by David Field
‘What Mr Carson means,’ Home Secretary Asquith added, ‘is that the poison that he has been handed in order to defend his client — and which he is professionally obliged to disclose, if he is to perform his professional duties in accordance with his ethical code — may extend beyond the Mary-Annes, male prostitutes and other assorted riff-raff who may be expected to give evidence.’
‘You’ve secured their attendance as witnesses?’ Chief Superintendent Bray enquired sceptically.
Carson nodded. ‘In some cases we have been obliged to defray what we shall choose to call their “legitimate expenses” in attending court, and in other cases it was seen by them as a preferable alternative to being prosecuted themselves. But yes, they will be testifying, should Mr Wilde not choose to concede the truth of the allegation against him — an unlikely prospect, you would agree — but our concern lies in what was revealed regarding the extent of the depraved circles in which he was engaging in such activities.’
‘Members of the Government?’ Percy enquired, despite the earlier instruction to remain silent.
Chief Superintendent Bray frowned disapprovingly, but the Home Secretary nodded sadly. ‘Regrettably, we believe so. But also other areas of public life in which revelations could be embarrassing, with the potential to make British society a laughing stock throughout Europe and the rest of the world. Matters are particularly fraught with Prussia and Austria at the moment and, through them, with the Balkans. The last thing we need is for Britain to be portrayed as a haven for this sort of depraved activity.’
‘Please forgive me, but I have to ask,’ Bray interjected. ‘Could it extend as far as — the royal family?’
‘Please God, no,’ Asquith replied, ashen faced, ‘but that’s one of the reasons why we wish your people to begin a very thorough investigation, using the initial “leads” that Mr Carson’s instructing solicitors can supply.’
Percy looked at the Superintendent with raised eyebrows and received a confirming nod.
‘I believe that Inspector Enright has further questions,’ Bray announced, ‘if you’d be so good as to supply whatever additional information he feels that he requires.’
‘First of all,’ Percy asked Carson, ‘do you already have enough to defend your client with, without digging any deeper, and are any of your potential witnesses appropriately placed to be able to make, shall we say, “inconvenient” revelations?’
‘We clearly have more than enough,’ Carson replied, ‘and from what I’ve read in their depositions — that’s “witness statements” in your language — they won’t be revealing more than the usual sorry tale of houses of convenience where like-minded deviants could meet and carry on their practices. However, it has been hinted that among those frequenting these dens of depravity are to be found prominent members of society and the professions. Regrettably including my own, but also several religious denominations.’
‘But if you are to serve your client fully,’ Percy continued with a puzzled frown, ‘it will be necessary for all this to come out into the open, will it not?’
‘In terms of accusation and innuendo, certainly,’ Carson conceded, ‘but I was led to believe that it might be possible for Scotland Yard to, as it were, dispose of the evidence, so that if any unfortunate allegations are made, our friends in the popular press won’t be able to confirm the shocking details, and the Home Secretary here can issue a denial.’
‘And of course,’ Asquith added hastily, ‘we would expect anyone in a position to embarrass the Government by virtue of their — “predilections”, shall we call them? — to be referred to my Office, rather than prosecuted.’
‘May I ask a question?’ Jack spoke up.
Bray nodded.
‘Why — and for that matter, how — did your client Queensberry come to be motivated to make these allegations? Presumably he’s not “one of those” himself?’
‘Indeed not,’ Carson confirmed, ‘but his son is, it would seem. I don’t believe I’m breaching any client confidentiality when I advise you that my client’s motivation for making the allegation — which he did by way of a calling card left at Wilde’s club — is the belief that his third oldest son, christened “Alfred”, but known affectionately within family circles as “Bosie”, has formed a homosexual relationship with Wilde. This is doubly unfortunate, given the tragedy that surrounded the death of the oldest son, Francis. It’s an open secret that Francis, “Viscount Drumlanrig” to give him his title, blew his brains out late last year, after the gutter press threatened to reveal his homosexual relationship with our current Prime Minister — the Liberal leader, Rosebery.’
‘That’s quite enough, Carson,’ Asquith growled, before Jack pursued the line his mind was taking.
‘So Queensberry was concerned that his other son might be going the same way, sexually I mean?’
‘Precisely,’ Asquith confirmed. ‘In fact, since Carson’s finally let the cat out of the bag, I can further reveal that when Queensberry was leaning on us to prosecute Wilde, he threatened to expose the Prime Minister’s alleged bisexuality. Had it not been for the active interest of certain journalists of the lower sort, dissatisfied with the official verdict that Drumlanrig died accidentally during a shooting accident, we would have reported the blackmail attempt to the Yard.’
‘With instructions to bury the accusation — or perhaps Queensberry himself — under the carpet?’ Percy said with a cynical smile.
Carson replied with a smirk of his own. ‘Apart from the loss of my considerable fee for appearing for him in this matter, even I would not mourn the passing of Queensberry. He’s a most unpleasant Atheist bigot who lists pugilism as his main interest in life, along with horse racing. He’s been married twice, both wives accusing him of brutish behaviour before ending their relationship. There are now suggestions of insanity arising from syphilis, and he’s prone to bouts of wild temper. All in all, I’ve had easier clients to get along with, but his money’s still good.’
‘So if we manage to uncover evidence of his misbehaviour, you wouldn’t complain?’ Percy asked.
‘Not once he’s paid my fees, no. But there is another matter that I’d be grateful if you’d investigate for me. It may be related to the Wilde matter, but somehow I doubt it.’
‘I did tell Mr Carson that we’d at least look into it, given his public spiritedness in bringing the possible ramifications of the Wilde matter to our attention,’ Bray confirmed, and Carson continued as if the involvement of the Yard was beyond further argument.
‘There is a spurious connection with Wilde, in the sense that he and I were students at the same time at Trinity College Dublin. A fellow student of ours, reading Natural Sciences, and also a former school friend of mine, was Lord Stranmillis, who recently went missing.’
‘Before Inspector Enright advises you that the Yard doesn’t conduct missing persons enquiries,’ Bray intervened hastily, ‘perhaps the Home Secretary could give us the broader picture.’
‘Certainly,’ Asquith agreed. ‘As you cannot fail to be aware, if only from the newspapers, we are currently pursuing negotiations with certain “organisations”, shall we call them, regarding the future governance of Ireland.’
‘Home Rule?’ Percy enquired.
Asquith nodded. ‘Clearly, Mr Carson and I occupy different positions across the fence on this one, since he is a diehard Unionist, and one of those with Tory leanings who are opposed to any form of independent Ireland. My Government, on the other hand, has now promoted two Bills in Parliament, with the intention of granting limited independence to the Irish, the second of which was blocked by the Tories a little under two years ago now. It is likely to be the main issue on the hustings in the General Election which is imminent.’
‘Please get to the point, Bertie, and leave your Liberal propaganda in your valise,’ Carson muttered. Asquith glared at him and made a theatrical wave of the hand for Carson to take over the briefing.
‘My lifelong friend Lord Stranmillis is
in many ways a duplicate of myself, in the sense that our lives have been curiously parallel to this point. We are both men who grew up as Protestants in an aggressively Catholic Dublin, and we both acquired property to the north, in Belfast, although his is a rural estate to the south of the town, from which his title is derived by descent from his uncle. Like myself, he is a supporter of the Tory Party, and also like myself, he is what has become known as a “Unionist”, by which is meant a fervent opponent of Irish Home Rule. He was, in fact, one of those in the House of Lords who overwhelmingly threw out Gladstone’s second attempt at legislating for the unthinkable and unworkable. I believe that this has made him a target for Fenian thugs.’
‘In what way?’ Percy asked. ‘How, where, and when did he go missing?’
‘Two weeks ago, he was expected on the overnight vessel from Holyhead at a place called Kingston, which is a few miles south of Dublin, and one of its main ports of entry. He’s something of a local hero in Dublin among those who oppose any form of Home Rule, and the members of the local branch of the Loyal and Patriotic Union that he helped to found had prepared a very warm welcome for him on the quayside, complete with a brass band. He failed to disembark from the vessel, and there’s no trace of the railway carriage in which he’d travelled from Euston the previous day.’
‘It definitely left Euston?’ Percy enquired.
Carson nodded. ‘According to the station staff there, and we have no reason to doubt them. It was also noted in Crewe, where the train halted briefly to change engines, but no-one can be found who saw it at the railhead at Holyhead. It’s certainly not there now, nor is there any trace of it in the carriage sidings at Kings Cross, where it’s normally kept.’
‘Why King’s Cross? The train left Euston, didn’t you say?’
‘That train, certainly,’ Carson confirmed, ‘but it was the first time for several years that his Lordship had returned to Ireland, and his carriage was normally employed on the GNR route to Edinburgh, where it could be detached at the private halt that his Lordship maintains at a place called Cockburnspath, in the Scottish Borders. That’s his country seat, where he spends most of his time when not in the House of Lords.’
‘And the carriage isn’t there either, I take it?’
Carson shook his head. ‘Enquiries have been made there, obviously, but to no avail.’
‘And this was two weeks ago?’ Percy persevered.
‘Correct.’
‘And his Lordship’s body hasn’t been found, obviously.’
‘Of course not.’
‘What makes you suspect the Fenians in his disappearance?’
‘The obvious reason — he’d stood in the way of Home Rule being voted in.’
‘But he wasn’t the only one, from what you told us earlier.’
‘Indeed not — there were over four hundred opposed to it, in total.’
‘And as I understand the methods of these murderous bastards,’ Percy added, to the visible discomfort of the Home Secretary, ‘they’d have made a big display of his body, would they not?’
‘Most likely,’ Carson conceded.
‘And if the motive was financial or political, in the sense that your friend was kidnapped for money, or as a hostage to Home Rule, then in my experience there would have been a demand of some sort by now,’ Percy added. ‘I think that the reason for the disappearance may be more personal than you at first thought, Mr Carson.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Carson replied with a frown.
‘Neither am I,’ Percy smiled back reassuringly, ‘but in the absence of either a demand or a body after two weeks, I think you may reasonably relax in the knowledge that your friend is still alive somewhere. My task — and that of my colleague here — is to find out where, and why. To succeed in that we must first work out “how”, must we not?’
‘So you’ll conduct the necessary enquiries?’
Percy gave Carson a sarcastically exaggerated smile. ‘I wasn’t aware that we had a choice.’
Chapter Three
‘Uncle Percy!’ Esther exclaimed in surprise as she opened the front door in response to his knock, a sleepy looking Miriam perched face down on the towel that was draped across her shoulder. ‘It’s not like you to call in the middle of a working morning — I hope you’re not here with bad news about Jack?’
‘No, far from it — may I come in?’
Esther stood back in the hallway to allow him to stride towards the kitchen as he asked whether or not there was tea on the boil.
‘I’ve just fed Miriam,’ Esther explained as she placed the biscuit tin on the table between them, ‘and for once she didn’t spew it all back all over me, so hopefully she’ll settle when I put her in the cot. Alice is keeping Lily and Bertie amused as usual, so once I come back we can talk. I assume that you don’t want Jack to hear whatever’s on your mind.’
She returned five minutes later and Percy smiled.
‘You never cease to amaze me with your perceptive powers, young lady.’
‘Please dispense with the oil, Percy, and get to the point. What can you possibly have to say that Jack can’t overhear?’
‘He will get to learn of this conversation, if you agree to what I have to ask. But I must also alert you to the fact that he’ll be exposed to some particularly stressful experiences during the next few weeks, so you’ll need to go easy on him.’
‘Now you are scaring me.’
‘Well, first of all, I wonder if you’d be prepared to get involved in some more police work — but this time from the safety of your own home?’
‘You mean you don’t want me to act as a sitting duck for another homicidal maniac?’
‘No, nothing like that. I wasn’t just flattering you a moment ago — I really do have a high opinion of the way your brain works. Jack and I have taken on a very complex case that has two distinct lines of enquiry to be pursued. I personally believe that the two may be connected, although Jack’s less convinced. The part that I’m going to be investigating for myself is a real puzzle, and I’ll need an independent person with a clear and logical head to double-think me through the conclusions to be drawn from each fact as I unearth it. I haven’t started yet, but I can give you the background for as long as these biscuits last.’
‘You mentioned that Jack will be under extra stress when investigating his part of this double puzzle,’ Esther reminded him. ‘Have you left him the dangerous bits?’
‘No,’ Percy smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s not physically dangerous in any way, but he may be in severe moral danger.’
‘Please don’t talk in riddles, Uncle — what do you mean?’
‘He’s going to be conducting detailed investigations inside a series of local “Molly Houses”. Ever heard of those?’
‘Can’t say I have,’ Esther admitted.
Percy coughed with slight embarrassment, but pushed on.
‘A “Molly House” is a meeting place for homosexual men. Not just “Mary-Annes” of the traditional sort, but any man in a relationship with another man that verges on the sexual. They’re obviously very discreet, and some of them cater only for the wealthy and privileged, although at the lower end they’re little different from traditional brothels, except that those employed there are men, and usually boys.’
‘And these places really exist, here in modern London?’ Esther tried not to giggle. If it was important enough for the Yard to be investigating these things, then it behoved her to keep a straight face.
‘Indeed they do, and both Jack and I have had occasion to visit them from time to time. Normally the Met tends to turn a blind eye, just as they do to normal brothels if they’re properly run, but if someone is knifed, or money gets stolen, or some other crime’s committed, we have to go in and do our duty.’
‘Why would Jack find that stressful, exactly?’
‘He’s a good-looking boy, and he’s not exactly going to be kicking doors down while dressed in a police uniform, assuming that he still fit
s into his. He’ll be going in sneakily, perhaps even having to pose as a Mary-Anne.’
Esther burst out laughing at the mere thought but quickly overcame her mirth when she saw the look on Percy’s face.
‘This is serious stuff, my dear,’ he reminded her.
‘Please do not call me “my dear”, in that patronising manner, if you want to enlist my services as a spare brain,’ Esther replied starchily. ‘But remind me — wasn’t there some scandal a few years ago, involving telegraph boys and a high-class brothel somewhere — Camden, as I recall? And weren’t there rumours that Scotland Yard had stepped in to hush up who was involved?’
‘Nothing wrong with your memory,’ Percy grinned. ‘It was the so-called “Cleveland Street Affair”, and it was investigated by a man you met during that Ripper business — Fred Abberline. We learned that some telegraph boys employed by the Post Office were delivering more than telegraphs to certain wealthy houses in the West End, and from them we learned of a very high-class male bordello operating in Cleveland Street. Its clientele included some very high-ranking politicians, but the biggest catch was Lord Somerset, an equerry of the Prince of Wales, and there was serious talk of prosecuting the Prince’s son, Prince Albert Victor, who is, of course, the Queen’s grandson. It was then that somebody high up in Government circles, and probably the Lord Chancellor, ordered Abberline to close down his investigations, and the Political Branch that Jack and I work in was first proposed.’
‘What I believe is known as a “cover up”,’ Esther tutted. ‘So they made a big noise about prosecuting the telegraph boys, and hoped that would be enough to satisfy the public and the newspapers?’