‘Captain Barclay, I fear you misunderstand the nature of this encounter. You act as if it were a prelude to a reconciliation and it is nothing of the sort—’
He lost his composure then, his voice a hiss. ‘Damn you, I will not have you dictate to me, madam.’
‘I do hope that worm you employ as a clerk has told you of the choices you face.’
‘By what chicanery, or by what exercise of your feminine wiles, did you come by what you claim to possess?’
‘It is not an unfounded claim, sir, I have the documents in their entirety: every word and every lie, and in the right hands it will see you in court and drummed out of your precious navy at the very least.’
Ralph Barclay touched his stump then, alluding to his missing left arm, in what was an obvious plea for sympathy, his voice hoarse. ‘Is it not odd, the pain I feel is as physical as—’
‘Please, husband, do not seek to say to me that you feel any pain in your heart, always supposing you could locate the organ. You are a sailor, a ship’s captain and you wish to remain one. Good, I say. You want a vessel to command and service at sea, even better. I want nothing more than a separation from you, which if it is provided by salt water will be perfect, since my living apart from you will not be remarked upon but be seen as normal. I think that is clear enough, don’t you?’
‘And if I don’t agree?’
‘Why bother to ask a question to which you know the answer?’
‘You wouldn’t dare expose me.’
‘Would I not, sir? Let me tell you here and now I will not ever spend another night under the same roof as you, whatever the consequences, and, if I am to be disgraced for it, so will you be, first by a public denunciation of your actions both as a naval officer and husband, and secondly by those court martial papers being put into the hands of those who would bring you down.’
The voice was close to a shout now. ‘John Pearce, you mean?’
‘If that man is the avenue by which I will achieve my purpose, then yes, I will pass them to him and I do not doubt he will be relentless in pursuit of you.’
‘You, madam, are not the only one who can go public! Do not think I have not observed or heard of your association with that rake.’
‘There is no association, sir. There is not even mutual regard. I despise the fellow for the very actions of which you accuse him.’
‘Is that why you made moon eyes at the fellow?’
‘So, Captain Barclay,’ Emily replied with forced amusement, ‘you add stupidity and jealousy to your other reprehensible traits.’
‘Damn you, woman,’ he shouted, getting to his feet, ‘stop insulting me!’
‘And,’ Emily added calmly, ‘your language is, as it has been many times in the past, both loose and wicked.’
‘I am minded to horsewhip you in public.’
‘Do your worst, sir. It will be nothing as compared to your head in the stocks, where the mob and I will take great joy in pelting you with the filth of the streets.’
‘This meeting is over.’
‘It is not,’ Emily snapped. ‘I require from you the means to live in reasonable comfort, and I also require from you a guarantee to be left in peace when I so desire. In return, I will observe certain conventions in the article of appearances, thus preserving both your reputation and mine – attendance at certain social functions to do with your rank and station, at which I promise to be the soul of discretion. While you are at sea, I will, in all respects, behave as a woman temporarily widowed by your very necessary service to your king and country. In company I will praise you and be admiring of your character. That no one will be convinced matters not, the world in which we live will be satisfied with a dumbshow of a marriage rather than the reality.’
Emily reached into her purse and produced a sheet of paper. ‘Here, Captain Barclay, is a list of my expenses, which will naturally be greater the more you require of me socially – dresses, jewellery and the like. There are also the details of my account at Coutts Bank, to which you may remit the necessary funds, I suggest by the calendar quarter. You have my address, and to there you may send word of what I am required to do to still wagging tongues.’
It was a last desperate throw that had Ralph Barclay saying, ‘I will not be the only one ruined and you know who stands to lose the most.’
‘Sir, Toby Burns lied!’ she snapped. ‘That is a fact of which he is well aware because it was you who put the words into his mouth. He is also a weak creature who, placed before any kind of examination, will crumble and is thus more of a threat to you than I. Perhaps you mean my parents and the rest of my family, the house to which you have title and in which they live?’
Emily had to work on her voice and manner then, for she cared deeply they should not be hurt. ‘They were content to trade my virtue for their comfort. If that virtue is ruined by their enthusiasm to see me wed to you, then they must face the consequences of their actions, as must I for being such a fool to agree to the marriage. I openly admit that I was a fool, openly admit I did not look beyond your prospects and your rank to see what lay behind. Had you not taken me to sea with you, a ploy to save the expense of an establishment at home, I may never have discovered, sir, what a scrub you are.’
Ralph Barclay looked a beaten man as she said that to him. Head bowed, he waved his good arm in dismissal. ‘Go!’
‘I shall,’ Emily said, rising from her chair and taking a second paper from her purse. ‘I will give you time to consider, Captain Barclay, and to aid you, here is the paper I refused to give to Gherson to assist you in making up your mind. Shall we say a week?’
Emily went to the door and stopped, as if waiting for her husband to open it for her, which he irascibly declined to do, instead picking up that which she had left him to look at. Exiting, into the lobby of the hotel, she threw Gherson a glare, then noticed that the exchange had been noisy enough to cause the staff that manned the area to avoid her eye.
Gherson entered the room to find Ralph Barclay still reading. ‘I hope you have some suggestion of a way to deal with this?’
‘Is that the same paper as your wife showed me, sir?’
Head still down, Barclay passed it to Gherson, who gave it a cursory glance, before confirming it to be the case and that led to an enquiry regarding the handwriting.
‘My wife’s.’
‘Might I suggest, sir, first, that this is insufficient for you to be convinced the whole exists and secondly, if the entirety is in her handwriting, as is this, it will very likely be ruled inadmissible in court.’
‘Go on.’
‘Your wife, sir, when you sent me to her, named this as a copy, which implies an original.’
‘Which might be in another hand?’ Barclay asked, a question requiring no response.
‘She was not witness to the entire proceedings, so that is a strong possibility. If you were to ask for more proof, say another few pages of remarks made when we know she was not present, and originals, I think perhaps your wife could be persuaded to provide them, perhaps by you showing willing and sending her some funds.’
‘How do you know she asked for funds?’
The look Gherson gave his employer was such that there was no need to reply: if he had not been listening at the door, then the man had found some other means of eavesdropping, unless, of course, he had just arrived at a conclusion which was obvious.
‘I suggest a watch be kept on her if she agrees. Should the papers she alludes to be in her present residence, then that will be made obvious. If not, in order to comply, she has to lead us to where they are.’
‘Which might not help.’
Gherson’s response was terse. ‘It is better than where we are now, sir, in ignorance.’
‘Damn you, Gherson,’ Ralph Barclay snapped, his old fire reanimated by hope. ‘I have had occasion to remind you before to take care how you address me, and after being berated by a near child of a wife I am in no mood to let such a thing pass now.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Gherson replied, not much put out to be checked. ‘But might I suggest if it is to be done, the notion is best executed immediately?’
‘Why?’
‘I cannot but help feel, sir, that your wife, much as she may have rehearsed for this encounter, is emotionally troubled by it.’
Looking at Barclay, who clearly could not discern the nub of what he was saying, he was, not for the first time, wondering how this man had ever managed to get married at all, never mind to a beauty like his young wife: he might be able to command a ship but he knew nothing whatsoever about the opposite sex.
‘You think so, Gherson?’
It would have been too crass to say, ‘I know so, sir,’ so all he did was nod towards the quill and ink provided by Brown’s Hotel.
‘Send for Devenow. He can take your note to her, and after that he can keep a watch out to see where she goes.’
Emily Barclay was sitting in the back of a hack on the way back to her lodgings, still suffering from the effects of her interview and wondering what would happen next. She had few illusions that her husband would just roll over and acquiesce, it was not in his nature, but as to what he would do she had no idea. It was a thought which was still troubling her when she got back to her room, which occasioned a great deal of pacing up and down until, after an hour, she resolved to act and prepared to set out once more, this time on foot, for her destination was close by, to be met on the stairs by her landlady bearing the note which had just come through the door.
Quickly perused, she saw it as evidence of the need for what she had in mind, so, stuffing it into her coat pocket she went out the front door and headed off towards Holborn, unaware that she was being followed.
John Pearce, looking around the book-lined ground floor room, thought it had a level of dust which seemed appropriate for the fusty pursuance of the law as a profession, with a decent amount dancing in the shaft of light coming in through the window. The man opposite had a dry quality too, pale skin in a long face over what looked like a spare body, evidence to Pearce’s mind of a life spent indoors.
‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, sir.’
‘Mr Lutyens was most pressing that I should accommodate you, Mr Pearce.’
‘As you will observe, Mr Studdert, I have done no more than outline the details of my case so that you can look them over. I have a place on the two o’clock coach to Portsmouth where the men named in the document are waiting for me. I collected their protections from the Admiralty before coming on here.’
That revived an unpleasant recollection: having had no intention of being kept waiting once more, Pearce left the collection of the protections as late as possible, yet he still had to tip the blasted doorman just to get into the building, making him reprise in his mind a thought he had harboured before: that if he died and came back again he wanted that as an occupation. It was without doubt the best paid for the least effort. By the time he had paid the fees and got out again, he was lighter by ten guineas in his purse, and not a happy man.
‘But if you need to contact me,’ he added, ‘word can be left at Nerot’s Hotel, where I have taken a room.’
‘I would appreciate a short verbal explanation, sir,’ the attorney said, holding up the papers that Pearce had laid on his desk and which he had quickly skimmed through.
‘It is a case of illegal impressments, Mr Studdert.’ Seeing the man’s facial reaction Pearce was quick to add, ‘Which I know to be a difficult area of law to pursue. But when you read through what I have given you, it will become clear that in some senses that is only the trigger for my action, which is, in truth, an attempt to get a case of perjury brought against the man named on the first page. He was the scoundrel that took my companions and I out of the Pelican Tavern on the night we were pressed.’
‘Pelican?’ Studdert said that in such a strangled way that John Pearce was tempted to ask if he knew the place.
‘And the man you wish arraigned …’
‘Captain Ralph Barclay.’
That was said softly, and followed by an arrangement of the attorney’s features, which told the man opposite him that he was about to deliver bad news. ‘Mr Pearce, much as I would like to oblige Mr Lutyens, I cannot act for you.’
‘Why ever not?’
Pearce’s papers were pushed across for him to take. ‘That I cannot tell you.’
‘Sir, I am no student of the law, but when an attorney says to me that he cannot act, I suspect it is because he fears a conflict of interest.’
Studdert stood up abruptly. ‘And I am a student of the law, Mr Pearce, which tells me that I am at liberty to choose or decline whom I represent and to do so without being required to provide an explanation.’
‘I cannot believe you are acting for Barclay.’
‘What, sir, you believe or do not believe are none of my concern. Now, if you will forgive me, I have other matters to attend to.’
John Pearce wanted to argue, but there was no point in disputing with this fellow. With as unfriendly a glare as he could muster, he picked up his bundle and put it back inside his coat, then turned and left, exiting into a hallway and passing the stairway that led to other business premises above. Behind him a perplexed lawyer was wondering at two things: the name Pearce had used, which he knew, and the word ‘Pelican’, which was the one-word code that he had agreed upon with Emily Barclay should she wish to send someone to him to fetch from his strongroom the bundle of papers, thicker by far than those Pearce had presented, she had left in his care.
Emily Barclay, walking towards the attorney’s office to comply with the request from her husband, was too preoccupied to see that, as she took the first step up to his doorway, she was just about to bump into John Pearce – that is, till he spoke.
‘Mrs Barclay!’
He was as surprised as she, though he hid it better. She put her hand to her mouth as if she had seen a ghost and it was all she could do not to scream.
‘This is a coincidence,’ Pearce said. Then he turned, looked at Studdert’s doorway and smiled, a look that was still on his face as he turned back. ‘Or perhaps it is not so much of one.’
‘Lieutenant Pearce,’ she replied, fighting to control herself.
‘Yes, the ogre.’
‘You may be many things, sir, but you are no ogre.’
‘Forgive me if I do not ask you to list what those other things are.’
‘Do I find you well?’ she asked. It was such an inane thing to say in the circumstances that Pearce threw back his head and laughed, which made her cross. ‘What, sir, is so amusing?’
‘Your good manners, madam.’
‘It does not surprise me, sir that you find such attributes …’
‘Strange,’ he said, finishing a sentence she was struggling to complete. ‘In your mouth, no, given you are the living epitome of the polite manner.’
‘The way you say that, Lieutenant Pearce, makes it sound like an insult.’
‘Then I apologise for it. I would not want to ever insult you.’
That made her blush, which to Pearce made her look prettier than ever, and that broadened the look on his face to a near-grin as he took in the trace of auburn hair under her bonnet and the fresh features of her beautiful face. The voice that responded, as well as the flashing green eyes, made it plain his compliment was not welcome.
‘We are in the public street, sir, which is scarce the place to dispute with you, but I am bound to say, and it makes me cross to add it is not for the first time, your mode of speech is inappropriate. Now, if you will excuse me.’
Pearce stood aside, still smiling, with a very slight bow. ‘Of course, it would never do to keep Mr Studdert waiting.’
‘How do you know—?’
Emily Barclay stopped herself, dropped her head and brushed past, followed by the appreciative eyes of John Pearce. He, once she had gone through the doorway, spun round to hail a passing hack, too preoccupied to notice the man ducking out of sight, wh
ich was not easy for one of his height. A long-time follower of Ralph Barclay, now rated as his servant, Devenow had been sent for to follow the man’s wife and he had just witnessed something of more weight than finding out where she went on her errand.
‘Now, that is goin’ to set the capt’n ablaze, an’ no error,’ Devenow whispered to himself.
Sitting opposite Mr Studdert, Emily Barclay was unsure of how to proceed. She had come here because she felt the need to discuss with him the preparation of some kind of contract that would bind her husband, the discussion of which could not be anything but embarrassing. The request from her husband for further documents she felt worth compliance, but at this precise moment her mind was reeling from having just met John Pearce on the doorstep and, as a question, that took precedence.
‘Mr Studdert, the gentleman you have just had in your chambers, whom I bumped into on the way out.’
‘Lieutenant Pearce.’
‘Might I ask what his business was with you?’
‘None. He wanted me to act on his behalf in a matter and I declined to do so.’
‘Why?’
Studdert’s hands met before his lips, the long fingers tapping together like a church steeple as he considered his reply. Despite the look of impatience which crossed Emily Barclay’s face, he was not about to be rushed, being a man who was wont to say it would never do to ask a lawyer the time, given the reply would be so delayed by caution as to render it useless. He was free to speak if he wished: the woman before him was a client and Pearce was not, but the lieutenant had likewise come from Heinrich Lutyens, and that altered the case somewhat; best be sure of other factors before being too open.
‘I do believe I must respect the confidentiality of his request.’
‘Was it about my husband, Captain Barclay?’ Emily demanded.
Forced to accede, Studdert nodded. ‘I declined to represent him on the grounds that I have a strong suspicion I could not do so for both you and he, simultaneously.’
The connotation in that statement, as well as the way it was said, and not least because it was delivered with an unblinking gaze, made Emily blush. She being a very attractive young woman and Pearce being a handsome fellow of near the same age would lead anyone to certain salacious conclusions. For the second time in as many hours she found herself defending her reputation.
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