'No, sir. If I do, I'll send him to you.'
At that second, Watters had another man on his mind. He did not know what made him turn; he only knew that the man standing in the doorway was dangerous. There was something about the way he carried himself, an aura of awareness, like a hunting cat or a prize-fighter as he entered the ring. The man saw Watters at the same time and instinctively put a hand inside his jacket.
Watters recognised that movement. The man had been reaching for a weapon. Forcing a smile, Watters stepped forward. He had seen this man before, except on each previous occasion, he had been wearing a bowler hat with a feather tucked into the hatband.
'Good evening, sir.' Watters held out his hand. 'I am Sergeant George Watters of the Dundee Police.' There was no harm in letting the man know with whom he was dealing.
'Good evening.' The man took his hand from his jacket. His grip was firm. 'Walter Drummond.'
'I've seen you around Dundee.' Watters pushed his advantage. 'You're a friend of Henrietta Borg.'
Drummond looked confused. 'I am afraid I don't know anybody of that name.' His accent was North American; Watters guessed from one of the Southern States.
'You might know her as Isabella Navarino.'
'I know that name well enough,' Drummond agreed at once.
'May I ask why you are here?' Watters prepared to block Drummond if he reached for his weapon. Having a man from the Southern States in the same room as the United States vice-consul could lead to significant complications for Mr Beaumont.
'I have business with Mr Caskie.' Drummond smiled. 'He is waiting for me across there,' he nodded behind Watters, 'talking with his new wife.'
Charlotte was still engaged in a heated discussion with William, punctuated by the occasional quick smile as she greeted the guests.
'I'll come with you.' Watters saw Beaumont shaking hands with Holderby. 'I'll wish the happy couple all the best.' Keeping between Drummond and Holderby, Watters walked across to Charlotte and William Caskie.
'Ah, Drummond,' William extended his hand.
'You have the most charming of wives.' Drummond's bow would have graced the finest salon in Paris. 'I have something for you.' He put his hand inside his jacket in that old, familiar gesture that had Watters preparing to leap on him. However, rather than a weapon, Drummond produced a long paper with an ornate seal.
'I wish you the most possible happiness for the future, Mr and Mrs Caskie.' Drummond handed the sealed paper to Charlotte, who immediately ripped it open.
Charlotte looked up, smiling. 'So much! Oh, Mister Drummond! I can nearly forgive you for robbing me of my husband.'
'I'll only detain your husband for an hour or so,' Drummond said. 'After that, he is all yours.' He bowed again, smiling. 'I do not understand how he can bear to tear himself away from such a charming wife merely for business.'
Charlotte bowed. 'You are too kind, sir. I willingly relinquish my husband to such an eloquent and generous man.'
Watters stepped back and watched as Drummond and William Caskie retired to another room. He saw Charlotte open the document again to re-read whatever sum of money Drummond had handed her.
'Miss Amy! Miss Elizabeth!' Watters called the girls over. 'I require you both to do me a major service.' He lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'I want you to watch for a man coming downstairs and engage him in conversation. While one of you holds his attention, I wish the other to fetch me immediately.'
'Is he a handsome gentleman?' Amy asked, wide-eyed with innocence.
'More importantly, is he an eligible gentleman?' Elizabeth patted her hair into even more immaculate place.
'He is both handsome and intelligent. I cannot answer for his eligibility,' Watters told them. 'Although, dressed like that,' he allowed his eyes to briefly flick onto the low neckline of Elizabeth's dress, 'you could charm a gargoyle from its stance.'
Both girls giggled with Amy pretending to be shocked and Elizabeth tapping her ivory fan against Watters's arm. 'Where is this gentleman, Sergeant Watters? And why do you want us to charm him?'
Watters smiled. 'I wish you to charm him to help your father, Miss Amy, and to ensure he does not meet the United States' consul, who is your father's guest.' He gave them precise instructions. 'I hope your intervention is not necessary.'
'I hope it is.' Elizabeth was laughing. 'A handsome gentleman to enchant?' She wiggled her hips in a manner that Watters knew would shock her respectable mother. 'I am sure I can manage that, Sergeant.'
It was an hour before Beaumont appeared with Holderby. 'Gentlemen! Mr Holderby!' Watters approached the American consul with his hand outstretched. 'It's a pleasure to meet you again!'
'Why, thank you, sir.' Holderby looked his surprise at Beaumont, who watched Watters through narrowed eyes.
'I am Sergeant Watters of the Dundee Police,' Watters reminded him with a lowered voice. 'I must warn you that we have another of your countrymen present. His name is Walter Drummond, although I am not sure from where he comes but certainly somewhere in the South.'
'I was not aware that we had such a guest,' Beaumont admitted.
'Sergeant Watters!' Amy panted up. 'Elizabeth is with that American gentleman!'
'Thank you, Amy. I will be along directly.'
'I wish to meet this Mr Drummond,' Holderby said.
'Is that wise, sir?' Beaumont asked.
Holderby looked at Watters. 'I wish to meet Mr Walter Drummond.'
Watters raised an eyebrow. 'Come with me, sir, and I will introduce you.' He was unsure what the correct diplomatic procedure was for enemies meeting at a private house, but his philosophy was to keep things in the open. Violence and resentment smouldered in secret places rather than in the light of day.
Guiding Holderby through the press of highly dressed women and evening-suited men, Watters marched straight to where Drummond was backed against the wall, pretending interest in Elizabeth's tales of the wonders of Paris.
Elizabeth changed her subject matter as Watters approached. 'Did you realise, sir, that a lady's waist is ideally twenty-two inches round?' When Drummond shook his head in assumed fascination, Elizabeth tapped his arm with her fan. 'While a gentleman's arm is twenty-two inches long! Is nature not admirable to arrange things in such a manner?'
'Nature is indeed wonderful,' Drummond agreed.
'Mr Drummond and Miss Caskie!' Watters was aware of Beaumont and Holderby two paces behind him. 'I am afraid I must interrupt this most interesting conversation.'
Elizabeth gave a little curtsey, smiling to Amy as she slipped quietly away.
'Mr Drummond,' Watters said. 'I would like to introduce a good friend of your host. May I introduce Mr Holderby, the Vice Consul of the United States of America? And Mr Holderby, this is Mr Walter Drummond.'
Unsure what to expect, Watters was surprised when both men shook hands with perfect politeness, although he was aware of the underlying tension. 'I know that your nation is experiencing certain difficulties at present.'
'Difficulties!' Holderby gave a small smile. 'There's a damned war going on!'
'So I believe.' Watters conceded the point. 'But that war is being fought on American soil. I think it best that in this house, you should meet in friendship, or at least in the spirit of neutrality.'
'Neutrality it is,' Holderby said at once. 'I have no intention of embarrassing my host, who is a good friend of the United States.' That was well emphasised, Watters thought.
'Excellent.' Watters did not relax. 'I would like to assure you both, gentlemen, that Mr Beaumont did not draw up the guest list, or this unfortunate situation would never have arisen.' He could feel Beaumont's glare switch from him to Amy, who was beginning to look discomfited. He saw William Caskie hovering in the background.
'Can I assume that Mr Beaumont's household will not be disturbed in any way?' Watters allowed an edge to creep into his voice. He did not want to threaten these gentlemen, but he was prepared to use as much force as necessary to ensure the peace of Mount
Pleasant.
'Mr Beaumont's house has always made me welcome,' Holderby said, 'and I would never abuse his hospitality. I cannot, however, speak for my fellow countryman.'
Drummond bowed, first to Beaumont, then to Watters, and lastly, and fleetingly, to Holderby. 'The culture of the South, gentlemen, is the apex of civilisation. We are the true descendants of the knights of chivalry. With our unique heritage, we are trained in culture from infancy.'
'Your unique heritage, sir, includes trading in human flesh and keeping innocent men and women in bondage!' For all his professions of neutrality, Holderby was inclined to be verbally aggressive.
'My dear, sir.' Drummond tried to move beside Holderby to find that Watters was there first. 'Our Lord approved of slavery, and repeatedly exhorted slaves to know their place and obey their masters.' Drummond's hand twitched, but Watters was leaning against his left side. He could feel the hard bulge where the pistol was.
Drummond bowed again, this time to Amy. 'No gentleman from the South would ever disturb the peace of his host and especially not when we have the company of such beauty. I was told that the fairest roses grew in England, but now I remind myself that Scotland has her own variety.'
'Thank you!' Elizabeth gave a curtsey, and as Drummond bowed in return, Watters used the opportunity to deftly thrust his hand inside Drummond's jacket and remove a long-barrelled Colt from its shoulder holster.
'I shall take care of this for you, Mr Drummond. That way you will be able to dance with more freedom.'
Before Drummond could reply, William Caskie appeared with Charlotte at his side. 'Mr Drummond! I see that you have met my father-in-law.' He glanced at Watters, and his tone chilled, 'and his pet bulldog.' Caskie ushered Drummond away, leaving Watters holding the Colt.
'Was that altogether wise, Watters?' Beaumont eyed the pistol.
'I believe so, Mr Beaumont.' Watters tucked the Colt into the waistband of his trousers. 'I will take care of this. Both visiting gentlemen know about the other, and we have asked them to respect your neutrality. I would doubt that there will be any trouble now.'
'Very good, Mr Watters. However, your methods are sometimes a little too direct for my taste.' Beaumont relaxed a little. 'You have my apologies, Mr Holderby, for any embarrassment I have caused.'
'No need, sir. I asked to meet this Drummond fellow. Your man, Watters, seems to have the measure of these gentlemen of the Secesh government.' Holderby nodded briefly to Watters, a smile at the corners of his mouth. 'I will say, without intending to cause offence, that Sergeant Watters's dress sense leaves a lot to be desired.'
Amy and Elizabeth both giggled at that, with Amy nudging Watters with her fan.
'I'll be speaking to you later, Amy.' Beaumont's voice was as stern as Watters had ever heard. 'This situation could have been extremely damaging.' He looked across to Holderby, who shook his long head.
'Nonsense, Mr Beaumont. I'm sure that the young lady meant no harm. These things happen, do they not? So let us just enjoy the night.' His bow took in both Elizabeth and Amy. 'Mr Drummond and I will merely avoid each other's company.'
'I'll watch Drummond,' Watters said quietly. 'He seems to be a bit of a loose cannon.'
Mrs Mary Caskie sailed across, tutted at the demeanour of the servants, took Elizabeth aside for a disapproving word about her too-revealing dress, and smiled politely to Holderby and Drummond simultaneously. The Americans are not the only people who have mastered the art of polite diplomacy, Watters thought as Mrs Mary Caskie found herself a chair. Elizabeth, not in the slightest disconcerted by her mother's disapproval, joined Amy.
Watters moved to a position against the wall where he could watch both Drummond and Holderby. He started as Elizabeth slapped Amy across the face.
'Miss Elizabeth!' He strode forward, fearing that a general row was about to break out, but Amy was not concerned. Stepping to a mirror that hung prominently on the wall, she examined her cheek.
'Not yet, Elizabeth. Do it again, harder!'
'But I don't want to hurt you, Amy.'
'Do it!'
Elizabeth did so so that Amy gasped, then again checked the mirror, smiling at the red blush that marked her cheek. 'Now the other one—I want a high colour!'
Once Amy was satisfied, she struck Elizabeth with some force until both girls had bright cheeks, to which they added by biting their lips until they were swollen and as red as their faces.
'Oh, what we suffer for fashion and beliefs!' Amy laughed to Watters. 'Some ladies swear that a slight pinch on the cheek will add blush, but that colour soon wears off. Others, from,' she dropped her voice a little, 'from lower down the social scale, actually wear makeup, but that's not suitable for Ladies! We must make do.' She twirled around, allowing her crinoline to rise from the floor and reveal her multi-layered petticoats. 'What do you think, Sergeant Watters? I look much more attractive than Charlotte! And now she's fallen out with William again, so she's off to sulk in her boudoir while we enjoy the dancing!'
The Dundee Philharmonic Society provided music with their violins and the piano drowning out all sound except the rhythmic batter of feet on the wooden floor.
'Oh, just look at Isabell Grant!' Amy's voice sounded high through a break in the music. 'That's never a silk dress; it's alpaca, or I'm a canary in a cage!'
'Some canary, you! Elizabeth was panting at her side. 'With that red-and-blue dress that your father does not yet know he has to pay for! But see the look that Isabell is giving you! You're in the black books now!'
Drummond proved to be an expert dancer, matching anybody in the waltz, despite Mrs Mary Caskie's objection to such an 'indecent display, with such voluptuous intertwining of the limbs. Such violent embraces and canterings! To think that my daughter should be a witness to such an exposition!'
'You surprise me, Mrs Caskie, for I hear that Her Majesty is something of an expert, and your daughter appears to be following the example of her queen.' Mr Beaumont winked to Watters as he offered an arm for Mrs Caskie, who tutted then accepted.
Elizabeth laughed as Drummond twirled her round with great speed. 'My, Mr Drummond, I feel as safe as the Bank in your arms and as happy as a cricket! La, do you have any sons of my age?'
'Is that a reminder of my advancing years, Miss Elizabeth?' Drummond frowned as he realised that Watters was watching him closely. 'Do not fear, Mr Watters. I will not upset the equanimity of my host.'
The music whirled them away for a few moments. Watters waited until they returned before continuing the conversation. 'I trust in your word, sir; now, when you have a moment, could you inform me why you grace this city with your presence?'
The orchestra came to a finale, the dance partners bowed to each other, and Drummond released Elizabeth into the arms of an eager young elegant. Watters strolled across and repeated the question.
Drummond gave a slow bow. 'Business, Sergeant Watters, business, and no gentleman should inquire into the business of another.'
'I am afraid that my job does not submit to gentlemanly behaviour,' Watters said. 'So I must ask again what business you have in Dundee.'
'Mr Drummond's business is with me.' William Caskie appeared at Watters's shoulder. 'I assure you that it is not connected with your case. Neither Mr Drummond nor I were in Calcutta when that unfortunate fellow was murdered, and neither of us has been starting fires in Mr Beaumont's premises.'
'Thank you, Mr Caskie.' Watters knew he could progress no further at present. 'I will take your word as a gentleman that neither your business nor that of Mr Drummond affects my case.' He stood back as Holderby and Amy strolled past, smiling at some private joke.
The music started again, a polka that was sufficiently loud to drown out their conversation. Watters saw Drummond looking past him where Amy was dancing with Holderby. The United States vice-consul had accompanied Amy through the quadrille, leading like an expert, but had failed miserably in the intricate steps of the minuet.
'Are you not dancing, sir?' Drummond altered
the angle of the conversation. 'The ladies are well worth the energy!' His smile seemed genuine. 'Come, sir, put politics aside for a while and concentrate on the finer things of life: wine, music, and some of the fairest creatures that it ever has been my pleasure to observe.'
Drummond was such a charming man that Watters could not help but meet his bow. 'Perhaps you are right, Mr Drummond. Both Miss Elizabeth Caskie and Miss Amy Beaumont would grace the finest houses in the land, while Miss Isabell Grant is not at all far behind, whatever Elizabeth thinks of her dress!'
Both men laughed, Drummond signalled to a servant, removed a brace of brandy-and-waters from his silver tray, and presented one to Watters. 'Your health, sir, and the health of our host, Mr Beaumont!'
The drink was welcome, and when the music changed to a slow waltz, Watters moved to the side to allow more space on the suddenly crowded dance floor. Mr Beaumont swept past with Mrs Mary Caskie in his arms.
'They make a fine couple.' The voice was unexpected. Mrs Foreman appeared beside Watters. 'Don't you think?'
'I had not thought at all,' Watters said.
'Oh, but they do,' Mrs Foreman said. 'They make a fine, if a mismatched, couple. There's poor Mr Beaumont who still mourns his wife, and Mrs Caskie, the woman who wore black for less than a month when her husband died.' She tapped Watters's leg with her fan. 'I see you are not dressed for the dance, Sergeant Watters.'
'I am not,' Watters confirmed.
Mrs Foreman sighed. 'That is a pity. I think we would make a fine couple as well; we are better matched than poor Mr Beaumont and Mrs Caskie. I do hope he knows what he is doing. I would not wish him to be the next husband that she buries.'
'There are far superior dancers to me in this room,' Watters said.
'Perhaps there are superior dancers, Sergeant Watters, but less interesting people.' Mrs Foreman teased Watters by flicking open her fan and peering at him over the top. 'I think I shall join you.' She sat at his side, accepted the glass Watters extracted from a passing servant, and sipped delicately. 'How are your enquiries progressing, Sergeant? That is the right word is it not? Enquiries?'
The Fireraisers Page 16
