He was less worried about Quill and his ravings than he was about James. Even if Thomas didn’t return to his previous state of admiration for the man, James was a good worker, clearly loyal, and as he had proved, intelligent. With his stocky build and strength, he would also be a useful man to have near in case of a skirmish.
While Fecker arranged transport and Silas and Thomas saw to the clothing and provisions, Archer took James to the study for another private discussion.
‘I will repeat once more,’ he said, with James sitting opposite him at the table. ‘If you are unsure about coming with us, I will understand.’
‘No need, Sir,’ James said. ‘It makes a change from tramping the streets with telegrams.’
‘It is not a holiday, Jimmy. Although I intend to see to Quill on my own, perhaps with the bulk of Fecker behind me, you may face danger yourself.’
‘I didn’t mean to make light of your predicament, Your Lordship.’
‘I know, but I am not the only one in a quandary.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Thomas.’
‘Ah.’
‘I tried to hint earlier,’ Archer said. ‘Tried to suggest that you persevere with him. You know why he is upset?’
‘I do, Sir.’
‘Do you want to tell me how you arrived at this impasse?’
‘If you want me to.’ James shuffled in his chair, his hands wedged between his knees. ‘Before he moved back to Clearwater,’ he said, ‘he spent some time at my house, and we had to share the bed. I can’t tell you how hard that was for me, having him right there and not knowing if it was safe to say anything, let alone do anything.’
‘But you did?’
‘In a way. You see, Mr Tripp had made me this offer, but I wanted Thomas so badly I would have done what I did even without Tripp’s bribe. It was, as my mum says, the icing on the cake — that one man should pay me to get closer to another I already wanted.’
‘Did Tripp know you are… of our persuasion?’
‘Don’t think so, Sir. I reckon he assumed that because I was a messenger boy, I was fair game. It goes on a lot with some of the lads, but not me. I told you I’ve not done anything about it, these feelings, this… persuasion? I don’t need no persuading. I was in like a shot with a legitimate excuse to be closer to Tom.’
He sought assurance that they were alone before admitting, ‘I should have told him from the start, but I didn’t know him. Still don’t, obviously. I thought he’d be happy I’d come clean. One of the first things he told me was the first rule of Clearwater. I should have been honest from the start.’
James was secure enough to talk freely, something Archer admired in any man.
‘What do you intend to do about it?’ he asked. ‘I need you both focused on what’s ahead. We must be ready to react to any situation, and if Thomas is occupying your mind, you will be distracted.’
‘I’ll try not to be, Sir. I’ll try and square things up with him on the train. We have seven hours between here and Barrenmoor. I’m sure I can put this to rest by the time we arrive.’
‘Good man. I will leave it in your hands. You best go and change now. Are you prepared to wear your own clothes? I’m not sure we have anything to fit you, except some of my old cadet uniforms.’
‘My old uniform was like military garb,’ James frowned. ‘But, yeah, happy to wear whatever I have if you don’t mind me looking third-class.’
Archer laughed. ‘You’re a first-class code-breaker, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘We’re travelling in a private carriage, but no-one’s going to ask questions if they see you in your civvies. Actually, I might have a few other things from my past that would do for you.’
‘Understood, Sir.’
James rose and turned to leave, but something on the wall map stopped him.
‘Hang on a minute.’
‘What is it?’
‘Trains.’
He approached the map and traced a line down the east coast as Archer joined him.
‘What have you seen?’
‘Details,’ James said. ‘Another backup.’
‘Can you explain?’
‘I’ll try.’
The map was large and well printed, detailed, and if one could interpret its symbols and lines, filled with information. Archer could read it easily because of his ordnance training, and presumably, James was used to reading street maps, but this was a collection of roads, rivers and railway lines.
‘Excuse me, Sir,’ James said. ‘Do you have those notes the station master gave you? The ones giving the speed of trains on this line?’
‘I do.’ Archer found the papers and handed them over. ‘What have you seen?’
James took them, concerned. ‘Something that I don’t think Thomas is going to like.’
Twenty
At eight-thirty that evening, James stood looking at himself in the mirrored wardrobe. The party were to travel as unobtrusively as possible, and there was no-one more unremarkable in the city than him. Few were more remarkable either. He was Mr Average, a typical working-class young man who had found a reasonable job, the same as thousands of other fortunate people.
The jump from being ordinary to special, as the viscount found him, was another reason why it was hard to make sense of the way his life had changed. He supposed that most men would be trying to understand what on earth they were doing, chasing after a madman who had already claimed several victims. Others would have left the house and perhaps even taken their story to the police. For James, however, the only way to accept the events of the past few days was to see the journey as an adventure. Perhaps he didn’t appreciate the danger they were walking into, he certainly couldn’t comprehend it, but everything was so new and topsy-turvy all he could do was enjoy the ride.
What occupied his mind more were thoughts of the man currently changing in the room across the passage. Also new to him and just as exciting were the possibilities Thomas offered.
Had offered.
He had withdrawn them, and James couldn’t understand why. Thomas had told him to be honest, and he had been, that was all. He didn’t strike James as the kind of man to react so churlishly to the truth. If anything, James expected him to be happy he’d admitted Tripp’s business.
‘Jimmy,’ he said to his reflection. ‘You’ve got to sort it out one way or the other.’
To set off on the viscount’s adventure with a bad feeling between him and Thomas would not serve His Lordship well, but to go to him and try and make things right could make them worse, and that thought scared him more.
‘You’re about to travel half-way up the country to help one man kill another,’ he said. ‘A quick chat with Thomas is nothing.’
His confidence mustered, he left his room and knocked on the opposite door. It was thrown open immediately, and Thomas appeared, frown-face and flustered.
‘What?’ he asked, pushing past and locking the door after him.
‘Can I have a word?’
‘On the way down. There’s much to do.’
‘We have time. Just a couple of minutes.’
‘There is no time. Come along.’
‘No, hold on, Tom…’
Thomas rounded on him unexpectedly, forcing James against the wall.
‘From now on, it’s Mr Payne,’ he spat. ‘If His Lordship insists on bringing you, then we must behave like gentlemen, and that means I am Mr Payne and you say nothing unless spoken to.’
‘Can’t you give me a minute to explain myself?’
‘We are late.’ Thomas was off, clipping his way towards the backstairs. ‘Follow or be left behind.’
‘Tom, please…’
‘Follow or stay!’
Hurt and frustrated, James follo
wed.
They arrived at North Cross terminus at different times and in two Hansom cabs to avoid suspicion. James rode with Thomas in stony silence, trying to make sense of the man’s disinterest, while the viscount, Mr Hawkins and Fecker travelled later. Each man carried his own ticket, the plan being not to meet as one obvious group until they were in the carriage booked for the viscount’s exclusive use and outside of the city.
Alighting from the cab an hour before departure, James hurried to the telegraph office to dispatch a message according to instructions his master had given and waited for the reply. That done, he returned to the concourse.
Wearing a long overcoat and carrying a travel bag, Thomas examined the platform information and compared it to his ticket. He looked to all intents and purposes like any other middle-class traveller, fine and smart in a top hat, carrying a cane and occasionally glancing at his pocket watch. He hardly looked at James, also dressed for winter weather, but in clothes borrowed from the viscount’s wardrobe. Nothing too fashionable, he was, after all, a bird-watcher, but the cut of the coat and the expensive felt of the bowler hat brought an unaccustomed feeling of wealth that boosted his confidence. No-one gave him a second glance as he studied a timetable a few feet from Thomas.
A little before ten, Thomas left, walking quickly to the platform where he was swallowed by the hubbub and steam. James followed a minute later, carrying a bag containing the notes, maps and other useful books. He walked as calmly as he could towards the first-class carriages. None of them knew what they were heading into apart from a confrontation with a murderer who must, at all costs, be prevented from leaving the country.
A murderer.
Suddenly, the sound of the station intensified the dull thumping in his ears. Coal smoke clogged the air, but the hiss of engines and the whistles pierced it and chilled him. He gripped his case tighter and breathed deeply, inhaling steam and the taste of oil that made his head spin. His vision was darkening as his pulse climbed, and he was on the edge of panic when he saw the viscount’s party.
They appeared from the vapour, backlit by the concourse lamps. Individual silhouettes striding side by side intent on a common purpose. Lord Clearwater was in the centre, disguised in country clothes, a cloak and a travel cap. Beside him, Mr Hawkins walked confidently, the steam billowing about his boots and tight-fitting box jacket, a knapsack slung from his shoulder. He proudly wore a military-style peaked cap, like a revolutionary in a resistance movement. Fecker advanced on the other side, tall and imposing. His greatcoat hung open, whipping behind and swirling the steam. All were self-assured, their faces grave.
James hung back as the viscount opened the carriage door and allowed Silas to enter first as if the master and secretary had swapped roles. Fecker climbed in after them, giving James a genteel nod as he entered the carriage by a separate door.
James was the last to board. He slammed the door with a thud of finality and cut off the outside world before sitting apart from the others as he had been instructed to do. Only the viscount and Silas sat together, away from the windows where Fecker drew the blinds.
James had never seen inside a first-class carriage. On the rare occasions he had travelled on the railways it had been on hard benches among noisy louts in third where there was no heating and smoke infiltrated in tunnels. This was a different world. The floor was carpeted, the panels were oak, there was a toilet with a lock, and the walls were adorned with the crest of the railway line rather than notices banning the practice of spitting. Although they were only five, the carriage was big enough for ten with velvet-covered seats at one end and armchairs at the other. Tables were fixed to the walls beneath gas lamps, and a heater warmed the air to the point of stuffiness.
Their work would begin when the train pulled out which it did promptly at the sound of a whistle at ten o’clock. It wasn’t until the tickets had been collected and the carriage was shuddering along at speed, that the viscount called them to the table.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘We know Quill’s plan, the location and the time we shall be there. What we don’t know is what to expect. We have twenty-four hours to get ahead of him, and for that purpose, I have drawn a plan. You sent the messages, James?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
The viscount laid out the map of the North York Moors where he had drawn a route for the party to follow.
‘We get off here,’ he said, indicating the Barrenmoor depot. ‘From there, we hike the five miles to Inglestone where we rest up until dark.’ He regarded James, his downturned face devoid of any good humour.
‘The coaching inn knows we’re coming, Sir,’ he said. ‘I messaged that we would be arriving in the morning. They have one room.’
‘Good. And a carriage?’
James extracted a telegram from his pocket and read. ‘”Carriage unavailable. Horses?” I replied demanding five. It looks like the best they can do.’
‘That’s a bugger,’ Silas muttered.
‘You can ride with someone else, Silas,’ the viscount said. ‘And, James, from now on there is to be no Sir or My Lord. You must call me Archer and even then only if you must. We are five tourists, friends on a jolly jaunt to spot a lesser crowned moorhen or some such.’
‘Moorhens are water birds,’ Thomas said. ‘But there is a nest of rare hawks at Ebb Bay, apparently. I suggest, if asked, they are what we are looking for.’
‘Do they have quill feathers?’ Silas joked. ‘Get it?’
‘Thank you, Silas,’ Archer said, dryly. ‘But it will take more than one of your bad wordplays to quash my apprehension.’
Silas huffed. ‘Sorry, but it’s about the only weapon I got. I don’t ride, I don’t shoot, I’m not fast like you and Tommy, not strong like Fecks.’ He smiled weakly at James. ‘And not as clever with words as you are. I feel like a fucking mascot.’
Archer took his hand, and James instinctively glanced around to ensure they were alone.
‘You are my reason to stay alive,’ Archer said.
‘Should have brought one of Mrs Flintwich’s baking tins.’ Silas, seeing the look of confusion on James’ face, explained. ‘The last time we tried to catch Quill, I had to wear steel around my neck to stop him slashing me. Obviously, it worked, apart from this.’ He touched the wound on his chin, healing well and now, thanks to Markland, free of stitches.
‘We don’t need anything like that,’ Archer said. ‘This time, we have the advantage. We will ride to Ebb Bay Castle in time to recce the field. We will find some vantage point from where I can aim. I will shoot to injure, disarm the man and, with Fecker’s help, we will deliver him to the authorities.’
‘Are you mad?’ Silas said. ‘I thought we were going to kill the bastard.’
‘That is the last resort.’
‘But they’ll ask questions, and your name will be dragged in. I thought that was what we wanted to avoid.’
‘I have been thinking more on that.’ Archer removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting it where it had been flattened. ‘And I can see no other way around it.’
‘Bullet, head, go home,’ Fecker said.
‘If only it was as simple as that, Andrej.’
‘And then there’s the possibility that he may see you first and get a shot off, or that he is already there lying in wait,’ Thomas put in. ‘There are so many possibilities that we have no idea what will happen.’
‘Correct,’ Archer agreed. ‘We will have to improvise, which is why orders only come from me and if there is any fighting to be done, it’s me that does it.’
‘So what are we here for?’ Thomas asked. ‘Not that any of us don’t want to assist you, Archer, but surely it would have been safer if you’d gone alone or with Fecker. I’m not scared, don’t take me the wrong way, but five of us together is more noticeable than two.’
A
rcher nodded to James, and he knew the time had come to explain the strategy he had earlier devised with the viscount.
‘There won’t be five of us,’ he said, and everyone looked at him in surprise. ‘His… Archer and I discussed this before we left Clearwater and, with your permission, Archer, I’ll explain.’
Using the man’s Christian same came more easily than James expected. He had only been his footman for two days, and during that time they’d hardly had a master/servant relationship. If anything, after this business was done, he would have more trouble adjusting back to calling him My Lord.
He turned the map so that each man could see more clearly and took the timetable from his case.
‘As Archer said, here is Barrenmoor.’ He pointed with a pencil. ‘Here is Inglestone and there, roughly six miles away on the coast, is the castle, nothing between it and the village but open moorland.’
‘Easy riding,’ Archer said, looking at Silas who was dubious.
‘I had a look at the map,’ James continued, ‘and a few things struck me. Quill needs to get from the castle to the boat by five in the morning. Overland that could take several hours, we know this, right?’ The others agreed. ‘But…’ he unfolded the timetable. ‘What if he doesn’t intend to do that? I mean, what if he’s not got a horse? So…’ Back to the map. ‘If he rode, then that’s the route, but it’s up and down, around towns and through a couple of villages, all a bit long-winded and not quick. If he has a carriage, then this is his route.’ He showed them the quickest way from the castle to Kingston docks by road. ‘As you can see, it’s lengthy, heads inland and circles around. It would take even longer.’
‘Yes, I see that,’ Thomas said, the first thing he had said directly to James since they left the house. ‘But you’re assuming he is at the castle and that he waits for us until midnight. He could leave earlier, or even be gone by the time we get there, or this whole thing could be misdirection.’
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 23