It was a bold confession in more ways than one, but if Archer was to stand up for what he knew to be right, he had to be prepared for the knocks that would follow.
Contrary to his expectations, Adelaide didn’t look surprised.
‘That sounds mightily noble,’ he said, a west country accent trickling through. ‘Those poor bug… young men need assistance as well as taking in hand. The Commissioner has tasked me with clearing the streets and anything that will help... Well, it will help. Please feel free, Sir,’ he added, ‘to contact me when I can be of service.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’ Archer needed clarification on another point. ‘May I just ask you to repeat… When was Benji, sorry, Doctor Quill, last seen? On Sunday night?’
‘That’s right, Sir. Mrs Quill says he had been away on the Saturday evening and returned in the early hours. Again, not unusual for him. As you probably know, he likes to dine and stay at various clubs. So, Sunday evening he went to bed, Monday he was gone.’
‘That’s very disturbing,’ Archer said.
Quill had plunged into the river on Saturday night. Far from perishing, as Archer had thought, he had survived.
‘But that wasn’t the last time he was seen,’ Adelaide added. ‘The last reliable sighting puts him at North Cross railway station on Wednesday night. He spoke with a patient of his, a man of good standing. He caught the night express to Averness and here is where things become even more strange. That sleeper service only stops at one place, a siding on the North York moors where there’s only the water and coal depot and nothing for miles.’
‘How is that strange?’ Lady Marshall asked.
‘Because, when the steward went to wake the doctor at Averness, he was nowhere to be found.’
‘Oh, I read one of those mysteries,’ her Ladyship enthused. ‘Probably suicide.’
‘Apparently not.’ If the inspector was annoyed at her flippancy, he didn’t show it. ‘His luggage was also missing, suggesting that rather than fling himself from the carriage, he had disembarked in the ordinary manner. However, his wake-up call was an hour before arrival, and the train was searched before it reached Averness. Therefore, he must have alighted on the moors.’
‘How very odd.’
‘Indeed, Ma’am. And that’s our concern.’ He addressed Archer. ‘We will find your friend, Sir,’ he said. ‘The local constabulary is making enquiries, and I am sure there is a simple explanation. These things usually work out, and we’re not overly worried.’
‘I am surprised you are dealing with this,’ Archer said. ‘It is, I hope, unrelated to your Ripper investigation.’
‘Oh yes, Sir. The Commissioner is also a patient and friend of Doctor Quill, hence my involvement.’
‘Well, he’s put his best man on the job,’ Archer flattered. ‘I am sorry I can’t be of more help, but if I hear anything, I shall dispatch a telegram.’
‘Very kind, Sir. To be frank, as there appears to be no foul play, there isn’t a great deal we can do.’
‘Well, thank you for taking the trouble to tell me personally.’ Archer stood, bringing the matter to a close. He was alive with concern and needed to be alone. ‘I appreciate you coming rather than sending one of your men.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lady Marshall agreed. ‘A policeman knocks at a door in this street and society is alive with ridiculous gossip for a whole season.’
Archer rang the bell for Thomas. ‘Is there anything else, Inspector?’ he asked as he would have done any other caller.
‘No, Sir, that’s it.’
‘Well, keep up your good work, and I will be in touch about the charity if I may.’
Adelaide bowed, and Thomas appeared at the door. He must have been waiting outside. Butlers always did that, Archer knew, always listening, but in this case, he was glad.
‘The inspector is leaving, Payne,’ he said.
‘Your Ladyship. My Lord.’ Adelaide made his formal farewells and left.
Back at the settee, Archer waited for the sound of the front door before collapsing in a heap.
‘You are as white as a sheet,’ his godmother said. ‘And have been for some time. You think very fondly of Benji Quill, don’t you?’
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Six
Thomas came to the viscount’s study in the late afternoon. Lady Marshall had left, and the house was quiet. The female staff were taking an hour off for tea in the servants’ hall, but Archer was behind his desk, visible from the drawing room as Thomas crossed it, checking that everything was in its place. He knocked, and Archer looked up.
‘Ah, Tom,’ he said, closing a book and pushing aside papers. ‘Everything under control?’
‘Yes, My Lord. May I?’
‘Come in, take a seat, stand, as you wish.’
Thomas stood on the other side of the desk, noting that Archer had been reading the footmen’s applications. ‘Is now a convenient time?’
‘In a moment,’ Archer said. ‘You heard my conversation with Inspector Adelaide?’
Thomas hesitated.
‘It’s fine, Tom,’ Archer smiled. ‘I expect my main man to look out for me.’
‘In that case, yes, I did. What should we do?’
‘You don’t have to do anything. I’m thinking it over.’
‘Tell me if I can help.’
‘I will. When I have fully considered the situation, we will talk. Now…’ Archer gathered the letters. ‘I have had a look through these. Only five?’
‘More may arrive, but I think, within these five, there is one who stands out. At least…’ He hesitated, anticipating a clash. Not between himself and Archer, he couldn’t imagine any situation where they might fall out, but a clash between what was customary and what was not.
‘At least?’ Archer queried, glancing at each letter.
The best way to deal with the viscount was to tell the truth and, much as it sometimes embarrassed Thomas to be so open with him, it was the only way.
‘I think one of these men will be suitable,’ he said. ‘That is, if you don’t mind taking a risk.’
‘A risk?’
‘Perhaps I should sit after all.’
‘I wish you would, Tom. Close the doors.’
Thomas did as instructed, and pulled up a chair opposite his master.
‘One of these poor chaps can hardly write,’ Archer said, dropping one letter to the side. ‘This one is in his sixties, which beggars the question why is he still a footman and not a butler, retired or dead?’ He scanned another page. ‘This one has a neat hand but no experience, the fourth is barely in long trousers…’
‘Before you go on,’ Thomas interrupted. ‘It is the one with no experience that interests me.’
‘Oh?’ Archer sat back, throwing the last papers down and holding the arms of his chair. ‘Why?’
Thomas calmed his nerves. ‘I know him,’ he said.
Archer’s neatly groomed eyebrows rose, and he leant forward to collect the appropriate application.
‘This one? James Wright?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Archer read the man’s details aloud. ‘Twenty-five, lives locally, no experience of service whatsoever and has been in the employ of the post office since he was fourteen.’ He looked up at Thomas sharply. ‘Is this the man who took you in?’
‘Yes, Sir, but that’s not the only reason I have an interest.’
‘Go on.’
‘Mr Wright was very helpful towards me,’ he said. ‘He allowed me to stay at his parents’ house when I returned from Limedock that night, rather, early morning, and his mother was kind enough to house me there for the weekend. I had a little time to get to know the family and they are good people.’
‘Yes,
all very well, Tom,’ Archer said. ‘But he knows nothing of service. I think this chap might be worth speaking to.’ He pulled out a different letter and read parts. ‘He’s working for Lord Ashwort as an under-footman at Herring House…’ A surprised expression crossed his face. ‘Herring House?’
‘My point,’ Thomas said. ‘He has experience, but can’t write. It’s Lord Ashworth at Derring House.’
‘Bit fishy, eh?’ Archer joked.
‘A bit slovenly,’ Thomas replied. ‘If a man can’t compose a letter or have someone do it for him, then…?’
‘Very well, Tom,’ Archer said. He considered another application. ‘And Mr Sykes?’
‘To be direct, Sir, I am not sure having a man of fifty years’ experience working under me would be comfortable — for him, I mean. Reading between the lines, I smell another Tripp.’
That was a tricky thing to say, because it crossed acceptable boundaries of respect for one’s elders. Even if one had no respect for them, the game must be seen to be played.
Archer was not concerned. ‘So, out of these first few, you would like to consider a younger man with no experience who has been tramping the streets with messages and who offered you a bed for a night or two.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ Thomas said. His chest fluttered and his face flushed, but he added, ‘His bed.’
‘That was very kind,’ Archer said, not picking up on Thomas’ meaning. ‘But it’s not really a criterion for…’ The penny dropped. ‘His?’
Trembling, Thomas nodded.
It was hard to read Archer’s face. He was a man who knew how to disguise his feelings behind quizzical looks and noncommittal expressions. He appeared to be thinking, but Thomas sensed he was troubled by something deeper. Archer was an intelligent and thoughtful man who put other people’s needs before his own. In this case, Thomas hoped he would understand why he wanted James at the house and accept his recommendation without asking too many questions.
He was to be disappointed.
‘Do you have feelings for him?’ Archer asked, nearly knocking Thomas from his chair with his directness.
The only way to reply was in the same manner. ‘To be honest, Sir, I believe I do, but they would not interfere.’
Archer paled.
‘How can you be sure?’ he asked.
‘I would insist on it,’ Thomas said. ‘The affection I feel for James… For Mr Wright, is… It’s hard to explain, Sir, but I want to help the man in the way that you have helped Silas.’
‘A messenger is hardly a street-rat renter,’ Archer huffed. ‘Though I hear some are one and the same.’
Thomas knew what he was alluding to. ‘I am aware of the reputation of a few,’ he said. Messenger boys were well known in certain circles as boys willing to earn an extra shilling from an extra service. ‘But this man is different.’
‘It’s still tricky, Payne.’ The use of his surname suggested that the viscount was not interested in Thomas’ personal attachment, and he was thinking purely of the man’s suitability for the job. ‘To employ a man with no experience who has possibly another less reputable string to his bow and a history that might arouse suspicion… Can you trust him?’
‘I believe so.’
Thomas wanted to trust James as much as he wanted him living upstairs. If the viscount could have happiness, why couldn’t Thomas?
Archer put down the letter. ‘He writes neatly,’ he said. ‘He might know who is who in society, I suppose, and he sounds keen.’
‘His letter also suggests some knowledge.’ Thomas was quick to point out other positives. ‘It would appear he has had some schooling from someone who knows the running of a house. He may not have worked up from hall boy, but he has held his messenger job for several years. A reference from the post office would, I am sure, be favourable.’
‘I’d hope so. He’s old to be a messenger, I thought they stopped at twenty-one.’
‘He said it was a stable job and he was expecting a promotion to postman soon.’
Archer glanced at him, still considering, and stood.
‘Has anything happened between the two of you?’ he asked.
The intimacy of the question caught Thomas unaware, but he shouldn’t have been surprised.
‘Not exactly,’ he admitted.
‘Not exactly?’ Archer had his back to him, examining a shelf of books.
‘Is it relevant?’
‘Yes, Tom, it is.’ The viscount turned to face him, vexed and possibly even angry. ‘You have to consider that this messenger may have seduced you because he wants a job.’
‘I have, and I don’t believe that’s the case.’ Thomas also stood, and, being eye to eye with the viscount was more secure.
‘But you have been “not exactly” intimate with him. I assume you want to be “exactly” intimate, but that’s not yet happened?’
Thomas remained silent. His heart was pounding, and anger was growing in his chest.
‘Consider this,’ Archer said, returning to his books. ‘I employ him, you chase him, and he turns you down. Or, you get what you want, and he uses that in some blackmail scam.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely, Sir.’
‘You’re blinded by love, Payne.’
‘I don’t think that is the case either.’
Archer rounded on him, his face burning and his eyes narrow. They had none of their usual compassion or softness, but were hard, and his lips taut.
‘Then what is the bloody case, Tom?’ he roared. ‘Will you please tell me the truth!’
Thomas was so stunned he ran a check-list in his head, placing the maids and other staff in their current locations. He was relieved to find they were either out or below stairs. The outburst would not have been overheard.
‘Well?’ Archer was waiting for an answer.
‘The truth, Sir?’ Thomas squared his shoulders, prepared for any backlash. ‘Is that I feel affection for this man in the way that you do for Silas, and if you can have that, then I don’t see why I can’t.’
‘Because you’re a bloody butler, Payne, and butlers don’t have private lives. They don’t marry and they certainly don’t appoint strays because of their homosexual tendencies.’
‘You do.’
Thomas had reacted instinctively and in the stunned silence that followed, his mind returned to practical matters. He wondered how long it would take him to pack. That was surely what the viscount was going to order him to do next. He should have apologised immediately and offered to resign because of his insolence, but Archer’s hypocrisy hurt him.
‘I am inspired by your example, Archer,’ he said, not caring if he should be formal or friendly. ‘I always have been. I kept thought and feeling inside for all of my twenty-seven years until you showed me what’s really important. I think I’ve found that, and I, like you, want to help someone with whom I can be myself. I understand what the world out there thinks, and I know what’s legal and what isn’t. But there’s nowhere else in this stinking city that I can feel safe apart from here, and I can’t think of nowhere else where a man in your position would understand. If two men can’t be safe at Clearwater, then there’s no hope for any of us.’
It poured from him like an avalanche, fast and shocking, and it wasn’t until he gasped for breath that the full horror of what he had said sank in. Suffering a bout of nausea, he prepared for dismissal.
The viscount, still with his back to him, lifted his hand to a book. He pulled it gently from the shelf and judged the weight of the leather binding and its pages before slapping it into the other palm. He tossed it on the desk where it skidded, scattering papers. He tapped his forehead against the shelves twice and sighed.
‘Anywhere,’ He said at length. ‘I can’t think of anywhere else. Double negative. Thomas, come he
re.’
‘I think I should…’
‘Come here!’
There was no arguing. Thomas came to stand behind the viscount.
Archer turned almost imperceptibly, his head hanging. He lifted it to face Thomas, his eyes ringed with red.
‘Why can’t a man have it all?’ he asked, his voice wavering.
Thomas didn’t understand.
‘Why, Tom, can a man not have it all?’ He lifted his coffee-brown gaze. ‘I have. I have the title, the money, the houses, friends and a man I am in love with and, because of understanding friends like you, I have the security to be who I am. But I want more.’ He raised his hand and placed it against Thomas’ hot cheek. ‘Do you remember, when we were eleven and thirteen, at Larkspur, in summer?’ A smile began to grow. ‘We escaped to the upper woods and fell down the bank, ended up in a heap, you on top of me.’ He was losing himself in a memory. ‘By the frog pond. You didn’t get off me. You, the hall boy, lying directly over the Honourable Archer Riddington and holding him down.’ His other hand came to Thomas’ face. ‘Your manhood was digging into me and you moved it from side to side. Then the gamekeeper came over the hill and the moment was over. You remember?’
Thomas had often relived that time. He nodded.
‘That was the nearest we ever came, wasn’t it, Tom? I’ve often wondered how it would be to have such a moment again.’ He pulled Thomas an inch closer. ‘But without the gamekeeper’s interruption.’
Their lips were close enough for Thomas to feel the viscount’s breath in his mouth.
‘Hell, Tom. This is so difficult.’ Archer whispered. His lips parted.
Whatever it was that had aroused the viscount, it had the same effect on Thomas. He closed his eyes, ready for the kiss he had long imagined and wanted.
‘But we can’t.’
Archer let him go.
‘There must be limits,’ he said. ‘Particularly for us. Fecker and Lucy can flirt and misbehave, but his Lordship with his butler? Sadly, you are the one thing I can never have. It would cause too many complications. However, I want you to be aware of my feelings for you, which are and always have been, extreme friendship to the point of love. I hope you will forgive me.’
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 6