‘Which we now know,’ Silas agreed. ‘So, the only place I could think of to find someone who could speak Romanian was the East End where we have the Foundation’s hostel, so I went to see Doctor Markland. Oh, he sends his regards to you, Sir.’
‘He’s the superintendent,’ Archer explained, watching Silas with a look of admiration.
‘Anyway, I found a man who translated the words. Yia buyatul shi uchideh tatal, it turned out, means “Take the child and kill the father”.’
The countess gasped and clutched her diamond necklace, while Lady Marshall licked her lips, leaning forward and listening closely.
‘Now then,’ Silas said. ‘That didn’t mean anything to me either, and it still didn’t when we found Mr Stoker’s research and were bringing it back. It was because of your notes, Mr Stoker, that Jake worked out that Smith was going to use a lackey to poison the wine, and the notes also told us how. I knew His Lordship was planning to let the two of you taste the wine first, so Jake and I had to do whatever we could to get back before you did. I think you know the rest.’
‘Apart from what my son was doing nearly getting himself killed in a railway accident when he should have been at school,’ Stoker blustered, giving his boy a fierce look of reproach.
‘If I may, Sir?’ When Archer nodded, James came to stand with Silas. ‘Your son was running away from Mr Smith because the man had tried to abduct him,’ he explained. ‘He knew that you were returning on the Britannic tender service into Newquay, and with masterful courage, made his way there. Smith, we now know, followed him. It’s my theory that he intended to come down to Newquay and carry out the assassination there, the fishing port being a quieter place than, say, London. I can only guess at that, but it seems obvious to me that his instructions were to take Noel and use him as a hostage if he was unable to get to you directly, as a way of getting your attention. When Noel saw he was in the same house as the man who tried to kidnap him, he was terrified and ran away. I don’t blame him.’
‘And I shall reimburse you any financial deficit the boy incurred,’ Stoker said.
‘No need, Sir,’ James smiled back. ‘He’s a good lad and very clever if I might say so.’
‘And Mr Smith?’ Archer asked. ‘Which I doubt is his real name. Where is he?’
‘Mr Andrej and the police at Newquay went after him on horseback, but the policeman’s horses were too slow.’
‘Fecker said they were shit.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ Stoker’s face turned as red as his hair, the countess clutched her jewellery tighter, and Lady Marshall had to slap her hand across her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
‘No, Noel,’ James said, struggling to keep his composure. ‘He said they should be shot.’ He moved on quickly. ‘So, I am afraid the assassin got away from us. You still need to be cautious, Sir.’
‘I shan’t worry,’ Stoker dismissed the danger. ‘If they only do away with people via this particular wine, he will have a hard job finding more. As I understand it, there’s hardly any about.’
‘I shan’t be selling any to the Garrick after all,’ Archer said looking at Thomas. ‘And Mr Payne keeps a very secure guard of the cellars.’
‘Still,’ the author continued. ‘I have no intentions of halting my work on “The Un-Dead.” Why, I shall even mention the wine in it somewhere.’
‘What exactly is “Un-Dead”?’ Lady Marshall enquired. ‘Are not all the living un-dead?’
‘Ha! Good point,’ Irving laughed. ‘Stoker, you’ll have to find a better title.’
‘In good time, Irving. I have barely started on the research.’
The actor returned his attention to Silas. ‘So all’s well that ends well with young Noel,’ he said. ‘As for you and Master Jake, I still don’t understand how you got into Abraham’s office. He’s the only person I know who locks his door when the theatre is empty and unlocks it when it’s full.’
‘There’s a tunnel from the Opera to the Lyceum,’ Stoker said, and Jake nodded. ‘You do know about it, Henry.’
‘Do I?’
‘I think you’ve answered all our questions, Mr Hawkins, Mr Wright,’ Archer said, before anyone asked how his secretary was able to break into a locked room. ‘Unless anyone else has any?’ No-one had, so he continued. ‘Then sit, gentlemen, I have a few words I would like to say.’
Silas and James sat as Archer broke from his group and stood by the fireplace, his favourite place from which to make speeches.
‘My friends,’ he said when he had everyone’s attention. ‘I would like to thank you for indulging me and sharing my drawing room with men of such diverse, and dare I say it, class-divided backgrounds. There aren’t many in your position who would agree to be part of such an informal gathering.’
‘No need to thank us,’ Earl Romney said. ‘I think we are all philanthropic here.’
When the murmurs of agreement had died, Archer said, ‘Actually, I was talking to my staff,’ and raised a laugh. ‘But seriously,’ he continued. ‘This has been a most unusual evening, and Mr Hawkins and Mr O’Hara have told us a remarkable tale, the facts of which have been proved by the actions of a dismissed servant, and the knowledgeable mind of Mr Stoker. Excuse the informality, but a toast to Silas and Jake.’
A toast was drunk with glasses of unpolluted Golden Mediasch, the company laughing in the face of the Protectori ai Szekely.
‘You have a very loyal team, Clearwater,’ Tennyson said. ‘Your men are a credit to you, but also you to them. How should those not born to privilege ever aspire to success if no-one leads from above. To invite your valet and the homeless to be in our company is an act of forward-thinking at which many men of my acquaintance would baulk. I say the honour is ours.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Lady Marshall agreed, raising her glass to James and winking inappropriately.
‘Thank you, My Lord.’ Archer bowed. ‘I agree with you.’ He smiled at Silas with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I apologise for my previous anger, Mr Hawkins, it was misplaced and unfair.’
‘Ah, away with you,’ Silas laughed. ‘You’re making me scarlet you bowsie.’
‘A fellow Dubliner?’ Stoker raised his inquisitive gaze to Silas.
‘My mother was from Ballymun.’
‘Good heavens! Just down the road from me. We must talk, Sir.’
‘And you have the Hall at your disposal in which to exchange stories,’ Archer said. ‘I hope the weather improves, and we can get in some riding. Mr Andrej and Williams will be on hand on Sunday if anyone requires a carriage to the village for the church service. As well as the usual Easter Sunday, er, routine, it will also be a memorial to those who lost their lives in the accident, so I shall be attending. In the meantime, I have, I believe, not only the most loyal and attentive of staff, and the most extraordinary of secretaries, but the best cook in the county. Larkspur Hall is yours.’ A sweep of his hand encompassed the entire party. ‘You are all welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave behind some of the happiness you bring.’
Stoker spluttered on his wine.
‘Damn fine words, Sir,’ he said, putting down his glass and searching his pockets for a notebook. ‘I shall use that line.’
‘Use anything you want,’ Archer said.
‘Thank you, My Lord.’ Stoker pushed himself to his feet. ‘But for now, if the ladies will excuse me, I will take my boy to his room.’ He waved his book. ‘It is late, and I have inspiration upon me. Come, Noel.’
‘Can Uncle Jimmy read to me?’ the boy pleaded. ‘We’re reading “Kidnapped”, Father.’
‘I think the fellow has done enough for you already,’ Stoker insisted.
‘Just one chapter?’
‘I expect Mr Wright is exhausted,’ Stoker replied, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
‘I don’t mind, Sir.’ James stood, and Jerry took his hand. ‘If His Lordship has no objection.’
‘None at all,’ Archer smiled. ‘After all, it’s better to read “Kidnapped” than to actually be kidnapped’
Two days later, as the guests were leaving Larkspur Hall, Mr Smith entered a small, sterile room in a distant sanitorium. His journey from Newquay had been a laborious one. His clothes were crumpled, and his eyes were ringed by dark circles, but mainly it was his failure that had worn him down. Watched by a twisted man in a pigskin mask, he wearily pulled a chair to the bedside and hung his head.
‘Am esuat,’ he said to the man lying prone beneath the leather straps and white sheets. ‘I failed, My Lord. We have lost this battle, but we will win the war.’
‘He can’t hear you,’ Quill said, his voice rasping. ‘They had to sedate him after I broke the news.’
‘We will try again,’ Smith said. ‘The man will not have been deterred from writing his book.’
Quill’s head turned painfully from side to side. ‘No, Dorjan.’ A scarred hand dabbed his mouth as he sucked saliva. ‘We have a more pressing matter than your feud.’
‘He intends to call it “The Un-dead”,’ Smith protested. ‘My heritage shall be reduced to a sickening tale in which we are portrayed as blood-sucking monsters.’ His eyes flared and he bared his teeth. ‘My ancestors will not forgive me if I fail…’
‘No!’ The word was spat with a venomous growl that made Smith flinch. ‘We have time enough for Stoker and others who take your noble Szekely name for their own glory. While you have been failing in the simplest of tasks, I have worked to put in place a series of puzzles not even Clearwater’s drove of asses will be able to piece together.’ The words were followed by the sucking sounds and a deep swallow. ‘And in this venture, we must not fail. We must return the rightful viscount to his title.’ He placed his hand on the chest of the unconscious madman. ‘I have sworn my oath to him, and he to me. Mark my words, Dorjan, between us, we will see Crispin restored if it takes years. Our game is not yet at an end. When, finally, it is, I will facilitate any revenge you desire against those who sully your bitter bloodline.’
‘You will trust me, even after this failure?’
Quill huffed a short laugh as he lay his hand on Crispin’s chest. ‘If I didn’t need you, you would both be dead by now.’
Smith regarded Archer’s brother. Serene and untroubled in sleep, he rested peacefully, but the Romanian had witnessed him unhinged, and shivered at the memory. Raising his head to look directly into Quill’s watery eye, he said, ‘Tell me what you need.’
Look out for book six in the series, coming soon
If you have enjoyed this story, here is a list of my other novels to date. With them, I’ve put my own heat rating according to how sexually graphic they are. They are all romantic in some way apart from the short stories.
References to sex (*) A little sex (**) A couple of times (***) Quite a bit, actually (****) Cold shower required (*****)
Short erotic stories
In School & Out *****
13 erotic short stories, winner of the European Gay Porn Awards (best erotic fiction). Boarding schools and sex on a Greek island.
Older/younger MM romances
The Mentor of Wildhill Farm ****
Older writer mentors four young gay guys in more than just verbs and adjectives. Isolated setting. Teens coming out. Sex parties. And a twist.
The Mentor of Barrenmoor Ridge ***
It takes a brave man to climb a mountain, but it takes a braver lad to show him the way. Mountain rescue. Coming to terms with love, loss and sexuality.
The Mentor of Lonemarsh House ***
I love you enough to let you run, but too much to see you fall
Folk music. Hidden secrets. Family acceptance.
The Mentor of Lostwood Hall ***
A man with a future he can’t accept and a lad with a past he can’t escape. A castle. A road accident. Youth and desire.
MM romance thrillers
Other People’s Dreams ***
Screenwriter seeks four gay youths to crew his yacht in the Greek islands. Certain strings attached.
Dreams come true. Coming of age. Youth friendships and love.
The Blake Inheritance **
Let us go then you and I to the place where the wild thyme grows
Family mystery. School crush. A treasure hunt romance.
The Stoker Connection ***
What if you could prove the greatest Gothic novel of all time was a true story? Literary conspiracy. Teen boy romance. First love. Mystery and adventure.
Curious Moonlight *
He’s back. He’s angry and I am fleeing for my life.
A haunted house. A mystery to solve. A slow-burn romance. Straight to gay.
The Clearwater Mysteries
Deviant Desire ***
Book 1. A mashup of mystery, romance and adventure, Deviant Desire is set in an imaginary London of 1888. The first in an on-going series in a world where homosexuality is a crime.
Twisted Tracks **
Book 2. An intercepted telegram, a coded invitation and the threat of exposure. Viscount Clearwater must put his life on the line to protect his reputation.
Unspeakable Acts *
Book 3. A murder will take place unless Clearwater’s homosexuality is made public; can his lover stop the killing and save his reputation?
Fallen Splendour *
Book 4. A kidnapping, a court case and a poem by Tennyson. What is the connection? James has four days to find out
All these can all be found on my Amazon Author page.
Please leave a review if you can. Thanks again for reading. If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing.
Jackson
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