‘I will send a dispatch to Bow Street,’ Her Ladyship decided. ‘To remind them that Hawkins is my godson’s secretary, and my cousin is the proprietor of The Times. That usually does the trick. It will ensure he is not too roughly treated. Now, perhaps you would do me a favour.’ She drew her gaze from the fire where she had found inspiration and aimed her hand towards the bell-pull. ‘Give that two tugs, would you? Save my legs.’
James went to the silk rope and held it. He hesitated.
‘What’s the matter now?’
‘I’m sorry, Your Ladyship,’ he said. ‘Only, it’s the first time I’ve rung for a servant. Feels wrong.’
‘You are undoubtedly the first man in this house who has ever thought that way, James, but you are dressed as a gentleman, and if that’s who you are, that is how you must behave. Just two.’ She imitated the movement required. ‘It’s one for Saunders, but that trauma is best avoided until the rug dries. Two for Oleg.’
James did as instructed. It was a weird feeling, but then nothing that day had been ordinary.
‘On your way back,’ Her Ladyship said. ‘Stop by the escritoire and bring me a pen and paper.’
‘The…?’ James looked around the room at tables and chairs, what he thought was a harpsichord, several cabinets and a fancy roll top desk.
‘That’s the thing,’ she said. ‘You will find them beside my book.’
James found the items and couldn’t help noticing what Lady Marshall was reading. ‘Do you like Wilkie Collins?’ he asked, and then worried he was being too informal.
‘Occasionally. Have you read that one?’
‘I haven’t, Your Ladyship. I shall look out for it.’ He handed her the pen and paper.
‘You shall have it when I am finished. It’s signed. We may be a minute or two, take a drink while you wait.’
Having gulped at the thought of being given such a present, James stammered a thank you. About the drink, he said, ‘I shouldn’t really, Ma’am.’
‘I don’t suppose any of us should,’ the old lady mused. ‘But it’s not often I have a handsome youth in my house. The occurrence calls for a celebration. Please, it would give me pleasure.’
Should he or shouldn’t he?
He did, but only a small one. He was behaving far above his station, but all he was doing was following orders. Having thanked her again for the book, he asked if he could serve her a top-up. She declined and told him to sit on the couch which he did, perching uncomfortably on the edge of the settee, half-turned to her grandeur.
She had just finished scribbling two notes when James noticed Oleg had mysteriously appeared and was dominating the doorway. Although he faced his mistress, his eyes flicked to James. Showing no surprise, he gave him a gentle bow of his head.
James’ sense of being out of place increased when Lady Marshall held the papers aloft and spoke to her footman in a foreign language he assumed was Russian, as most of Her Ladyship’s servants were from that country. Oleg stepped up, took the messages, bowed and withdrew.
‘There,’ Lady Marshall said, putting the pen beside her glass which she raised. ‘Here’s to you, Master Wright.’
‘To me, Ma’am?’
Her glass clinked against his. ‘To you, for doing the right thing. Clearwater will be proud of you when he returns.’
Embarrassed, James returned the toast and sipped. He dreaded being asked Archer’s whereabouts and hoped that if he was, he would be able to improvise convincingly. Luckily she was more concerned about him.
‘It sounds like you are alone next door,’ she said. ‘And with much on your mind. I have asked Oleg to take that message to a dear friend of mine.’ She leant to him, bringing wafts of perfume and too much intimacy. ‘An ex-lover, actually. But that’s entrée nous.’
Whatever that meant, James smiled and nodded. Satisfied, she sat back.
‘He is a barrister at Temple Inn, a very clever man. I have asked him to call on me first thing in the morning. I don’t think there is much we can do now. Mr Hawkins will have to survive the night alone, but if anyone can see to his release or at least a fair hearing, it will be Creswell. Between you and me, what he lacks in the boudoir, he more than makes up for in the courtroom. You boys will not be alone for long.’
‘That is very kind of you, Ma’am,’ James stammered. ‘But is he expensive? I only have ten pounds.’
She slapped his thigh. ‘You are sweet,’ she smiled. ‘Now, finish your drink and get yourself home. You have done what you can, and you have behaved admirably. Oh!’ A thought struck. ‘With the others away, would you rather stay here? The Russians play a devilishly good game of Durak.’
‘Um, no…’ This woman was far too generous. ‘Thank you, Your Ladyship.’ James stood. ‘You have been a great help, but I should be at Clearwater. I can see myself out.’
‘You most certainly cannot.’
He thought he had angered her, but she was grinning playfully.
‘Ring once for Saunders, and remember…’ She caught his hand as he passed. ‘Whatever anyone tells you, you are an intelligent young gentleman and a loyal friend.’
Nine
James returned to Clearwater House boosted by Lady Marshall’s words and her unconditional acceptance. He knew nothing of how the police and courts worked, but she had offered to find someone who did. There was no more James could do for Silas that night, and he was reassured that this man, Creswell, would do whatever was needed to bring Silas home the next day. With that pushed to the back of his mind, he was finally able to turn his attention to the viscount’s letter.
Having assured Mr and Mrs Norwood that there was undoubtedly a mix-up, but that it was being dealt with, and having reminded them that Lord Clearwater wouldn’t take kindly to having such news discussed, he left them to their evening and headed directly to Archer’s study.
He had no qualms about being in there, he was on His Lordship’s business, but he drew the line at sitting at his desk, and having lit the fire and removed his jacket, he closed the doors and used the reading table. The first thing was to address the second letter, and he set that before him with the book of poems open to the page where the note had been left.
The second letter was longer than the first and more explicit.
My dear Jimmy
We have known each other for so little time, but you have proved you are my man beyond doubt. Someone holds Silas’ sisters. He (or they) will kill them at/by sunset on 21st December if I do not locate them and play my part. I suspect Quill; it is his style.
Silas must not know. I love that man more than life, but this must be kept from him for the safety of the girls. You will understand.
The telegram you send to Thomas instructs him to search for the only person I can think of who could confirm if Quill is alive. That is his part. He will be safe and will come to Clearwater when done.
I am taking Andrej and riding north to the girls’ last known address, there to seek what clues I can find and, I pray, save them from this madness. I will contact you from the road when I can.
You can message me C/O Mr G Culver, Arlenside House, Aigburth, Westerpool.
I need you to stay at CH until this is resolved. Silas must not know — as you will see from the communication I received (over page). With a mind like yours, you will have no trouble deciphering this clue (false trail, nonsense?), but my mind is so concerned, I am unable to see through Quill’s cryptic note. Please lend your skills to it and tell me what you find.
The book in which you found this letter is somehow connected to all this. ALT must hold clues. The verse has something to do with it. I have noted what is obvious to me, but surely there is more.
Do whatever you must without fear of consequence. I am behind you and beside you. If you need money: remove Keats - east Banyak,
west TP, east Jimmy.
Tell no one else.
Jimmy, you are sleeping as I write, and your love is far away. The pain you felt when Tom left for Larkspur is the pain I feel as I leave Silas and head into this storm – although the one outside is now abating, the one we face will be far worse. Remember our pact, and we will triumph!
I am in your debt as much as you are both in my heart,
Arch
If this letter did nothing else, it proved what a romantic Lord Clearwater was, and what a hero. Some would say fool, but not James. He had utter respect for the man, dropping everything, risking himself to save Silas’ only family and, if James had understood him correctly, trusting a servant with the combination to his safe.
Before continuing, he located a pocket notebook from the bureau. Archer had a stack of them, some with only one page used, others full of scribblings, addresses and accounts. He found one that was unused and began notes of his own starting with Mr Culver’s address in Westerpool. Beneath that he noted Archer’s abbreviations, CH for Clearwater House, ALT for the poet, Tennyson, and was about to note the safe combination but thought better of it.
That done, he returned to Archer’s letter and turned it to read the reverse side.
This is a copy of what I received. It is in two parts, and some of it is obvious. See if you can glean any more from it and let me know.
A dish is served albeit cold to he who meddled with our gold. (?)
To he who took my love and life and yet will take no Christian wife,
I set a trial and a trail for him to follow to the gaol. (?)
And there to meet midwinter eve else brother dear be left to grieve.
(Page 92, 1st stanza ‘The splendour falls…’ was quoted here.)
We have his sisters. Involve your catamite, and they will die before the shortest day.
James stared at the first verse attempting to see it as Archer saw it. He needed to understand how he had made his connections. If he could think like the man, he might be able to think beyond the man and see what he had not seen. Archer had the advantage, he knew Quill and was in a better place to search for subtleties. James knew little about the man who was the Ripper and not much more about Archer.
‘Maybe that’s a good thing,’ he said. ‘You can look in from the outside.’
Talking to himself helped his thought process, and there was no one to hear and think him mad. Even if there was, the viscount had placed his trust in James, and the honour was immeasurable. Who cared what anyone else thought?
He read the verse again, noting ideas. Archer was right, some of the meaning was obvious. The reference to revenge, his being unlikely to marry, ‘stealing’ Simon Harrington, and killing Quill, or trying to, at Limedock and Ebb Bay. The sender had left a trail, promised a trying time ahead, and had set a date for the confrontation. Quill was bent on another chance to kill Archer. The brother referred to Silas grieving over the death of his sisters.
The intention, motivation, the object of hatred and a deadline were all there. In short, Quill had laid down a challenge. There was little more to be gleaned from that verse, but there were two words that struck James as unusual.
Gold and gaol.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not prevent the horrific vision of Silas alone and scared in a prison cell, but the arrest was a coincidence. Until James knew why they had taken him, it remained bad timing. Silas had been a free man when the letter was written and received, so the word gaol had to have another purpose.
‘A location?’ he wondered, noting the word and possibility in his book.
Archer was making his way to Westerpool, which made perfect sense, but when he got there and found the girls missing, where to next? The verse had laid out everything else he needed to know except where to go to meet midwinter eve.
He jotted two more notes, one to remind himself to look for a location near Westerpool that might be or have been a gaol, and another to check the exact date of midwinter’s day.
As for ‘gold’, that too was there for more than just the rhyme. Someone was seeking revenge on Archer because he meddled with their gold. Had the viscount stolen something? Did he have a long-running argument with Quill over money?
The word reminded him that he was still wearing Silas’ ring and he should take it off and keep it safe.
‘Safe,’ he said, his eyes straying to the bookshelves.
On the day of his appointment, Archer had trusted James to collect the ring from the jeweller and pay for it. He asked James to look out of the window, which James dutifully did, and while his back was turned, Archer produced fifty pounds from nowhere, but presumably from a safe. Dispatching James with the cash had been a test, though it had challenged him more than Archer realised. Carrying that amount through the streets of Riverside to Mayfair tested his nerve more than his honesty which, it was now clear, Archer had appreciated from the start. Not even Viscount Clearwater would want to lose fifty pounds to check that his new footman was trustworthy. He could have done that with five.
‘Yes,’ James said. ‘But the safe.’
He crossed the room to the same bookshelf where he had found the Tennyson poetry. Archer kept his eclectic reading in random order, and there was no set pattern to the spines, a law book here, a novel there, and astronomy books crammed beside those about the royal families of Europe. There were hundreds more in the library, but Archer hadn’t left the room to find that fifty pounds and his note mentioned Keats.
The only place with spines in logical order were the bottom two rows. Each book on both was the same height, though varying thickness and with different titles. A set of six poetry books stood out as being identical and, sure enough, the last one proclaimed itself to be Keats.
James doubted it, and the moment he tried to withdraw it, he knew he was right. The entire half a shelf and the half below it opened like a door. Behind, a combination safe was set into the wall.
‘That’s actually pretty obvious,’ he said and wondered if he should make a note to suggest Archer find a better hiding place. ‘As was the combination clue, My Lord.’
It made sense to James that east would be clockwise, and kneeling, he turned the dial to the right to twenty, Silas’ age. He turned it back beyond zero to ‘TP’, Thomas Payne, twenty-seven, and then clockwise again to his own age, twenty-five. It was touching that the viscount had included him, but the thought fled when the door gave a clunk and came free from its lock.
‘Fuck me.’
He glanced over his shoulder, not because he felt guilty for swearing, he didn’t want anyone to see what he had found; the largest amount of cash he had ever seen in one place. Rolls of notes, bags of coins, papers and envelopes, the safe was stocked full of money and legal documents. No wonder Lady Marshall had laughed when he said he was concerned about paying for her barrister. He stared at the contents for a full minute until the smell of it turned his stomach, or it might have been purely the sight. Either way, he wasn’t able to look on it for long. What Archer had was his affair, and James was definitely above his station if he was to criticise his master for being wealthy.
After placing Silas’ ring atop a pile of fifties, he closed the door and spun the dial. Having clicked the false books back into place, he stood and caught sight of an almanack which he took down and carried to the table.
He sat staring at the bookcase and shaking his head until an inner voice told him to concentrate on the task at hand. Opening the almanack, he found the exact date of the winter solstice. That year it would fall on the twenty-first as Archer might have concluded, and not the twenty-second.
‘Sorry to doubt, Sir, but best to check,’ he muttered, setting the book aside. If Archer didn’t confront Quill, the girls would be dead before the last light of the shortest day. He noted that in his book too, and now understood
why Archer had slipped away, taking only Fecker. Apart from the urgency, it made sense. Fecker’s skills were horses and his strength, he carried with him all he needed. James’ strength was detection, and all he needed was in this room.
‘Which still leaves you with the location, gold and gaol.’ He looked again at the shelves. ‘You know, Jimmy,’ he said, sitting back and dreaming. ‘You could make off with that lot right now.’
Nothing was stopping him from turning his back on Archer, Silas, Thomas, work, the city and its stinking fogs. He could be at the docks within a couple of hours, taking as much as he could carry and buying a berth to anywhere in the world. He could sail across the Atlantic, visit the Americas, go further around the Cape to the Pacific, and even see the Indies.
All thoughts of riches shrivelled as he suffered a vision of his friend weeping, chained and alone.
‘For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, but lose his soul?’ One of his mother’s after-dinner speeches, something from her bible, and it made sense. Thanks to Archer, Silas, Thomas, even Fecker, James’ life had more value than the contents of a rich man’s safe.
Banging the table, he stood. ‘This ain’t getting us nowhere.’
Having stoked the fire and poured himself a drink, he returned to the letter and set his mind to work on the second part of the message.
The clock had just struck nine when a gentle tapping on the door drew him from his reading.
‘Yes?’ he called, hurriedly covering his notes.
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