‘So once I have found out where she is residing …?
‘Tell me and I will take matters into my own hands,’ said Barclay, standing up. ‘Mr Druce knows where I am and will communicate with me when you have fulfilled your assignment.’
They were in the coach back to Plymouth when he raised the subject with Gherson. ‘I’m not sure I can repose faith in this Hodgeson fellow, he seems to lack fibre to me. I want you to think on another way to proceed; let us give him a week or two and if he finds her, well and good Then you and Devenow can do what is necessary.’
‘Me, sir?’
‘She’s a frail woman, by damn, surely you are not afraid of that too?’
Determined to refuse when the time came, Gherson just acceded to keep the peace, as Barclay continued. ‘Mind, if he fails we may need some of your low-life contact again, like that fellow who helped you burgle my wife’s solicitor.’
The man was called Jonathan Codge and he was the last person Gherson wanted to ever see again, he being a man who would sell his own mother down the river for a copper coin, then want the body to sell to Surgeon’s Hall.
‘I think him ill-suited to such a task, sir.’
‘Then think of someone else man, someone from your black past. Now, you spent time with Druce, be so good as to tell me what he told you about my chances of profit, and spare nothing, we have a journey of some thirty hours.’
The more he thought about the prospect of ridding himself of his wife, the more it appealed to Denby Carruthers; it sustained him through the bout of seasickness that came upon him as soon as the Percy exited into the wide Thames Estuary and hit the North Sea swell. Likewise, having observed the crew, he was sure he had the instrument to hand that would release him from all sorts of problems, in particular a fellow called Codge who was blackmailing him – he had tried to have him arrested by the Bow Street Runners in company with Gherson, who would have been transported or strung up at Tyburn; somehow they had both talked their way out of it.
Three disappearances, and with Gherson definitely gone and he would be free to take another wife, this time one with money instead of beauty, though he would seek both – perhaps a widow with an inheritance which would become his to do with as he wished once they were wed. Druce would engage the man he had named and he, the instigator, would stay well out of it. Let his brother-in-law handle matters and, if anything went wrong, nothing could be traced back to him.
‘He is not telling the truth, Mr Druce. I suspect if I find Mrs Barclay the captain will seek to take her forcibly back to their home and keep her there.’
‘And this troubles you?’
‘I have known these things go wrong, sir, and I have seen death be caused by it.’
‘You’re surely not suggesting Captain Barclay would murder his wife?’
‘How to know what harm will come of trying to take her if she is not willing?’
‘There must be ways, man.’
‘There are methods to ensure it is quiet, and those to ensure it is successful, sir, but without wishing to imply a lack of judgement on your part, it is not the way that navy men are accustomed to behave. It requires guile, not brawn, and patience, not the bull at the gate.’
‘Then I shall persuade the captain that your expertise should be employed.’
‘Good, I have my description and her name, and she sounds a rare beauty, which makes matters easier. Plain ladies are much harder to locate, they being so numerous.’
‘I had you listed as a thief-taker, a man who chased felons and murderers, yet you seem to know a great deal about the gentler sex?’
‘It would shock you, Mr Druce, just how many of those I have pursued were women. Do not think them gentle, sir, for they are not. When it comes to cold-blooded crime they are a match for us men.’
‘Good. Now I want to talk to you of another case, a fellow to find this time. He is called Cornelius Gherson and I have here a description: dark hair, black eyes and a stooping walk. He is a money thief and too fond of women, especially those who are wedded to his employer.’
‘Singular name.’
‘It is,’ the prize agent replied, thinking that was the one thing he dare not change. But with luck and that description Hodgeson would not get within ten miles of the man. Let him drain the Carruthers purse, for that was no concern of Edward Druce. His task was to keep Gherson alive and seek to earn both himself and the company money.
Catherine Carruthers would never have tried to follow Isaac Lavery if her husband had not been away and, in truth, she was nervous of doing so now. But he had said he was taking the opportunity, brought on by the same absence, to make a wider than normal search and talk to more of the kind of people who might know Gherson. It was odd how quickly he disappeared into a nearby coffee house, one used by city traders and not the sort of low creatures that Lavery was supposed to be questioning. Even more alarming was the time he stayed.
‘Boy, come here.’ The urchin obliged, for the well-dressed lady had a coin in one hand, which she pointed at the coffee house. ‘For this I want you to go in yonder doorway and look for a fellow with large ears and a purple nose. He has too quite large bags under each eye and is dressed in black, I doubt you can miss him.’
‘And what then, missus?’
‘Just come back and tell me who he is talking to.’
The boy shrugged and ran off, to disappear through the door. He would not be allowed long, for he was grubby and not the type for such a place; they would rate him a pickpocket if they noticed him at all. As it was he was out in less than a minute.
‘He’s not talking to no one, missus, just sitting reading the newspaper over a pot of coffee and a dish of steak pie.’
The coin left Catherine Carruthers’ hand before she even noticed it or the boy were gone, he scarpering in case she changed her mind about payment, no doubt, leaving her to ponder on what she had just been told. One thing was plain: Lavery was not doing what he was supposed to do and had he ever done so? The thought that he might have just been leading her on was hard to contemplate at first, but in truth, over weeks and much of her spare household budget, the man had not provided a single clue to where Cornelius could be. It was a sad woman who made her way home, her mind in turmoil.
When Lavery came back he was quick to find her and all flustered, relating that some of the places he had visited were so full of villainy that he had more than once feared for his life, places where people had no shoes, barely any clothes that were not rags, and where the possession of a handkerchief was considered wealth enough to get your throat cut. He had, too, acquired a cough he was sure indicated some kind of malaise he had picked up from the air he had been obliged to inhale.
‘But was it fruitful?’ Catherine asked.
‘Alas,’ came the reply and a hand reached out to touch her fingertips. ‘But we must not despair, we must take the opportunity of your husband’s absence to progress things properly.’
Suddenly he took a firm grip on her hand and she knew what he meant by progress, and it was a notion that made her blood boil. But she pretended to be faint to cover her confusion, vapours that Lavery took for an excess of passionate attraction. Then he was on his knees.
‘You know, dear lady, that I would go to the ends of the earth for you.’
‘Mr Lavery,’ she gasped, in a fair imitation of a woman in distress, ‘the other servants.’
‘Of course,’ he responded, raising himself up with a groan that testified to less than fluid joints, and his voice sounded just as weak. ‘But you must understand how easy it is for me to forget such constraints.’
‘Yet remembered they must be, for if my husband was to find out …’ That did not require to be completed and the thought of what might happen rippled through Lavery’s weak frame as she said feebly, ‘In truth, Mr Lavery, I do not feel entirely well, perhaps that malaise you spoke of has afflicted me.’
That stymied him; having made such a play of it he could not now dismiss it.
> ‘I feel I should retire to my room to rest, please aid me to stand.’
‘My dear lady,’ he said, but he did as she wished. Then his voice recovered its strength to take on a note of hope. ‘Perhaps you would like me to accompany you and see you settled.’
‘No, I can manage.’
And I can mange you, she swore to herself as she climbed the stairs to her room, a seething mass of hatreds, crushing disappointments and plots for revenge. But Catherine was not a fool; she knew she could not just turn on Lavery and tell him she knew she was being both cheated and led up a garden path. Who knew what mischief would fly from such an act. A better plan would have to be formed, and before it was time for the maid to bring in a candle she had the outline of one.
‘Mr Lavery will ask for me, Molly, and I would like you to tell him I am weak and unable to be up and about.’
‘Yes, Madam.’
‘And he has agreed to undertake some errands for me. Please be so good as to pass on how happy it would make me if he carried them out.’
When Molly had departed, Catherine Carruthers began to dream if not to sleep; it was not a new one but a common one, in which she was in a sunlit meadow, reunited with Cornelius Gherson and happy to become his willing lover there and then amongst the sweet flowers.
‘Gherson!’
Barclay’s shout echoed though HMS Semele, carrying timbers and decks with ease. The man called knew what it portended for he had seen the sender’s name of the letter delivered and had fretted ever since as to what it might contain; it was worse than he feared.
‘She mentions the burglary, by damn, but tells me she had removed the court martial papers beforehand.’
‘Please sir, your voice.’
‘What?’
‘The whole ship will hear you and that was a crime.’
‘It was your crime, Gherson, not mine. I’ve a good mind to hand you over to Devenow and let him have his way with your brains.’
‘If it was my crime it was at your behest, sir.’
‘You dare to threaten me?’
‘No, I merely point out that we are part of the same act in the eyes of the law.’
That changed Barclay’s tone; his voice dropped several decibels. ‘You mean she might tell a magistrate?’
‘What does her letter say, sir?’
‘That I am to leave her be, that she has gone off to the country and I am not to pursue or seek to find her.’
‘It seems to me a too flimsy matter to trust to her word. I think we must up the search and once she is found ensure that she cannot speak.’
Still nursing a limp, Barclay threw himself into a chair and put his head in his hands. ‘She has the means to ditch me twice over now, thanks to you.’
The clerk took that without murmur, it mattered not that it had been his employer’s idea to steal the papers, the thing now was to find a way to silence Emily Barclay, and Gherson’s thinking did not rule out the notion of doing so on a permanent basis. Not that he would suggest such a course; he knew his man too well; Captain Ralph Barclay, brave as a lion on a battling quarterdeck, did not have the stomach for a quiet bit of removal.
‘The search, sir, perhaps we could put more people on to it.’
‘Yes, we must. And we must pray to God for deliverance from the malice of all those people who hate me.’
Just pray for you? Gherson thought, his bile rising; thank you very much, you old goat – what about me!
Denby Carruthers was both surprised and delighted that doing business in Gravelines was so easy; nominally under French control they had done nothing to interdict the trade between Flanders and England – as the Tollands said, they needed the gold. If the people he was called upon to deal with were capable of violence they also had a good grasp of how to do commerce – quickly and without fuss – and he felt, weapons apart and without the strain of menace, right at home, as if he was doing his normal day’s exchanges in London.
The efficiency extended to supply and loading, and if he had a slight worry he might be cheated, both the attitude of the Tolland brothers and the speed with which his purchases were supplied laid that to rest. The wind had been fair on the crossing to Gravelines, it was less so on the return but they got within reach of Ramsgate inside a day’s sailing, where a boat was lowered to take him ashore.
‘Get yourself set for the night, Mr Carruthers, and take the coach back to London on the morrow.’
‘I will do that, Tolland, but, you know, I am tempted to ask, should I not come with you to land the cargo?’
Jahleel Tolland’s polite tone evaporated then. ‘No one who is not needed to sail this ship of yours gets to see where we land, nor who we spread out the sale of the goods to. You go back to your house and wait for us and we will bring you the money we earn to the farthing.’
‘Please do not think I don’t trust you.’
Looking at each other in the light of a lantern, both men knew the truth: mutual trust did not exist. The only reason Denby Carruthers would not know this night, and never know on any other where they landed their cargo, was because that was the only card the Tollands still held and it tied him to them.
He took to the boat and even in oilskins he was wet through when finally it was run up in pitch black onto the Ramsgate beach.
Hodgeson the thief-taker had contacts amongst the Grub Street hacks and they, because of their trade, knew every fly-by-night character in London, Westminster and half the counties of England. A tot of brandy here, a tumbler of wine there, and when pushed to it a coin passed over, soon had the word out that he was looking for two people and news came back within forty-eight hours about a certain Mrs Barclay staying at Nerot’s Hotel, now gone to Norfolk it was believed, who had been of interest to someone at the Home Department of Henry Dundas.
That took him to Nerot’s but not that he enquired within its walls; there were a few taprooms around Jermyn Street to which the staff would wander when they got a chance, anything for a quiet bit of imbibing not under the eyes of their employer, and he soon established their favourite haunt, one they shared with the like-minded servitors in the St James’s Street gentlemen’s clubs.
To spot a man who will tell you something for a palmed coin is a skill, and a good guide is the fellow who moans incessantly and likes the world to know his grievances, yet loudly protests his honesty. So picking out Didcot was not as hard as a layman would have supposed and it took no time at all, once he knew there was payment to be had, for the hotel servant to give chapter and verse.
‘You reckon Mrs Barclay has a paramour, then?’
‘No doubt about it. Now I don’t say he was rogering her there and then, but it was at the top of his mind, and if it hadn’t yet happened she was gettin’ ripe for the fall. It were in her eyes.’
‘And it was this Lieutenant Pearce who let slip about her going to King’s Lynn?’
‘Did too, ’cause he trusted me, ye see, knew an honest man when he saw one. Why you asking, any road?’
Hodgeson slipped him a half-guinea, which was felt rather than looked at for its value. ‘What do you care?’
‘Don’t give a toss, friend, but I’ll go to another tankard afore you light out for Norfolk, ’cause you don’t have to lay it that you is looking for her. Stands to reason if she’s Mrs Barclay there’s a Mister somewhere about, who would not be happy to see his wife – and she is a beauty, take my word – rolling in the hay with a good-looking cove like John Pearce. And he is not backward either, not when he’s getting letters from Downing Street.’
‘And they left together, you say?’
‘Service at sea for him, I reckon, Norfolk for her.’ That was followed by a wheezy laugh. ‘Rumour has it they still paint their faces blue up there.’
That was the last place Hodgeson would go looking, for Didcot was an old fool who did not have a clue when he was being joshed. If Mrs Barclay was in some kind of liaison with a naval lieutenant, regardless of how far it had gone, he would be an easier per
son to find than a woman who could be anywhere, especially if he was serving in some capacity. And where he was she would most likely be, or close by.
As a time to interrupt Denby Carruthers his wife could not have chosen worse. He had not long arrived from Ramsgate and had a mass of papers to look through, bills, proposals for insurance and reports on some important investments. But disturb him she did, as soon as Lavery was sent out to deliver some share certificates, to tell him of the way he was being betrayed by his clerk.
‘Lavery came to me with information about your affairs, husband, and I fear he did so in order to seek a way to gain my affections.’
The alderman nearly blurted out, ‘At his age?’ but he actually said, ‘What information?’
The head went down and her hands were twisted around her embroidered handkerchief, this to demonstrate how reluctant she was to reply, while the catch in her voice was one she had used often on a very indulgent father, as well as one employed to discourage disappointed suitors prior to her marriage.
‘He told me that a man had been in touch regarding a certain individual whose name, were I to mention it, would cause you upset.’
How did he know about Codge? It mattered not, Lavery did and that was that. ‘It pleases me you are aware of the hurt it causes.’
‘And I hope you believe I am still penitent,’ she whimpered.
Catherine Carruthers’ motives were, to her, quite straightforward: Lavery had failed in his task of finding Gherson and his protestations that he had tried hard were nothing but lies. But in the process of letting her down she had shown him a certain degree of encouragement which, should her husband ever realise, would be fatal to her future. She knew her beloved Cornelius to be alive and in time she would find him; until then she must have both the security of her home and her husband’s income.
Lavery could not be trusted and if he let anything slip about her desire to find Cornelius then all hell would break loose and she might be cast adrift. Better he was dismissed and much better that she, having spoken first, would render any excuse he gave for his behaviour both invalid and unlikely to be believed.
A Sea of Troubles Page 24
