by Abigail Agar
Frederick nodded. He understood all too well. Frederick and three footmen carried Hobart up the servants’ stairs to his bedroom. Once he was stripped and in bed, a footman went to the kitchen and brought up food and drink. Frederick stole whisky from his father’s decanter and poured some of it into a wineskin.
Shona climbed the servants’ stairs every day for a week checking on her patient. Frederick slept in Hobart’s bed that week. Their parents didn’t even notice Hobart wasn’t around.
Frederick was devastated when, at the age of fifteen, Hobart ran away from home.
He was eighteen and had his own bank account by then, so he hired a private detective to find Hobart.
Over the years, Frederick learned to hire a private detective for a short period, usually six months. The first one strung him along for close to two years, doing very little except collecting Frederick’s coin.
Frederick assumed Hobart had changed his name, and he didn’t rule out that Hobart may be working on a ship or had sailed to America.
*****
After ten years of searching for Hobart, if there was any possibility that Hobart was alive, Frederick vowed to find him. Finally, he offered a reward. It was coin the likes of which any dockworker or farmer couldn’t resist. There was no honour among thieves. Someone would turn him in.
Hobart was medium tall with brown hair and brown eyes. The only thing that made him stand out from every other person with that description was an X on his upper arm, facing out. It was a mangled thing, but it was easy enough to see.
The reward did it. And quickly. Within a week of posting it, the private detective, Quinn sat across from Frederick in his London townhouse telling Frederick where he lived.
He lived over a pub near the docks.
“Take me to him,” Frederick said.
Frederick stood and pulled the bell for Mendon.
“Your Grace,” Mendon bowed.
“I want four footmen in here in the next ten minutes.” He turned to Quinn, “Take me to him.”
The four of them walked to the docks, and Quinn continued to lead them through a maze of streets populated with houses that all looked the same. Nondescript brown houses with a window and a door in the front.
Frederick was afraid Hobart would run from him although he didn’t know why he would.
Quinn whispered in Frederick’s ear. “Third one down on the left. There’s a back door, so I suggest you split them up front and back.”
“Can he jump out the window and run?”
“Yes. Have them cover the door and the alley.”
Frederick whispered to his footmen and pointed. “Got it.”
Silently, they all nodded. When they moved into position, Frederick knocked on the door loudly. “Hobart, it’s me, Frederick. Please let me in. I want to see you.”
Frederick saw the shadow of a man in a window with no curtains withdraw and heard his footsteps fading to the back.
Frederick turned to his footmen. “Stay here until I call you.” He ran to the back door where two footmen were holding Hobart down.
“Let him up,” Frederick said, then called the footmen up front to join them.
He looked at Hobart. He had a full beard. Frederick began to cry, ran to him, and hugged him hard.
He wouldn’t let Hobart go. “I finally found you,” he said through sobs. “And you’re too thin. Come, we’ll get you bathed, shaved, and fed. My clothes will hang off you too, but they will have to do for now.”
“No,” Hobart said.
“No?” Frederick repeated.
“I won’t go with you.”
Frederick leaned back from his hug without releasing Hobart. “Why ever not?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what? You can’t put me in danger because you are in hiding? You can’t stand seeing the sight of me? What is it Hobart? What?”
Frederick hugged him again, tighter. He lowered his voice and whispered in Hobart’s ear, “I beg you. I’ve been searching for you since the day after you ran away.
“I’ve had one private investigator after another trying to find you. Please, Hobart, I beg you. Please don’t leave me again.”
Frederick stood in front of Hobart, hugging him, not letting him go, whispering, “Please,” in his ear over and over again.
Hobart blew out a long breath. “I’ll make you a deal, Frederick. I’ll come, clean up, eat a meal, and visit with you. But then I leave, and you don’t stop me. Deal?”
Frederick looked into his eyes. “Will you come once a week? You know, clean up, eat a meal, visit?”
Hobart looked into Frederick’s eyes. They were red and swollen from crying. “Maybe. Let’s see how today goes.”
Frederick looked at the closest footman. “Get the carriage.”
Hobart shook his head. “The carriage won’t fit down these streets. We’ll walk to the carriage.”
“Quinn, get us out of this maze.”
Frederick turned to Hobart. “Quinn found you when all the other private detectives I hired didn’t.”
Hobart nodded at Quinn.
The carriage ride back to the townhouse was awful. Frederick was jumping out of his seat wanting to get Hobart home. The London traffic was at a crawl.
Frederick instructed a footman to run ahead and have two baths prepared. “And tell Cook we are having roast duck this evening.”
Hobart lifted his head to look into Frederick’s eyes. “You remembered.”
Frederick snorted. “Don’t be so surprised; I remember everything about you. That is, up to the point when you were fifteen. And you know everything about me up to the point I was eighteen.
“You will meet my wife, Amelia, and my daughter, Louisa. They make me happy. Like you. You make me happy.”
Hobart put his head down and looked at the floor.
“There is nothing you can say and nothing you have done that will change how I feel about you. Nothing. It will be better once you bathe, though.”
Hobart met Amelia and Louisa then Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, brought Hobart to his room. A steaming bath beckoned, soap and clean towels waiting.
“His Grace has instructed the valet to bring you some of his clothes, and the valet will cut your hair and your beard. The clothes you are now wearing are to be burned.
“His Grace’s valet is named Mr Jakes.”
Frederick paid Quinn and gave him a bonus for his good work. He also gave him the reward money to pass along. “It was all worth it.”
Amelia came in after Quinn left. Her smile was bright, her eyes shone.
“You must be so pleased,” she said.
He smiled back. “I am. He didn’t want to come. I begged him.
“He said he’d agree to bathe, put on clean clothes and eat. Then he wants to leave. I’ll obviously try to get him to stay. If not, he’s thinking about coming once a week to clean up and eat.
“I need to change. I fear I have the stench of the docks clinging to my clothes.”
Amelia smiled again. “Yes. You do smell. Isn’t it wonderful?”
He grinned. “I’ll go now. I don’t want him to be finished before me.”
When Frederick saw the clean, shaven, dressed Hobart, he began to cry again.
“Frederick, if you are going to cry all night, I’m not going to be able to take it,” Hobart said.
Hobart sat with Amelia, Louisa, and Frederick in the parlour before dinner. Frederick had told Amelia and Louisa to stay away from asking personal questions, so Amelia asked about Hobart’s childhood.
“Frederick told me you used to sneak into his bed every night. He said he always missed you when you weren’t with him, and he slept better when you were beside him.”
“We were across the hall from each other, so it was easy to do. It gave me a feeling of comfort having him there. Of course, I had to tell him to stop talking several times a night so I could sleep,” Hobart said.
Dinner was a success. Hobart ate the duck, closing his eye
s and humming between bites. The pudding at dessert was a special treat.
“Amelia, please tell your cook that I thoroughly enjoyed the meal. I haven’t had pudding in at least ten years. What a treat.”
Frederick stood. “Ladies, if you will excuse us, Hobart and I are going to the library for an after dinner drink.”
Louisa said, “Goodnight, Uncle Hobart, it’s almost my bedtime.”
He walked over to her and squatted to face her. “Goodnight, Louisa. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He kissed her forehead and stood.
In the library, Frederick handed Hobart a glass and sat. “What do you think?”
“Your family is very nice, Frederick.”
Frederick shook his head. “What do you think about staying? Perhaps forever.”
“I can’t.”
“But why?”
“Look, Frederick, I can’t.”
“You need to tell me why, Hobart. I can’t let you go unless I know why. Is it me? Are we no longer brothers and friends?”
“Frederick, do you know how some people say you can go a year without seeing your best friend and pick up where you left off the minute you see each other again? We did that tonight after ten years, no less. It was never you. It will never be you. I just can’t stay.”
“Hobart, please listen to me. I need to know why. My brain is thinking the worst.”
“What is your brain thinking?”
“That you killed someone. That you’re stuck hiding because you see no way out.”
Hobart gave a bitter laugh. “You know me too well Frederick.”
“So, tell me the details, and we’ll brainstorm about how to handle it.”
Hobart sat back in his chair. “You’re serious. You want to help me get away with murder.”
“I don’t know what I want you to get away with until I know what happened. First, how long ago did it happen?”
“Look Frederick, I didn’t steal a chicken from the neighbour’s yard. People think I murdered someone.”
“How long ago?”
“Three years.”
“Hobart, tell me the story.”
“I was in a bar at the docks, drinking away the last money paid to me because the job was over when the bar wench started showing interest in me.
“I saw what I thought might be her boyfriend giving me a harsh look, so I left.
“So he tried to rob me, and I swung at him. I connected in the jaw. Then I connected in the ribs, and then I connected in the nose. Well, you know where this is going.
“I walked past an alley, heard noise, turned and saw a fight.
“Someone behind me yelled, ‘Hey you.’ I looked back, saw him looking at me, and I ran. As fast and as far as I could. When I stopped, I was in another neighbourhood in another part of town. That’s the part of town you found me in.
I was afraid if I surfaced, I’d go to jail for murder.
“Frederick shook his head and laughed. “I remember that murder. Quite sensational.
“It was Jem Studder. Three years ago, he was found dead in an alley. He was wanted dead or alive for a string of murders that took place outside a pub at the docks. There was a reward. You could have collected two pounds.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. This calls for another drink.”
“They apprehended someone for Jem Studder’s murder a couple of months after he was found dead. The case is closed.”
Frederick handed Hobart his drink. “You’re not leaving me again. I’ve finally found you today after ten years of looking. After having finally found you today after ten years of looking, after hugging you, clinging to you, crying uncontrollably like a little girl out in the street in daylight, do you think I’ll ever let you go?”
“Well, when you put it like that, no.”
“I want you to stop hiding. You can live with us. If you don’t want to live with us, you need to live close enough that I can visit you every day or, at worse, every other day. I need you in my life.
“You’ve got to admit having clean clothes, a bath, and food in your belly feels good.”
Hobart smiled. “It does at that. Frederick, I’m as happy to see you as you are to see me. I’m just not blubbering in the street.”
Chapter 4
By the time Frederick distributed the profits from the last shipment, more investors were lined up to put their money in the fund for the next investment.
Several gentlemen approached Frederick at his club, White’s, asking about contributing to the investments he oversaw. He told each potential investor that he would keep him in mind.
He considered taking on more investors and capping each investor’s share, but he rejected the idea. His investors expected a big payout, and they wouldn’t appreciate it being diluted for someone new.
Frederick didn’t have to invest. He ran his properties well, and compared to most of his peers, he was financially solvent. He did it because he enjoyed it. What else was he to do with his time?
A potential investor, Barton St. John, the Duke of Hamilton was a very suspicious man. He never quite believed what people told him.
So he ‘researched’ everything and everyone on his own. He was usually a tight wad when it came to money. However, he spent freely on private investigators.
Enemies, friends, lovers, potential brides, family members. No one was off-limits. He found it never hurt to be prepared.
His favourite hobby besides overeating and drinking heavily was his horses. He acquired them then sold them. He sometimes bred them. But he did it for fun.
When he went to the Tattersall’s horse auction, he would gather a crowd while he explained why a horse was or was not worthy. He had a reputation for acting like a know it all, but when it came to horses, he knew much more than most.
Frederick approached him one day at the club and asked for his advice. Frederick was in the market for a gelding and the go-to gentleman was Barton.
Frederick spent some time with Barton at the club giving him an overview of what he wanted to buy. It was the first time Frederick had talked with Barton. He saw him around the club, of course, but they never had a chance to meet. He found Barton fascinating, but for all the wrong reasons.
He obviously ate a lot more than was necessary, and he had the colouring of a drunk. But Barton was fascinating because Frederick couldn’t figure out Barton’s age.
Was he youngish and had abused his body so much that he looked older or was he older with a baby face and smooth hands? Frederick could never quite decide.
“But that is only if you plan to hitch him to a wagon,” Barton finished.
Frederick was jolted back to the here and now. “No, no wagon Barton.”
“That’s good. A workhorse should be used for pulling a wagon. A gelding is best to carry a single mount.”
“I agree, Barton. I think we are of one mind about the right horse for me.”
At the time of delivery, Barton’s research on Frederick was complete. Frederick was very pleased with his horse. During his research, Barton found out how lucrative his investments were and decided to become one of Frederick’s investors. And with anything Barton wanted, he had a way of getting it.
“I’m pleased we had a mutually beneficial sale for your gelding. I would like you to consider adding me to your investors’ list. Do you think that could be done, Frederick?”
“I’ll see what I can do, Barton. I might not be able to squeeze you in on every deal, but if one of my other investors passes on an investment or there is room for one more, I’ll let you know.”
“That’s all I can ask,” he said with a smile.
He did not want Barton as an investor. It was times like these that Frederick wished his word were not his bond.
*****
Hobart let Frederick know that he would need the money to buy the crates of exports he planned to deliver to India. Frederick went to the dock with two of his largest footmen acting as bodyguards. They stood on each side of t
he closed door of the office in the warehouse while Frederick and Hobart conducted business inside.
Frederick dug under his shirt to a pouch two fingers tall he had wrapped around his chest.
“Here,” he gave Hobart the pouch. “Everything you need. I could have taken in more, but I capped it. I’m glad I did. I can’t let these transactions get unwieldy.”
