‘And how do we access a man’s private communications?’ he smirked. ‘Tens of thousands of telegrams fly around this city every day.’
‘Through the telegraph office and their records,’ Silas suggested, the last to understand where the conversation was going. ‘Mind you, you’d have to know someone on the inside. I can break in, but we’d need to know what we were looking for.’
‘Do we know anyone who works for the post office, Thomas?’ Archer raised his brows knowingly.
Thomas grinned. ‘I could deliver my letter by hand to the Crown and Anchor this evening,’ he said and bowed. ‘With your permission, My Lord.’
‘Good idea, Payne,’ Archer smiled. ‘We might even join you for a drink.’
Eight
Thomas decided it would be better for him to see James on his own, and Archer agreed. It would be too unorthodox for a viscount to call at a high street pub, find a messenger and invite him to discuss employment as a footman, not to mention the delicate matter of asking him to do something illegal without telling him why. Thomas was unsure if he could achieve what was needed, but any excuse to find James and be alone with him was welcome. He had little free time in his new position, but the viscount let him go after dinner when he and Silas were entertaining themselves in Archer’s private sitting room.
The walk through the leafy borough of Riverside was not unpleasant. The October nights were growing colder, but a constant stiff breeze from the south drove the nightly fog higher where it hung over the city like a veil. Beneath it, daily life continued as the well-to-do returned from their clubs and restaurants, and coach wheels and horses’ hooves clattered through the hushed streets. Messengers busied themselves with their deliveries, running up steps to wide front doors, touching their peaked caps and distributing dispatches. Newspaper sellers headed home, the evening editions all sold, and Thomas walked among them proudly wearing the two-tiered winter cloak Lady Marshall had recommended.
He had changed from his butler’s livery into a dark suit, and with his Yeoman’s bowled hat, in the latest ‘fall’ style crowning his auburn locks, he held his head high. To anyone passing, he was a middle-class gent on his way to an evening of cards, or perhaps a late supper with a mistress.
For Thomas, his clothing and the responsibility Archer had given him represented a new start. As Archer had been elevated unexpectedly from second son to viscount, so Thomas had been elevated to the most important member of his household, and, after their sudden but intense discussion earlier, almost to the level of Archer’s equal.
Riverside High Street was alive with pedestrians and carriages even at ten at night. The lights of the Crown and Anchor burned brightly through leaded windows, its sign creaking gently in the breeze. No-one loitered outside, no hurdy-gurdy played, and there were no prostitutes eyeing him up and calling obscenities. It was a far cry from a few days ago when he had visited the East End, and he marvelled at how far his life had come in such a short time.
Full of confidence, he entered the pub to be greeted by a clammy atmosphere and the smell of wood smoke hanging over the aroma of hops and sawdust. The public bar was packed. He politely pushed his way through, expecting rough tongues and insults, but nobody paid him attention. He was similarly dressed to the other men who stood or sat in small groups debating the latest news, business and their wives. He was almost as middle-class as they were.
He found James at his usual corner table, except now he wasn’t alone. He sat with two other young men, deep in conversation over their pints of beer. James didn’t even notice him as he approached, and Thomas’ confidence ebbed. He feared James had changed his mind, but whatever happened between them, he vowed not to forget that his loyalty lay with the viscount. He coughed to draw attention.
When James noticed him, his face exploded into a smile, and Thomas’ fears vanished. The messenger was sincerely happy to see him, and surely that was because of their mutual attraction.
‘Tommy!’ he exclaimed, putting down his glass. He offered his hand. ‘What you doing here?’
‘Good evening,’ Thomas said, removing his hat before accepting the handshake. ‘Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen, but may I have a word with Mr Wright?’
‘Course you can, Tommy.’ James stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Be back shortly, lads.’
Knowing the pub better than Thomas, James led him through to the saloon bar where there were fewer people, and they could talk privately. The room was less stuffy, and Thomas was able to hang his cloak and hat on a stand knowing they would be safe.
‘So, Tommy,’ James said as he slid into a seat. ‘What’s up?’
‘Good to see you, James,’ Thomas said, making sure he faced the room. He wanted to be sure no-one passed by and heard their conversation.
‘You too, mate,’ James said. ‘Want a drink?’
‘If you’re having one. There are a couple of things I want to talk to you about.’
‘All ears, Tom.’
James was intrigued. He leant on the table, his fingers laced, and his brow furrowed.
‘I have two delicate matters of business to discuss,’ Thomas said. He had another, but the third was personal and would have to wait. He had planned the conversation during his walk, and he hoped that he could stick to the script.
‘Did you get my letter?’ James leapt in.
‘I did. Very unexpected.’
‘Hope you don’t mind me not warning you. I didn’t want you to think I was using our friendship in my favour.’
Friendship. That was a good start.
‘Not at all, though it does raise some questions,’ Thomas said. ‘Your applying and our…’ He wanted to say relationship, but that was too intimate a word. ‘Our new friendship.’
‘Ask away. Anything you want.’
Thomas pulled down the cuffs of his jacket and rested his forearms on the table. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I am here on official, semi-official, and personal business.’
‘Sounds like a lot. Better get that drink in.’
James waved at the barmaid who came out from behind the tankards and bottle-cluttered bar bringing a friendly smile.
‘Yes, gents?’
‘Two beers.’ James sifted the change he drew from his pocket and put down the right amount of money. It left him with very little.
‘Let me.’ Thomas paid.
‘Very kind of you, Tom,’ James said. ‘It this your way of easing the blow?’
‘No.’ Thomas shook his head. ‘But your generosity might be seen as a bribe.’
‘I get you.’
‘Right.’ Thomas was aware that it was exactly how Archer changed a conversation. ‘First of all, I am here on His Lordship’s business. He wants to see you about your application.’
‘Oh?’ James seemed genuinely delighted.
‘I can’t promise it will lead to a job. He, like me, is concerned at your lack of experience.’
‘I’m a fast learner.’
‘I don’t doubt it. The viscount can, of course, appoint who he wants, but I asked him specifically to consider you over others who are already in service. You, I think, have had none.’
‘That’s right. Been a telegraph boy since I was fourteen. I like the job but it’s going nowhere, you get me?’
‘I can imagine. So, that’s the first thing. He is willing to interview you with me, and together we will decide if you are suitable. Now, it sounded from your letter that you have been asking about the job and what it entails?’
‘Right again.’ James folded his arms and sat back. ‘I know a man who worked in service all the way up from hall boy to footman to butler. He’s given me some background.’
‘That shows initiative,’ Thomas complimented. ‘But Clearwater House runs on slightly different lines to
the average city house, and, if you are successful, you will also have to work at Larkspur, the viscount’s country home.’
‘Sixteen bedrooms, first, second and two ordinary footmen, seven upper housemaids, seven all-work maids, lady’s maid, viscount’s valet and the stables,’ James said. ‘I’ve done my asking.’
‘Very commendable,’ Thomas grinned. James obviously wanted the job. ‘The position at Clearwater is for second footman, and it brings a salary of twenty-five-pounds per year.’
James’ eyes widened.
‘Plus tips that guests or the viscount may award, accommodation, meals and uniform. And,’ he added with a grin, ‘there’s not as much of the drilling and army-style training your lot give you at the CPO. Quite the opposite in fact.’
‘That’s eased off,’ James said. ‘They have matrons looking after the boys now, to keep them safe from the older ones, but it’s still fairly strict regards uniform and turnout. Anyway, I thought the viscount was a military man.’
Thomas was impressed that he had done his research. ‘Navy, but he left that two years ago. My point, James, is that you would be well-rewarded, but only if you worked hard.’
‘Same as any job.’
‘Not at all.’
‘How so?’
Thomas did his best to explain how Archer worked without giving too much away. ‘His Lordship is unconventional,’ he began. ‘If he likes you, he helps you, but his generosity is not to be misconstrued or taken advantage of. He can dismiss you as easily as he drops a collar stud, but, by the same token, he can elevate you just as quickly. Look at me.’
‘I am, Tom,’ James replied. ‘And I like what I see.’
Thomas’ cheeks flushed with hope more than embarrassment, but he kept his thoughts in order.
‘But,’ he said, holding up a finger. ‘The thing you have to…’
The barmaid reappeared with their beer and put down two foaming glasses before flouncing away.
‘What you have to remember,’ Thomas continued, ‘is that I would be responsible for you and anything you may do wrong.’
‘So, you’d be taking a big risk. I get it, Tom. Or should I call you Mr Payne?’
‘Tom is fine for now. But if you come to be interviewed and certainly if you are given the job, then Mr Payne.’
‘Understood.’ James reached out and put his hand over Thomas’. He squeezed it once and let it go. ‘I’m very keen, Tom,’ he said.
It was a comment that could be taken in various ways, but Thomas told himself James was only talking about the position and all that would come with it.
‘You’re not there yet,’ he said, withdrawing his hand and taking a more professional approach. ‘The second thing is a completely different matter with which His Lordship might want your assistance.’
‘Oh?’ James’ round face twitched with interest.
‘It’s to do with where you currently are.’ This wasn’t going to be easy. Tact was the way forward, but Thomas thought it wise to impose a boundary. ‘Let’s see this as a test of discretion,’ he said. ‘A vital requirement for any servant.’ He waited for James to nod agreement before continuing. ‘If, for example, I asked you to undertake a matter out of your general sphere of postal duties, how would you react?’
James thought as he took a sip of beer. ‘Depends,’ he said. ‘If I was asked to do something dodgy, then I might not be so happy. What did you have in mind?’
‘I am speaking hypothetically. You know, as in…’
‘I know what that means, mate.’ James winked. ‘I can read. Have to, as a telegraph boy.’
‘Of course. But say, in your position as a messenger, you were asked to trace messages. Can you do that?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Look back through records of a certain time and find copies, assuming they are kept. Is that possible?’
James sat back, cradling his beer and eyeing Thomas suspiciously. ‘This got anything to do with what goes on over at Cleaver Street?’ he asked.
‘Cleaver Street? No.’ Thomas didn’t understand.
‘Not to worry then,’ James said. ‘There’s a bit of a scam going on over there, and some of the messengers are involved. Not to worry. Answering your question, yes, it’s possible. I know where the records are kept for this borough and those nearby. It depends where you wanted to look, and why. It’s not exactly legal.’
‘Ah,’ Thomas said. ‘If you were asked to do such a thing by your potential employer, would you?’
James glanced over his shoulder and leant in. ‘Tom,’ he whispered. ‘If I got the chance to work in a grand house like Clearwater, live under the same roof as my new mate, and earn a decent wage, I’d do whatever my butler or master asked, no questions.’
Again, an answer which could hold two meanings, but it was precisely the kind of response that Archer would want.
‘You would be allowed to ask questions,’ Thomas explained. ‘In fact, His Lordship values staff who question him. With the appropriate respect of course. But only if their questioning is pertinent. You never ask the viscount why, but if you have doubts, you voice them.’
‘Fair enough.’ James took another swallow of beer. ‘All sounds very matey, but where’s this leading?’
It was Thomas’ turn to take a pause, drink some beer and gather his thoughts. He replaced his glass, and said, ‘His Lordship has a favour to ask, but it has nothing to do with the possibility of an interview.’
‘And what’s the favour?’
It was too early for details.
‘I can’t go into that yet,’ he said. ‘But I need to know, on principle, if you were willing. It’s hard to explain and here is not the right place.’
‘So, you want me to take something on trust.’ James clarified. ‘You want me to say I’d do just about anything as long as I got the job?’
‘No, that’s not it.’ Thomas thought he had been clear. ‘What I am trying to find out is if we can trust you. Without knowing you for a long time and without seeing your work, the only thing we have to go on is a reference from the post office. That’s fine for the formal part of this business, but the rest is… Let’s just say that things can sometimes be very informal at Clearwater. Unorthodox, to say the least.’
‘I’m more intrigued by the minute,’ James grinned. ‘But, how can I prove you can trust me?’
He moved his leg beneath the table, and their feet touched. It could have been unintentional, but when James brushed Thomas’ ankle, he knew it was a message. They held each other’s stare. Thomas maintained a passive expression, but his mind was alive with possibilities. James beamed enthusiastically and, with a hint of impishness reminiscent of Silas, rubbed Thomas’ leg.
‘What’s that for?’ Thomas asked, his throat suddenly constricted and his heart beating faster.
‘Think you know, Tom,’ James replied. ‘I reckon you and I already trust each other and for the same reason. Right?’
Thomas checked the bar; no-one was listening.
‘Didn’t exactly go very far,’ he whispered. ‘More like we were just keeping warm.’
‘Believe it or not,’ James said, ‘that was new to me. Very new, but very right. You understanding me?’ He rubbed Thomas’ leg. ‘I’m doing it because I want to.’
Thomas nodded. ‘Because of me?’
‘I wouldn’t be doing it to no-one else I know. Never have.’
‘Then we both feel the same way.’
Nothing had been explicitly said, but this was the crux of Thomas’ third matter.
‘I know how you feel,’ James said. ‘I felt it the other night.’ He took another drink, but his stare remained with Thomas who was again blushing. ‘You look even sweeter when you do that.’
Thomas moved one of his feet to recipr
ocate what James was doing, and the smile on the messenger’s lips grew to encompass his whole face.
A moment passed during which Thomas was convinced that James was sincere. Not only that, but he would fit right in at Clearwater. He was just the kind of man Archer liked to have around. Not the most handsome in the world, and therefore no distraction, but apparently keen, loyal and not adverse to unconventionality. Having satisfied himself that he had found the right man for Archer’s business, a potential footman and as willing to engage with him as he wanted to engage with James, Thomas left his beer and moved his foot.
‘Then I think we understand each other,’ he said. ‘And I have found the man I want. However…’ He raised his finger before James could jump in with some scandalous double-meaning. ‘This doesn’t guarantee you the position. That will be decided by His Lordship, and anything else that he might ask of you will have nothing to do with it.’
‘And what about anything you ask me to do?’
The question was loaded with a salaciousness that thrilled Thomas. ‘I will only order you to carry out your duties,’ he said, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. ‘Anything else asked of you will be personal and would only happen in private time. You do understand?’
James nodded.
‘And would never be discussed.’ Thomas added for emphasis.
‘My lips will be sealed, Tom,’ James said. ‘Except for when I need them open.’
There were times when Thomas wished he could control himself, and this was one of them. His cock was growing at the suggestiveness, and he imagined how it would behave should he find himself sharing the top floor with this man. They would spend most of their personal time there together with a locked door between them and the female staff, and no-one prying.
‘Good,’ he said and cracked his knuckles as if to draw a line beneath that more interesting side of the discussion. ‘So, I have written to you formally…’ He produced the letter. ‘It invites you to interview. Uncertain of your working hours at present, I have asked you to suggest a time over the next few days.’
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 8