‘Of the kind for which the Garden is famous.’
‘Not something I would know about.’
Being too noisy they had repaired to a private room where he could calm her down. Within less than ten minutes, and before he’d had a chance to persuade her of his continued regard, two brutes burst in and felled him. He knew nothing of what followed, but awoke to find his one-time mistress lying on her back on the floor, with her clothing ripped and her intimate parts exposed.
Emily was no shrinking violet, but she did then blush, while wondering what Tom Whetton was making of all this. Gherson had not finished. He sobbed, his misery increasing as he added,
‘And the blood, Mrs Barclay. Her blood, all over the floor and me. And by her body lay a knife … not mine … theirs …’
The way he began to control himself, an apparent struggle, left Emily wondering if what had gone before was contrivance. Deep breathing first, then the clenched fists pounding his knees, as if he was fighting an internal battle, followed by the whispered coda.
‘I may be many things, Mrs Barclay, but I am not a butcher. Certainly not of someone for whom I had a previous regard, a tendresse, as well as an intimate affection. She had given her body to me freely in the past.’
‘So you knew the lady well?’ was asked to cover her discomfort at so much disclosure.
‘She was the wife of my one-time employer, Alderman Denby Carruthers. It was through him that I ended up aboard HMS Brilliant.’
That was a tale Emily knew well. It had become the talk of the ship on the voyage to the Mediterranean, so much so, it had even come to be talked about in the great cabin, where she resided with her husband. How Gherson had landed in the River Thames, right beside the boat taking John Pearce and his fellow pressed men downriver to Sheerness. Gherson was hauled out to be saved from drowning and, if he’d denied falling off the bridge, he had never said how such an occurrence came about. For the first time the voice was measured, low and flat.
‘All I have to trade with is my cooperation in the matter of Captain Barclay’s investments.’
‘You seem very sure your being involved is necessary.’
‘It is, for you’ll be dealing with people well able to obscure figures.’
‘And if I were to agree?’
‘First, I need to be moved from the common cells to this State House, to a room where I can, with quill and paper, give you a list of questions to ask. These will be queries to which they will be unable to avoid a response, as well as some they must, for their own sake, decline to answer. Once I have proved myself to you, I hope to warrant the means to prove my innocence. A lawyer must be engaged and a plea put into the court for a delay in bringing me to trial. That will provide the time to uncover the truth.’
‘You ask a great deal, which I must consider …’
The interruption was soft, but it was very insistent. ‘I do not have time for such consideration. Without I secure a delay, when the courts sit again, I will be brought before a judge, tried, convicted and hanged within days, no more than a public spectacle for a baying mob. If my words don’t move you, I hope Christian charity will.’
‘Tell me again what occurred.’
This time the explanation was more fulsome; he admitted he had been very drunk, in fact in such a state for days, spending money given to him by Edmund Druce, bribes to ensure his silence in the matter of her inheritance. It was also the case that his surprise visitor had been distressed at what he had clearly been up to with the ladies who entertained the customers of the bagnio. They might be a cut above street whores, but they would, if the terms were right, play the prostitute nevertheless.
‘She was very vocal in her condemnation, which disturbed other clients, thus we were asked to shift to an upstairs room. It was there that the deed was done, her poor body mutilated …’
Emily had heard enough of that and cut across him. ‘I was told of a will – a forged one, it transpired.’
‘Created for me by a friend. With your husband gone, I needed a way to earn a living. The will was designed to force Druce to see to my well-being, for that purpose and no other. I knew it would hardly have held up in the Court of Chancery.’
Was he telling the truth? Emily was aware he had reverted to type, albeit his appearance militated against it. Gherson was master spinner of falsehoods and his growing assurance seemed an affront, an animation that had brought to the fore, through the grime, his absurdly, almost girlish, good looks. Yet she had been careful to show no overt sympathy, so he would surely know an appeal to her better nature was likely to fall on stony ground.
‘From memory, tell me of one of the more egregious depredations played upon my husband.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Oliphant was taking too long. To sit alone eating in a tavern was one thing; to stay still and unoccupied for an age afterwards was not, especially when the bill had been settled. This was not like a London Coffee House, to which people repaired for many hours to discuss weighty matters and read the latest journals, or lose themselves quietly in a book. Locals stopped here for a limited time to take a quick and bracing eau de vie before moving on.
Customers drifted in, individually and sometimes in small groups, workers or artisans, some having loud conversations as they exchanged the latest rumours. The taverner saw to their requirements and they left again, this while Pearce sat on in his dark corner trying to look contemplative and relaxed, when inside he was seething with anxiety.
He sought to distract himself by thinking about the cartel they would try to board. The crossing being so short, there had been regular and heavy traffic between Dover and Calais before even Roman times. The French Channel port had ever been a bolt-hole for those Britons running from their debts, or writs against their name like the radical agitator John Wilkes. Some, when hostilities broke out, would have had no option but to remain; to leave Calais was to exchange their accommodation for a prison cell.
Very obviously, even if they were at war, there must be a need for some form of communications, otherwise what could be the purpose of a regular cartel vessel? Were there still diplomatic messages passing back and forth between Britain and France, if for no other reason than possible moves to call a halt to the war? Or enquiries regarding the well-being of prisoners, the kind of correspondence that might lead to an exchange. This would be something of more value to the French than Albion, given they lost more ships and crews in battle. But it was probably a two-way and mutually beneficial affair.
Such prevarication could not go on for ever. In the end, knowing the day would some time soon begin to turn to night, he picked up his pannier and made his way out to the small square, which was hardly much better in terms of being exposed. All he could think of doing was to pace round the perimeter, an act which, if it became repetitive, would expose him to curious scrutiny.
‘Pearce.’
The voice, emanating from the dark recess of the narrow walkway, the one by which he and his companion had originally entered the square, made his heart skip a beat. If his mood was far from sanguine, it went down several notches when the same voice hissed.
‘By damn, you took your time.’
A hand shot out and grabbed Oliphant by the throat, to push him back and out of sight against the wall. Pearce followed up and pressed with such force the man’s eyes showed serious alarm, which brought no sympathy whatever. Frustration was added to sheer rage at the discomfort and worry Pearce had been suffering.
‘I’ve a mind to see you damned to hell.’
‘For the love of God,’ came out as a gasp.
‘You choose the wrong deity to appeal to.’ Having said that and forcibly made his point, Pearce eased his grip. ‘I have been sat in there for an age, wondering what had happened to you.’
‘I reckoned it best not to come in. Safer.’
‘For you?’
‘For us both,’ Oliphant insisted. ‘There are eyes everywhere. I had to make sure the tavern was not being watched,
knowing you had to come out eventually. If anyone had sought to apprehend you, I would have been able to come to your aid, or at least distract them.’
There was something not quite right about the excuses, but Pearce had learnt on this very day that to ask for the truth was pointless. ‘Which you could have advised me about before we parted.’
‘How, when I had no idea how long I would be? Anyway, I have good news. The Dover vessel is berthed as we speak. If the weather remains clear and the wind stays in the north-east, the plan is to sail on the tide at first light. We are to be provided with the means to get into the harbour before it weighs.’
‘What about payment?’
‘Has been made and we had it all along without knowing. It was in the pannier I took with me. The uniforms will, in the future, come in useful to the people I know. But even better, the pocket of your jacket revealed that passport from Lazare Carnot. It was signed for the day we left Paris, but had no end date, which makes it a truly priceless document.’
‘And how are we to get aboard?’
‘Trust that it will happen. Now compose your features, abate your anger, and follow me.’
Oliphant didn’t wait for agreement, which left Pearce trailing him once more. He moved at a brisk pace through a series of narrow alleys, occasionally crossing wider streets but never once turning to check if his companion was keeping up. Finally, in a quiet backstreet, he stopped outside the gates of what looked like a warehouse. It had a beam and a pulley above an upper-storey doorway, by which goods could be hoisted onto the first floor. The series of staggered knocks was clearly a signal, which caused a tiny viewing panel to open, so whoever was inside could identify the caller.
The clattering sound of a bar being removed was followed by the gate swinging open. Pearce followed Oliphant through and into a covered and gloomy courtyard, most of which was taken up by a pair of carts, fully loaded and covered with tarpaulins. The fellow who opened up nodded they should proceed, then sat down in the place he occupied. He had a chair and beside it a musket resting against the wall, which was presumably loaded.
The horse stalls were behind the carts, all occupied but with a corridor between. This led to a sizeable chamber packed floor to ceiling with bales, chests and barrels, the overarching odour being of a miscellany of wines, tobacco and spices. The door at the rear required no knock, so Pearce followed his companion into a comfortably appointed room. This was lit by several ornate oil lamps, dominated by a large open fireplace full of burning logs, making it somewhat oppressively warm.
‘Marie, this is the fellow I told you about.’ There was a pause before he added. ‘For all our sakes I will not use his name.’
The woman he’d addressed rose from a wing chair she occupied to examine him, Pearce doing likewise. He took in her solid frame, encased in a brown brocade dress, which did not speak of being in anyway gross, more of the natural shape of a woman who’d never been slender. She had a mass of ginger curls, which fell to frame the face, while her pallid skin told him her age was past the peak of youthful beauty. Yet there was a clear trace of a woman who must have been striking in the past. The eyes were brilliant blue, steady and piercing, the mouth tight and unsmiling.
‘For the risks being proposed, you must be someone of importance.’
Oliphant spoke gently, before Pearce could reply, not that he would have done, given he had no idea what his companion had said about him. ‘The less said the better, Marie, you know secrets kept hidden cannot be revealed.’
That produced a ghost of a smile, accompanied by a look aimed at Oliphant, which had about it a degree of longing. Well versed in the way people regarded each other, Pearce was left to wonder at the possibility of a relationship.
‘Take your friend to another room, Oliver.’ Oliver, not Samuel! Yet another name, though it could be a given, birth one. Was he really Oliver Bertrand? She broke through these thoughts as she addressed Pearce directly. ‘It would be good that you rest, for once the light begins to go, you must get ready to depart.’
Oliphant took her hand to lift and kiss it, engendering a smile, which was soft and benevolent, this as a hand came out to gently stroke his cheek. Told by a gesture to follow, Pearce was taken to a small adjoining parlour, this too with an open fire.
‘I must leave you here for a while, I have a duty to perform.’
John Pearce was in little doubt as to what the duty consisted of. ‘If I’m asked who I am, since you seem to have made up some tale about me, what am I to say?’
‘You will not be asked.’ With that Oliphant departed, saying over his shoulder. ‘Sit down, take your ease. You’re safe here.’
Given the strain of the last forty-eight hours and an indifferent night’s sleep, Pearce did as he was told, occupying a comfortable armchair and laying back, eyes closed. With the heat from the fire, he was soon asleep, woken by a shaking of his shoulder, the light from a hand-held lamp causing him to blink.
‘Time to get ready. If you wish to shave, as I have done, there is a bowl of hot water on the dresser and a looking glass. There’s a change of clothes as well.’
Pearce could not resist a jibe. ‘The perfect servant, for once.’
The response was a gratifying growl. ‘Don’t tempt me to leave you behind.’
The lamp was placed by the looking glass and water, which was indeed hot. He extracted his razor from his pannier, to find the act of shaving off two days’ growth truly refreshing. That done, he examined the clothing, a threadbare black jacket laying over black breeches. Neither were a good fit, the former too tight and the latter a couple of inches short. Likewise round the waist, the top button could not be secured. Once dressed he waited, full of curiosity, until Oliphant came back, he too dressed all in black.
‘Come, we need to help get those carts we passed out of the yard and the horses harnessed. Don’t forget to pocket your pistol, but leave everything else.’
There was no sign of Marie as they made their way through the parlour, then out into the yard. This was now occupied by a quartet of men, all working in silence and not wishing to exchange greetings. They helped to back the carts out into the backstreet, which, in twilight, appeared deserted.
The horses were brought out, sturdy animals fit to pull a load and seemingly passive-natured with it. Backing them into the spokes and fixing the traces was achieved without equine protest, at which point they were ordered to take a seat on the lowered back tailgate. Two of the men sat astride a horse on each cart, while the other pair, having hooked substantially sized lanterns on high, rigid poles that oversaw their heads, took to the box seats.
A crack of the leather traces set the mounts in motion and, if facing backwards didn’t permit any sight of the route, it did get them a wave from that musket-bearing sentinel as they passed him at the end of the street. Moving at no great pace, they slipped onto what was a busier thoroughfare, passing numerous people walking, the pair nodding and smiling, getting like greetings in return. It all seemed so innocent.
‘Do you know where we are headed?’
Oliphant nodded, but provided no explanation, so they sat in silence in the fast-fading twilight. The wheels, which had been making a deal of noise on the rutted road, turned silent as a layer of sand absorbed the sound, no doubt a gambit to allow those living close by to sleep in peace.
In full darkness now the cart slowed to a halt, those carriage lanterns providing the only light, not much of which extended to the rear. The sound of voices came floating back and, within short order, a heavily moustached fellow in National Guard uniform appeared, to brusquely order them to climb down.
With access given, he untied and pulled back the canvas covering the load, poking the various bales with his fingers, tapping a couple of barrels with his knuckles, to finally grunt in satisfaction and drop the covering. Oliphant moved forward as he departed to retie the ropes, saying softly, as Pearce joined him, ‘For show, no more.’
Back aboard, there was a tense wait before t
he wheels creaked and the cart began to move again. Within minutes they were under the arch of an old city gate, eyes cast down to avoid contact with the rest of the uniformed men who manned the position. Inside the walls the road was cobbled, which made for a lack of comfort as the unsprung cart bounced and swayed.
Oliphant pointed out they were not yet safe: another medieval gate, leading to the harbour, had to be negotiated. But any concern was misplaced; the sequence occurred as previously, a cursory look at the cargo, before it was waved through. Once he could be sure they were out of sight of the gate, Pearce was told to jump off, this being as far as they would go. On foot they watched till the cart disappeared.
‘That’s the first hurdles taken.’
‘I sensed there had to be more,’ Pearce said.
‘The Dover ship is fully guarded by the military and the inspection of papers is rigorous. We can’t just approach the ship and march aboard, even if we could get past such scrutiny. That takes no account of our own countrymen, particularly the officer in command. The cartel operates under the strict rules of neutrality, by which they must abide – conditions which do not permit the aiding of escapees, regardless of nationality.’
‘They might refuse us passage.’
‘I expect they will be sympathetic, if we can meet with them in the right circumstances.’
‘Which are?’
‘Unobserved by their French counterparts.’
The radiance from a clear sky and the Milky Way – there was only a sliver of a newish moon – allowed for progress through deserted buildings, as well as a number of warehouses used for cargo storage, until they came to the landward end of a great mole. Halfway down, they crouched behind the base of a tall derrick, one of several that lined a wooden and much weather-battered structure. This jutted out to sea, buttressed on both sides by huge timber baulks driven into the mud, forming the berth at which vessels tied up.
They could pick out several ghostly shapes of trading vessels down both sides, but the cartel, its prow towards them, was obvious by being lantern-lit along its upper works. This was busy, with men going about various tasks, both on deck and in the rigging, the reasons plain to a seaman.
A Close Run Thing Page 5
