I was sat down in his office. I recounted what had occurred and what I believe had been Jessie’s motive. Clearly none of this was music to Gordon’s ears. ‘This is a total disaster; you realise that Reeves.’
I stared back at him, unable to raise the words. ‘Did you contact the mother about Pierre?’
‘No, I was on my way to the post office when it happened.’
He breathed deeply. ‘Good. From now on we will have to make the boy’s presence in the fort top secret. Two men at least have died, possibly murder by the sound of it. There will be a coroner’s report, perhaps a criminal trial. The evidence, and motive, might come back to you, and by association myself. When you got involved in all of this I explained how delicate international relations were with France, how we could not countenance any obvious involvement in the affairs of the French court in exile. Now we have two possible murders to deal with.’
He stood up and paced around the room. At length he spoke.
‘Leave this to me. This is what will happen now. On no account contact Marie. It would also be prudent for you to leave the fort and go back to London. Do I make myself clear?’
I answered in the affirmative.
‘Obviously, the constabulary may well wish to interview you, depending on what Jessie Armitage says to them. We shall of course make sure Pierre is well looked after. If anyone asks, we shall say he is an orphan found half drowned in the river. No mention shall be made of the French connection. Is that all clear?’
I stuttered, ‘Yes, sir and thank you for—’
He stopped me dead. ‘Do not thank me. I have done my Christian duty, that is all – let us hope that there is no price to pay for that. Now go and pack your bags.’ I looked at Gordon, then without any handshake walked out of his office.
I was shocked but knew I had to accede to his demands. I left the fort, left Gravesend that day. I said my sad farewells to Asif and some of the other friends I had made there. At midday I was on the ferry back across the river and from Tilbury Fort station, caught the train back to London. My time on the riverside was over but I would keep my promise and not contact Marie… Not yet anyway.
Thirty-Four
New Starts
It was with a heavy heart that I returned to my shared rooms, near the Bell Foundry in Whitechapel. Luckily, my brother was on permanent night shift at the printers in Fleet Street, so I did not need to make small talk with him. I could just stare out of my bedroom window at the constant activity on the Whitechapel Road, of people coming in and out of London.
Our rooms were in the best part of Whitechapel, and we were surrounded by fairly successful tradesman. However, the dirt-poor parts of the locality were just a stone’s throw away. The city was busy, always busy now. There was the constant clatter of horses and carriages passing by my window. There was so much horse manure left in their wake I often wished I had a garden, so that I could collect the dung with a bucket and spade and spread it on the soil. No such luck. I was stuck in first-floor rooms, looking out over the main London-bound road.
I had a mountain of paperwork to catch up on, which included a written statement to the Gravesend Police recounting the events of that fateful morning when Lynch and Bennett perished. It always amazed me, the fragility of life. One moment they had been strutting down the sunlit street, a wealthy sea captain and his agent, the next instant and they were just bloodied meat and bones. Extinguished.
I wondered how Jessie was doing but dare not ask. However, I guessed that at some stage the constabulary would want more from me. The idea that the deaths were just some tragic traffic accident really did not stick. Everyone in the town knew Lynch and Bennett had enemies so there was bound to be a serious police investigation into their deaths.
I also worried about Pierre, how was his recovery going, and how soon could I contact Marie? My love for her was giving me sleepless nights. I had hoped my mind might find interests elsewhere, but if anything, our separation was making things worse, I could not get her out of my head.
Two weeks had passed since my leaving Gravesend. It was a Saturday and, though late July, the rain was pouring relentlessly down the windowpanes. It had rained all night, then all day, so even my restless walks had been put on hold. In Whitechapel many of the shops were now owned by Jewish immigrants, so Saturday, their sabbath, was a noticeably quiet day. I tried to read but nothing could take my mind off Marie. Things were getting worse, not better.
In Chislehurst Marie looked out of her bedroom window. It was Saturday morning, but only 4 a.m., dawn had yet to rise but she felt unable to sleep. It had been raining all night and this had made her room feel damp and cold. She had now been under virtual house arrest for over two weeks.
Toulouse had cut her off from everyone. From the other staff, from looking after the ailing Emperor – everything. She was not even allowed to read newspapers. She was in total limbo. Clearly her presence here in the French court was seen as toxic by Toulouse, but Louis was still too ill to make a decision on her future. Camden Place was a beautiful house with high ceilings and picture windows, fine ornaments, and every imaginable comfort – but now it was just her prison. Members of the court, who had previously been her colleagues, now shunned her. She stared out the window but there was no light, no glimmer of hope. She still yearned to find her son, and she was missing William. He seemed like the only person in the world who cared about her. The room was cold and damp, even in the height of summer. Sleep seemed unlikely so she decided on some action. Anything to break the monotony and boredom.
Checking to see if the coast was clear she stepped out of her bedroom into the main corridor. Then tiptoed down the stairs to the servants’ quarters. Luckily all the doors were unlocked, and nobody was about. Soon the servants would be up and at it, preparing the house for the day ahead, but at this moment she was alone. So, she walked into the servants’ room and over to a pile of old yellowing newspapers in the corner. Taking a few of these, she quietly returned to her room.
There was a coal scuttle in the bedroom, also lucifers’ for lighting the candles
She set about tearing up the newspaper to set a fire in the hearth. The thought of a glowing hot fire cheered her.
Then an odd thing happened; just as she was tearing the first few pieces, a story in the paper caught her eye. It was from The Times and two weeks old. The article was about the deaths of a well-known local businessman in Gravesend, John Bennett, and the captain of the Spirit of Rochester, John Lynch. Both were killed in a tragic accident while walking to the Excise office, being hit by an out of control brewers’ dray. The driver of the dray, Jessie Armitage, was in hospital with serious injuries.
Marie read the article again and again. So, they were dead. But there was no mention of William, or anyone else she knew. It was too much of a coincidence for this to be an accident. She knew she must contact Gordon immediately to find out what had occurred, and if there was any news of Pierre. She would have liked to send a telegram to William but had no address for him. There was no option other than to take matters into her own hands.
Marie put on her strongest, most weatherproof coat, and slipped out of the bedroom.
She walked down the grand staircase and then slipped out through one of the back doors. The house had a long driveway through parkland, with high ornamental gates to keep intruders out. Marie guessed these might be locked so instead went across the parkland and squeezed through a gap in the perimeter fence, probably made by the local children. She then walked through the pouring rain, down the country lane, to the village post office. It was still too early, and not open, so she waited under the covered lichgate of the adjacent churchyard, until it was. As soon as the post office opened she walked in and dictated a telegram addressed to Gordon, at New Tavern Fort, imploring him to give her some information on what was happening. Having completed her mission, she returned to the house, retracing her steps so that her tem
porary escape would not be noticed.
Gordon got the telegram that Saturday afternoon. He did not want Marie involved but knew that sooner or later she had to be allowed to see her Pierre. Though whether the boy would recognise her would be another matter. He then telegrammed William in London.
*
It was with some relief therefore, that late on that wretched Saturday afternoon, a telegram boy arrived with news from Gordon. It was an invitation to meet him at New Tavern Fort on Monday. It was the news I had been waiting for.
*
I arrived back at the fort, at the appointed time on the Monday morning. Gordon greeted me coolly; he was clearly still preoccupied. We went into his office and he explained the situation to date.
‘Thanks for coming back Reeves. I am sorry to say things have not cooled off since you left. The town is rife with rumour. I have also received a telegram from this Marie woman, asking about your whereabouts and if there is any news on Pierre. It is a good thing our security here at the fort is good, or we would be besieged by journalists trying to find a story.’
I said nothing and let Gordon continue. ‘We have Police Inspector Daniels coming to see you this morning. Straightforward sort of fellow. Just give him nothing to chew on. If he pushes as to why you have spent so much time in Gravesend, tell him you have been doing special assignments for myself, but you cannot reveal what they are – as they are militarily sensitive. Got that? Same if he mentions Lynch, Bennett or Armitage – say as little as possible.’
I nodded. ‘Thank you Gordon for your help with this but what I really want to know is how Pierre is doing?’ Gordon sighed slightly and adjusted his sitting position. ‘I am afraid the news is not good. He is now in hospital just outside Dartford, in a room by himself. It seems his physical health is improving, albeit only gradually, but his mental condition is, shall we say, delicate.’
‘I would like to visit him as soon as possible and with Marie by my side.’
Gordon’s face dropped at this. ‘I think that would be unwise. The boy is not ready yet and the situation here is too fragile.’
‘I must insist. Marie has a right to know her son is alive. I will be discreet and keep her away from here. I will also keep her identity secret at the hospital.’
We sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Gordon relented. ‘Very well. So be it. But be careful. You have much to lose if word of this gets out.’
I stood up, shook his hand, and left the room.
Within minutes I was walking into town to send a telegram to Chislehurst. The contents of my message were a problem. What do you tell someone when their child is safe after being lost, possibly dead, for almost a year? Finally, I decided to keep it business-like, and simply inform her of the facts. That I hoped we could meet tomorrow at Gravesend station at 10 a.m. from where I would take her in a horse and carriage, to the hospital where he was being cared for.
Simple stuff, but my hand was shaking as I handed my note to the telegraph office clerk. I gave my address as the Eagle, as I wanted to keep all publicity away from Gordon.
I then walked back down to the Eagle, and booked in. Sam seemed glad to see me again and had my old room available. Having organised this, I went back to the fort for my interview with Police Constable Daniels. He soon arrived and was much as I expected, old school, stiff and humourless. He did a lot of writing into his notebook. I sat and answered his questions without saying very much at all. Clearly the police were suspicious but the seafaring community in Gravesend had already adopted a wall of silence around Lynch and Bennett’s death, so unless a motive could be proved, Armitage might well get off scot free. Which suited me.
*
At Camden Place, my telegram had been received and scrutinised by Toulouse. After deciding on what action he thought appropriate, he took it into the ailing Emperor’s bedroom and discussed the contents with Louis Napoleon himself. Marie was then summoned to the drawing room for a private meeting with Toulouse, which the Emperor would not attend.
Marie entered the room looking as well turned out as always. Toulouse stood in front of her. ‘Thank you Marie for meeting me. I have some news, which you may find more than acceptable.’ Marie stood nervous, vulnerable, her outer persona crumbling. ‘What is it?’ she said.
Toulouse fingered the telegram in his hand and took his time to answer. ‘Good news – your son, Pierre, has been found. It seems that Mr Reeves is to thank for this.’
Marie almost swooned at that moment. Seeing this, Toulouse reached over and caught her as she tipped forward. ‘Now, now madame. Please sit yourself down. Clearly this is too much for you.’ He then helped her into an armchair. She could not contain her excitement. ‘Is he well? Has he been injured?’
Toulouse sighed. ‘I’m sorry, the telegram only gives the briefest of facts. However, Mr Reeves does want to meet you at Gravesend station tomorrow, from where he will take you to be reunited with Pierre.’
Marie sat staring back, trying to find the right words. She stuttered, ‘And it will be alright for me to leave the house and go to Gravesend?’
Toulouse gave a greasy smile. ‘Of course.’
Marie smiled; this was her dream come true. ‘I will bring Pierre back to the house, so that Louis can see he is alive and well?’
At this, Toulouse’s demeanour changed. ‘I have briefly discussed the contents of the telegram with the Emperor. Whilst we welcome the news, we do not feel that it is appropriate for Pierre to live in this house with you.’
There was a stunned silence. ‘But why?’ Marie implored.
Toulouse seemed to enjoy his next statement, his lips making the most of every word. ‘Let us be frank Marie. I know that in the past, the Emperor has been fond of you. There was even talk that Pierre might be his son.’
‘Pierre is his son!’
Toulouse was not going to allow this to break his flow. ‘The problem is that the rumour has been a cause of upset to the Empress Eugenie. Louis feels that seeing Pierre around the house might be upsetting to his wife. So, we are both minded that you should leave the court and return to France.’
Marie was speechless. Toulouse less so. ‘Obviously, we would see that you were financially secure and would find you a residence in Paris, where you and Pierre could start a new life.’
‘What if I said no?’
Toulouse sighed. ‘I am afraid that would not be acceptable. If you do not agree to these terms, then I will put you under house arrest. You will not keep your rendezvous with this Mr Reeves, and he will assume you do not want to know. Then at a later date we will escort you back to France. Have I made myself clear?’
Marie was crestfallen but she knew that Pierre must come first. ‘Very well. I will meet my son tomorrow and we will travel on to Paris. You have got what you wanted.’
Toulouse brought his fingertips together; the meeting was over, he smiled. ‘Splendid. Please pack a bag. I will provide any necessary paperwork for the voyage. That will be all.’
At that he clicked his heels and walked out of the room. Marie went back to her bedroom and reluctantly prepared for her departure.
*
I returned to the Eagle later that afternoon and soon had a telegram boy bringing me news from Camden Place. Yes, Marie was delighted and would be at the station as arranged. I was thrilled beyond measure. I returned to the fort to look up Asif, who now appeared to be a permanent fixture at the garrison. He was pleased to see me, as I him. Gordon also lent us the engineer’s stagecoach and four horses, which Asif could drive if need be.
I could hardly sleep that night. I hoped that Marie felt the same. Dawn broke. The sun shone. I walked to the fort and got onto the footplate of the carriage alongside the smiling Asif. All was well. It was time to meet Marie again.
Part 4
Journey Home
Thirty-Five
The Hospital
We parked the horses and carriage outside Gravesend station. It was nearly 10 a.m. and the town was buzzing with activity. I left Asif in charge of the horses and waited on the platform for the train from London. I felt very anxious about the day ahead, but I knew that I must see this through. All common sense went out the window when Marie was involved, she had that hold on me. I waited patiently, time dragged on, I looked again at my pocket watch. Finally, I could see the smoke from the engine as the train emerged from the deep chalk gorge into which the rail line is set. It trundled to a halt alongside the platform. I waited a few moments for the smoke to disperse – and there she was. I had to stop myself running towards her, but instead tried a nonchalant stroll. She was on her own. Beautifully dressed as always. Beautiful as always. She was wearing the deep maroon skirt she had worn when we first met, and as usual her hair was tied immaculately into a bun, with her dark hair contrasting with the white blouse that came up to her neckline.. All as well. Only one surprise, she had a heavy bag with her that the porter was helping her take off the train. I tipped the porter and picked it up myself, it was indeed quite heavy.
I smiled. Her gentle small hand reached out and I bowed down and kissed her fingertips. She looked at me and spoke softly. ‘Is it true William? You have found my boy?’
I stood up and looked into her eyes. ‘Yes, Marie, we have done it. He is alive.’
She seemed almost overcome and for a moment I thought she might swoon. Finally getting herself back together and dabbing a tear from her eye, she replied, ‘Thank you, thank you so much. I never thought this day would come.’
I just stood there staring at her. The train was now departing, and noise and smoke filled the air for a few seconds. Then all was quiet again. ‘I have to tell you Marie that although Pierre is safe, he is unwell, so he has been taken to a hospital.’
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