‘That’s good to hear,’ he said and waved the letter. ‘Particularly as Lady Clearwater needs you.’
‘Oh?’ Mrs Baker was as flattered as she was interested.
‘She has written asking if I can spare you. Apparently, my mother, ending her period of mourning unfashionably early, has announced a ball, and that can only mean one thing. She needs your guiding hand.’
A brief smile twitched at the corners of the housekeeper’s thin mouth, but was quickly disguised.
‘This came by the afternoon post,’ he continued. ‘She asks if I can spare you. The ball is next weekend, and apparently…’ He studied the writing as if he had forgotten when all he was doing was thickening her intrigue. ‘Ah, apparently, Mary is unwell. You know how Her Ladyship is when her lady’s maid is unavailable. Mary has also been keeping house. She stresses, rather vehemently, that Larkspur is in danger of decline without you.’ He put down the letter and fixed her with an intent stare. ‘Your place really is with the mistress of the house and as there isn’t one at Clearwater, would you be happy returning there to save the day?’
‘If it is your wish, Sir,’ she said. ‘Although…’ She hesitated.
‘Yes? Please, whatever your concerns, I will know them.’
‘With no disrespect, My Lord,’ she said. ‘Mr Payne is new in his post. If Mr Tripp were here, I would have no qualms, but the accounts, the ordering, and now a new footman…?’
Archer put on his most charming, lost-boy expression. ‘You are, of course, correct, Mrs Baker,’ he said. ‘It will be a struggle, but I am loath to leave my mother at the mercy of the staff. Robert is a fine first footman and is managing the male servants, she says, but without overall leadership… You can imagine. And this ball is important to her. Would you return to Larkspur and put my house in order for me? At least until I can get there.’
Mrs Baker tipped her head, and when she lifted it, she seemed more relaxed. ‘Of course.’
‘Thank you. Have you seen to James’ livery?’ Archer asked.
‘I have, Sir, as best I can. I insisted one uniform at least be delivered tomorrow morning, but told the tailor the rest could come in a day or so, to minimise the cost.’
‘Good thinking as always. Mrs Flintwich and Payne can see to the ordering, Lucy to the rooms. I think we will manage. I can’t imagine you have anything of major significance outstanding around this house.’
‘Certainly not, Sir.’
‘I thought so. I’ll have Mr Andrej drive you to the station in the morning if that’s not too soon. Take Sally with you for the company.’
As suspected, Mrs Baker was more than happy to leave the city she hated, and her face lit up. Her place was with his mother, the mistress until Archer married.
‘As long as Mr Payne can manage,’ she said. ‘And you are sure, Sir, I will speak with Sally. She will be grateful for the change of air.’
‘And a chance to flirt with Robert, no doubt.’ Archer lifted his eyebrows suggestively, which surprised her, but the slit of her lips twitched again.
‘I don’t know what you mean, Sir.’ She did, and it was plain to see.
‘Us boys will manage down here,’ he said. ‘But if I have any problems, you shall be the first to know.’
‘I’ll need to put a few things straight.’ The housekeeper began organising immediately. ‘Mr Payne will have to see to the accounts, but if you’re happy with that, I can go first thing.’
‘Perfect, and you have a good time, Mrs Baker. It won’t be a holiday of course, but the air is cleaner, and you’ve been in the city since before father died. It’s about time the men managed alone. I am sure Mrs Flintwich will keep us well fed and under control. Take what you need for the fares from housekeeping, and thank you.’
Mrs Baker left the study with a spring in her step, a very unusual sight but a pleasing one.
‘What was that all about?’ Silas asked, turning in his chair.
‘It was actually all true,’ Archer said. ‘She’s bored here and uncomfortable. I don’t need a housekeeper when it’s just the two of us.’
‘And Tommy, this new man and Fecker. You turning this into a molly house?’
‘Now there’s a thought,’ Archer laughed. ‘And not one to be aired in public. Good Lord, can you imagine the fuss? No, Silas. Mother needs her housekeeper, and we don’t. Right!’ he slapped the desk and stood. ‘Brandy?’
‘Yuk, no thanks. Gives me indigestion.’
Archer rang for Thomas and, when he appeared, instructed him to close the doors. By then, he had served himself a large Cognac and was back at his desk.
‘Take a seat, Tom,’ he said. ‘Kick off your shoes, throw off your tails and lend me your mind.’
Thomas kept his shoes tightly laced but took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Silas drew him a chair to the reading table, and Archer joined them, bringing several papers.
‘Tom,’ he said. ‘I’ve sent Mrs Baker and Sally away to Larkspur. There will just be the four of us and Lucy in the house from tomorrow. I thought it best to have fewer servants around while you train James and we deal with this Quill matter. I hope you agree.’
‘I do, Sir,’ Thomas said. ‘Particularly as you have guests for dinner tomorrow night.’
‘I do?’
Thomas reminded him that he had invited Lady Marshall and Doctor Markland, the physician who attended him at St Mary’s.
‘As long as you can manage with just Lucy,’ Archer said. ‘Or we could borrow someone from Lady Marshall when needed and ask Andrej to help with service.’
Silas laughed, but cut it short when he saw Archer was serious.
‘Sorry, Archie,’ he said. ‘But that’d be like asking a docker to dance in a ballet.’
‘I rather agree with Silas,’ Thomas said. ‘I will take James in hand and…’
‘Oh yeah?’ Silas leered.
‘Don’t be vulgar.’ Thomas tapped him playfully. ‘And I am sure lady Marshall will be sympathetic. Doctor Markland, if I have read him right, will be as out of place as James, so he won’t notice if the new footman does anything wrong.’
‘As you say, Tom,’ Archer conceded. ‘No news from James, I take it?’
‘No,’ Thomas replied. ‘Fecker came back in the late afternoon. James had told him not to wait any longer. There was a lot to look through, but he said he would bring any news as soon as he had it, as long as it was not too late.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘It doesn’t look like he’s coming tonight.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Archer said. ‘But we can’t pressure him. He doesn’t yet know our purpose.’
‘Which is what, exactly?’ Thomas asked, taking the papers from Archer. ‘What’s this?’
Archer told him about their afternoon visit to the railway station and explained the sheets of information. Thomas read as he listened and looked at the bookshelves while Archer finished his story.
‘Can you excuse me a minute?’ he said, rising.
‘Of course.’
Archer watched as he left the room. He was exchanging a mystified glace with Silas when Thomas hurried back, put on his tailcoat and left again.
‘Did you learn anything from that stuff?’ Silas asked, indicating the railway information.
‘I hardly understood a word of it,’ Archer said. ‘All volumes and distances, weights and pressures. I was hoping for something less complicated.’
‘What’s your plan? You have got one, haven’t you?’
‘Not really.’ Archer sipped his drink. ‘But I do have a feeling.’
‘Which is…?’ Silas left it hanging.
‘That we have not heard the last of Quill.’
‘Because…?’
‘Because I have a suspicion.’
‘You know,’ Sila
s said putting on his cheeky grin. ‘That’s another bloody thing that’s so likeable about you.’
‘What?’
‘You can act so helpless with Mrs Baker you’ve got her around your little finger, but you know what you’re doing, don’t you?’
Archer winked. ‘And that’s what’s so lovable about you,’ he said. ‘You read me like a book.’
‘Ah, but only sometimes. What are you up to? Why do we need the house to ourselves?’
‘We don’t, particularly,’ Archer admitted. ‘But I think that having as few staff here as possible is a sensible thing. I have this feeling…’
‘You and your bloody feelings.’
‘I have this notion then, that we are in for a disturbing time and the fewer people who know about it the better.’
‘Have another brandy, mate,’ Silas laughed. ‘Maybe that’ll make you talk straight.’
Thomas arrived bearing the weight of several large books and staggered to the table where he dumped them unceremoniously in the centre.
‘What’s this?’ Silas sat back to give him room. ‘The butler’s guide to etiquette?’
‘I couldn’t carry that on my own,’ Thomas joked, removing his jacket. ‘Some of the late viscount’s reference books,’ he explained. ‘From the bottom shelves.’
Only the heaviest tomes were kept on such shelves, otherwise their weight would bow the wood. The late viscount had a penchant for books and had collected several hundred. He had always intended to read them in old age, but his love of hunting and alcohol had put an end to that.
Sitting, Thomas spread out the books.
‘You are fuelled by intuition, Archer,’ he said. ‘I was brought up to think intuitively too, but about cows and calving. However, my dad did encourage in me a sense of logic.’ He laid the station master’s specifications before them. ‘Here is the route of the train,’ he said. ‘And here are the relative speeds at which it is legally allowed to travel over certain terrains…’
Impressed, Archer listened as Thomas read out the names of stations and the speed the train would travel through them. Silas wrote them down, and Archer watched the pair over the rim of his brandy glass, glowing with pride. Once that information was collated, Thomas dragged the largest book towards himself and opened it. It was an atlas of the country with one county per page, several topographical maps of the land and others detailing specific areas. The centre pages showed a spread of the whole island with major towns and cities clearly marked.
‘The slowest points are here,’ Thomas said, turning to a map of the capital and pointing. ‘Obviously there’s the part of the journey before the train picks up speed and we can’t discount the possibility that Quill jumped before he left the depot. Having said that, I think it unlikely, else why bother to make the point of being seen boarding a train to get your attention and not just be seen in the street? The next possible opportunity he would have to get off safely wouldn’t be until this tunnel where the train enters at… five miles per hour.’ He pointed to a town a little way to the north. ‘But…’ Turning to another page, he showed Archer the place. ‘As you can see from the Ordnance Survey, the tunnel is long, and the train picks up speed before leaving it. Even if he risked getting off inside, in the dark, the chances are he would be injured. And again, it’s so close to the city, why bother?’ He followed the route with one of his slender fingers, and Archer noticed how well he kept his nails. ‘The bridges…’ He conferred with the railway notes. ‘Are all straight, and according to this, there is no need to slow the engine, not on the night train when there is little traffic on the tracks. It reaches full speed here, so that’s out of the question…’
He mumbled away to himself as Silas and Archer shared a look. Both sat back and folded their arms, happy to let him do the work.
‘No,’ Thomas finally said. ‘There is no suitable place other than the depot, as we thought, but at least that is now proved.’
‘So, we reckon he definitely got off at Barrenmoor?’ Silas sought clarification, and Thomas nodded.
‘Unless he committed suicide with his luggage, I agree,’ he said. He closed the atlas and reached for another hefty book. ‘”Porter’s Guide to the Northern Moors”,’ he explained, reading the index before finding the page he wanted.
‘And what’s at Barrenmoor?’ Archer leant in to read.
‘Not a great deal, it seems.’
Silas reached for the atlas and found the map of the area. He studied it while Thomas and Archer read.
Archer could see nothing which sparked a memory or an idea, and yet he was convinced Quill had gone there for a reason. He shifted his chair to sit closer to Silas and pressed his shoulder against him to see more clearly. Silas held his leg beneath the table, and a tremor ran through the viscount. It was ridiculous to think that he might, out of curiosity, go chasing after a man who had nearly killed his lover, let alone himself, but it was equally ridiculous that he should let the Ripper get away if he had a chance to capture him.
‘If only we had something else to go on,’ he said. ‘I feel like we are looking for clues where there are none.’
‘Does the name Barrenmoor mean anything to you?’ Thomas asked. ‘The locations of his East End murders triggered your suspicions.’
‘Barrenmoor?’ Archer considered it. ‘I can’t think of anything. What else is nearby? Arriving at that time of the morning, he either had someone to meet him or somewhere to walk to.’
‘Inglestone?’ Silas asked, reading out the names of the nearest villages. ‘Muchmoor, Wiltington, Saddle… What’s that?’
‘Saddlebroughton,’ Archer read. ‘No, nothing occurs to me.’
‘Good, I want nothing more to do with saddles. Fecking nightmare.’
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘Tell you what, Archie,’ Silas said. ‘As you know, my arse can take some fair hammering but that bloody…’
‘Yes, alright,’ Thomas interrupted, blushing. ‘Shall we stay on the point?’
‘Sorry, Tommy.’ Silas coughed, and squeezed Archer’s leg harder.
They had returned from the railway station and headed straight for a bath and bed, in this case, Archer’s, and they had shared both. Silas was as hungry for Archer’s body as he was for his lover’s, and it had only been Thomas’ discreet knocking that had woken them from their post-sex slumber, curled naked together in blissful afterglow.
‘And there is nowhere beyond the depot that would allow him to step from the train?’ Archer queried.
‘In the dark, travelling at speed anywhere is dangerous,’ Thomas said. ‘But the only place these specifications might allow is the new Invermoor viaduct, and that is even more remote, not to say extremely high. Unlikely.’
‘This is hopeless,’ Silas sighed. ‘We’re fishing in the dark and stabbing at ghosts.’
‘And several other mixed metaphors,’ Archer mumbled under his breath. Louder, he added, ‘Let’s get away from the table and take a drink. Perhaps that will clear our minds.’
They moved to the armchairs and sat facing the fire. Silas took a whisky and Thomas a glass of soda.
‘All we can do for now,’ Archer said. ‘Is hope that Thomas’ new friend comes up with something.’
‘Sir,’ Thomas said, forgoing Archer’s first name to indicate he was talking shop. ‘James is our new footman and a stranger to us all. It would be wrong to call him a friend.’
Thomas was right as usual. ‘Correct, Tom,’ he said. ‘And again, we must not let him know what we are about. However, I did notice the way you were with him and if you want to consider him your friend when you are upstairs…’ he pointed to the ceiling, ‘that’s up to you. I trust you to do the right thing.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And when I say right thing, I also mean what is right for you
personally.’ He reached over and took Thomas’ hand. ‘Just because I have Silas,’ he said, ‘doesn’t mean I care about you any less.’
Thinking that could be misconstrued, he did the same to Silas. ‘And just because I care about Thomas as my friend’, he said, ‘doesn’t lessen my love for you.’
‘Oh, Christ,’ Silas said rolling his eyes. ‘You read too many bloody books, Archie.’
‘You’re a cheeky little guttersnipe,’ Archer teased.
‘Yeah, but you love me.’
A knock on the door made Thomas leap to his feet and scramble for his tailcoat while Archer and Silas moved apart.
‘Hold!’ Archer shouted, calling, ‘Come!’ when they were ready.
Mrs Baker stepped into the room to discover Archer and Silas reading, and Thomas in the process of serving brandy.
‘Sorry to disturb you, My Lord,’ she said. ‘A special post has arrived.’ She shot Thomas a glare as if it was his fault that she had been called to the front door.
‘That is late,’ Archer said, accepting an envelope from the tray she offered. He dismissed her with thanks and opened it, discovering a picture postcard inside. When the housekeeper was beyond the drawing room, he passed the delivery to Thomas. ‘What do you make of that?’ he asked.
Thomas read the back of the card but was as dumbfounded as Archer, as was Silas when he took his turn to read the writing.
‘It makes no bloody sense,’ he said. ‘So I’d say it’s what we’ve been waiting for.’
‘It’s very unorthodox,’ Archer agreed, taking it and rereading the message.
‘Of course,’ said Thomas. ‘Murderers tend to be unconventional.’
Thirteen
His head ached, his fingers were sore, and he was tired, but James still had enough energy to tell his mother his news when he returned home just after ten that night. She was at first surprised, and then delighted to hear about his new position. His sister, on the other hand, was less than pleased that he would now be able to pay for furthering her education, but he made her understand how beneficial that would be and told her she would no longer have to share a bedroom, at which point she relented.
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 13
