing a particular old sailor holding court there. When he entered, however, his memory was firmly jogged.

From Chapter 2, The Jane Austen Murders.

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 5. Mrs Fitzherbert's House

The house of Mrs Fitzherbert was only a short distance from the Pavilion and overlooked the Steyne. A large villa lit with huge windows and an imposing entrance, it had been built ten years previously and had been gifted to her by the Prince. Since her separation from him, however, it was seldom empty, with a veritable stream of Smythes, her family, coming to visit. She acted as patroness at several Brighton balls, and by making Brighton her home she was a constant irritation to the Prince, who seemed never to leave the boundaries of the Pavilion and avoided riding in public when she was around, although this may also have been due to his falling popularity. In fact, Mrs Fitzherbert was the Queen of Brighton, being called “madam” by all and sundry, and even being given preference over any visiting foreign royalty when dining out.

Chapter 8, The Jane Austen Murders.

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 4. The Grand Parade

Mason decided they had to report the morning’s events to the home secretary Lord Sidmouth as soon as possible.

Sidmouth had taken the lease on a house along the Grand Parade, opposite the Royal Pavilion and much sought after. Unfortunately, the clerk left in charge informed them that his lordship was on board the HMY Royal George with the Prince. After being briefed by Mason, the clerk, who knew his master only too well, decided that the matter was of the utmost importance and that they must go to the ship immediately, and started to set the wheels in motion.

Chapter 8, The Jane Austen Murders.

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 3. St Nicholas' Church

Doyle was surprised by the number of people attending the funeral. The fish market had closed for the morning as a sign of respect, and most everyone from the beach – fishermen, fishwives, Dippers and Bathers – had made their way up the hill to the church, the rumours of an infectious disease notwithstanding. The pretty parish church, built in Sussexstone hundreds of years previously, had seen its fair share of sadness, but the sight of two young children, boy and girl, sitting with a member of the Watch in seats near the altar, was particularly poignant. The church was dedicated to St Nicholas who, among other things, was the patron saint of fishermen, sailors and children – appropriate in the circumstances.

Seventy years ago the church had been fitted out with box-pews in the pattern of a cross, the Norman font which was made of Caen stone and dated back to the 12th century being the central point. Lack of space meant galleries had been built on every side, giving the church a cramped, almost claustrophobic feeling. Colonel Reynolds and magistrate Runnington were sitting in a pew allocated for local dignataries, and Reynolds called the doctor and his servant over to be seated.

Chapter 5, The Jane Austen Murders.

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 2. The Royal Pavilion

The men turned north, passing on the way another landmark, the Royal Pavilion – now forever clad in scaffolding as the builder Prince made yet more improvements to his seaside fantasy. Since early spring, work had begun on both the left and right wings of the building as the Prince’s architect, John Nash, made good the latest part of his masterplan. No doubt critics of the Prince Regent in Parliament would use this work as yet another example of his wasteful spending, but Doyle was pleased the Prince continued to maintain an interest in the town – for no other reason than it justified his own choice of Brighton.

From Chapter 1, The Jane Austen Murders.

Decimus Doyle's Brighton 1. The Royal Crescent

As he left the house in the Royal Crescent on which he’d taken a lease two year’s ago, he decided to walk rather than get the horses from the mews. The storm that woke him in the early hours of the morning had now passed and it was a bright, clear day. At the gate he touched the railings and crossed himself, as was his custom following the story he’d been told when taking the house. Seemingly, ten years previously a workman named Leggatt had been engaged in making the words “Royal Crescent” at the top of the centre houses (numbers 7 and 8). When he had finished the letter “S”, he’d stepped back to admire his handy work and, overbalancing, fell onto the railings below – fatally.

From Chapter 1 of The Jane Austen Murders.