Chapter 26
To be betrayed by a friend is bitter medicine and the thought of striking back kept needling at James. Now he saw Frank for who he was, understood for the first time the hurt he had done, not just to him, but to Belle and to others; and slowly the impulse to seek justice and revenge turned into a colder, more pragmatic way of thinking. Though he was still nursing an injury and was a virtual prisoner in Charlie’s house, yet James felt stronger than he had for years. There was a discipline now to his day in learning new skills from John and Charlie. They had opened his mind and challenged him in ways that tested his own understanding of who he was. Yet he felt frustrated that others were fighting his battles for him. His restlessness had been growing for days. He needed now to become an active participant in the war he had started, and his first battle, he resolved, would be against Frank Harcourt.
It was this resolve that sent him running down the stairs to the kitchen that morning. ‘It’s time I did something,’ he said, as he flung open the kitchen door. The scene before him took his voice away for a moment. Charlie had an arm around Mrs Hawker’s shoulder, whispering into her ear, as she sat at the table. She instantly leapt to her feet, blushing, knocking her head against Charlie’s head in the process. ‘Good lord, Master James,’ she shouted. ‘You almost did for me, bursting in like that, shouting like a mad thing. Now sit yourself down and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’
‘I would love a cup of tea,’ James said, realising that his embarrassment was nothing compared to hers. He wondered if he should say something about what he had seen, but felt too awkward. Politeness and diversion seemed the best course of action, for the moment. What he was about to propose could not be done lightly. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you with my entrance, but I have resolved to put the skills Charlie has taught me into action. Do you think I am ready, Charlie?’
‘Well young ‘un,’ Charlie answered, still red faced. ‘You’m as ready as you’ll ever be in terms of picking locks and shifting catches, but it depends what you has in mind.’
‘I’m going to rob Harcourt, to hit him where it will most hurt – in his pocket.’
‘Well I don’t like the idea of you stealing,’ Mrs Hawker interrupted, now recovered from her embarrassment. ‘That’s not how you were brought up.’
‘I’m not taking it up as a profession, Mrs Hawker,’ James replied. ‘But I know now that Harcourt was behind the attacks on me, and on Miss Bennett, and I intend to extract some justice.’ He looked at Mrs Hawker, who seemed unconvinced by what he said.
‘We could just give him a beating,’ Charlie said.
Mrs Hawker gave him a disdainful look. ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right. What would your father have thought?’
‘I think my father would approve. Not of a beating, but of justice. There is an element of honour in what I intend. Harcourt holds letters with which he is blackmailing a lady. I intend to take them and return them to her. If I happen to find other valuables in the process, then I believe there would be some justice in relieving him of them and putting them to better use.’
‘Where’s Harcourt’s house?’ Charlie asked.
‘In The Circus.’
Charlie frowned. ‘That’s bad news. There’s always peelers round there.’
‘I was thinking of eliciting Miss Bennett’s assistance,’ James replied. ‘I remember well what you taught me; that the easiest way into a house is through the front door. That’s providing Miss Bennett is willing to help, but we need to make preparations today. I need you, Charlie, to visit Miss Bennett and ask her to call urgently and tell Tom to come. It must be him that drives Belle. It must be someone we trust.’
Charlie nodded his agreement and James turned to Mrs Hawker. ‘I need you, Mrs Hawker, to sew some strong deep pockets into the lining of my overcoat, the one with the shoulder cloak. I do not want to draw attention to myself carrying a bag. Most of the tools I’m likely to need should fit into pockets providing they are sturdy.’
‘I’ll do it if your mind’s made up,’ Mrs Hawker replied, ‘but please don’t go taking risks. I don’t want to see you injured again or worse.’
❖ ❖ ❖
Most of that morning James spent ensconced in the drawing room with Charlie and John. Under Charlie’s guidance he drew plans of Harcourt’s house. Though he knew the layout of several of the rooms, he had to guess at others, but even then Charlie insisted that his guesses be based on whatever objective information he could draw upon. They were all in agreement though that their success or otherwise would largely depend on Belle.
Tom joined them after lunch and explained with a toothless grin where he could borrow a hackney cab.
‘No,’ James said, ‘you must hire a cab for the evening. I don’t want to attract any police attention and Miss Bennett must not be put in danger.’
‘It’ll cost you,’ Tom said.
‘Charlie will give you the money,’ James replied. ‘We will look on it as an investment. Do you know where you can get a cab for a few hours?’
‘I can get one,’ Tom said.
❖ ❖ ❖
In the late afternoon, Belle arrived wearing a dress of pale blue. James wanted to compliment her, to say that it made her eyes even more dazzling, but he felt awkward in the presence of the others. He wanted to say that the dress made her look so young, such a free-spirit, but all he said was, ‘Such a pretty dress, Miss Bennett. Is it new?’
She took the compliment with a smile. ‘Yes, quite new. My friend Jenny made it for me.’
‘It’s perfect for tonight,’ Charlie said. ‘You look a proper lady.’
‘Miss Bennett is always a lady,’ James found himself saying, before he could hold back the words. She smiled and nodded to him, but he found himself avoiding her eyes. ‘I intend to rob Harcourt’s house tonight and take whatever he treasures most.’
James looked up to gauge Belle’s reaction. He had expected an element of pleasure on her face, but he saw none.
‘Not for me,’ she said. ‘You are not doing this for me?’
‘For you, and for me, and for everyone else he has hurt,’ James said. ‘I understand if you do not want to be involved, but I will proceed by other means if you are unwilling. You will not dissuade me.’
‘Then tell me what I can do to help,’ Belle said. ‘My only proviso is that I must be in the theatre by half after seven.’
‘Tom will get you there. Won’t you, Tom, and you’ll look after Miss Bennett?’
‘To be sure I will,’ Tom said.
❖ ❖ ❖
Belle felt uneasy that evening waiting in the hackney cab on the corner of Brock Street, by The Circus. The longer they waited, the more her discomfort grew. In part it was nervousness, she knew, but there was more to it than that. She kept thinking of how she had deceived James, not in what she had said, but in what had been left unsaid.
When James had told her that he was going to steal all that Harcourt valued, she had wanted to blurt it out, ‘He has a safe in his bedroom on the second floor.’ But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, not in front of the others. She had tried again, when he had seen her to the door, but the words still wouldn’t come. If she had said it, she knew what conclusions James would draw, and he would have been correct, and she would not have known how to explain. He must know though, about Harcourt and her, yet he had never pressed her. She wondered what Harcourt had told him about her? She wanted to tell James everything, to make things open between them, but she couldn’t, not yet.
The sound of the peep-hole in the roof of the cab being slid back shook her from her thoughts. Tom was leaning over from his seat, peering into the cab, giving her a wide smile, seemingly unashamed of his largely toothless mouth. ‘We’re all depending on you, Miss, and that we are.’
‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘Your words make me feel so much better.’
Tom laughed. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Miss,’ he said. ‘You’re as pretty tonight as
any girl in Ireland.’
‘You’re very kind, Tom,’ Belle replied. ‘And they all say you’re such a quiet man, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose?’
‘Ah, what do those eejits know? And besides, why would I be wasting my blarney on a bunch of ugly men? I’ve always had a greater liking for talking to the ladies.’
‘I can see that,’ Belle said.
‘In truth I’ve always had a bit of a gift for it, so I have, but I haven’t always been missing my front teeth. It’s just that some of the women I enjoyed talking wid had husbands or sweethearts and the more I enjoyed the talking, the more teeth I ended up losing.’
‘You’re a handsome man, teeth or no teeth,’ Belle said.
‘You’re very kind to say so, miss.’ Tom paused for a while, as though reflecting on what he was about to say. ‘And I may not always give out much, but I take a powerful lot in. Only this afternoon I got the idea into my head that you already have eyes for someone. Not that I thought I stood a chance for a moment.’
Belle laughed. ‘Get away with you, Tom, and keep your eyes where they should be.’
Tom leaned back and his face disappeared from view, though she could hear him chuckling to himself and then whistling some cheery tune. It was almost quarter to seven and they had been waiting for over three quarters of an hour, occasionally completing a circuit of the green, but always returning to the same place to wait, as Tom whistled away to himself.
The Circus was one of her favourite places in Bath; at least it had been until Harcourt. The circular street was built in the shape of an amphitheatre, the tall houses with their pillars and pediments forming a continuous perimeter wall, broken only by its three entrance roads. The ring of houses like a lofty coliseum overlooked the green at their centre, as though it were the arena of an amphitheatre. The homes were well-lit, reflecting the status of their residents. The upper floors looked almost like boxes in a theatre, looking down on the drama that was about to unfold.
❖ ❖ ❖
Billy was breathless and sweating when James answered the door to him. ‘Harcourt’s gone out, Mr Daunton,’ he said. ‘John sent me to fetch you and I’ve run all the way.’
‘We’d better go quickly then, Billy,’ James said. ‘But no running, I don’t want to attract any attention with these tools in my pockets. Besides I doubt I could run with the weight of this coat.’ James was conscious that he too was sweating. He pulled the scarf up over his face. It was a cold night outside, and the scarf would not look out place, but would keep his face hidden.
James had gone some distance when he realised that Billy was no longer at his side. He also noticed that the two men approaching him were laughing, one of them gesturing to him to turn around. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Billy, at first standing stock still, then taking giant steps that extended his legs to their furthest reach, like a circus clown. ‘Come here, Billy,’ he said, ‘and walk properly.’ The two men walked past, laughing.
‘I said that I didn’t want to attract attention,’ James said.
‘And that’s why I was doing it,’ Billy said. ‘While they were busy looking at me, they couldn’t pay any attention to you.’
‘Thank you, Billy,’ James said. ‘But walk with me now and let’s not draw attention to either of us.’
‘What will we talk about?’ Billy asked. ‘Will I tell you a tale or two?’
‘Let us talk of Ireland,’ James said. ‘I hear you love my native land.’
‘I do,’ Billy said. ‘I love every part of her, with her rolling green hills and soulful mountains and wicked seas.’ He stopped talking for a few moments as if picturing the scenes he described.
‘What is your favourite part?’ James asked.
‘Kerry,’ Billy said. ‘I love those great mountains looking down at shining lakes and sea.’
‘When were you last there?’
‘That’s the sad part,’ Billy said. ‘I’ve never been to Kerry or any other part of Ireland, but I know I love it just the same. I love the people and their way of speaking and their way of thinking and everything about them. My wife’s from Kerry you know and she paints a picture of the place with her words, better than any of your painters could make. One day I’ll go there.’
‘I hope so, Billy,’ James said. ‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.
❖ ❖ ❖
When Belle saw James enter The Circus from Bennet Street, there was someone with him. She guessed it must be Billy, another of the Irish lads. She looked away from them and towards John Doyle, waiting under the trees at the centre of the green, watching out as they had arranged, in case Harcourt should return.
As James stepped for a moment through a pool of direct light from the street lamp she saw him pull down his scarf a little and light a cigar. Then as soon as he had lit it, he dropped it to the ground and stubbed it out with his foot. Billy picked up the cigar and walked away. Belle looked instantly towards John Doyle as he also took out a cigar, lit it and blew out a plume of smoke, a sign to them all that Harcourt had not returned, and that it was safe to enter the house.
As James began walking slowly around the perimeter of The Circus towards Harcourt’s house, John turned to face the landau and raised his hand to his head. It was the signal Belle was waiting for. She rapped on the roof of the cab, but Tom had already set the horse walking slowly into The Circus road, beginning its three quarters circuit toward Frank Harcourt’s house.
They had completed half their circuit when Belle first saw the peeler. She wanted to warn James, but there was nothing she could do. Their paths seemed somehow destined to collide. Willing James to look up, she watched helplessly, and then she rapped urgently on the cab roof and shouted, ‘Slow down, Tom.’
By the time the peeler stopped him, seizing both his arms, the cab had drawn quite close. Belle felt the horses slowing almost to a stop and resisted the urge to call out to him. She willed him to break free; he could make a run for the cab and Tom would whip up the horses and be away from there. She looked towards them again. The constable was laughing now. Tom must also have seen it, for she felt the horses moving to a gentle trot again, as the constable walked away.
When they reached Harcourt’s house Tom slid back the roof partition and looked in. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I’m ready,’ she said. Tom climbed down and knocked on the front door of Harcourt’s house. Belle looked back and saw James crossing the top of Gay Street now, walking slowly, though she knew that his every instinct must have been to run. She turned to look for the constable. John Doyle was chatting to him in an animated fashion, making sure that he stood with his back to Harcourt’s house, so that he saw nothing of what was about to happen.
Belle heard Tom knocking again on the front door as she turned to watch James’ progress. She turned back as the door opened. James was kneeling now, near the house but in the shadows, to all appearances fastening his shoe. He smiled momentarily in her direction. She wanted to smile back, to reassure him, but she could not risk it.
As the maid opened the front door Belle looked past her into the well-lit hallway. She remembered the hallway well, standing in Harcourt’s arms that night, before he had taken her upstairs. She had believed then it was the start of a new life. He had been so tender and loving, and she had believed it was a new beginning. Yet that night was the last time he had spoken to her, until they met at The Garrick’s Head and she slapped him; from love to hate with so few words between.
Now all his discretion made sense. She had thought he was protecting her reputation, yet all the time he had been protecting his own. She smiled to herself, thinking that if he hadn’t been so discrete, tonight’s venture would have been impossible. The maid might have recognised her now, but he had made sure that even the servants didn’t see her that night. He thought himself so clever.
Belle put on the stern look that she felt appropriate to a lady addressing a member of staff. The young housemaid who had answered the door was reluctant to leav
e her post. Tom was gesturing to her, pointing to the cab. ‘Bring the girl down here, cabman,’ Belle called, as the maid stood, flustered, dithering in the open doorway, a good twenty feet away. ‘I do not intend for the whole of Bath to be informed of my business.’
Tom was urging the girl to step over to the cab, but she would not be moved. ‘What’s your name, girl?’ Belle called in her finest cut glass accent, her tone controlled and just loud enough to be heard. ‘I will not shout in the manner of a fishwife to domestic staff.’
‘My name’s Emily, miss,’ the pretty girl replied with a shy, half apologetic curtsy.
‘Well, Emily,’ Belle said in a soft but authoritative voice, ‘if you are a polite and helpful girl, I will reward you with a shilling.’ Emily smiled and practically ran to the cab, holding her skirt in her hands. The second that the girl had passed James, Belle looked from the corner of her eye. James was already up the flagstone pathway and through the front door and running down the corridor beyond.
Belle asked the girl if this was the home of Mr Ben Johnson. Emily said she had heard the name, but had no idea where he lived. Belle nevertheless gave her four silver thruppenny pieces, counting them slowly into the girl’s hand, one at a time. ‘Thank you for your help, young lady,’ she said, before rapping on the cab roof and instructing Tom to drive on.
❖ ❖ ❖
As James reached the top of the stairs, he felt his heart pounding. He concealed himself as best he could to watch the hallway below and regain his breath, peering around the edge of the stairs. It was then he saw the trail of footmarks that he had left on the newly polished hallway floor. The maid closed the front door and turned. Taking the bottom of her apron in her hand, she began busily polishing the coins Belle had given her. She had reached the door to the lower staircase into the basement before she finally slid the coins into her apron pocket.
James took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the bottoms of his shoes before carefully descending the stairs again and wiping the marks from the marble floor. The door to the lower staircase was closed and he could hear the muffled chatter and laughter from below stairs.
Avon Street Page 25
