Revenge of an Englishman

by Kevin Patrick

  "If I'm not mistaken, you didn't find the treasure alone," I asked Cromwell, with my thick artificial French accent.

  "You are correct. I was accompanied by three others. This is all very much public knowledge. The newspapers and journals reported all of this for many consecutive months.

  "How much treasure did you find?" I dared to ask. I was curious as to how much they had found and what share of the profit rightly belonged to me.

  "That information I never did share with anyone except the people who I found the treasure with. We split the treasure equally if that is of any information to you."

  "So you took a quarter of what you found?"

  "A third," James Cromwell corrected me.

  "But I thought you said there were three other people with you."

  "Yes, there were. However, one of my associates was killed during the expedition."

  "That sounds terrible. How did it happen?" I pushed on.

  "It is terrible and I'd rather not discuss the subject," Cromwell responded.

  Mr. Alexander and Mr. Campbell tried to comfort Cromwell upon hearing him say that the subject was a fragile one for him to discuss. They must have thought that he would feel emotional due to the death of a friend and comrade, but I knew the truth. It was probably the guilt of killing someone that made him not want to remember his past deeds, rather than the pain of losing a friend.

  "So do the other two men live in London near you? I assume you must all be very good acquaintances after the discovery the three of you made," Mr. Campbell quickly asked to change the subject area away from the supposed death of the fourth person who went on the expedition with James Cromwell.

  "No, in fact, that bit rather saddens me too. One of the gentlemen lives in Liverpool while the other is in Birmingham. We see each other on occasion whenever one of us travels to another city, but I do not get to see my old friends as often as I would like," James Cromwell said.

  The news that the other two attempted murderers lived in different parts of the country was disappointing to me. I was certain that I was going to take my revenge on the three people and having now seen James Cromwell and the comfortable life that he was leading, I was more hell-bent on getting even with the three people who stole everything from me. I wanted to carry out the revenge swiftly by using one of the many methods I had planned and strategized over the many years I had spent in captivity and the few free days I had had back in England.

  The conversation between Mr. Alexander, Mr. Campbell and James Cromwell continued without me as I remained silent and tried to process the information about the different locations of my soon-to-be victims. Not only did I fail to participate in the conversation that was going on outside of my head, but I also lost focus and interest in it. My concentration was only restored when I heard them talk about Mayfair. Mr. Campbell said that my lodgings were there and Cromwell said that his large house belonged to that district of London, too. My old contemporary, and mortal enemy, even offered me a carriage ride home after the festivities of the ball had come to an end. The finale of the ball was fast approaching according to Mr. Alexander. I refused the offer and said that I preferred late evening walks to carriage rides.

  "You French people are funny. You would prefer to make the journey on foot even though it will take you twice as long and leave you exhausted," Cromwell said.

  "I can't speak for all of France, but that is certainly how I prefer to travel," I responded.

  “It is curious that your surname is Levasseur, as that was the name of the pirate’s treasure we recovered,” James Cromwell then said to me, gazing at me.

  “The surname is quite a popular one in France. It is just a coincidence that I share the name of that pirate,” I responded.

  “It is a well-known name? I have never come across it during my many trips to France.”

  “You are going to the wrong places then. In the south-west of France, the Levasseur name is well-regarded and that is where it originates from,” I said with a smirk on my face.

  “Well, that is new information to me. I shall have to tell my wife that we need to be more adventurous in our travels, as it is she who selects our holiday destinations.”

  After that exchange took place, everything that followed happened so quickly. The details are almost like a blur to me as I had to move fast and I had very little time to process in my mind what my eyes were seeing and what it could all mean. It all started with the reappearance of Mrs. Campbell who I was happy to not have had to spend the majority of my time at the ball with. I could hear her voice grow louder from behind me as she approached the table from the rear of the room. I did not have to turn around to confirm that it was Mrs. Campbell, as her voice was quite distinct and after having spent time with her in the restaurant that evening, I was certain the shrilly pitch belonged to her. The sound of Mrs. Campbell speaking, as she approached the table, gave way to another voice. James Cromwell's face glowed and he announced that his wife was approaching the table now, too, and he would have no greater pleasure than introducing her to us. As Cromwell stood and began to do the ceremonious ritual of introducing the two parties to one another I turned around and stared into the eyes of my sister.

  Chapter 16 - Rearranging the Chessboard

  I looked at my sister and she looked back at me. I don't know if she recognised me or not, but I didn't keep her glance long enough to check whether she had. I got up from the table and said that I suddenly felt unwell. I asked the men at the table and the new arrivals to forgive me, and I quickly rushed away from the table. Even more than that, I quickly rushed out of the ballroom and as soon as I was out through the front steel gates that separated the premises from the street, I began running away from the scene at full sprint.

  It was a disorientating experience to have my sister, my younger sister, married to one of the men who had tried to kill me. Mrs. Cromwell, the words felt like a dagger. It was clear that things had changed in three years but I had not expected such a horrible turn of events to have taken place. However, this unexpected outcome had not changed my plans. I would still make sure that James Cromwell would suffer for his crime. I would punish him doubly for the audacity to marry the sister of the person who he had thought he had killed.

  For the entirety of the night, I walked around the streets of London. I walked near the palaces of the Royal Family and close to their majestic gardens and grounds, and I walked to the poverty-stricken areas of the city. I could hear the wailing of the children in the poor areas of town who were screaming from starvation and I felt sad for them. Similar to them I was in pain and yearning for something, retribution, but I suffered alone in silence.

  The day after the ball also brought some shocking news that I was unprepared for. I returned to the house where I had grown up and where I believed my family still resided. However, after knocking the door and it being answered by a butler, I found out the tenants of the house were not my parents and the butler had never heard of the Underhill family who had resided in the property before the current tenant. Apart from my sister who was now married to one of my greatest enemies, I did not know where on God's green earth my mother, father and brother were. This entire affair with my family made me so upset and anxious that I stayed in my hotel room for the entirety of that evening and the whole following day.

  The door of my hotel room was knocked on three times throughout my period of self-imposed solitude. Twice was by the chamber-maids who had come to clean the room and ensure that everything was fresh, and one was from the receptionist of the hotel who came to tell me that there was a note at the reception desk for me. The receptionist asked if I wanted the note to be delivered to me in my room, but I refused and said that I would go down to retrieve it when I was ready. It was near midnight on the second day when I left my room for the first time. I hadn't washed or cleaned while I remained in my room, but now I went downstairs to the reception to retrieve the letter. The night porter that manned the reception desk was a member of staff at th
e hotel that had not seen before. I told him that there was a note or letter written for me and that it was left at the reception desk. He asked me my name and then went to find anything significant to me.

  "There's no note," the night porter said to me after he rummaged around some documents and drawers at the reception desk.

  "I was told by the receptionist earlier that there was something left for me. Please check again."

  The night porter did as he was instructed and searched high or low.

  "The name is Levasseur?" the night porter asked again wanting to confirm the name that should be written on a corresponding note or letter as he searched the reception area for the third time.

  Success finally struck and the night porter found an envelope with Monsieur Levasseur's name on it. The night porter begged for my pardon and he said that he was only unable to find it initially due to the peculiar place where it had been stored. The porter said that had the day-time staff done their job appropriately then finding the envelope would have been a simple and fast task.

  "There is no need to apologise. Everything is fine," I said as I held the envelope in my hand.

  Normally, I would be a creature who enjoyed some degree of privacy and it would have been more in my nature to take the envelope back to my room to open it there without anyone else present. However, as I had spent the best part of two days alone in my room with nothing but the four corners for entertainment, I decided to open the envelope at the reception desk. The contents inside were not what I had expected and thankfully the night porter, who turned out to be a rather nosy employee, was able to help explain to me what I had attained.

  "It’s a box ticket to the theatre. They are performing Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' all this week. You are very lucky, sir. Many people have been waiting weeks and months for the opportunity to see it."

  "I guess I am fortunate," I said as I studied the ticket.

  "I would say you were, sir."

  I shook the envelope and peeked inside to see if there was anything else other than the ticket. I thought that a brief note or a written signature would surely be attached, but there wasn't. I asked the night porter if he had any idea who had delivered the envelope, but the night porter just shrugged and said that he had not been present when the envelope was delivered. He went on to say that if he had been working then he certainly would have recorded who delivered the envelope. The night porter cursed the day time receptionists and their ineptitude.

  Leaving the reception area and night porter behind, I returned to my room and thought about the tickets and who had bestowed them upon me. It was not a lengthy exercise as the only people who knew of my residence in the hotel were the members of the Campbell family. They had initially found where I was residing by sheer luck and determination as they had sent their servants around town to enquire after a Monsieur Levasseur and they had done this by going to the most luxurious hotels in London and asking if there were any guests checked in under that name. I deduced that the ticket was a gift from them and had most likely been delivered to the hotel by their hard-working servant who had delivered a myriad of messages back and forth when we were trying to organise a date for the meal in the restaurant.

  Despite my reservations about Mrs. Campbell whom I was increasingly starting to get more irritated by, I enjoyed the gift very much. Monsieur Levasseur could say that he was not acquainted with the arts or the finest writing in all of the English Empire, but William Underhill had once been a fanatic about such things. In my days of education, I would read all manner of plays and poetry. Shakespeare was my favourite playwright and although the work was created to be performed, I had only been able to read it. The ticket would allow me to see it performed in a theatre, in a lavish theatre, and I couldn't hide my excitement at the prospect.

  "A laborious connection that has yielded a good result," I said to myself.

  In truth, I was being too harsh on Mrs. Campbell. She was a good-natured woman and I was certain that I was not giving her the respect and credit that she was due. Her two sons were growing into fine young gentlemen and I had a lot of pleasant things to say about Mr. Campbell. If these three people in her life, her family, that she was the closest too in the whole world, were agreeable and charming, then I had to conclude that the lady of that household shared the same characteristics as the rest.

  In the dark hours of the night, I remained in my room and paced back and forth as I had during the night after my first full day in London. I couldn't sleep so I paced back and forth and thought over my plans. To me, revenge had become like a chess game. If I was to win and to get great satisfaction and feel a sense of achievement, then I would need to prepare and execute a flawless strategy. The problems I now faced in regards to my family were only temporary and I knew that if I was smart and cunning about it, then I would find suitable solutions to my problems.

  "You survived Shaka Zulu and the wilderness of barbarians. This is nothing to you, just a minor inconvenience," I said to myself and I knew that it was true.

  Like a carefully crafted game of chess, I looked at my situation from all angles. I looked at the characters on my board, distinguished the pawns from the rooks, and analysed what steps I could take to bring me closer to my goal. The constant issue that needed my attention, my resources, was my younger sister who was now married to James Cromwell. My younger sister was called Alice and I had always been deeply fond of her. Out of my two siblings, she was undoubtedly my favourite. My brother had been rough, condescending and constantly walked around with an air of superiority as he was the oldest and was set to inherit the major stake in the family's fortune. In contrast to my brother, sweet Alice was an angel and a ray of sunshine in my life. There were only a few years of difference between me and Alice and we had been close siblings growing up. We had shared a close bond.

  "She has been tricked or deceived in some manner. She doesn't know anything about what transpired between me and James Cromwell on the open sea. When she discovers the truth she will leave him. I know my sister and she has a pure heart."

  It was my faith in my sister and the pacing back and forth for those hours in the night that helped me lay the foundations of a new plan down. Like a chessboard that is always changing as the game progresses, so were the factors in my life. I concluded that my sister's marriage to Cromwell, although unfortunate, could be used to my advantage. I could use their bond of marriage and the deep knowledge I had of my sister to secure more information and deliver my revenge upon Cromwell, before liberating my sister from the monster. By speaking with my sister, I could also discover the whereabouts of my parents and brother.

  A feeling of ease washed over me as the morning sun started to rise. It had taken two days for me to regain my composure, but I had managed it. I had received two pieces of bad news and after meditating over the issues, and excluding the minor interval when I locked myself away in my hotel room, I had faced the problems head-on and instead of trying to avoid them, I was able to find a solution.

  As the early morning hours passed by, I washed and prepared myself and my clothes for the day ahead. I went back to the reception desk before it was time for breakfast to be served and finding the night porter still at the desk I spoke with him. I intentionally went to the desk early as I had formulated a plan during the night and for it to succeed I needed to employ the services of the night porter.

  Chapter 17 - Theatre Royal

  The next day passed by quickly and the weather began to worsen throughout it. It was not only raining, but it was miserably cold too. It was disappointing because I had shaken off the fears and negative feelings that had recently kept me a prisoner in my hotel room. Now, I yearned for the parks and gardens and the fresh air that were only a matter of minutes away from me, but the weather kept me indoors. During this time, I changed the scenery of my hotel room for the scenery of the reception area. There were a few comfortable chairs with cushions, so I borrowed a book from the hotel and spent most of my day in the reception area, th
e lobby, of the hotel and read the book. The collection of books in the hotel's library was small and the books were covered in dust due to neglect, but that didn't bother me.

  There was a quaint fireplace in the lobby area and although it was not lit and there were no pieces of coal or timber burning, several guests who entered and exited the hotel took a seat near the fireplace and admired its splendour. During my entire duration in the hotel, I had not seen as many people in the building as I had witnessed coming and going in the afternoon of that day. The hotel was busier than I had first suspected and from my armchair, I was able to glance at everyone who entered and exited the hotel by peering over my book.

  Almost everyone who I saw in the reception area was of no consequence to me. I did not know them, care for them, or want to know anything about them. However, there was one person that I kept a special lookout for, and every time I heard a new person enter the hotel I glanced up from my book in the hope of seeing the particular person. He first arrived, for the person was a man, three hours after I had first sat down in the lobby. I had previously told him that I would most likely be in my room or that I might be out walking, and if I was not present then to leave a note at the reception desk. Thankfully, when he arrived in the hotel I was in the lobby waiting for him.

  "Monsieur Levasseur," The man began. "I did everything as you instructed. I started the task as soon I finished my shift and I've only now finished it."

  The man was the night porter who worked at the hotel and who I had spoken to last night. Before breakfast this morning I went down to the reception desk and asked him to do me a favour. I told him that I would pay him handsomely for his time and efforts and he immediately agreed to help me.

  "Well, what happened?" I asked the night porter.