‘There is nothing to forgive, Archer,’ Thomas whispered. ‘If I was as good with words as you are, I’d say the same thing. I can’t be with you in the way we’ve always wanted, so, like you, I must direct the physical love I have elsewhere. I’m the one who is sorry.’
‘Damnit, Tom!’ Archer spun away and crashed into his chair. ‘Why wasn’t I born below stairs? It’s where I feel most at home and the only part of my house I spend no time in. Why can’t a man have everything?’ He leapt up again. ‘Tom, come here.’
Archer hugged him and for one blissful moment, their groins rubbed together as if for old time’s sake. They broke apart, but Archer gripped Thomas’ arms.
‘You were right to say those things,’ he said. ‘I was jealous. It was the first time I realised that just because I can’t be with you, doesn’t give me the right to stop you finding someone else. I will have to get used to that. So yes, invite Mister Wrong, or whatever he was called.’
‘Wright.’
‘Right. Of course. You deserve to be happy too, but for god’s sake, be careful.’ He released Tom and pointed to a chair.
They sat facing each other across the desk.
‘If we were to be found out,’ Archer continued. ‘Or if some scandal occurred, I am in a better place to deny and cover than you are. I would stand up for you without question, but it would bring you immeasurable pain. If you love this man, hell, even if you’re only infatuated, I will take the risk and help you, because I love you. If I can’t have you, at least I can see you happy. But, please, again, be careful.’
‘I will.’
‘I mean, sound him out before you offer him the job. Be prepared for him to spurn you directly after.’
Thomas was shocked. James wasn’t the kind of man to do that.
‘It happens,’ Archer said. ‘And you’re to say nothing about Silas and me, not until I feel I can trust him. If he is… one of us.’
‘Understood.’
‘And no canoodling on the back stairs.’
‘Certainly not.’
‘No fucking in the kitchen.’
‘Not even in the scullery, My Lord?’ Thomas couldn’t help but smile.
Archer was doing the same. ‘Not unless I can join in,’ he said.
‘I hadn’t thought of that, Sir.’
‘Liar.’
The smiles were now leery grins.
‘Any more of this and I shan’t be able to answer the bell for an hour.’ Thomas looked at his lap.
‘You need a footman to assist you,’ Archer said. ‘In more ways than one.’
He slapped the table and stood, unbothered about the swelling in his breeches, in fact, he seemed proud of it, and rightly so. Thomas couldn’t keep his eyes away.
‘Right!’ Archer said. ‘Tom, we are friends again, yes?’
‘Always were, Sir,’ Thomas said, also standing. If Archer could to display his untouchable manhood so blatantly, so could Thomas and he was well-equipped to match it.
‘Good, because I’ve made up my mind on the Quill disappearance and I need your advice. What time is Silas due back?’
The sudden change in conversation and atmosphere caused Thomas to finally wrench his eyes away from Archer’s trousers.
‘Around six,’ he said and inspected his pocket watch.
‘Then we’ll wait. While we do, why don’t you fire off a letter to Mr Incorrect. You can do it at the writing table.’
‘Mr Wright,’ Thomas laughed. ‘James Wright.’
‘Well, write to Wright and give him some right good news,’ Archer joked, rearranging the weight in the front of his breeches. ‘Tell him I want to see him. As soon as you like.’
Thomas took him up on the offer and sat at the writing desk. It was in his mind to pour out his feelings towards James which he was sure ran deeper than lust, but that was not how things worked. Instead, he constructed a formal letter while imagining how perfect his life was going to be.
Seven
Archer paced the study, a copy of Bradshaw’s Railway Guide open in his hands, but his eyes on the wall. He had removed an oil painting and hidden it behind the couch. The painting depicting a fox being torn apart by hounds and had given him nightmares when he was a boy, probably because that was all he had to look at when his father thrashed him, something he did on several occasions. He’d been meaning to be rid of it for weeks, but hadn’t found anything to replace it with until now. He’d fixed a large map of the country to the wall using tacks Thomas had found in the stable. When Archer dispatched him there for more just after six o’clock, the butler returned with Silas.
‘Shall I ring for tea, Sir?’ Thomas asked, having shown Silas into the room.
‘Not for me,’ Silas said. He kicked off his shoes and made himself at home on the couch where he tucked up his feet.
The sight warmed Archer’s heart, because it told him Silas was happy. Archer had never been totally at home in the city house, not until Silas came into it. Admittedly, the last ten days had also brought confusion, drama and more than a fair amount of soul-searching, but they had also brought something previously lacking; joy.
Thomas was hovering in the doorway.
‘Come in and close the doors, Tom,’ Archer said. He put down the travel guide and kissed Silas before taking a seat in one of the armchairs. ‘Dinner’s at eight,’ he said. ‘A glass of something?’
‘I’ll get it.’
Silas was rising when Thomas told him to sit. He closed the doors and the curtains before pouring them drinks while Archer enquired about Silas’ day.
‘We looked at five places,’ Silas said. ‘Some of them no good, one that’s possible and the other would be best, but there’s more to see.’
‘I didn’t think there were that many empty places in the East End.’
Archer’s mind was elsewhere, and he was only half-listening. He had a more important matter to discuss, but it would be impolite not to talk about Silas’ work first.
‘Yeah, more than you think,’ Silas continued. ‘A few abandoned church missions, a factory that’s relocated but that’s the building that’s not right.’ He gave Archer a few more details but must have seen the viscount wasn’t paying attention, because he said, ‘Then Fecker fucked an old trick, and we made us ten shillings.’
Archer looked up sharply from the carpet. ‘What?’
‘Thought you wasn’t there,’ Silas said, accepting his drink from Thomas. ‘What’s up, Archie?’
‘I don’t know. At least, I am not sure. Tom, have a seat, have a whisky.’
Thomas did as he was told, but declined the drink.
They sat opposite him, Silas curled on the couch, Thomas more upright in an armchair, both attentive and concerned. Silas’ smooth cheeks glowed from his recent journey, his hair was windswept and his clothes dusty, but no matter how he looked, or what he wore, he always made Archer’s heart miss a beat.
‘We’ll talk about the charity tomorrow,’ Archer said. ‘I have some other news which I can only share with you two.’ He looked at Thomas, grave-faced. ‘The discussion after lunch. Did you hear it clearly?’
‘Some,’ Thomas admitted.
‘I’d have called you in to hear all of it,’ Archer said. ‘But that would have seemed suspicious.’
‘What discussion?’ Silas asked.
‘I had a visit from Inspector Adelaide.’
‘Oh fuck.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
Archer sipped his drink. The tang of the Scotch burned his lips, but as he rolled the liquid around his mouth, he imagined it cleansing him of the sickening fear that had been with him since Adelaide’s visit. ‘He wasn’t here to discuss the Ripper,’ he said. ‘Or he didn’t realise he was. Quill is still alive.’
; He expected Silas to be stunned, but instead, he shrugged and said, ‘That’s a kick in the money bags.’
‘Er… What?’
‘What’s happened?’
Archer repeated the story, emphasising the days on which Quill had been seen following the fall into the river.
‘So, it’s definitely him?’ Silas had finished his drink and was eyeing the sideboard.
‘Yes,’ Archer said. He downed the rest of his in one, suddenly feeling the need for more.
Thomas collected the glasses. ‘Can you run it by me again?’ he asked as he unstopped the decanter.
‘We last saw him on Saturday night, Sunday morning,’ Archer said. ‘His wife, on Sunday night. No-one on Monday or Tuesday, but on the Wednesday, a witness has him at the station. He gets on a train going to the north of Scotland, a train that only makes one stop, and when it arrives, he doesn’t. That’s it.’
Silas scratched his head as he thought and ran his fingers through his hair, teasing out knots.
‘First thing that comes to my mind,’ he said, his gaze on the fireplace. ‘Is that he’s done a runner.’
‘Makes sense,’ Thomas agreed. ‘He knows you can identify him, but he doesn’t know if you have gone to the police. He’s fled in case you do.’
‘He knows I can’t’ Archer said. ‘Or that I won’t.’
‘Then think it through logically.’ Thomas handed around the drinks and remained standing. ‘Imagine it from his point of view. His entrapment scheme didn’t work, or he is now too crazed to see it through, whatever happened up there, you and he fell. You both survived. Maybe he was washed further downstream, who knows? Doesn’t matter. He makes it home on Sunday. Now…’ He leant on the mantlepiece. ‘By the sound of it, there was nothing suspicious about his state of dress. There can’t have been, or his wife would have said something, and Adelaide said there was no suggestion of foul play. Correct?’
Archer nodded.
‘Which tells me,’ Thomas continued to think aloud, ‘that he didn’t go straight home. He would have been covered with mud and treddles like you were. So…’
‘One moment,’ Archer interrupted. ‘Covered with what?’
‘Sorry,’ Thomas grinned. ‘Covered in… muck. My point being that he must have changed clothes somewhere other than home. Or washed and dried them at least. Either way, he went elsewhere first.’
‘And why’s that important?’ Silas asked.
‘It’s not really,’ Thomas shrugged. ‘I’m just going through it in my mind.’
‘Go on, Tom,’ Archer encouraged. ‘You’re doing well.’
Thomas blushed. ‘His wife sees him on Sunday, they go to bed and…’ He circled a long-fingered hand in the air, imagining the scene. ‘He can’t sleep. At the back of his mind there’s this thing… How do you describe it, Archer? A fluttering bird in a cage that bangs the bars and can’t get out? It keeps him awake while he worries over it, finally realising what it is. It’s the knowledge that he can’t lie there doing nothing. You might go to the police at any moment, and even if he thinks you’re dead, other witnesses could identify him. Us two. He knows three people know his secret.’
Thomas paced the room, his attention on a fixed point on the wall.
‘He gets up, quietly so as not to disturb the missus, and packs his bags. The mention of him having luggage on the train suggests he is travelling rather than running in panic. And that suggests it’s premeditated. Like his murders, he has a plan. Prepared, he creeps out of the house and lays low.’ He turned to Silas. ‘Where is he?’ And to Archer. ‘Who is he with? Where or what is his shelter?’
‘Inspector Adelaide could do with you on his team.’ Archer beamed, loving the way Thomas threw himself into the mystery.
‘In fact…’ Thomas paced to the map. ‘He’s not missing for two days, but three. The night train from North Cross leaves at eleven, that’s nearly a whole third day he was, presumably, in the city. Doing what?’
‘You’ve got loads of questions, mate,’ Silas said. ‘But not many answers.’
‘I know.’ Thomas turned, and the enthusiasm dropped from his face. ‘But there’s a point to me blabbing all this.’
‘Which is?’
‘What strikes me as strange, gentlemen,’ he said, sinking to sit on the arm of the couch. ‘Is the witness at the railway station.’
‘A patient of his,’ Archer said. ‘Reputable man apparently.’
‘I’m sure of it,’ Thomas agreed. ‘And of the noblest birth no doubt, with a reputation clad in armour.’
‘I sense cynicism.’
‘I smell a rat,’ Silas said, catching on to Thomas’ meaning.
Archer, however, was still to understand. ‘What are you saying?’ He sat forward.
‘Well,’ Thomas looked at Silas for permission to be the one to explain, and Silas bowed his head gracefully. They both looked at Archer as if he was stupid.
‘What?’ he said, laughing nervously.
‘How,’ Thomas began, ‘can anyone, let alone an eminent physician, be so clever as to vanish in this city for three days, make sure he wasn’t noticed, and yet allow himself to be seen boarding a train…’
‘… that only goes to one destination?’ Silas finished.
Archer had still not grasped their point. He shook his head, his mouth open expectantly.
‘He wanted someone to see him,’ Thomas said, kicking himself to his feet and again approaching the map. ‘He wanted someone to know that he was heading north.’ He pointed to Averness at the top of the country.
‘And to know he stopped off somewhere on the way,’ Silas added.
‘Here.’ Thomas pointed to the North Yorkshire Moors, halfway up the map.
‘Why did he want to be seen?’ Archer asked.
‘We need to be in his mind.’ Thomas stood beneath the gas lamp, and it threw his face into weird shadows. ‘Can’t sleep on Sunday, but no-one’s come for him yet. The city isn’t the place to hide, but he needs to make arrangements. He’s watching the newspapers, but sees no mention of himself, other than the Ripper murders. Whether the police are after him, or you are, he needs to get away and plan what to do. But, to hide all that time and then get off in the middle of nowhere? Reeks of a plan.’
‘Then,’ Silas said, ‘there’s the witness. He wanted to be seen. He might even have paid the man…’
‘… Or he could be an accomplice…’
‘Either way, he was there for a reason, Archie.’
‘And that is?’
‘So word would get back to you that he’s alive, you fecking eejit.’ Silas laughed.
‘Quite.’ Thomas was more reserved.
‘And he wants me to know… Shut up, Silas,’ Archer added, playfully. ‘He wants me to know he’s still alive… Why?’
Silas came to him and kissed him hard on the lips.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, before returning to the couch and lying down.
‘I can only think it’s a message,’ Thomas said, moving away from Silas’ feet. ‘I mean, it is, clearly, a message.’
‘Or an error on his part.’
‘That is possible, Archer, yes,’ Thomas conceded, studying the map. ‘And as to why… Does he want you to live in fear? Will this be a repeat of the torture your brother inflicted on you? You said yourself that he was present at the time and saw what it did to you, so is he playing with you?’ He ran off the list as if he had studied for years under Sherlock Holmes, and Archer was impressed. ‘Or is it because he wants you to chase him?’ Thomas continued. ‘Is he in some mental state of mind where he believes the only thing that will stop him killing is for him to be killed? If so, who better than his friend since school? His lunch partner, his equal in cunning and intellect? The perfect adversary.’
‘You could just wait and see,’ Thomas suggested. ‘It’s highly unlikely he would come after you, so I am sure you would be safe.’
‘I’m not worried about that.’
‘Or,’ Silas said. ‘You could investigate.’
‘Investigate what?’
‘Where he might have been for those missing days,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Who was the witness?’
‘What’s on the moors?’ Silas put in. ‘If you start looking at it, you might find answers that put you one step ahead of whatever game he’s playing.’
It was a fair point. What did Archer have to lose?
‘And where do we start investigating?’ he asked, returning to his chair. ‘Tom? You’re the logical man. Where would you start?’
‘Personally, I’d begin with the idea that he has an accomplice,’ Thomas said. ‘If there are any records of his communications earlier this week, they would give us an idea of who. And if that “who” is the witness, or happens to be in the North York area, then…’ He waved his hand in the air. ‘Then you have some clues, and you do whatever you must do.’
Archer had known Thomas for so long he could read him like a gentlemen’s periodical.
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 7