Agent Provocateur

by Christopher C Tubbs

  This was new for Marty, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He had been brought up in his family by his mother. Well, his mother and his sisters, he realised. They would spell his mother and look after him when she wasn’t able or was ill. After some thought, he came to the conclusion, this wasn’t that different.

  They left London and headed to the family estate in Cheshire. This was Marty’s first visit, and he didn’t know what to expect. It was near somewhere called Knutsford but he didn’t have a clear idea where that was either.

  There were two coaches and a wagon as Caroline had been shopping and they needed the wagon for her purchases. The boys rode in the second but took it in turns to ride guard on Marty and Caroline’s. Blaez either rode inside with him and Caroline or ran alongside.

  No highwayman would stand a chance if he tried to rob them and Marty sincerely hoped one wouldn’t try. Not because he was afraid but it would be really inconvenient having to explain away a body with probably a dozen balls in it.

  It took several days to get to Knutsford, which was pleasant little village. As they passed through, it the locals waved to the coach and Caroline waved back.

  Just past it, they turned off the road through a pair of grand wrought iron gates and up a well-maintained driveway. The drive was lined with chestnut and beech trees and went on for around a mile through parkland with wild deer and horses in paddocks surrounded by wood rail fences.

  A large grand country house soon came into view. Marty’s chin almost hit his chest. It was enormous! It was mix of styles as it looked to have evolved over time and been added to by each generation. It was in fact, the administrative heart of the estate which covered more than three thousand acres, had hundreds of tenants and whole villages within its boundaries.

  The coach pulled up at the entrance and there was a whole line of people stood outside. Some were in uniform, others in normal clothes. The coach man pulled them up and a young man in uniform placed some steps by the coach door and open it with a bow.

  Caroline stepped down first and waited for Marty at the steps. Blaez followed him out and stuck like glue to his left calf, unsure what was going on. Marty led him to the other coach and gave him to Matai to look after.

  Caroline took him by the hand when he returned to her side and led him to the centre of the line.

  “Martin,” she said to him, “May I introduce you to our household staff?”

  He nodded, not sure what to say.

  She took him to the end of the line where the most senior and grandly dressed were stood. An imposing man in a black suit, white shirt and tie was first in line.

  “Martin, this is George, our Butler,” Marty held out his hand and the man looked surprised but took it and said,

  “A pleasure to meet you, M’Lord.”

  They moved to the next one in line and Caroline whispered, “You don’t have to shake all their hands.”

  He moved down the line and met the housekeeper, the cook, the Senior Maid downstairs, the head footman, the gamekeeper and so on down the entire line until the Maid of all works, a young girl of about fourteen. He stepped back and saw the grinning faces of his men standing around their coach.

  Caroline nudged him and said,

  “You need to say a few words to them.”

  It took Marty a second to realise she meant the staff.

  He walked back to the centre of the line.

  “Thank you for your kind welcome,” he started, “As you know, my experience is in running a ship not a house. So, you will not find me interfering or changing the way things are run. I will be here in between my duties as a king’s officer and will often be accompanied by some of my crew.” He looked over to the men. “So there are no misunderstandings, let me introduce you to them.”

  He beckoned them over and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

  “This is Tom Savage, and he is my cox. That is my right-hand man onboard ship.” He pointed to Wilson.

  “That giant is Wilson, the other three swarthy gentlemen are from the land of the Basques. They are, what we call in the Navy, my followers and accompany me everywhere I go.” Well almost, he thought. “They will be staying here with me while we are on shore leave.”

  He sort of ran out of words after that, thanked them all again, and let Caroline show him inside.

  He went upstairs to change and found a uniformed old man in his room.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” he quavered, “I am Simon, your valet. I have hung your clothes and put away most of your things, but I didn’t know what to do with these.” He indicated a table where he had laid out the weapons Marty had put in his chest.

  Looks a lot when they’m laid out like that, Marty thought.

  “Is there a spare cupboard?” asked Marty, looking around the room.

  “The bottom drawer of the sideboard is empty, sir,” Simon replied.

  Marty went over and opened it.

  “That should be big enough,” he said and started transferring first his knives and then his pistols into it.

  “In the bedroom, sir?”

  Marty looked over his shoulder and smiled.

  “They wouldn’t be much good down in the cellar would they.”

  He removed the two barkers he had in his coat pockets, blew out the priming into the fireplace and put them in as well.

  He started to take off his jacket when Simon stepped up to help him. He caught the look on Simon’s face in a mirror when he saw the knife on the back of his belt. The old man’s eyes went round, and his mouth made an Oh! Marty had to supress a smile when he unbuttoned his cuffs and undid the wrist sheaths with their stilettoes in and took a throwing knife out of the hidden sheath in his right boot.

  “Never in all my years!” He exclaimed. “I was the old Lord’s valet for thirty years and never saw such a thing!”

  “Standard dress,” Marty quipped, “Now, I would like a bath and then get dressed for dinner.”

  “Will sir be needing these?” Simon asked, waving a hand at the drawer.

  “No, just this one,” Marty said and slid the sheath off his belt.

  To give the old man due credit, he took that square on the chin without a flinch.

  “There were two wrapped packages in my chest where did you put those?”

  “Over there on the dressing table, sir.”

  “Presents for my wife.” He grinned. “It’s her birthday tomorrow”.

  “I know, sir. She is very dear to all of us.”

  Marty looked at the old man and saw the sincerity in his eyes and just nodded. He hid the packages in the bottom drawer with his armoury.

  He got downstairs early for dinner and passed Caroline on the stairs. She looked him up and down and smiled.

  “You met Simon then.”

  “Yes. Nice old chap.”

  “You changing?” He asked, stopping and turning to watch her glide up the stairs.

  “Of course,” she replied over her shoulder.

  “No time for . . .?”

  “No. Dinner is at seven.” She grinned over shoulder. Just as she entered their bedroom, she turned and said, “But we could have an early night!”

  The next morning over breakfast, all the staff came in and sang happy birthday to her. It had only taken a suggestion to George the Butler and he had organised it with a certain amount of glee. He wasn’t as stiff as he appeared, Marty thought.

  Marty handed her the packages, and she opened the first one to gasps from the staff. In it, were a pair of matched muff pistols. These were small, single barrelled pistols that a lady could hide in her fur muff (a hand warmer normally slung on a string at waist height). These were exquisitely made and chased in silver.

  “Oh Martin, they are beautiful,” she cried then with a frown, “Are they loaded?”

  “No, I thought it best not to at breakfast.” He laughed

  She put them aside and picked up the second present which was wrapped in silk and tied with a bow.

  She opened it an
d gasped. Inside was a golden locket on a beautiful chain. The locket was oval and over an inch from top to bottom. It was engraved with their initials intertwined.

  She pressed the catch and opened the locket and inside were two beautifully painted miniatures of them both. One on either clamshell. She gazed at it with tears in her eyes and stood to go to him. He stood as well and they met around mid-table and exchanged a passionate kiss.

  There was a discrete cough from behind him, and Marty realised all the servants were still there. The younger girls blushing pink and the boys sniggering.

  He laughed, took the chain in his hands, and fastened it around Caroline’s neck. The staff applauded politely.

  The door to the dining room swung open and Tom led the boys in. They were carrying a large picture frame covered in a sheet.

  Marty looked surprised and Caroline intrigued. They set in on a chair at the end of the room so the light from the morning sun shone on it.

  “The men o’ the Lark wanted you to have something from them all for your birthday Lady Caroline,” Tom announced, “So, they talked to a mate of our’n who be a fair hand and he done this fer us.”

  He pulled the sheet aside revealing a painting of the Snipe under full sail on a stormy sea. Marty was amazed as the likeness was perfect and the brushwork fine.

  “It looks like a Charles Brooking!” Caroline decided. “But he died in ’59.”

  “Well, our mate is a dab hand at copyin’ so he might have ‘borrowed’ a bit from that Brooking feller,” Tom admitted.

  “A forger?” Marty asked.

  “Well I wouldn’t go that far,” Tom said looking a bit uncomfortable.

  “It can’t be a forgery its an original,” Caroline declared.

  Tom looked at Marty triumphantly.

  A week later, Marty and Tom were out walking with Blaez. They were both carrying shotguns in case they saw a bird or rabbit for the pot. Marty also had a sling looped through his belt.

  “I was thinking of doing a tour of the estate and meeting the tenant and estate workers,” Marty told him.

  “Sounds like the right thing to do. Men always like to meet the man in charge,” Tom replied.

  “You can ride with me.”

  “You want be to get some o’ the boys to come too?”

  Marty thought about that.

  “No. I don’t think so. I want to meet the tenants not intimidate them.”

  A pheasant flew up from right under Blaez’s nose and he jumped straight up in the air in surprise. Marty’s gun was up and fired in one smooth motion.

  He walked over and picked it up. Blaez was many things but not a retriever. They got home with three brace of birds and handed them over to the cook.

  Marty told Caroline of his plan in bed that night and she whole heartedly approved. So the next morning, he and Tom set off with the Estate Manager acting as guide.

  Marty noted which houses were kept in good repair and which were looking dilapidated. He asked questions of every tenant and worker he met and made notes in a small notebook he carried in his pocket.

  After three days, he sat with Caroline and the Estate Manager, Farrell Mountjoy.

  “Our people fall into three categories,” he explained.

  “Those that look after their properties and land. Those that aren’t able to look after either because they are too old or impaired. And last those that don’t look after either because they are lazy and just look to the estate to provide food.”

  Mountjoy agreed.

  “We have a duty to care for the old and infirm as they have given their lives to the estate and deserve it. But those who are fit to work and don’t choose to take care of the place they live or provide something for themselves, we don’t.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Caroline asked.

  “Carrot and stick. We reward those that do, and we punish those that don’t.”

  They looked at him expectantly.

  “Alright, I will explain. We will send out work crews and bring every building on the estate up to standard.

  Every property that needs no work will be rewarded with a cash gift.

  If the person is old or infirm and unable to work, we do the work for free.

  If they are fit, we deduct the costs from their cash pay over the next year, up to a maximum of a third. We also start deducting pay for food supplied outside of what we give as part of their package.”

  “How many are in the third group?” Caroline asked.

  Marty checked his figures.

  “About a tenth. That’s, let me see, twelve households.”

  “Oh, and in that group, I also saw several wives with bruises that looked like they were beaten and kids that were underfed. I would place money on the men drinking all the money.”

  “Sounds like a spell in the Navy would sort them out,” Caroline muttered.

  “What?” said Marty.

  “I said a spell in the Navy would fix them.”

  Martyn looked thoughtful.

  “Do we know what work these men do?” Marty asked Mountjoy.

  He referred to a ledger and said,

  “Yes, they are nearly all labourers, one is a dry wall builder, another a ditch digger.” He continued looking them up one by one.

  “So, no one who couldn’t be easily replaced?”

  “No. All easy jobs to fill.”

  “Could the women be given work if the men were removed?”

  “I have had an idea to start a dairy to make cheese. We have a lot more milk than we use, and we just send it off the estate and get practically nothing for it. Cheese sells for a much better price. A dozen women would make that possible,” said Caroline, “But what about the children? Who looks after them if the women are working?”

  “We could set up a school for the kids while the mothers are working,” added Marty, thinking of Katy Turner.

  At the end of the month, work crews started renovating all the properties on the estate and building a new dairy parlour and a school house. When that was finished, a press gang mysteriously appeared and picked up twelve men and a couple of older boys and took them off to Liverpool where they ‘joined’ the Navy. Their wives were offered jobs in the new dairy in return for keeping their houses and a living wage. Their children would also receive a primary education.

  All but one of the women took them up on the offer. She went to live with her parents in Manchester.

  Marty started looking into the latest theories in land management and was just really getting into it when…

  A packet arrived sealed with the fouled anchor accompanied by a courier. Marty sent the courier to the kitchens and settled into his study to read the letter inside. There was a knock at the door, and Tom came in, leaned on the mantle, and waited.

  Marty read the orders once and reread the important bits again.

  “It’s from Lord Hood in his own hand. The admiralty has a problem they can’t fix in the normal way. He wants us to fix that problem in any way we see fit.”

  He got up and checked the corridor outside of the door then closed it. He beckoned Tom to stand by him as far from the door as they could.

  “There is a captain of a Frigate who is in the position because he is a personal friend of the Prince Regent and strongly supported by the Prince’s political cronies. Apparently, he is as mad as a bat and nasty with it. They can’t remove him without starting an internal war that they don’t want, but they need the ship in reliable hands. The crew are close to mutiny as well. They don’t want that either as it could spread.”

  “Hmph, just the job for us then,” Tom quipped sarcastically.

  “We need John with us. Can you message him to meet us in Portsmouth in ten days?”

  “Aye, I will.”

  Marty went and found Caroline who was in the new dairy and broke the news. She had seen the courier arrive so was expecting it. She hugged him and sent him off to pack.

  Simon appeared and helped him with his sea chest. After all th
e uniforms were in folded with tissue paper, he went to the bottom door of the cabinet and asked.

  “Do you want to take all of them or just a selection?”

  Marty thought for a second or two and said,

  “The double barrelled pistols, the stilettoes, and the boot knife. The rest can stay.” He smiled as the old man carefully took each knife and wrapped it in a piece of oiled cloth. Then he made sure the ball moulds, powder flask, wads and spare flints were in the pistols box along with cleaning tools and oil.

  “Have you been in the Army or Navy, Simon?”

  “I was his Lordship’s batman in the days he was in the cavalry.”

  “So, that’s how you know how to treat blades then.”

  “Yes sir. His Lordship was very particular about that. Will you be gone long sir?”

  “I don’t know, but at least three months, I think. Why?”

  “Well her Ladyship misses you awfully when you are gone and worries something terrible about you.”

  “And my letters don’t arrive every week,” Marty finished for him.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well we don’t always see a homeward bound ship or go into a friendly port where we can leave our mail. The best we can do is write something every day and send it when we can.”

  “So, you don’t get her letters either?”

  “Not often and they tend to all arrive at once when they do.”

  “The Navy is a hard life then for married men.”

  “Yes, they prefer their younger officers to be single, but they made an exception for me.” Marty smiled.

  Chapter 16: Into Insanity

  They left at first light the next morning. Blaez had to stay behind, which he wasn’t happy about, but he had made very good friends with a pretty border collie bitch. So, he didn’t mind that much. It would take several days to get to Portsmouth even by one of his own coaches.

  The boys had been ordered to join the ship to replace crew that had ‘had accidents’, Marty to replace the second lieutenant who had just walked away when they came into dock.

  They arrived in Portsmouth to find John Smith waiting for them. They soon identified the Sunderland in the harbour. She was the one that looked like a ‘whore’s boudoirs” as John succinctly put it. She was tidy, all the yards crossed just so and not a rope out of place, as far as they could see. But the paintwork was too perfect, looking like it had never seen weather. The gingerbread work around the stern gleamed with gold leaf. Sunlight glinted off of polished metalwork.