Alec ignored the knot of persons leave taking by the door and pushed through the ministering footmen without a word or a look. When the butler stepped forward with his greatcoat he demanded his sword and put out a hand for his gloves. Neave said something to him, but he wasn’t listening. A bejeweled hand touched his arm. It was his godmother. But Alec angrily shrugged off the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots as he snatched his sash and sword from a footman, over setting the Duchess who stumbled backwards to be caught at the elbow by her butler. Five footmen rushed to her aid. An old man with gray-grizzled hair stepped forward, but it was the Earl of Delvin who took matters into his own hands.
The Earl poked his brother in the kidney with the end of his Malacca cane.
“You’re in a hurry, Second,” Delvin drawled. “Can’t go bargin’ about other people’s houses knocking ’em willy-nilly. It’s not done. Not done at all. Dear Mrs. Jamison-Lewis could’ve broken her neck on the stairs just now, and you of all people certainly wouldn’t want to see the beautiful young widow join her dearly departed so soon, would you? For a diplomatist you certainly show a marked lack of man—”
It needed only that. Alec snatched at the cane and threw it away from him before pushing his brother up against the nearest wall, a hand about the layers of lace at his throat, long fingers pushing the Earl’s chin up until he was forced to look Alec directly in the eye. No match for his younger brother’s rage of strength, Delvin offered little resistance.
“You cold-hearted blood sucker,” Alec spat in his face. “I wish to God you were no brother of mine!”
The Earl attempted a moment of bravado. “You’re a fool, Second,” he hissed viciously. “Time you learned your place: no female wants second best.”
“If they want you then they’re not worth the having,” Alec sneered, fingers convulsing about his brother’s throat until the Earl spluttered for breath and clawed at his strong hand.
A cluster of open-mouthed footmen stared at the two gentlemen struggling by the open front door. As mesmerized as his fellows, the butler stood rooted to the spot until the Duchess demanded that someone do something to break up the fight. With an imperious snap of his fingers, Neave scattered the footmen. It was left to the grizzled haired old man to step in and put a stop to the one-sided fight between his nephews.
“Alec! Stop!” growled Plantagenet Halsey. “Let him be!”
Delvin was released at once and fell to his silken knees, gasping great gulps of air into his deprived lungs. He quickly picked himself up and attempted to regain his arrogant bravado by brushing the sleeves of his velvet frockcoat and straightening the lace at his wrists as if he had been touched by something unclean. Alec stared at him with contempt, hands balled into fists of frustrated rage. He saw the butler with eyes suitably lowered, and standing beside him the freckled-faced footman who had introduced himself as Tam. And when he glanced at his uncle, he saw so much unspoken sadness in the old blue eyes that Alec turned away from him with impatience. A glance up at the staircase and there was Selina still on the step where he had left her. God, what had he done to deserve her silent witness? His humiliation complete, Alec made the Duchess a curt bow and strode from the house.
Tam followed Alec to town. He took a horse from the stables while the stable hands were busy with the Earl of Delvin’s carriage horses. No one thought to question him. He was astride the animal and at full gallop down the gravel drive before one of his fellow footmen came to fetch him to answer to Neave.
The ride was not easy, nor was it a simple matter of following as close as he dare without being seen. Alec never looked back. He rode his mount as if his life depended upon it, oblivious to the horse and rider that fell in behind him and stayed close all the way to Hyde Park corner.
The closer to town and the open fields and hamlets turned into the newer suburbs of the wealthy merchant princes and town residences of the aristocracy. Then the openness of the new squares narrowed to filthy streets congested with the continuous rumble of carriages, single horsemen, and carts laden with merchandise for markets in the city. Town criers competed to be heard with the sellers of oranges and apples, flowers, household-wares and freshly-cooked oysters, all shouting out in their sing-song voices the excellent value and superior quality of their merchandise.
Once they hit the congestion of town traffic Alec’s pace slackened. Tam still needed to keep his wits so as not to lose sight of his man. He could easily disappear up a side street never to be seen again. Where would that leave Tam? As it was, he knew he could never return to St. Neots House. Neave would make certain of that. His future now lay in Alec Halsey’s hands. And if he didn’t keep close to him, find out where he lived, there would be no opportunity to plead his case.
London was not new to Tam. In fact, he found it strangely exhilarating to be once again amongst the noise and the dirt, but he was careful to keep an undistracted eye on Alec Halsey’s straight back, just up ahead of him, and who now dismounted in the cobbled yard of The Rose in Drury Lane: an establishment frequented by prostitutes and low life wanting nothing better to do than brawl with one another.
When Alec stepped back onto the street, it was late afternoon, and he was not alone. Three rough-looking men were at his back. Dressed in ill-fitting, coarse-clothed frockcoats and darned stockings splattered with town muck they jostled one another, as if sharing a private joke as they followed Alec on foot in the direction of the Covent Garden markets. Tam, who had been dozing in a filthy corner of the stable yard trying for all the world to look as if he belonged there, scrambled up and went after them; the horse he had taken from the St. Neots’ stables left in the care of a toothless ostler.
It was at Covent Garden that Tam lost sight of Alec and his companions. Leaving The Rose, he ran up the road until he was only a few yards behind his quarry. Alec seemed in no hurry. He sauntered along the footpath, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his riding frock, while his new-found friends continued on with their banal banter, any remark made to Alec met with monosyllabic responses. Tam had a difficult time hanging back and was glad when they came to the edge of the market square. There were vegetable and fruit sellers, flower stalls, wagons and carts jostling with one another for space, and everywhere the smell of the country mingled with the soot and grime of the city. The noise was deafening.
Tam dodged in and around laden wagons, tripped on a cobbled street uneven and slick with rotting vegetables, and picked himself up to find he was the center of attention for a number of young ragged scamps, laughing at his expense. He shooed them off, brushed himself down and momentarily forgot his purpose catching the smell of hot pies and sweet fruit. He was suddenly ravenous and remembered he had not eaten since before dawn, and then only a fist of bread and chunk of cheese. Food was out of the question. He had no money.
Yet, as he continued along the street thinking of his empty stomach, the markets now behind him, the thought of a hot pie became suddenly repellent. He had lost Alec Halsey in the crowd. He stopped in the middle of the footpath wondering what to do and was shoved this way and that by pedestrians going about their business. A tradesman pushing a cart shouted at him but Tam neither saw or heard the man. He turned and retraced his steps to the corner where he had taken the fall and started a search of the side streets and alleyways. He ran almost to the Strand, out of breath and an ache in his side. There was no sign of the man and his companions. Again he returned to the corner where he had fallen and this time crouched on his haunches in the doorway of a disused warehouse that had its lower windows boarded up.
He tried not to panic. There was possibly only an hour before dusk. Already the light was dimming. Although he knew the area well he did not like the thought of spending the night without food and shelter. That Alec Halsey might have fallen foul of the three men from the Rose did not bear thinking about. The gentleman wore a sword and by the width of his shoulders and the muscle in his calves he looked well able to take care of himself in a mill. Still, three on one were not good od
ds in anyone’s books. And as Tam stared vacantly at the row of buildings diagonally opposite, at the coming and going of carriages and sedan chairs and men on foot, he wondered how it was possible for four men to vanish so completely. He watched the activity in the street for a long time before realizing the answer stared him in the face. His quarry had gone into one of those buildings. One building stood out from all the others.
Its entrance was set back off the street under an elegant portico and could be easily overlooked by the busy pedestrian. Tam crossed the street to better view the entrance. A doorman was in attendance. It must be a private club of sorts because the gentlemen being admitted were not of the class or position to frequent the area for any other purpose. If Alec had disappeared behind those doors, perhaps to be rid of his companions, then Tam would possibly have a long wait ahead of him. He curled up in a doorway across the street, kept his eyes fixed on the club’s entrance, and waited.
He was kicked awake by a night watchman carrying a lantern in one hand and a cudgel in the other, who demanded to know his business and was prepared to dispense his particular form of justice if Tam did not give a good account of himself. Tam explained he was waiting for a gentleman who was in the building across the street and added for good measure that he had a most important message to give him. The doorman had refused him entry and told him to wait outside. At this the night watchman let out a great peal of laughter and nudged Tam with his cudgel, but did so in a friendly fashion.
“Yer young fool! A’course he ain’t goin’ to let in the likes of you! Not less you got six guineas.” This made him laugh harder.
“I don’t understand,” said Tam politely, scampering to his feet and adding ‘sir’ for good measure because he was wary of night watchmen’s cudgels.
The man wiped dry his eyes with the back of a grimy hand and shook his head. He pointed his cudgel at the building, its entrance now illuminated with flambeaux. “That, my lad, is a brothel. A very ’igh class brothel it is, too. Called a fancy name: Turkish Bath. That’s what.”
“Turkish Bath,” repeated Tam.
“That’s right. Six guineas’ll get yer supper, a bathe in them Turkish baths, and a ’igh class ’arlot,” the night watchman said knowledgeably, although he had never been inside such an establishment and never would. “Now, m’lad, yer best be pushin’ along. Can’t stand out ’ere all night and I got me duties to do. Take yer message round his ’ouse and give it to the porter.”
“I-I can’t. I was told to deliver it here.”
“How d’yer know ’e’s still in there? You’ve been asleep.”
Tam’s shoulders slumped. The man peered keenly at him, holding high his lantern. The boy looked genuinely unhappy and he noticed he was wearing livery so his story was probably true. He pocketed the cudgel. “This message. It ain’t from ’is missus, is it?”
Tam shook his head.
The night watchman rubbed his stubbled chin.
“What’s ’e look like, this gentleman?”
Tam gave the man a description of Alec.
“Tall gent who wears his own ’air?” the night watchman repeated with surprise. “And yer say ’e’s a gentleman? The ’air will give ’im away sure enough. Stay ’ere.”
He crossed the street to be met at the front steps of the Turkish Bath by one of the doormen. The doorman peered into the blackness across the street as the night watchman spoke to him. The conversation lasted no more than a few minutes and back across the cobbles the night watchman came, his long coat unbuttoned and flapping at his sides. In the light of the lantern Tam saw that he was grinning, though his toothless smile died seeing the concern on Tam’s young face.
“Closed mouthed lot, them over there,” he confided, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Won’t say yes and won’t say no. But I managed to get ’em to tell me a thing or two.”
“He’s gone?”
“No need to fret yerself, lad. ’E’s there all right, ’cause a gentleman fittin’ your description entered the premises with three havey-cavey lookin’ coves ’e said were ’is particular friends. A’course it ain’t an establishment for low-life and so says the doormen to your gentleman. But they soon changed their minds when ’e threw down five and twenty pounds. Opened the door as wide as yer pleased for him and his friends then, didn’t they!” He chuckled to himself. “And I’ll tell yer some’in’ else for naught, lad. ’is friends are ’aving a right time of it, eatin’ ’til they’re fit to burst, splashin’ away in them Turkish baths and enjoyin’ the particular attentions of the three prettiest whores this side of Paris!”
Tam felt his face grow hot and moved out of the light. “Thank you for your help, sir.”
The night watchman peered at him closely and had a twinge of remorse recounting the carryings on in a brothel to a well-spoken young lad who obviously came from one of the big houses in Westminster. “You’d best get ’ome to yer bed. There’s no point you waitin’ cause by what ’im over there tells me, your gentleman is sittin’ in a corner drinkin’ ’is self into a right stupor. Not interested in supper, or them baths and when a sweet-mouthed whore tried to interest ’im he fairly growled at her. Waste of good guineas if yer ask me!”
“Thank you, sir. But I must wait. He—he’ll need my help to get home, if he’s as drunk as you say…”
The night watchman considered him with an open look. The boy stared back at him though he shuffled nervously from foot to foot.
“’ere,” he said and offered Tam the apple from his coat pocket. “I’ll be on me rounds then. Remember: keep yer wits about yer. It ain’t safe in these parts for a lad.” And with that piece of advice he went on his way, cudgel in hand, lantern held up high.
Alec sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, dragging the coverlet with him. Bent over, elbows on his knees and with his face in his hands, he felt weak and empty. His mouth was tinder dry. He wanted fresh air but knew his legs would not carry him to the windows.
Through his fingers he saw a porcelain bowl being thrust at him and he shook his head. “Take it away. I don’t need it,” he said thickly. “Open the windows.” He felt the growth on his face and grimaced. He waited for the first blast of cold air before he attempted to sit up straight, his hand gripping the edge of the mattress for support. He pulled the tangle of hair out of his eyes and squinted into the early morning light that flooded the bedchamber.
The room was in total disarray. Clothes littered the floor. Newssheets, rolled parchments and several books had fallen off a side table and onto the carpet. A chair was overturned. There was an assortment of bottles and dishes on the bureau, all new to him. Amongst their number were a mortar and pestle and jars of un-identifiable liquids. The room smelled of stale air and medicinals.
Mercifully, the chamber pot was empty. He remembered he had thrown up into it once. Later, a basin was used for the same purpose. He was forced to drink lemon water, and then a glass of syrupy liquid was pressed to his lips. When he had drunk it all he collapsed exhausted amongst the pillows and was allowed to sleep. The way he felt, he wasn’t sure if he had slept for five hours or five days.
“John. Help me to stand,” he muttered. Instead of his poker-faced valet, a freckle-faced youth who looked vaguely familiar came to his aid. He frowned. “Where’s John?”
“You dismissed him, sir,” Tam answered levelly, though his heart was knocking against his ribs.
“When?”
“Night before last, sir.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t fret over it. He was glad to be gone. Packed his bag and was off within the hour. Give me your arm, sir, and I’ll help you up. He looked right grateful, too. You should’ve seen his face when you came home.”
“I’m sure I did but I don’t remember it particularly,” Alec murmured.
“No, sir. I expect you don’t. Sit down here and I’ll see to your bath.”
Tam sat Alec in a wing chair by the window and without permissio
n pulled down the sash. He then scurried away before he could be asked further questions and returned carrying one of Alec’s brightly colored silk banyans. He placed this about the man’s shoulders and began tidying the room. He felt Alec staring at him and knew he was remembered. “I’ll have everything straightened out in a trice. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to disturb you. But you slept so long I was beginning to worry I’d given you too much medicinal—”
“What are you doing here, Tam?”
“Me, sir?”
“Don’t be obtuse. I haven’t the strength or inclination for banter.”
Tam collected up the parchments and stacked these and the books and newssheets in a neat pile on the table before turning to face Alec. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m nervous. I don’t want you to tell me to leave. I’ve left St. Neots House and I’m not going back!”
“Did something happen?”
“No, sir.” He lowered his eyes. “That is, not to me…”
“I see,” Alec finally answered. “What do you want?”
“To be your valet, sir,” Tam said in a rush. “I have a letter of introduction. I’ll do a good job. I’ll work hard. You won’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be better than that surly creature you had before. I don’t know where everything is yet, but it won’t take me long to sort through—”
“Tam. Have you ever been a gentleman’s valet?”
“No. But—”
“It’s not just a matter of shining boots and tying up hair.”
“I know that, sir. But—”
“I frequently travel abroad.”
“I want to travel—to see other places!”
“I have two hounds. They travel with me. You’d be expected to care for them, too.”
“I love animals; dogs especially. And they like me. Yours do. I had them sleep with me in the dressing room so they wouldn’t disturb you. They didn’t mind a bit. I know their names too. Cromwell and Marzipan—”
Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) Page 2