‘When I get some money,’ Thomas said, ‘I can give your mum something towards…’
‘Leave it out,’ James protested, laughing. ‘I said, no need. Not unless you end up staying a couple of weeks, then she’d start grumbling, but she don’t mind me having a mate stay over, especially not one what’s fallen on hard times.’
James’ kindness, and that of his mother, reminded Thomas of the generosity shown to him by Lord Clearwater and brought a stab of regret. He had lived to serve His Lordship since they were boys and, because they had known each other for so long, had reached a point where he considered the viscount a friend. It had been that friendship which overflowed into what the butler called an ‘unspeakable attraction’, one of the reasons he gave for dismissing Thomas with no wage.
‘I’ll pay you back,’ Thomas promised. ‘As soon as I find another position.’
‘Will you though?’ James asked. ‘I mean, did you get a reference?’
‘Not yet, but I’ll write to His Lordship explaining my sudden departure and asking him if he can see his way. He wasn’t the one who dismissed me, but he’ll probably be amenable.’
‘Sounds like a decent bloke.’
‘He is, James, very. I often wonder if his decency might one day be his downfall.’
‘Why do you say that?’
Thomas was not prepared to go into details. Instead, he searched for a way to bring up his own delicate subject; his attraction to the messenger. He sensed there was an unspoken reason for James’ friendliness, but was unsure what. He might simply be an affable man, or like the viscount, he might also have an interest in the same sex.
It was not a question easily raised, but James was waiting for an answer.
‘I don’t mean anything by it,’ Thomas said. ‘He’s generous, clever, looks after his staff and likes to help people less fortunate.’
‘But he still fired you for… What was it? Helping him out?’ His hazel eyes questioned beneath brown brows.
‘It was his butler who fired me,’ Thomas corrected. Again, he was not prepared to state exactly why. He had told James it was because he’d opened the private telegram, and the messenger, not understanding how things worked in a noble house, had accepted that as truth.
‘Was the butler a tall stick of a man with a beak like an eagle?’ James asked.
Thomas laughed briefly. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Sounds like Tripp. Why?’
‘He’s coming this way.’
Thomas turned in his chair to see Tripp advancing on them, a head’s height above the other customers. He wove through the tables sneering at a small glass of beer, and Thomas hoped he was not going to ask to join them.
‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘Quick, speak about anything.’
James, a young man of quick wits, found a subject instantly. ‘There’s always running work at the post office,’ he said. ‘Quite a few of us messengers and postmen are around our age, Tom. They calls us boys and some are teenagers, but you can earn a fair amount…’
He broke off as a shadow fell across the table causing Thomas to break into a nervous sweat.
‘Would you excuse me?’ Tripp’s familiar voice droned in grating, affected tones. ‘I would like to speak with Mr Payne in private.’
‘Happen we’re in conversation ourselves, Mister,’ James replied with courage that Thomas found charming. ‘What’s your business?’
‘None of yours,’ Tripp answered in his usual patronising fashion.
Thomas’ guts turned over. ‘Yes, Mr Tripp?’ he enquired without looking. ‘What is it?’
‘A word, please, Thomas.’ Unnervingly, the butler sounded affable. ‘To your advantage.’
James raised an eyebrow and tipped his head silently asking if he wanted to talk to the man. Thomas nodded once and rolled his eyes.
‘He’ll be with you in a minute,’ James said. ‘Me and Tom’s just finishing a chat.’
Being told to wait by a messenger was not something he was used to and Tripp gasped. It was gratifying to hear.
‘I will wait over there,’ he said. ‘But please inform Mr Payne that Viscount Clearwater is waiting for him at his earliest convenience.’
The smell of brass polish and pressed clothing drifted away, and Thomas relaxed.
‘Don’t know how you put up with sods like that,’ James whispered. ‘You want me to get rid of him?’
‘No,’ Thomas smiled. ‘Thanks, but I’ll have to face His Lordship sometime. Perhaps he has good news for me.’
‘Why are you grinning?’
The answer was because Thomas was certain the viscount’s loyalty to him was as intense as his to the viscount. He assumed Lord Clearwater had questions regarding his sudden dismissal, but would understand and take Thomas’ side.
‘I reckon he might let me have some wages,’ he said. ‘He’s like that. I’ll have to go. Sorry.’
‘No, mate. You go.’ James sat back cradling his glass. ‘I’ll be here an hour or so until closing. If you’re not back, I’ll be at home. Mum won’t mind you letting yourself in.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I keep telling you, Tom. You’re me mate. Of course she won’t.’
Thomas tried to read his expression, hoping to find a suggestion of something more intimate than a passing acquaintance, but there was none.
‘You’re a good man, James.’
They had known each other two days and spent one night sharing a bed, but James had indicated at nothing other than wanting to help a man he liked, purely as a friend.
‘So are you, Tom. Trusted you from the start, I did.’
The speed at which he had latched on to Thomas might be considered a sign of a more than platonic interest, but it was not something they could discuss. Thomas didn’t know how to start such a conversation, an overt attraction between two men brought with it a lengthy prison sentence, not to mention the employment and social implications attached to being queer.
‘I had better go,’ Thomas said. He drained the last of his beer. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘No problem, mate. Key’s in the place I showed you. Try not to wake me up.’
‘Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with some cash.’ Thomas stood. ‘I must repay you for your kindness.’
James waved it away. ‘We’ll think of something.’
His cheery smile caused Thomas’ heart to flutter, but then James always had a smile, it was as if his face had been built only to be jolly. His last statement, however, could be taken a couple of ways and Thomas was unsure how to respond.
‘Thanks again,’ he said, standing. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘Ah, get out of here.’
Thomas left him and, tearing his imagination away from James, focused on Tripp, now waiting impatiently near the door with an empty glass. This was not going to be pleasant, but Thomas reminded himself that he no longer needed to be civil. He would be, however, for the viscount’s sake.
‘Yes, Mr Tripp,’ he said, looking the man in the eye and holding his head high.
‘You are to come with me.’
The butler wore his livery beneath a long overcoat, suggesting he was still on duty.
‘To where?’
‘Where do you think, boy?’ Tripp growled. ‘This is not the time for playing games.’
‘I was with His Lordship only this evening,’ Thomas said. ‘I can’t imagine what he could want with me if I no longer work at the house.’
Tripp scowled and handed his glass to a passing customer who looked at it and told him to fuck off. That amused Thomas, but caused the butler to blanch. He put it on a table.
‘Just follow me, and keep your mouth shut.’
Tripp left the pub, and Thomas gave a last wave to James, who grinned, held up a thum
b and mouthed, ‘Later.’
The walk to Clearwater House was conducted in silence. Thomas had no wish to engage Mr Tripp in conversation. He was still furious at the man for throwing him out of the house he had worked in for the last eleven years. He wouldn’t have given him the time of day had he not been on Archer’s business, and he knew better than to ask questions. He also knew better than to think of His Lordship by his Christian name, despite the fact Archer had insisted on it. Archer wanted Thomas to consider him a friend, but only when appropriate. When he had been serving the man, that was any time they were alone. Now that he was free, he could do what he wanted, but the divide between them was still great. Archer was a Lord, and Thomas, the son of a dairy farmer. The only way they could acceptably mix was as master and servant. There was a far more personal bond, and many shared secrets, but again, nothing that he could speak of and definitely not with Tripp.
His nervousness increased as they neared the back of Clearwater House. He hoped that he was to be reinstated, but knew that if he was, Tripp would make his life a living hell. It could only be at a lesser post, and that would be worse than no job at all. Thomas’ ambitions were simple, and he only had two. The first was to work his way up to the position of butler, but he had been robbed of the opportunity by the lanky man walking two paces ahead. The second was to experience the same personal happiness His Lordship had recently found with Silas. He wanted the same unconditional love and friendship, and James presented an opportunity for both. As soon as the viscount was done with him, he would return to James and further test the waters.
Tripp led him to the servants’ hall where the other staff were seated at the table. They rose as Tripp entered, and Lucy flashed a huge smile at Thomas.
‘Has His Lordship’s dined, Mrs Baker?’ Tripp asked.
‘He has, Mr Tripp. His Lordship and his guests are in the drawing room. We are instructed to go up as soon as you return.’
‘Then I will see if he is ready for us. Wait here, Payne.’
Tripp removed his coat and passed through to the stairs followed by four pairs of eyes. Once his footsteps had faded, and the baize door closed with a dull thud, the gossip started.
‘I hope it’s quick.’ Lucy yawned. ‘What’s going on, Thomas?’
‘I don’t know, Lucy. Has Mr Tripp said anything, Mrs Baker?’
‘Not a clue, Thomas,’ she admitted. She sat, and the maids followed suit.
Thomas had a soft spot for the housekeeper and she for him. It was a mutual mother and son pretence that had started when Thomas first arrived at the house as a hall boy. Aged eight, alone and from the country, he had been homesick for a week. Mrs Baker, whose role in life had always been to keep house not a husband, took pity and offered a sheltering wing. If she knew anything about this business, she would tell him.
‘He’s not even said anything about you leaving,’ the second maid, Sally said.
‘But he has been in a foul temper since before dinner,’ Mrs Baker added. ‘And none of us can think why.’
‘It’s because Mr Tripp doesn’t approve of Mr Hawkins in the green suite, or the Russian in the coach house,’ was Lucy’s view.
‘And you will keep your eyes off both gentlemen, Lucy.’ The housekeeper warned her with a glare.
‘Mr Tripp doesn’t approve of all the queer behaviour,’ Sally decreed.
‘Queer?’ The word hit Thomas in the stomach. ‘What do you mean?’
‘All the goings-on.’ The maid lowered her voice. ‘Those meetings you had in the study. His Lordship and Mr Hawkins’ injuries. Dressing up. Them two coming here from the East End, you know. Queer stuff. Odd like.’
Thomas relaxed. ‘All to do with His Lordship’s charitable project, as you know.’
‘And also none of our business,’ Mrs Baker had heard enough conjecture. ‘We may well find out presently, until then… Where are you staying, Thomas? Do you have savings?’
Tripp’s precise footsteps on the stairs brought the others to their feet and gave Thomas no chance to reply.
‘To the drawing room,’ the butler ordered. ‘And in silence.’
Thomas’ apprehension increased. The last to leave the hall, it occurred to him that he had climbed these steps thousands of times in his life. The first, as a second footman in the late viscount’s time, he had nearly been sick with worry. Tonight might well be the last, and the same gut-churning state returned. Whatever the viscount had in store, Thomas had the possibilities that James offered. A new way of life, a friendship, possibly more, and that thought was enough to settle his mind and his stomach.
This, of course, was before he learned what Lord Clearwater had decided.
Three
Lord Clearwater stood with his back to the fire, one elbow casually resting on the mantlepiece. He was talking with Silas and Fecker when Tripp knocked unnecessarily on the open door. They were called into the drawing room in a line, with Thomas last. He stood by the door in what had been his customary position, but tonight he was out of place. Wearing his Sunday suit, he was neither guest nor footman.
He watched Archer closely. The viscount appeared remarkably well considering he had spent two days in an East End hospital after falling forty feet from a crane to the river, nearly drowning and barely escaping the Ripper’s knife.
‘Thank you, Mr Tripp,’ Archer said, when everyone had filed in. ‘I would like you to be comfortable. Take a seat.’
No-one moved. It was a running joke among the servants that although they cared for the lavish furniture in the house, they were never allowed to sit on it. The late viscount wouldn’t have heard of it, but the new Lord Clearwater was what the papers were calling a ‘new man’, one who had respect for the lower classes and treated them humanely, unlike his predecessor.
‘Please,’ he prompted. ‘Silas, would you bring a chair for Mrs Baker?’
Silas did as instructed assisted by Fecker the Ukrainian, and they set seven chairs in a line facing the fire. It took another prompt from His Lordship before the others sat, but he said nothing when Thomas remained standing. He didn’t even look at him, a sign, surely, that this was not to be a pleasant conversation.
‘I won’t keep you long,’ Archer said. ‘It’s late, and I am sure you have better things to do than listen to me, but there is some news which I want you all to know.’
He looked at Tripp, and an exchange took place. Both men kept straight faces, but Tripp inclined his head to the side. It was his way of saying that everything was in order and the viscount could proceed, but was more usually applied to the going-in for dinner, or when the maids had finished a room. This exchange had behind it a meaning that Thomas couldn’t read.
‘Now then.’ Archer cut a handsome figure in his dinner clothes, his dark hair brushed back from his high forehead and his face recently shaved. The only visible blemish was a patch of dark bruising around his temple. ‘What I have to say will come as a surprise to you all, as it was to me. Sadly, Mr Tripp is leaving us.’
Thomas’ heart paused its hurried rhythm when the words sank in, but Archer gave him no time to speculate on the announcement.
‘Yes, it’s all rather sudden,’ he continued, and we shall, of course, be very sad to see him go.’
Tripp stared intently at the viscount. His bloodhound face, limp in silent interest, gave nothing away.
‘Apparently, there has been something of a family crisis, and Mr Tripp must put family first, a very noble act, and I quite understand that time is of the essence. Therefore, dear old Tripp will be leaving us in the morning.’ There were more gasps which Archer ignored. ‘We have already spoken on the matter,’ he said, ‘so I won’t embarrass you further, Tripp. Is there anything you would like to say?’
Thomas’ heart was beating again, but his mind was as skittish as the flames in the grate.
Tripp stood and cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, My Lord,’ he said. ‘Only to say what an honour it has been, and to apologise for the suddenness of my departure.’
The two men regarded each other coolly, and Thomas was convinced there was another reason for Tripp’s leaving which Archer didn’t want to share.
‘Not at all, Tripp,’ Archer said. ‘Needs must and all that.’ He turned to the housekeeper. ‘We should have discussed this with you, of course, Mrs Baker, and I would have done so were it not for the urgency of the situation and the fact we only learned of it this evening.’
Mrs Baker appeared not to mind. Thomas suspected that she, like everyone else in the room, was silently relieved.
‘And there we are, Mr Tripp,’ Archer said. ‘I thank you for your service, as does my family. Please keep in touch, and we wish you every success in your retirement or your new enterprise or… whatever you decide to do.’ He took two confident paces, shook Tripp’s hand and returned to the fireplace. He had still not acknowledged Thomas. ‘And that, I think, ends the matter,’ he said. ‘You may now stand down.’
‘If Your Lordship has no objection,’ Tripp said, ‘I will spend an hour of the morning bringing my books up to date, and then stand down.’
‘Of course. You’re catching the early train I believe?’
Apparently, this was news to Tripp. He was momentarily shocked, but his dour demeanour soon returned.
‘Quite,’ he said.
‘Then goodnight and godspeed, Charles.’
Tripp was a civilian from that moment, and the use of his first name caused Lucy to giggle. A glower from Mrs Baker soon put a stop to that.
‘Goodnight, Sir,’ Tripp said with a bow. ‘And thank you for your generosity.’
He clearly didn’t mean it.
Tripp turned to the doors, his eyes straight ahead, ignoring Thomas.
‘Oh,’ Archer stopped him. ‘One moment.’ He turned to the housekeeper. ‘I have gifted the Battle of Agincourt centrepiece to Mr Tripp for his long service. My father was as fond of it as he was of Tripp. I will sign it off the inventory, Mrs Baker if you could make a note.’
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 2