The Travellers

by J. Howard Shelley

  Chapter 2

  The following day his Grace the Duke of Sale simply disappeared from the polite world. There were only four people, excepting his Grace, in the world who knew both who Mr Rufford was and where he was at any one time; three of those but inexactly from his Grace’s very infrequent letters. After a while, his absence was noticed and occasioned not a little comment. None of his neighbours could recall having seen him for several months. He did not appear in any of the various clubs of which he was a member. His various relatives denied any knowledge of him. There were those who wondered if he was dead; surely such an august person as a Duke could not disappear in England for very long without being seen by someone. Polite enquiries of the few remaining members of the Duke’s household were met with an equally polite response informing them that his Grace was not at home.

  After the initial interest had died down, a few of the more astute members of the haut ton, especially those who closely interested themselves in the management of their own estates noticed that the improvements to the Sale estates which his Grace had already started continued on apace and it was obvious that someone must be authorising the expenditure and overseeing matters. Since no announcement as to the succession to the Dukedom had been posted in the Gazette and the Hon. Gideon Ware -his Grace’s heir - was still living in Lodgings in Clarges Street apparently unconcerned by his cousin’s disappearance, all the curious could do was conclude that his Grace must be somewhere and to shake their heads at the behaviour of the higher echelons of the nobility. After a year with no news the gossips moved on to the next scandal and His Grace, if he was mentioned at, all was simply referred to as “The Missing Duke.”

  There were a few unconfirmed reports that he had been sighted abroad. A scion of a noble house on his Grand tour claimed to have spotted him in Rome, sketching at the Coliseum. On close questioning, it appeared he was mistaken. Although the individual’s likeness to the Missing Duke was prodigious, when challenged, he responded in fluent Italian and apparently did not understand English. On another occasion an English priest who had once been presented to the young Duke on a visit to Sale Park almost bumped into a gentleman bearing more than a passing likeness to His Grace on the steps of the Opera House in Vienna.

  These tales were told and retold in polite circles but they were not much attended to. No ambassador reported meeting the Duke, he was not seen at any of the royal houses in Europe, even though his rank would have permitted him entry, and he did not visit any of those places where English visitors abroad were known to meet. Why, it was pointedly asked, would Sale, one of the richest men in England, choose travel incognito?

  Freed at last from the oppressive sympathy of his staff and family, and in the guise of an unknown and unimportant Englishman, the Duke at last started to relax and to think about who he was and what he wanted to do. He had always felt that he had never had the opportunity to make his own choices. Until he came of age at twenty-five most of his important decisions were made for him. Even his choice of bride, however well it had worked out for them both, was made by Lord Lionel. He had never been allowed to carry anything for himself or arrange his own meals. He did not saddle his own horses or clean and load his own guns and he relied on his valet to choose the clothes he was to wear.

  Neither had he been permitted to follow his own interests. Although his tutors reported their pupil had a fair turn for scholarship, Lord Lionel, a keen sportsman regarded the suggestion that the suggestion that his nephew might become bookish with outright horror. The Duke of Sale, as the head of the noble house of Ware, should be a leader of men, a bruising rider to hounds, a country gentleman at Sale Park and a leader of society in town. Unfortunately, as his ward had been a sickly child, he had to make some compromises and therefore Lord Lionel had been unable to take him to the sporting events which his contemporaries considered part of their upbringing.

  Standing beside his impossibly handsome Cousin Gideon, resplendent in his cavalry uniform, the young Duke knew that this was what his guardian had hoped he would become. He would have been less than human if he had not felt inferior. On the other hand, he had not the smallest wish to join the army even had Lord Lionel permitted it. He had no interest at all in boxing and when his uncle had decided he was old enough and fit enough to go to Jackson’s saloon, his first visit was also his last.

  If the Corinthian set held no attraction for him neither was he a dandy, or a gentleman farmer, gamester or court satellite. Any one of these occupations would have been entirely acceptable occupations for the Duke of Sale; he had the rank and wealth to join the Bow Window, or any other set had he chosen to do so. He did not so choose, but it was unclear, even to him, what it was he did choose to do.

  Other than the few short days when he was twenty-four, during which he had encountered Mr. Liversedge, the Duke had never been able to escape his golden shackles. It was, he more than once remarked to himself, grossly unfair that, despite his riches, he probably had made fewer personal choices than the poorest of his tenants. “Who,” wondered the Duke to himself “am I really?

  Having dropped out of sight, the Duke threw himself into his new-found freedom. He read the classics that Lord Lionel had denied him as a child and discovered in himself a real talent for languages. He spent hours drawing the monuments that, on his grand tour, Captain Belper had whisked him through in a few minutes. He studied with the best Italian fencing masters until he became an expert with a small sword. He discovered that he was perfectly able to look after himself and did not need an army of people to ensure his every comfort. He could bespeak his own room, he could pack and unpack his own clothes and he could cook his own food. To a man whose life had been so confined, successfully producing a meal for himself and Francis seemed like a major triumph.

  There was a change too in the relationship between master and servant. Without either ever quite crossing the line, Francis and the Duke rapidly developed a healthy respect for each other and their relationship became, if not friendship, then something very like it. Certainly, the many chance acquaintances they met on the road saw them only as two Englishmen enjoying travelling in Europe. It was only on the rare occasions that the Duke stayed at a quality Hotel that Francis resumed the role of valet and servant and the Duke as master and social superior.

  They had both started out with preconceptions. Francis had thought that though his master was, judging by his own experience and that of his cronies, amongst the most lenient and generous of employers. That did not prevent him believing that the Duke did not really care about his fellow man; such concern as he might have was a practical response to the need to secure his own comfort. ‘How could,’ mused Francis ‘a man born to rank and privilege be expected to have any fellow feeling for those less fortunate? He was swiftly disabused. While the Duke might have been ignorant of the lives of the ordinary man, what he had learned troubled him greatly. The Duke was fully aware of the privilege to which, by an accident of birth, he had been entitled all his life, and while it was true that he had regarded the welfare of his tenants a matter of duty, this did not mean that he did not care about, or was blind to the needs of his dependants. A fair man, Francis was quickly obliged to accept that many of the views he and his peers held about the nobility might not be right.

  The Duke for his part had inevitably absorbed some of the prejudices common amongst his order. Along with most of his acquaintance he considered that education was not reserved to the nobility because they were noble, but because the ordinary man lacked the interest in such matters and the ability to assimilate them. Had he ever given much thought to the subject he would have also advanced the view that, unless he was instructed to do something, the ordinary man would wait to be told what to do. Initiative and drive were virtues which were the exclusive province of the gentry. Therefore, while he knew that Francis could read –a skill owned by all his upper servants – the Duke thought that his servant would lack the motivation to expand his knowledge.

  He was
to be surprised also. The fact that they were together all the time resulted in the Duke spending a great deal of time talking to his servant who slowly became less reticent and more prepared to advance his own opinion and to defend his view. The Yorkshire burr which had been prominent slowly softened until he began to sound like a North Country squire. As he had none of the oppressive formality that characterised the speech of an upper servant the Duke remarked with a grin that, should he have a taste for fraud, he would have no problem passing himself off as a gentleman upon his return to England.

  Realising that he had been mistaken over Francis’ educational aspirations, the Duke also undertook to remedy some of the gaps in Francis’ knowledge. For all he was well read, the older man had no knowledge of many of the sights which they visited the Duke took it upon himself to teach Francis some of the geography and history behind the Classics. In the process, he learned just how much Francis had learned at the hands of a country parson and from his own reading. Discovering Francis’ real intelligence made him wonder how much potential there was in the people who worked for him and what they might be able to do, given the opportunity.

  Despite his prejudices the Duke had never been comfortable with the proposition that his birth and rank, in some way necessarily made him ‘better’ than remainder of the population. With the exception of his servants, who treated him with extreme deference, he had never spent any time with people other than his own order. His conversations with Francis, and the other travellers chance met on the road opened his eyes somewhat and he was forced to review many of his preconceptions.

  The two men talked about how a man from Yorkshire had entered his Grace’s service, about his life in England before his arrival at Sale Park and his ambitions for the future. The Duke was almost entirely ignorant of the lives of ordinary people as the life he had lived hitherto had never given him much cause for thought on the subject and he listened with great interest, storing away the information for the day when he should reassume his dignities back in England. He was stunned to discover he had not known the half of what his servants did after a chance remark led him to ask how Francis employed his time when he was not required by the Duke. At home Francis had always appeared within seconds of being sent for and the Duke had naturally assumed that all Francis did was await the summons and then carry out his master’s bidding.

  By the time they had been abroad for six months, the new pattern of the relationship was established and they had learned to anticipate and rely on each other. That reliance was tested when one evening the Duke and Francis were riding south on the way to Naples with the intention of proceeding thence to Sorrento. They had reached a small village which, as the battered sign on the outskirts proudly proclaimed, was called Arco Felice. Having stopped for a glass of wine in a small cantina the pair left the village on the road south in good spirits and after no more than half a mile entered a small wood. It was a warm day and this, taken with the relaxing glow caused by the wine they had consumed, meant that neither rider was paying much attention to the road. Suddenly a man stepped out in to the middle of the road and stood facing them as they approached. His purpose was not immediately clear and the Duke was about to wish him good day when this individual pulled an ancient, but nonetheless intimidating, musket from behind his back, pointed it in their direction and grinned menacingly. Seconds later he was flanked by four others effectively barring the road and wielding stout sticks.

  Two travellers on a lonely road must have seemed easy pickings but they were surprised to discover they were comprehensively outmatched. The leader made the mistake of allowing his victims to approach too close and he could not cover both men with his firearm.

  First honours went to Francis. He waited for the leader to point his gun at the Duke and then drove his spurs into his horse’s flanks. The startled horse leapt forward and, as Francis was by now less than ten yards away from the would-be highwaymen, he easily rode down the leader before he could re-orient his weapon and disarmed him with a well-placed kick. The Duke, who had been practicing singlestick with Francis (a distinguished proponent of the skill) was not far behind. Thirty seconds later, two of the Ruffians lay unconscious at their feet and the remaining three could be seen running away as fast as they could.

  After a whole year in Italy the Duke travelled on to Greece and from there to Spain and Portugal. By the start of the third year he was on the move again, this time towards Vienna and Saltzburg and then on to northern Europe. He, had started to consider the future some months previously after passing by a large estate that was obviously in a poor state. Walls had collapsed, hedges needed trimming and drainage ditches were choked.

  The Duke mentioned the dilapidated state of the property to the landlord at the inn to which they had repaired for the night and was surprised to discover that its owner was extremely wealthy but had not, for many years invested any of that wealth in his land. The decay was due to poor husbandry. A pair of locals had heard the landlord's remark and came over to talk to the visitors. Over the next hour the Duke learned that the estate was the major employer in the district and the failure of the owner had not only resulted in reduced estate revenue for him, but unemployment and poverty in the population. After this the Duke kept an eye open and realised that this was a pattern which could be identified time and time again. Landowners, he concluded had far wider obligations than just to their tenants.

  He had done his very best to ensure that matters were properly attended to in his absence but he began to be concerned that his prolonged stay on the Continent was becoming a little self-indulgent and that he was neglecting his duties. It was time to think about returning home. The years abroad had allowed the Duke to develop his own ideas as to the person he was and the privileges and obligations attached to his position. It was thus a very different Duke from the one who had left home three years earlier who was now about to return home to assume the mantle of his old life and responsibilities. His estate would be run on different lines, he would ensure basic education for his tenants and dependants and while he was perfectly happy to allow his household staff to look after him it would now be on his own terms. The scars of the last seven years were still there, writ large on his face for anyone to see, but never again would he feel powerless to make his own way in life. The Duke was now his own man. The decision made, the only remaining issue was the timing and the manner of his return.

  By the time he strolled into Mr. Livesedge’s establishment in Strasbourg, his plans were laid. He had formed the intention of travelling to Le Havre by easy stages via Reims and either Amiens or Paris. First however, he had to reappear and provide the curious with an explanation of where he had been for the last three years. Society, he thought, might have some difficulty accepting the truth.

  Arriving in Strasbourg a week earlier his Grace’s first action had been to visit the bank at which his man of business had arranged a draft. The bank had at first treated the stranger who entered and politely requested audience with the manager with some suspicion but upon the Duke revealing his identity their attitude changed and he was offered every facility. There were, as the Duke later observed wryly to Francis, certain advantages to worldly rank. After securing sufficient funds he then visited a tailor and ordered such raiment as was necessary for a gentleman appearing in society. Initially rather disdainful at the shabby appearance the Duke presented, the tailor became remarkably helpful when told precisely how much he would be paid for prompt delivery. As a direct consequence of the Duke’s open handedness, other patrons found that their orders were inexplicably delayed.

  His Grace then wrote to Simpson;

  My Dear Simpson,

  I shall soon be returning to England. Please ask Scriven to prepare Sale House in readiness. He may hire such staff as he considers necessary. Please inform him that he may look to see me by no later than the beginning of April. I should be grateful if you would arrange for current accounts to be available relating to the state of the funds and the perfo
rmance of the estates.

  Yrs etc

  Sale.

  Finally, his Grace moved to the Hotel Alsace which was widely regarded as the best hotel in the city and therefore exactly the place where one might expect to find a visiting Duke. He booked a suite of rooms for an indeterminate period, demanded, and was given, every facility, and resumed his identity. There was however, one matter he had yet to attend to. He sent for Francis,

  “We shall return to England in a few weeks,” he said to the man who had been his constant companion for the last three years.

  “So I apprehend Your Grace.” Francis had also changed his attire. Gone was the road stained travel breeches and loose coat and, in its place, he now wore a close fitting black suit which proclaimed to the initiated that he was the personal servant of a gentleman of consequence. With the formal clothes came a formal attitude; Francis had instantly reverted to the Duke’s formal title as soon as his master had informed him he proposed to resume it. “We do not travel as light, since you have purchased new raiment, and I regret I may need a day or so to arrange for appropriate transport.”

  “I’m sure you will manage,” the Duke grinned. There would have been a time when the Duke would have apologised for putting his man to unnecessary trouble but three years of exposure to Francis’ dry northern sense of humour had left its mark. “When we return,” The Duke’s face became more serious, “you will need to decide as to your future.” He paused for thought. “When you first came away with me, I had no thoughts of remaining away for so long. You may have had other plans.” Perceiving that His Grace had not yet finished Francis held his peace. “When we return, if you wish it so, I shall pay you two years' wages together with the sum due to you at that point and I shall provide you with a reference. You will have no difficulty in securing other employment. If, as I can well understand, you have tired of attending to the caprice of others such as I, then I will assist you to set up in a trade or occupation.” His Grace took a breath, “I am hoping however,” his tone indicated that he was not indifferent to the course Francis chose to follow, “that you might decide to remain with me. The thought of having to get used to someone else is not an enticing prospect.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” replied Francis in his most formal tone but with a decided glint in his eye, “I endeavour to provide satisfaction.” The Duke, perceiving the glint, recalled a few of the occasions when Francis’ resourcefulness had extricated them both from a sticky situation, and laughed out loud. The matter was settled. Francis was remaining in the Duke’s service.

  That very evening saw the Duke visiting The House. Mr. Liversedge, having rapidly reviewed what he knew about the Duke’s activities over the last few years ventured a guess.

  “Your Grace has been travelling in Europe and, as no-one has heard anything of you for about three years I presume you have been incognito?” The Duke bowed slightly inviting him to continue. “As you have ventured as far as my humble house, I also presume that you are ready to be recognised again and,” at this point he looked decidedly uneasy, “you have some scheme for which you require my help. How may I be of assistance?”

  “You may be easy, I have not come to expose you,” reassured the Duke “but I do need some assistance. Rumour has it that you know of every snippet of gossip before anyone else. I need you to broadcast my return and let it be known that I am back. You can tell whatever story you like but news of my residence in Strasbourg needs to arrive in England by the end of February. My residence in Alsace has been of some duration you understand?”

  Mr. Liversedge gave the Duke to understand that he was more than happy to assist his Grace and explained that there were, in The House at that very moment, two English gentlemen who had the immediate intention of returning to England. Perhaps his Grace knew my Lord Chepstow? His Grace thought he may have had the pleasure some years ago and so a few minutes later Mr. Liversedge presented the Duke to two gentlemen who had just finished a hand of Deep Basset.

  “My Lord, a fellow Englishman, who desires this introduction. Lord Chepstow, the Duke of Sale. You may know that his Grace is resident here.” The look of comical astonishment that crossed his Lordships’ face nearly caused the Duke to laugh out loud, but an hour later his lordship returned to his hotel in full possession of the Duke’s (entirely fictional) experience of living in Alsace. Upon arriving back in England, he was able to be the first to relate that the Missing Duke was not missing after all but was resident in Strasbourg and had formed the intention of returning to England in the near future.

  The Duke did not intend to rush back to England and in any event; he wanted to ensure Lord Chepstow gave advance notice of his reappearance. He had not visited the Rhineland before and he decided to do so before embarking on the five-hundred-mile trip home. Once more he assumed the guise of the ordinary Mr. Rufford and set out, Francis in tow, to follow the Rhine northwards towards Frankfurt.

  After three days leisurely travelling they were approaching the town of Seltz when they were overtaken by a succession of impressive and very costly carriages drawn by some very high bred cattle. There was a high perch phaeton drawn by a black pair harnessed in tandem and expertly driven by a young man accompanied only by his tiger. There were five travelling coaches of various sizes and design but all accompanied by outriders and two Landaus containing a number of very serious middle aged gentlemen. Most impressive of all was a huge Berline, drawn by no less than six matched greys, and with the crest of its owner emblazoned on the doors. It was escorted by a group of grim faced mounted soldiers dressed in a uniform the Duke did not recognise.

  Judging by the number and size of the carriages that had passed, they were expecting Seltz to be a fashionable resort with many fine hotels and imposing private residences but upon arrival they were surprised to find that, while it was very pretty, the town was extremely small and there were, as far as they could see, no houses or hotels of sufficient consequence to provide the style of accommodation the passengers in the carriages would be likely to expect. Nor was there anywhere large enough to accommodate a dozen carriages and the horses that drew them.

  “That is most odd” remarked the Duke in a puzzled voice, “no less than a dozen carriages have passed us in the last hour, yet there is no sign of them. Where would you hide that enormous Berline, not to mention the six greys?”

  “Perhaps they passed on through,” grunted Francis in a tone that indicated he was far more interested in his dinner than the whereabouts of the missing carriage.

  The Duke laughed out loud at Francis’ lack of concern and, taking the very obvious hint he rode on in the direction of a small inn where the Duke bespoke supper and a bed for the night. Nonetheless the Duke’s curiosity had been piqued and, having eaten the splendid meal prepared by Monsieur Vallon, the French innkeeper, who had exerted himself mightily on behalf of his English guests, the Duke announced his intention to walk off the meal. He was determined to try to locate where all the carriages had gone and to find out what it was that could draw so many persons of quality to a sleepy town in provincial Alsace.

  Through long practice His Grace and Francis had easily fallen back into the habits they had acquired when travelling. One such habit related to the circumstances under which it was appropriate for the Duke to go out unaccompanied. In the early days of their sojourn in Italy the Duke sometimes attempted to set off on his own leaving Francis at whatever place passed for their lodgings. He did not bargain for his servant’s stern sense of duty and affection for his master. While Francis might deprecate the cosseting behaviour of the staff at Sale Park this did not, by any means, imply that he was prepared to condone a reckless attitude as to personal safety on the part of his employer. This solicitude initially grated mightily on the Duke who alternatively demanded his own way and threatened dire consequences if he did not get it. This behaviour had no discernible effect on his imperturbable henchman who just looked steadily at The Duke until he calmed down. Francis had rapidly concluded there w
as no point at all in arguing – actions spoke much louder than words.

  Thereafter, if the Duke was engaged with a party of newly met friends of noble birth, Francis would simply bow slightly upon being informed his Grace would not need his services, grateful for the opportunity for some time to himself. On such occasions, he would usually disappear off to an inn where he could flirt with a local girl intrigued by the English visitor with deep pockets. On the other hand, if Francis concluded that His Grace’s plans entailed a measure of risk to his person then if the Duke did not take his servant with him willingly, Francis simply followed and pointedly ignored any instructions to the contrary. Once Francis had rescued the Duke from a very sticky situation of his own making and had nobly refrained from pointing out that he had suggested to the Duke in advance that his proposed course involved an unacceptable level of risk, the Duke bowed to the inevitable.

  Moreover, and this the Duke realised only slowly, Francis never intruded where he was not needed. He might be talking easily with his master one minute and yet could fade inconspicuously into the background the next. There was therefore no reason not to take him and his personal safety decreed every reason why he should. By the time The Duke arrived in Seltz, he accepted, without question, that if he chose to explore a strange town at night then Francis would accompany him.

  As they ambled aimlessly along the deserted streets keeping a look out for the possible of destination of so many carriages the Duke exchanged a couple of remarks with Francis but after fifteen minutes they had lapsed into companionable silence. There was no sign of any of the vehicles and the Duke concluded that Francis had been right, despite the fact that the carriages entered Seltz at dusk, they must have passed through without stopping.

  The Rhine valley in January is not noted for the clemency of its weather. It was bitterly cold, there were small piles of snow where it had been swept off the road and the visitors had to be careful to avoid slipping on patches of ice. The town held little which might be of interest to the passing visitor and, as it had now been dark for well over two hours, the streets were well-nigh deserted. Both men were warmly dressed but even so, after a further quarter of an hour’s vain search, they were rather chilled and had begun thinking of the warm fire and the even warmer punch the innkeeper had promised. Accepting, for that night at least, he would be unable to solve the puzzle, the Duke turned resolutely back in the direction of the inn.

  They had wandered into a residential area. Lining both sides of the street were close packed houses which gave the impression they were occupied by well-to-do professional people. Indeed, a number of the houses bore a brass plaque by the door proclaiming that the occupant was a Doctor or a Lawyer or some other professional or wealthy tradesman. The Duke guessed that in the daylight the houses would be almost picturesque. Each had a small front garden that, this early in the year, was unadorned by any colour but which the Duke thought would look very pretty come spring. Many were obviously occupied and, despite the late hour, there were still a few where light streamed through an un-shuttered window or a half open door.

  The Duke remarked sardonically, as they were passing yet another such well-lit house, that it was clear Alsatians kept late hours and that local candle prices must be low but before Francis could reply they heard a clear voice coming from the house;

  “If you or any of your friends come one step closer I will run you through.”