‘He’s right,’ Silas said, before Thomas could object. ‘I ain’t going to sit around waiting for news that me lover’s been chopped to pieces, and his madman brother is on the throne. If we can’t find out where The Invisible is, we can at least find out where Archer’s going, get there and tell him we failed.’
James was kneeling at the bookcase, his hand on the false spines ready to pull the hidden lever that revealed the safe.
‘No, hold on, Mr Wright.’ Thomas was on his feet. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘Come on, Tom. What else have we got?’
‘I’ll thank you for referring to me as Mr Payne,’ Thomas said, wavering on the supercilious.
‘Oh, get over yourself, Tommy.’
‘And you, Mr Hawkins. A little more respect, please. I represent His Lordship here.’
James rolled his eyes and pulled at a book. The panel of fake spines shot open, exposing the safe.
‘Ah, calm it, Tommy.’ Silas joined James by the fireplace. ‘You don’t know how to find this bloody ship, so what else are we going to do?’
‘Follow our master’s instructions,’ Thomas shot back, striding to join them. ‘Mr Wright, I forbid you.’
James had last opened the safe in December, and the key was a combination of the ages of Archer’s lover, butler and valet. Touching, but not foolproof, James had always thought.
‘Archer said we could use and do anything necessary,’ he said, turning the dial.
‘He didn’t mean read his private correspondence,’ Thomas insisted, his anger growing. ‘It isn’t right.’
‘Tom…’ James looked up at his man towering above. ‘Neither is leaving the man you love to fight that monster on his own, yeah?’
‘We should be concentrating on the ship,’ Thomas persisted. ‘Not His Lordship’s private plans.’
Silas laughed, angering Thomas who took hold of James’ shirt, trying to pull him to his feet.
‘Mr Wright, I insist…’
James rounded on him, standing and bracing his shoulders.
‘Leave it, Tom,’ he growled through clenched teeth. ‘We don’t need you ordering us about like you were Earl Kingsclere. Archer told me to lead, and you’ve got to do what I say.’
‘I am the head servant in this household, Mr Wright…’
‘Yeah? Well, you can forget that if we don’t help Archer right now,’ James hissed. ‘How you going to manage with Crispin running your show and Quill the puppet master behind him? You won’t last ten minutes. None of us will.’
‘I will do my duty.’
‘Tom!’ James barked, fed up with his attitude. ‘Stop being Mr bloody Tripp all high and mighty, and stop calling me Mr fucking Wright. I’m your lover, man. Silas is His Lordship’s lover, and we’re all fighting a bigger battle than a clash with Quill.’ He pointed to the window. ‘You can take your anger outside where it’s needed. Out there, where people like us were hanged for being who we are, where men still get pilloried and imprisoned, shamed and shot because they love another man. We don’t need our own battles in here.’
Aware that he had been shouting, James took a deep breath, and turning to kneel at the safe once more, stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the woman who had appeared in the doorway.
‘I came to tell you your lunch is ready, gentlemen,’ Mrs Norwood said, as if she hadn’t witnessed the outburst. ‘I can bring up trays if you want to continue working.’
Thomas was speechless and shaking. James thought he might keel over, because his heart was no longer beating, but Silas, standing between them, put a hand on their shoulders, as if what the housekeeper had seen was trivial.
‘We’ll be there in a couple of minutes, Mrs N,’ he smiled. ‘Just sorting a few things out here. Is Mr Andrej eating?’
‘He is, Sir,’ the housekeeper replied, her eyes fixed on James. ‘Thus, I would suggest you don’t delay, or there won’t be anything left. You could finish your… rehearsal later. The library may give you more space for practice.’ She backed from the room, maintaining nonchalance. ‘You must let me know when the performance is.’
‘Jesus Christ, James,’ Thomas whispered when they were alone. His words were clipped, and his face taut.
‘Ah, don’t worry about it, Tommy.’ Silas turned his attention to the safe.
‘Don’t worry about it?’ Thomas was apoplectic. ‘Do you know what she could do to us?’
‘Yeah,’ James said, recovering from the shock. ‘Bake a cake and say a prayer. Look, Tom…’ He took Thomas by the arms, but the butler shrugged him off. ‘Fair enough. I’m sorry I said those things, and I’m sorry we disagree. It doesn’t happen often, but this time, it’s two against one. We need to see where Archer plans to go in case we can’t deliver his message. You have to understand that.’
‘We ain’t going anywhere,’ Silas said, standing. ‘The safe’s locked.’
James held Thomas’ stare and tried to see the situation from his point of view. He was being asked to turn against his training, he had been exposed in front of another member of staff, and James had shouted. It was the first time, and James knew he was in the wrong, but his tension and concern needed an outlet. Explaining the same to Thomas did little to remove the stony glare from his man’s face, and his apology was met with an age of silence. When Thomas had calmed, all he said was, ‘I must go and speak with Mrs Norwood. I shall think of some excuse for what you have just made public.’
‘No,’ James prevented him from leaving. ‘We can all speak to Mrs Norwood, at least, I should, as it was me caught shouting my mouth off. What I need you to do is be Tom, not Mr Payne. Be our friend, not our boss. Be Archer’s friend, not his butler. Please, Tom. After this is done, you can dump me, fire me, whatever you need, but just help us out now. Please?’
Another long, silent stare as Thomas’ breathing slowed, and his face lost its reddish hue. Finally, he nodded.
‘Some of us are now a year older, Mr Hawkins,’ he said and coughed to cover the crack in his voice. ‘His Lord…’ taking a deep breath, he fought to adjust his attitude. ‘Archer changes the combination on our birthdays. Silas is twenty and comes first. I am now twenty-eight and always second, and Mr Wright is twenty-six.’
‘Good thinking, Tommy,’ Silas winked and turned the dial to the appropriate numbers.
‘And I shall do my best to behave like it,’ James said, desperate to hold Thomas and show him how sorry he was. Knowing it would make Thomas more uncomfortable, he resisted.
‘Here you go,’ Silas popped up between them holding an envelope. ‘And, it’s not sealed.’
Thomas closed his eyes briefly as if to bring down the curtain at the end of a pointless drama, whipped the envelope from Silas and opened it.
James knew he had won him back, but when he saw the look on Tom’s face, his heart sank.
‘What?’ he asked, as Thomas walked back to the table to collect his jacket. ‘What does it say?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Thomas said.
James and Silas crowded to read the message as Thomas put on and straightened his tails. The envelope was simply addressed to Doctor Quill, and inside was one sheet of folded, bank paper. On it were the words, “Artful Deception. July 13th, sunset”, and beneath them, Archer’s signature.
Silence descended as they took in the message and its ambiguity, until James swore and banged his hand against his head.
‘What’s up with you?’ Silas asked, casually sitting to examine the note carefully.
‘Archer’s epiphany,’ James said. “Artful Deception” is the name of a painting that gave him an idea. He mentioned it before we left Kingsclere and then said it again before he left here. I bet…’ Flicking pages in the notebook, he found what he was looking for and showed it to the others. ‘See? “Artful
Deception”.’
‘Hold on, mate.’ Silas put the note back in the envelope. ‘You’re going too fast. What painting?’
‘I’ll explain over lunch,’ James said. ‘But we need to do two things. One, you two need to find out where the ship is, go there and leave this message. Two, I need to go and look at this painting, as it’s going to tell us Archer’s location on the thirteenth. The title means something to him, and he knows it will mean something to Quill. Hopefully, once I’ve seen it, it’ll mean something to me, and we’ll know where we’re going. I’ll head down to Kingsclere this afternoon, and we’ll meet back here tonight, all being well.’
Thomas and Silas exchanged glances, before Thomas threw up his hands.
‘Whatever you say. But first, we have to approach Mrs Norwood and be sure of her discretion.’
‘Not yet.’ James expected another barrage of complaints from his lover, but Tom waited patiently, straightening his cuffs. ‘What’s significant about the date, Tom?’
‘July thirteenth?’ Thomas blinked as he thought, but his eyelashes came to rest when he found the answer. ‘It’s the anniversary of the late viscount’s death.’
‘As significant to Archer and his brother as the bridge of The Invisible,’ James nodded. ‘Makes sense. You’ve got to find that ship.’
‘And somehow get aboard without being detected.’ Thomas moved to the doors, bracing himself, it seemed, for a confrontation with the housekeeper. Stopping in the doorway, he held up a finger and turned, and for the first time in days, James saw him smile. ‘And I’ve just thought how we can find out where it is,’ he said. ‘Jimmy? I’ll let you talk with Mrs Norwood. I shall be back in five minutes.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Next door.’ Thomas set off through the drawing room as if he was late for a meeting, and the other two followed. ‘Archer’s mother received her intelligence from her oldest friend, Lady Marshall. If anyone knows how to find The Invisible, it will be Archer’s godmother.’
‘Nice to have you back, Tom.’ James threw an arm around him as they crossed the hall.
‘I never left, Mr Wright,’ Thomas replied. Stopping by the stairs, and after making sure they were alone, he kissed James tenderly and said, ‘Sorry. I do love you.’
‘Ach, book into a hotel,’ Silas muttered as he slipped through the baize door.
Mrs Norwood was surprisingly indifferent to what she had just witnessed.
‘Mr Wright,’ she said, when James brought up the subject as soon as he and Silas entered the servants’ hall. ‘It may surprise you to know that I am not in the least concerned, or interested in the subject of your play.’
‘All the same, Mrs Norwood, I don’t want you to think…’
‘What?’ the housekeeper interrupted. ‘That a character played by little Jimmy Wright has found someone who loves him? That a lord has too? Why should that be any of my business other than to be happy for you? I mean, for the characters.’
‘Because most people would find such a play unacceptable,’ James suggested. ‘And because it goes against the teaching of the Bible.’
‘Like your mother, I take from the Book only what I agree with.’ Mrs Norwood presented a large steak pie. ‘I am only concerned for such characters because of what, as you put it, the world out there has the authority to do. A misguided authority if you ask me. Whether it is real life, or a stage drama, what a gentleman does in his own home is his own business, as is what a woman does. Or, at least it should be.’
She sat, joining them to eat, and rescuing the potatoes from Fecker who had been silently working his way through the bowl.
‘It wasn’t until recently that women could own property,’ she continued. ‘Yet, even in our own house, we are expected to be the one who supports the husband whether we work or not. That is the rule for us, and I can tell you from here, it stinks. Especially when one’s husband sees fit to meander into the arms of another, because he feels it is his right. As you know, I am currently at odds with Mr Norwood, and it is a fight I shall inevitably lose because the law is against me. As a man of… that persuasion might feel shunned by society, so must I, simply for being female. Now, unless you want to tell me what the problem is that you are dealing with, perhaps we should discuss something else?’
Fecker looked up wearily from his plate. ‘She’s a good woman,’ he said, before dragging the potato bowl back to his place.
James had hardly considered Mrs Norwood’s role in the house, let alone in society. The only experience he had of a woman’s life came from his mother on one side, and Lady Marshall on the other. The two cases could not have been more different, and he had assumed there was no middle ground. Women were either poor and struggled at home, or rich with no need to work and had servants to struggle for them. Yet, Mrs Norwood proved another way existed. Her husband’s recent behaviour had forced her to be independent, and he had the feeling she was more than happy about that.
‘Thank you for your understanding,’ he said. ‘And your discretion. I think Mr Payne would appreciate it if nothing was said.’
Mrs Norwood bowed her head, passed a slice of pie, and said, ‘Eat your greens.’
‘As for telling you what we are doing…’ James threw a worried look to Silas who shrugged, happy to leave the decision to the valet. ‘I would have to ask Mr Payne’s advice on that. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be fair to omit him from the discussion.’
Silas winked, making it clear he approved of James’ reply, and Mrs Norwood accepted his words.
‘Where is Mr Payne?’ she asked. ‘Shall I keep his lunch warm?’
‘He’s just popped next door,’ Silas said. ‘But, yeah, might be a good idea.’
Nothing more was said as they ate, and Thomas hadn’t returned by the time James finished eating. He wasn’t worried. If Lady Marshall was unable to help, she would probably know someone who could.
‘Fecks?’ he asked as he put his knife and fork together. ‘Can you run me to Paddington in half an hour?’
‘Da. After pudding.’
‘Off again, Mr Wright?’
‘I must call on Earl Kingsclere’s footman.’
‘We’ll wait for you to get back,’ Silas said.
‘No.’ James stood and pushed in his chair. ‘If you find it, go there if you can, and do what you must.’ Mrs Norwood was busing herself clearing the table, appearing not to overhear. ‘Mrs Norwood? There is a way you can assist, if you don’t mind.’
‘Whatever you want, Mr Wright.’ She had a twinkle in her eye, which suggested an eagerness to be involved rather than idle curiosity.
‘We may all be out at the same time, so can you listen for the bell and collect any messages we send between us. If I need you to pass on information, I will address a telegram directly to you, otherwise, keep them safe until we’re back. Will you do that?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’ James collected his jacket. ‘Right. I’m going to Kingsclere House, and I’m praying I don’t find the bastard at home.’
Sixteen
Fecker dropped James in Pread Street just after the early afternoon train to Newbury had left, forcing him to wait an hour for the next. When it arrived, it came with a warning from the guard that due to work upgrading rails from one gauge to another, the train would be travelling slower than usual, and it wasn’t until well after four that James stepped onto the platform at Newbury. There, he changed from the mainline to the branch line that served Hannington and the nearby estate of Kingsclere, but a further delay at the station was followed by a lack of cabs at Hannington, leaving him with a long walk to the house. By the time the building came into view, the sun was low on the horizon, though the day was still hot enough to make him perspire, and his feet were aching.
Unable to know if Thomas’ vis
it to Lady Marshall had been successful, and having no further clue as to Archer’s intentions, he approached the rear of the house with only one thought on his mind. To view the painting of “Artful Deception” and hope it provided the necessary clue.
Knowing little of the earl and his activities, he wasn’t sure if the man would be at home, but if he was, there was no way James could imagine being allowed onto the grand staircase to admire the artwork. In that case, he had Harvey’s knowledge of the house to fall back on, but whether the footman knew the painting was an unknown factor, as was whether it would reveal anything of significance to James as it had to Archer.
Entering the yard with a hundred possibilities running through his mind, he took Thomas’ advice and stopped on the tradesman’s step to take stock of what lay ahead, and start his thought process again. Clearing his mind of everything but the painting, he pulled the bell and waited.
His call was answered a minute later by a youth with a black eye. The lad was no more than fifteen, he guessed, and dressed as a hall boy. James assumed a clumsy one who had slipped while mopping the scullery.
‘Afternoon,’ he said, removing his bowler hat. ‘I was hoping I could have a word with Harvey, one of your footmen.’
‘Hello, Mr Clearwater,’ the lad said, taking James by surprise. ‘We didn’t expect to see you back so soon.’
‘Me neither, er…?’ The face was vaguely familiar, but the name was lost among a sea of other servants James had encountered while accompanying Archer.
‘Jasper, Sir. Jasper Blackwood.’ The boy smiled and glanced over his shoulder, before beckoning James into the passage, and whispering. ‘I was there when you and Lord Clearwater gave Evans a dressing down.’ Sniggering, he closed the door before pulling himself together. ‘Best thing I’ve seen in a long time. Come in. Mr Holt’s above stairs right now, but he’ll be down soon. You know the way?’
Artful Deception (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 6) Page 18