Captain Jack Ryder

by Maggi Andersen

  “What did they ask you?”

  Caindale sat, stretched his legs out and sighed. He took a deep sip of whiskey. “Whether I visited Butterstone in Paris, which I had. It was no secret. What we’d talked about. Butterstone had been sent to Paris to deal with some matter for Castlereagh, because our foreign secretary is in Greece, working to maintain the Ottoman Empire and extend British trade in the Levant. Vital that we secure the land and sea routes to India.” He shrugged. “Our conversation centered on the usual parliamentary concerns. I sought Butterstone’s advice about a bill I wished support on. We talked about our families. My daughter, Lady Slowe, has recently given birth to a boy.” His face slackened with grief. “Dear God! I can’t believe he has gone.”

  Jack nodded sympathetically. Would Butterstone have told Caindale about the plot he’d uncovered to assassinate Napoleon? He’d want to discuss it with someone. Who better than a trusted relative? Perhaps Caindale did know and was keeping it close to his chest. It might prove wise for him to do so.

  Jack could see there was little more he could learn from him. The man was clearly shaken. He reassured Caindale that the ladies, although greatly upset, were as well as could be expected. Without mentioning Lord Butterstone’s diary, Jack finished his whiskey, and took his leave.

  The rain continued to hold off as he went on foot along South Audley Street to Butterstone’s house in Grosvenor Square. The air rang with the sounds of workmen who had taken up their hammers again after the deluge. There were many new houses in various stages of construction and those seeking work roamed the busy Mayfair streets. Painters, decorators, plasterers, some selling their wares, while delivery carts trundled along the macadam.

  Jack considered how best to deal with Lord Butterstone’s staff. The majordomo would be the man with whom to speak. The rest of the servants would likely clam up with a stranger in their midst. Dash it, he should have asked Ashley for a letter of introduction.

  ~~~

  By the time they’d finished luncheon the squall had passed, and they were on the road again, Harry seemed more at ease. They laughed when they saw a farmer who had been guiding his sow along the road with sharp prods of his stick, lose control and go chasing after the escaping animal. Erina said she was on the side of the pig. Then she and Harry got into a heated argument about whether the man’s livelihood was more important than an animal that was bred for the table.

  “You have a romantic view of life,” Harry commented.

  “I suppose so. Is that so very bad?”

  “It can lead you into trouble.”

  She had no reply to that. It was a distinct possibility.

  Some hours later with dusk falling, they drew into the Blackbird coaching inn where they would spend the night.

  “Are you traveling far, sir?” the innkeeper asked after Harry ordered a private parlor and two chambers.

  “Holyhead,” Erina answered him. “I am visiting my family in Ireland.”

  “That is a long way.”

  “My cousin has kindly offered to escort me.”

  He flicked a glance at Harry. “You are fortunate, indeed, to have such a good relative.”

  “I am.” Erina smiled warmly at Harry.

  “Do you think the proprietor believed our story?” Erina asked when she and Harry sat waiting for their dinner at the parlor table. She had washed and changed into a green and white sprigged muslin with rows of green satin ribbon at the hem and sleeves. She looked approvingly at Harry who wore a fresh shirt and crisp cravat, a handsome dark blue silk waistcoat with cornflowers in black satin beneath his Spanish blue tail coat.

  He shrugged. “He will have heard many such stories from his guests.”

  “It’s not such a stretch of the truth. It isn’t as though we are… we are….” She fell silent.

  “Eloping?” Harry offered, his tone unhelpful.

  “He wouldn’t think that!”

  “Who cares what the fellow thinks? As long as we get a hearty meal and a comfortable bed.”

  “Well, I care.”

  Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Do you? If you did, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Her spirits lowered. “Tomorrow you can be rid of me.”

  He scrutinized her. “Who says I want to be rid of you?”

  “You’ve made it quite plain.”

  “I shall take you all the way to Ireland. Right to your cousin’s front door. Have no fear.”

  “You will?”

  “I just said I would, Erina.”

  “But you don’t want to.”

  “Do I want to go to Ireland? Not particularly. Do I want to see you safely to your destination? Yes, indeed I do.”

  “Why?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You have a low opinion of me, don’t you?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that you’ve never said you would take me to Ireland, so I assumed…”

  “Please stop assuming. And stop worrying.” He reached across and stilled her hand as she arranged the cruet set in the exact center of the table. “I rather fancy a sea voyage.”

  She didn’t believe that for a moment, but she grinned. “At least you don’t have to do it on horseback. But what will you do with the curricle and the horses?”

  “A groom will be awaiting us at Holyhead.”

  “You knew all along….” She fixed him with an incensed stare. “You wanted me to suffer.”

  “No, I hoped you’d change your mind and allow me to take you home.”

  She didn’t know whether to hit him or hug him. But he was taking her all the way to Cathleen’s, so she smiled instead. “Thank you, Harry,” she said quietly.

  “No need to thank me, Erina.” He turned to the door. “Where is our meal? The service here has been better.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Yes. Once or twice.”

  “Then… the proprietor knows you?”

  “I suppose he might have recognized me. A good innkeeper remembers faces if not names.”

  She released a long breath. She’d been lucky so far not to have come across anyone who knew her father, or the whole of England would learn about this before long.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Jack walked through Grosvenor Square under the dripping branches of trees which hung over the ornate green iron railing, the smell of wet earth permeating the air. He paused for a carriage to pass along the wide street, then crossed to Butterstone’s home, one of the most impressive in the Square with six monolithic columns decorating the facade.

  He climbed the few steps and knocked at the front door set in the rusticated arcade. The footman who answered informed him the butler had been taken ill. “It was the news of the master’s death,” he said. “We are all shocked, sir.”

  Jack nodded in commiseration and handed him his card. “Would you inform Mr. Thacker I am here to see him on a matter concerning his lordship.”

  Several minutes later, the majordomo, Thacker, responded to the footman’s summons. A stocky man, his brown hair arranged in an artful Brutus, he took his time crossing the marble floor, as if filled with a keen sense of his own importance plus a devout need to be elsewhere. Jack could see how he would annoy other members of the staff, especially the butler who was usually the top of the tree among household servants.

  He offered Jack a frozen smile. “I hardly see how I can be of help, Captain Ryder, when his lordship died in the country.”

  “Nevertheless, I should like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Very well. Please come this way,” Thacker said curtly.

  It appeared that Thacker’s charm was reserved for titled gentlemen. Jack considered it an advantage for it allowed him the same latitude. When shown into the majordomo’s small office, he took the chair offered and put his first question to him in a faintly accusatory manner which might cause the man to be more forthcoming. “I have reason to believe his lordship’s luggage was permitted to be searched before it left this house, Mr
. Thacker.”

  “Permitted by whom?” Thacker sat back in his chair and stroked a hand over his hair. “His lordship’s baggage is always attended to by his valet. No one else.”

  “His valet has examined Lord Butterstone’s luggage at Ivywood Hall. He is quite certain it has been searched after he packed it. Who else had access to it if not you?”

  “Me?” Thacker moved on his seat, looking faintly alarmed. “I hope you don’t think that I…”

  “It’s not a matter of what I think, Mr. Thacker. It’s the fact that his lordship’s baggage was searched. You must know who has access to his rooms apart from the housekeeper and the upstairs maids.”

  “Only the footmen who brought the luggage down. His lordship’s secretary left the house before his lordship did.”

  “What happens to the luggage after it leaves the suite?”

  “It’s left at the front door before it is placed in the carriage.”

  “The two footmen work together?”

  “As always, yes. There were several pieces as well as her ladyship’s trunk.”

  “Have the footmen been long in the Butterstone’s employ?”

  “Charles since he was sixteen, and Ham came from the country eighteen months ago.”

  “When might an opportunity have arisen to search the luggage before it left for Ivywood Hall?”

  Thacker stiffened. “I don’t believe it possible without being observed. What is this about, Captain Ryder? Does it have something to do with his lordship’s tragic death?”

  “I’ve yet to discover if it has, Mr. Thacker. You’re confident that everything is as it should be in the running of the house?”

  Thacker stood his face reddening. “I can assure you…”

  There would not be much that happened which Thacker was unaware of. Jack nodded but remained seated. “I should like to speak to the housekeeper. And if you could make inquiries of the rest of the staff? I shall call again.”

  “I don’t see why…”

  “I am here on behalf of her ladyship, Thacker. With Lord Butterstone gone, it’s possible that you will be seeking a new position. No doubt you’ll require a good reference.”

  “Well, yes. If you will wait, Captain.” Thacker rose up on his toes. “If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll send in Mrs. Muffat. And I’ll find out all I can, of course. Happy to.”

  Thacker was ambitious. Ambitious men could be bought. Guilty or not, he looked like a hound caught sneaking the leg of mutton from under Cook’s nose.

  Mrs. Muffat, a small well-rounded woman with a capable air, stared at him curiously. “The two upstairs maids thoroughly cleaned and aired his lordship’s rooms after his departure. His linens were then sent to the laundry.”

  Standing, Jack smiled to put her at her ease. “Would the luggage have remained in the room while they cleaned?”

  “On that occasion, yes. It was delayed. The staff traveling to Ivywood Hall were ready to enter the carriage, but one of the footmen was busy elsewhere.”

  “Do you recall the incident?”

  “He’d been sent to deliver a note.”

  “By whom?”

  “I assume it was the butler.”

  “Do you know what the note was about or to whom it was delivered?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. I had other matters to attend to.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could find out. How long have you been in service here, Mrs. Muffat?”

  She clasped her hands to her breast encased in black bombazine. “Since I was widowed, sir. Some twenty years ago, now.”

  “And the maids?”

  “Beatrice has been with us for about three years. Amy joined the household last week. She replaced Sarah who was run down by a carriage. A terrible accident, which happened practically outside the front door.”

  “Amy was procured through an agency?”

  “Yes. We use Bright’s Employment in Piccadilly. They are generally reliable.”

  “I’d like a word with Amy if I may.”

  “I’m afraid she isn’t here. She is running an errand for me.”

  “Is it usual for an upstairs maid to run errands?”

  “Not usual, no, but she’s gone to the haberdashery. We are short staffed with the butler sick, and the household in an uproar after the sad news.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Muffat. I’ll call again,” Jack said with a polite nod. “Good day to you.”

  Frustrated, he left the house. Too many unanswered questions. He’d most likely need to return. He headed home, looking forward to an evening of lighthearted banter with Tim and Miles. Tomorrow, he would make another attempt to see Bascombe.

  When he entered his rooms, he found he had a visitor. His cousin Grant, sartorially elegant as always, was seated on his sofa.

  “How did you know I was in town?” Jack asked pleased to see him.

  “I called in on the off chance. Your valet said you’d gone off on an errand. Thought I’d wait. I’ve come to invite you to dinner.”

  “I shall be delighted.” Jack motioned to the drink’s tray. “I have whiskey. Care for one?”

  “Yes, please.” Grant pulled off grey kid gloves. “I expect you’ve received a letter from the solicitor. Am I right in assuming you have yet to read it?”

  Jack glanced at the letters on the silver salver. “I haven’t yet, no.”

  Grant grinned. “Good. I wanted to be the first to tell you about the reading of the will.”

  Jack walked over holding two glasses of whiskey. “Oh? I expect the duchess’ relations were all there. Anything of interest?”

  “Yes, they were there. Such a charming lot.” Grant leaned forward to take the glass from him. “I’m delighted to be the bearer of very good news. Your father purchased a charming pied-à-terre in Mayfair for you. Did he advise you of it?”

  Jack shook his head as a wave of sadness crashed over him. He swallowed. “The duke worked hard to turn me into a gentleman, but popular opinion was against him.”

  Grant grunted. “You’re more of a gentleman than many born to it. I blame the duchess for making you think that way.”

  “One might say she didn’t help, but the fact that I was born on the wrong side of the blanket cannot be disputed.” Jack held up a hand. “None of that bothers me anymore, Grant. I’m quite comfortable with who I am.”

  Grant grinned. “I could go on and list all your good qualities.”

  Jack roared with laughter. “Good grief! Desist, please!”

  “The house isn’t all your father left you, Jack. There is also a considerable sum of money, all that was not part of the entail, in fact. You now own several businesses, including a glass factory up north, and a farm which produces flax and linseed for oil.” He grinned. “I’d like to add that I couldn’t be more delighted.”

  Jack released a slow breath. “This is good news?”

  “You are a man of means, Jack. Like it or not.”

  “Damn it all,” Jack said softly with a small smile. “It appears Father has won in the end. I’m trapped. I’ll have to employ staff and spend my days worrying about my investments.”

  Grant shook his head and laughed.

  ~~~

  The rest of the trip to Holyhead was spent in an unspoken agreement that there would be no more differences expressed. Erina didn’t find it challenging. She eagerly looked forward to reaching Ireland, and her gratitude to Harry made her light-hearted. His amusing asides had her laughing at the drollest things.

  In the afternoon, the curricle swept down from the green hills to the water. Buildings hugged the shore as far as the lighthouse, and sailboats rocked gently on the ocean swell. Erina gasped at the limitless blue. “We have ponds and rivers at home, but this is the first time I’ve seen the sea. It’s… sublime.”

  “You are about to see a lot more of it. It may not seem so sublime then.”

  “It will be an adventure.”

  “If the seas grow rough, you might feel unwell
.”

  “The water is as calm as a millpond now. And anyway, I shan’t. I have an excellent constitution.”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “Well, I’m happy to assist if the need arises.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “And I’m happy to do the same for you.”

  “Ah, there is Joe waiting for us.”

  Harry’s groom raised his hand in welcome.

  Harry pulled up the horses and helped her down. “I gather you enjoyed the stage, Joe?”

  Joe grinned. “Not so bad, Mr. Feather. I was squeezed in between two ladies all cozy like.”

  Harry laughed. “Take the luggage to the Lord and Nelson in Stanley Street.” He handed the groom some money. “Arrange to stable the horses overnight. And don’t push them too hard on the way home. There’s a bed for you at the Blackbird coaching inn near Shrewsbury. Rest yourself and the horses there.”

  As Joe drove the curricle away, Harry offered her his arm. “Fancy a stroll?”

  “The salty sea air is quite bracing.” Erina threaded her hand around Harry’s elbow and they walked beside the sea wall. Gulls mewled, hovering weightlessly above a fisherman’s boat. The breeze carried a strong smell of fish.

  Harry pointed to the wharf farther out on the point. “That is Admiralty Pier where we’ll board the ship. I’ll purchase our tickets from the City of Dublin Steam Packet Company.”

  Erina widened her eyes. “It’s a steam boat?”

  “You’re about to experience something entirely modern.”

  She smiled at him. “How exciting!”

  “Depending on the weather, it should be pleasant.”

  The next morning was fine, with a brisk wind. Erina stood with Harry on deck as the big boat emitting an unbroken stream of smoke into the gray-blue sky from its twin funnels, drew away from the wharf. How strange it felt to watch land fade into the distance.

  “I’m glad you’re with me, Harry,” she admitted with a grateful smile.

  His gaze roamed over her, from the sorry state of her hat to the small cameo on her pelisse, then settled on her mouth. “Are you?”