Echoes from the Past (The Brigandshaw Chronicles Book 1)

by Peter Rimmer

  Drawing the top and bottom bolts having first lit the gas lamp in the hall to see what she was doing, Bess opened the front door of what was nicely called the vicarage, there being identical doors up and down the long street of attached houses, all narrow and four storeys high. The lamplight showed her a tall man with broad shoulders wearing a hat made of grey leather of the style Bess had never seen before. The smiling man was wearing a long coat of the same leather which came down to the bottom of his boots which she noticed were covered in mud. The long hair down to the shoulders and full beard disguised the man's features. The man stood on the top step up from the steps that led from the road and kept on smiling, the blue eyes watching her with great amusement. With great aplomb the strange-looking man swept off the wide-brimmed hat and made her an overly ridiculous bow.

  "Is this the residence of Reverend Nathanial Brigandshaw?"

  "It is, but the vicar is out. Maybe you could call…"

  "I'll wait."

  "You can't."

  "And why ever not…Bess."

  "You know my name!"

  "Of course. Have I changed that much?” knowing perfectly well that he had. "I'm your brother-in-law, Bess."

  "You can't be."

  "I can be. Now, may I come in?"

  With the front door closed, Sebastian threw his heavy coat over the top of the hat stand. A hook on the wall took his hat. Slowly he followed his sister-in-law up the narrow stairs, to the cosy room with the coal fire burning. The girl seemed struck dumb and picked up her sewing. With Seb left standing they listened to the clocks in the house while they waited for the vicar to return.

  Nathanial was tired, very tired when he reached the steps leading up to his front door. He told himself some people were incapable of helping themselves with an attitude of 'woe is me' in their self-induced poverty. It was always somebody else's fault, the reason for their plight. They never thought of blaming themselves. Their greatest happiness was to find themselves reliant on others. The couple he had just left had never tried to do a day's work and to listen to them, which is what they enjoyed most, the poor were a creation of the rich. Only the poor were right in their misery. He was quite sure the shilling he had just given them would have by now been converted into gin. The woman was no more sick than dying. The vicar, if he came was good for a shilling. Nat sighed to himself: ‘God made man in strange ways.’

  It had begun to snow again, the flakes quickly turning into a dark sludge. The streetlight behind him spluttered from a surge of gas as he put a foot on the first step up to the door. All he wanted to do was get into bed and go to sleep.

  The first thing confronting him when Bess opened the door was a long coat made from grey leather he had never seen before. He stood looking at the coat as his wife closed the door. A pattern of what looked like wrinkles ran the length of the coat. On the hook where he normally placed his own hat was a strange headgear with a wider rim than Nat had ever seen before and made of the same grey leather.

  "Your brother is upstairs," was all she said.

  There was no room for his own coat so he left it on and followed his wife upstairs. Standing with his back to the fire was a man well over six feet high he had never seen before and the man began speaking to him like an old friend.

  "Sorry about the late hour Nat but I need your help. I sail for Africa again in two days’ time and the tide waits for no man…Glory be, have I really changed that much. Now look as far as I see it father wanted me out of the way while Arthur married Emily. There was no other motive. Hastings Court was a bonus."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "Captain Doyle. I'm one of his customers. I also know that Harry is mine and not Arthur’s. You all must know that."

  "Seb, be careful. You don't know what you're saying."

  "But I can count which is more than you can. Em and I were lovers."

  "What do you want of me?"

  "Nat, that's not very friendly for a priest. What I want is the woman who should be my wife and my son."

  "She's married to Arthur. You can't break God's words. They were married before God. 'In the name of the Lord I pronounce you man and wife’. You can't change that Sebastian."

  "Sit down, Nat, you look exhausted."

  "I am. Look I'm sorry. The last person I expected to find in front of my fire tonight was you. I've prayed for you, Seb."

  "I'm glad because quite often I needed the help."

  "What have you been doing?"

  "Hunting elephant. Just the old and discarded. Even old elephants got thrown out by their relatives."

  "Yes of course." Nat had no idea what his brother was talking about.

  "Bess, ask the maid to bring some tea."

  "She's sound asleep. I'll go and make some tea while you talk. The prodigal son returns," she said over her shoulder.

  "Without the fatted calf," finished Seb. "You got any whisky, brother Nat?"

  "Yes I have, matter of fact."

  "Good. Cancel the tea, Bess. Now, are mother and father back home at Hastings Court?"

  "No, they return tomorrow afternoon. You want to see them?"

  "Not really."

  "You're going to abduct Emily?"

  "Yes I am. But first a whisky with my brother. I had to be sure where the parents were tonight. Have you been to Hastings Court?"

  "Of course. It’s father's home now. Well, Arthur really."

  "But he doesn't stay there too much? Arthur, I mean."

  "You seem to know everything. What's that coat downstairs made out of?" Nat was trying to change the subject.

  "Elephant hide."

  "How did you come by it?"

  "Well, first I shot the elephant."

  "You'd better start at the beginning. I rather think it's a long story. Funny, I'm not tired anymore."

  Sebastian left at one o'clock in the morning with his brother's blessing. There were things about Arthur that Nat had never heard. Their elder brother was a sadist with a taste for perversion, something first heard of by Seb in Cape Town. Once Seb was making Captain Doyle money their relationship had gone into reverse. The most profitable high value, low weight cargo for the Indian Queen was ivory and this was known to Doyle and his crew who shared in the profit. From being the disgraced youngest son of The Captain he, with Tinus, was a source of wealth. Another five-ton shipment of ivory would see the senior hands going ashore for the rest of their lives with enough money to buy a small business. There were many ships plying the route to India, some with captains equally as well known to the Bombay ivory carvers. From Captain Doyle to the Second Mate, they all wanted to curry favour with the men who brought them the ivory. Their talk in the taverns of Cape Town to Seb was mostly about Arthur. Even the crew knew The Captain's eldest son was a parasite. When he found out the date of Harry's birth, the day The Captain had marked by giving the crews of Colonial Shipping a bonus, he knew he had to go home.

  Leaving Tinus and Tatenda in Cape Town to wait for him he had taken the fastest boat back to England arriving ten days before the late-night confrontation with Nat. By the time Seb walked quickly to the docks and his waiting coach any shadow of doubt about his brother's behaviour had vanished. The vicar, his own brother, knew a lot more than the vicar was prepared to say and even as he walked fast he knew his brother was going out to warn their mother and father. He doubted if he would go to warn Arthur as he doubted if Arthur could give a damn.

  The first call was to borrow an extension ladder from the ostler and then with two fresh horses they began the dash down south to Hastings Court. The ladder was strapped on top of the coach. By the time his mother had fuddled around and got in his father's way it would be near to dawn.

  An hour before dawn Seb's coach was racing across Epsom Downs.

  Emily woke to a thud on her bedroom window followed by the sound of breaking glass and the squeaking of the sash window moving on its cords. A draft of bitterly cold air came into the room.

  "Emily," called a voice. "Have I go
t the right bedroom? Em, are you in there? It's dark and I can't see. Light the gaslight for heaven’s sake before I break my neck. And hurry. Hell its cold in this country."

  The light flared and the bedroom came into perspective and Emily screamed. Seb moved across the room quickly.

  "Quiet or you will wake the servants. Put on warm clothes and get Harry from the nursery." The girl's face was pressed against his chest while he stroked her hair to calm her down. "We are going back down the ladder before the servants can do anything to stop us. By tomorrow night will be out of the country. Em, you do want to come with me?"

  The Captain, knowing his business went to the docks first to block his youngest son from leaving the country. There were only three ships leaving for Africa within the week and their captains were warned of the consequences of sailing with an abducted wife. The description of a tall, bearded man with a young woman and young son was more than enough. Leaving his hysterical wife in their suite at the Savoy Hotel overlooking the Thames River, The Captain took a fresh horse and rode for Hastings Court. It was still dark when he left the stables at the Savoy. He was in a cold rage.

  Back in his house feeling more like Judas than Nathanial, Nat was unable to sleep. He had never before seen a man totally lose his temper. For a moment in the hotel suite The Captain was insane and Nat had moved quickly between his mother and father. The cold fury that followed the rage was even more frightening. "I will not have a son of mine gainsay me."

  At dawn Nat's conscience and the remains of the bottle of whisky got the better of him. He walked quickly in the cold light of dawn to the local inn and took a cab to his elder brother's house in Baker Street. Never before had he called at the house. The address had been given him by his father with the instructions to tell Arthur. Asking the cabbie to wait outside Nat walked up the steps similar to his own and knocked on his brother's front door. The woman who answered was in her dressing gown that fell open as she shut the door on the cold morning showing the vicar two large naked breasts.

  "Well, what can I do for you, luvvy," said the woman he had first imagined to be the maid.

  "My brother, Arthur Brigandshaw, is he at home?"

  "Art's asleep in bed."

  It was obvious the woman was more than a servant to 'Art' a derivative Nat had never before associated with his brother.

  "Could you call him down? It's urgent."

  "You want me to wake him up! Don't be daft. He only went to bed an hour ago."

  "Show me his room."

  "Go up them stairs and you'll hear him snoring. Always snores when he's drunk. Rather you than me waking him up still drunk."

  "I am his brother."

  "So you said but be careful. You want a cup of tea?"

  "No thank you."

  The ladder was still up against the window when The Captain arrived at the front door. The butler opened it and stood back silently. None of the other servants were to be seen. Silence, empty silence wrapped the old house.

  "Where is my grandson?" asked The Captain too quietly. The butler chose to keep his mouth shut. "Did you hear me?" The butler had served in better circumstances and was unable to keep the contempt out of his eyes. With the last of the Mandervilles out of the house he intended handing in his notice. Good service required good manners in return. "You're fired."

  "Thank you, sir," said the butler allowing himself the glimmer of a smile.

  "And don't smirk."

  "Shall I leave straightaway?"

  "Get out of my sight."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Have they both gone?"

  "I believe so, sir."

  "Why didn't anyone stop them?"

  "They went out through the window rather quickly." This time he allowed a smile to spread over his entire face.

  "You're smirking again."

  "Thank you, sir."

  Frustrated, The Captain turned tail and once in the forecourt he remounted his horse without any idea of which way to ride. Making up his mind he rode the exhausted horse to his own stable and took a fresh horse. In the village he asked if a coach with his daughter-in-law had passed their way. The villagers gave him dumb looks. They all knew. In deeper fury the once popular ship's captain realised he was hated and it was all the fault of his youngest son. Ever since Sebastian had been sent to the colonies, the people had turned their backs. Nothing was ever said. The disapproval was written on their faces.

  By the time The Captain reached his son's townhouse in Baker Street, Arthur Brigandshaw had sobered up and sent the lady home to her mother. It was a Sunday and the office of Colonial Shipping was closed. Subduing the feeling of relief and delight, Arthur was full of righteous indignation and went to the local police station to lay a charge against his brother for abduction. The process was painfully slow and his hangover was screaming for a drink.

  The Captain had sent horsemen to all the ports in southern England with letters to the Port Captains. The brat could hide in England but in the end the police would find them. The Captain's wife was packed off back to Hastings Court. To The Captain, Emily mattered little. It was her son, his grandson, the heir to all his wealth and Hastings Court, with the blood of ancient knights and aristocrats pumping through his veins, the heir that would be recognised for all time as a gentleman, that was what hurt him to the quick. The boy was the reason for everything The Captain had ever done in his life. If they would not let him become a gentleman they would never gainsay his grandson, Harry Manderville-Brigandshaw.

  After recovering from the shock of recognising Seb's voice, turning up the gaslight and seeing a stranger coming through her bedroom window, Emily had recovered her wits and gone straight down the long, old corridor with the Manderville family portraits on the walls to the nursery and her son. The young nurse was asleep in the bed next to the child's cot and when Emily turned up the gaslight at the door, the girl woke up.

  "I'm going away, Alison, and taking Harry with me. Would you care to come with us?"

  "Where are you going?"

  "At this moment I have no idea but I won't be back. If you don't come I'm afraid you won't have a job and Harry is very fond of you. We have to go back to my bedroom as I don't wish to wake the servants."

  "How are we getting out of your bedroom, ma'am?"

  "Down a ladder to be exact. Pack his warm clothes and some for yourself and we'll be away before anyone else is awake."

  Within half an hour of breaking into Hastings Court the nurse was the first to go down the ladder carrying a small case. She dropped into the flowerbed and looked up at the second-floor window where the man was coming down with the boy clinging to his back, Harry's arms around the man's throat. Acting on the instinct of the trouble she would be in with the boy disappearing from her care she thought it better to abscond. The man handed her the child and went back up the ladder for the blankets and the second case. It was freezing cold in the grounds and she wanted to stamp her feet to make them warm. She could neither see horse nor coach and when they were altogether on the ground they walked away through the elm trees, across the well-kept lawns. Five minutes later the nurse saw a coach and horses standing next to the unoccupied gatehouse. Behind them there was no sign of life at Hastings Court, the only light coming from the old house the one they had left on in the bedroom. The young girl could not make up her mind whether she was excited or terrified. The coachman cracked his whip and a journey she had never imagined began. To her surprise when they passed through the village as the day was dawning they took the Guildford Road to the west rather than the road to London. Harry was asleep again on her lap. Opposite, the bearded stranger and her mistress were in deep conversation.

  "We are going out of Bristol, Em. Father would know to block the ships out of London. Avonmouth. We sail out of Avonmouth on the evening tide."

  "Where are we going?"

  "As far away from my father and brother as possible. Africa."

  "They'll find us in the colonies."

  "Not where we a
re going. It’s over, Em."

  "It's never over."

  Only then did the nurse understand. The stranger had come to collect his son. Even if The Captain and Arthur Brigandshaw could not count, Cousin Maud was not so stupid. 'The boy belongs to young Sebastian. You can count on that', she had told the new housekeeper as she left Hastings Court to live off the annuity settled on her by Sir Henry Manderville. 'The girl belonged to Sebastian from when she was five years old, not that dreadful Arthur.'

  Alison Ford had gone into service as there was nothing else she could do, her parents dead and her brother gone to sea. Six years older than Emily she had been to school up to the age of fifteen. When her father died without leaving her mother any money she had taken a job as a child nurse in a house with eleven children, the three youngest each with a nurse to keep them out of trouble while their parents did more important things than looking after their children. Young Harry was the third child for whom Alison was a surrogate mother. Children were brought up in the nursery whatever Emily tried to change. In the nursery and as far away from the grown-ups as possible. When they were fifteen going on sixteen the father had a look at the son to see if he had bred anything worthwhile. Some of the fathers took more care of their horses than their children. The mothers fussed around the girls about the same age trying to marry them off as well as possible and as soon as possible. It was the way it was done in the English upper classes and every time she had had to leave the child in her care it broke Alison's heart. At five the children were placed under a governess for their training in manners to begin. The nurse was asked to look for a new position.

  Through the day, the coach raced through the English countryside changing horses twice on the way. If they missed the tide the venture would come to an ignominious end and with the young man Alison suspected of being The Captain's younger son sent to prison or forced to leave England alone forever. When Harry woke and found himself in a pounding coach he was delighted and tried to pull down the window and climb out of the racing coach. A strong male hand pulled the boy back by the scruff of the neck. With the light in the sky well gone they drove through Bristol and along the river Avon to the Port of Avonmouth. The bearded man knew exactly where he was going and within minutes of finding their ship they went on board. It was obvious to Alison that the bearded man had bought the captain of the ship before they arrived. They seemed to know each other as friends. Papers and tickets were ignored.