‘Of what?’
‘Of what comes next. Before I can say more, I need yet more time to think, and a bath is in order. I have been in these riding clothes since lunch. You too must want to dress in something more appropriate.’
‘I only have my uniform.’
‘Try this on.’
Archer passed him a shirt, and when James objected, handed him a pair of breeches, a waistcoat and jacket. The viscount took a bundle for himself, and standing up, banged his head on the ceiling.
‘Oops,’ he said, his grin undiminished. ‘Do you mind if I have the first bath?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’ll run one for you when I’m done. While I am doing that, perhaps you would find my pocket-note and a pen. They should be in one of these. I shan’t be long.’
James’ bewilderment continued as Archer refused to let him prepare the bath, insisted he called him Archer, or better still, Archie, and on returning from the bathroom, informed him that he had left his French soap and bay rum aftershave for James’ use.
Later, clean and shaven, James slipped into Archer’s shirt. The viscount assisted with the cuffs before holding the waistcoat open, a role reversal that James was not completely comfortable with at first, but by the time Archer had helped him into the jacket and said how well it fitted, he was rather enjoying. The experience of being treated as he treated Archer would have been more entertaining had he known the reason.
‘Later,’ Archer insisted. ‘We must have an earnest discussion, but before then, I have still not put the pieces in order in my head.’
‘I get that,’ James said, tying his laces. ‘But what I don’t get, Sir…’
‘Uh hu.’ Archer wagged a finger.
‘Sorry. What I don’t get, Archer, is how come you were as miserable as sin one moment and as happy as a lark the next. The only thing that happened in between was that interview with Lord Kingsclere, and that was hardly a music-hall turn.’
‘It was from that performance that I gleaned my inspiration,’ Archer said. ‘And on leaving his drawing room, I saw something that gave me a way out once and for all. That is, as long as my cards are played correctly. At the moment, I am still not sure which ones I need to draw. I will explain in time. But apart from escaping that house, the other reason I am happy is because I am here.’
James grimaced at the tiny room, noticing for the first time, a damp patch directly over the beds. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, not the room,’ Archer laughed. ‘I have slept in worse.’
‘You have?’
‘You’ve not swayed through a storm in a hammock with thirty men vomiting at your side, Jimmy. Then there was that night in a horse shed with Fecker, although that was infinitely more… stable.’ When he had finished laughing at his own joke, Archer took James’ shoulders, his expression unnervingly serious. ‘Jimmy, the main reason I am as giddy as a Parisian gander is because I am here with you, free of the confines of my title and with a friend. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you to hear it.’
‘You’ve said it before many times, and no, it doesn’t.’
‘Because it’s true. And, because I know it to be true, I must ask you to do something for me which, at first, you may be reluctant to entertain.’
Aware that they were alone in a room where the two beds might just as well have been one, and Archer was still holding his shoulders tightly, his face a couple of inches way, James glanced apprehensively to the sleeping arrangements and swallowed.
Archer tutted and laughed. ‘Not that, you dolt. Attractive as you are, Jimmy, that kind of thing is reserved solely for Silas, as I know you reserve yourself for Tom. What I must ask, goes beyond your duties in a different direction, and I wanted us alone so we can speak as part of the same crew.’
‘Whatever you want, Archie,’ James said, relaxing now that he knew there was no hidden motive. ‘You know that there is nobody more loyal than your comrades.’
‘As you pointed out, it works both ways,’ Archer said. ‘There is much still to consider, and we need to view the completed painting before we go beyond the call of duty, but that is for tomorrow. Many other matters must be taken into consideration first.’
‘You’re not making sense.’
‘I know. It doesn’t yet, but there is something there in the background, in the past and much in the future which will, after considered thought, come to the fore. I hope. Meanwhile, we have things to discuss. Namely, two paintings and a way a man might die and yet still live. Shall we dine?’
They took a table in a window alcove well away from any other customers where Archer, with his back to the corner glass, could see if anyone approached the inn or the table. The landlord supplied them with a decent enough meal of chops and vegetables in a rich sauce with an ambiguous flavour, warm bread and butter. Archer sent the man into a flap by ordering his most expensive bottle of wine, and James began to feel at home in the viscount’s borrowed clothes, almost as if he was a fellow gentleman. As instructed, he had bought Archer’s pocket notebook and had it open beside him when Archer was, finally, ready to start talking.
‘Now then, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘I have been asked not to say anything about this to anyone, so… Earl Kingsclere is being blackmailed.’
James wasn’t sure how to react and stared into Archer’s large brown eyes hoping for a clue. Knowing the viscount detested the man, he expected to see impish glee, but instead, found him serious.
‘Blackmailed?’ James queried. ‘How do you know?’
‘He told me. The old duffer has received death threats, and rightly so if you seek my opinion, but what I think is also by the by. He asked for my help, and I promised to give it according to my terms.’
Archer had cut his pork chop into squares and ate them one at a time, carefully choosing which to take next as if they were a box of confections.
‘Does he know who has sent these threats?’ James asked, flipping open the notebook to jot the details.
‘No. That’s what he wants me to discover. It’s Quill, of course, but I said nothing.’
‘How much money does he want to leave him alone?’
‘He didn’t say precisely, but suggested it is everything he owns.’
‘He wasn’t exactly forthcoming, was he? What happens if he doesn’t comply with the demands?’
‘Death.’
‘And you said yes even though you hate the man.’
It made no sense to James. If one of the bullies from his past had come to him for help, he would have told them what they could do with their request. Just picturing Eddie Lovemount’s face turned his stomach, and whenever he remembered what he and others had done to him during his first days at the GPO, it was all he could do not to wither in a corner and withdraw from the world.
‘So why help him?’ he asked.
‘Because,’ Archer replied, chewing through a grin, ‘Quill expects me to.’ When James was none the wiser, he explained. ‘When Silas was on the verge of being sent down, and myself exposed in the courts, he arrived to take my side.’
‘For his own purpose.’ James sipped his wine; the best he had tasted.
‘Exactly. Quill’s blackmail threat won’t end in death for Kingsclere. It is merely motivation for him to draw me in.’
‘The timing of the painting’s arrival would, therefore, make sense,’ James agreed, and put down the wine to attend to his meal. ‘And you agreed to help?’
‘Yes. But on my conditions.’
‘Which were?’
‘That he suspends his amendment in the House, mainly,’ Archer said, picking through his vegetables. ‘Which he agreed to, but it is an agreement that means nothing. He will simply have it reintroduced later.’
‘I still don’t follow. Why let Quill drag you in?’
‘You will understand in time,’ the viscount said, one eyebrow twitching. ‘Let me tell you what happened in and outside of that drawing room. Do you find these beans over-cooked? I can send them back.’
‘Just get on with it,’ James tutted, and the smile that passed between them told him that His Lordship was pleased with, rather than angered by, his cheek.
‘Very well.’ Archer selected another square of meat before continuing. ‘As soon as Kingsclere asked me to assist, I saw a way out of tonight’s dinner. That was one thing, and the condition concerning the amendment is hollow, but I had to make a stand. What I really wanted was the chance to investigate the mystery of the postage.’
‘The postage? It was two and six.’
‘I mean the posting of, then,’ Archer clarified. ‘The facts you discovered from the paper.’
‘And they were all facts, honest. I only made up the bit with the string because he was annoying me. I mean, string is string, right?’
‘Excellent move, Jimmy. Put him in his place. But the posting of the painting, the timing, the address… What we must consider first, are the initials, BQ, the post office box and the place in The Netherlands from whence the item was sent. Does your uncle still work at Five Dials?’
James was surprised Archer remembered, but he shouldn’t have been. Within the few months he had known Lord Clearwater, one thing that had become evident was how much he remembered about people, particularly small, personal details.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But he wouldn’t be able to tell me who rents one of the security boxes. That’s why they are secure. Only the postmaster would know, and a lot of those boxes are rented anonymously.’
‘That is good information, thank you.’ Archer took a moment to pour wine into both glasses, emptying the bottle before waving it at the landlord for another. ‘Next, we must consider Delft.’
‘Never heard of the place,’ James admitted. ‘Where is it?’
‘Roughly twenty miles from Dordrecht. It is mostly known for its pottery, but also has associations with the art world. Vermeer was born and died there in the seventeenth century.’
‘But the painting was by Wolfgang Vaine.’
‘No, the forgery was by someone imitating Wolfgang Vaine. Any decent art student could have done that.’
‘And if you can find out who, they will lead you to the post box and whoever forwarded it with the threats. You can prove what you already suspect, that it’s Quill, tell the earl and fulfil your promise.’
Archer’s face lit up, and he clinked his glass against James’.
‘You really are remarkable,’ he said. ‘You have such a quick mind.’
‘Kind of you to say so, but it’s common sense, and still doesn’t explain why you want to bother. The earl could hire a private detective, and you could ignore Quill.’
‘I have an ulterior motive,’ the viscount said, returning to his assortment of cubed pork. ‘So, what does your common sense tell you I intend to do next?’
James sat back to think and allow the landlord to waddle around the table, removing the empty bottle of wine before making a great show of introducing His Lordship to the next. Archer made all the required noises of approval, waited patiently while it was opened with a flourish, tasted it, nodded favourably and watched the man leave before saying, ‘It’s probably the worst wine I’ve ever encountered, but the poor chap is proud to have it in his cellar. Carry on.’
The performance had given James time to gather his thoughts and put them in a logical order, and the way forward was obvious.
‘You will investigate the damage done to the painting, work out the significance and thus Quill’s message, and act on it.’
‘No,’ Archer said, examining a piece of fat with interest before putting it aside. ‘That is what you are going to do.’
‘Me?’
‘You and the others. How are things with you and Tom?’
James felt as though he was being batted back and forth like a tennis ball. ‘What’s Tom got to do with anything?’
‘The question will become apparent when the time is right. Humour me, Jimmy. How are you and Tom?’
James gave the bar a quick glance to make sure no-one had drifted within earshot before giving his reply. ‘They couldn’t be better. Thanks to you, we can live together in our quarters at Larkspur and when in town, we can be ourselves when not at work. We can send money to our families to help them, and we couldn’t be happier.’
Archer was looking to have his ego pampered, and although James found it beneath the man, he was happy to do it. He owed the viscount more than he could ever repay.
‘And with Silas?’ Archer asked.
‘Best mates.’
‘Nothing more?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’
Archer shrugged. His permanent smile was becoming annoying.
‘Silas would die for you, Archie,’ James said, unable to hide his irritation. ‘He very nearly did at the Opera House that night. All of us would, and in the same way, we would lay down our lives for each other.’
‘”Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life…”’
‘”For his brother”,’ James interrupted.
Archer was finally grave, his dinner forgotten. ‘His brother in arms?’
A chill ran along James’ spine. ‘The painting?’ he asked, and Archer nodded.
‘Brothers in Arms.’
‘Actually, Archie, the quote finishes with, “lay down his life for his friends.” It’s from the Bible. John, chapter fifteen, verse thirteen.’
Archer was astounded.
‘Remember I was taught at Sunday school by Mrs Norwood, and my mother used to read the book to me,’ James said. ‘The next verse, if I remember, states, “You are my friends if you do what I command you,” which I always thought was a bit conditional.’
‘You are a wonder, Jimmy.’
‘Hardly.’
‘And the next verse,’ Archer said, ‘reads, “No Longer do I call you servants”, but apt though the verse may be, we are wandering from the point.’
‘Which is?’
‘My epiphany outside the drawing room. When I left the earl, I found the footman standing guard. The tall one, not unattractive to look at, but somehow untrustworthy. I caught him a glance as I passed, and he had about him the look of a man who knows something he is not saying; rather smug, I thought. I pondered that, and when I reached the staircase, I became suspicious and glanced back. When he saw me, he turned away quickly as if caught out, and so did I.’
Archer held up a finger while grimacing through a sip of wine, and James waited.
‘Oh, Lord, that’s bad.’ The glass set aside, the viscount continued. ‘I turned away from the footman, pretending to innocently admire one of the earl’s paintings, and my eyes fell on one by Alfred Muller titled “Artful Deception”. It set my mind tumbling until something went clunk for want of a better expression, and I realised…’
Breaking off, Archer stared beyond James to the bar, but he wasn’t considering the ale. His fingers were twitching, and he blinked quickly as he thought, before turning his eyes to James and putting on a smile.
‘Well,’ he said, and the finger-drumming ended with a cheerful rhythm. ‘I may be wrong, and in case I am, I cannot say too much now. But what I need to know from you, is that you are prepared to deal with the mystery of the damaged painting and that you will look after Silas if anything happens to me.’
James was unable to process the story, mainly because Archer had left so many gaps in it, but the words about something happening to him hit home. Just before they came to dinner, he had asked how a man might die and yet live.
‘If what happens to you?’ His curiosity was spiced with concern.
‘I hav
e a theory, Jimmy. But I am not yet sure if I am correct. When we get back to town, I have people to see and will then go on to the gallery to assess the painting. If my theory is correct, I will soon be called away. Tomorrow, I imagine. In case I am correct, would you make a note to send telegrams first thing in the morning?’
For his eighteenth birthday, James’ father had bought him a fifteen-puzzle. It was the latest fad from America, a square block into which were fixed numbered tiles that slid around the grid of sixteen spaces, one being left empty, and when correctly placed, the tiles appeared in numerical order. He imagined it now, except the numbers were a mix of clues and Archer’s words, and none were in any logical sequence.
‘Telegrams, Jimmy?’
‘Sorry, yes.’ His appetite gone, James pushed aside the remains of his meal and prepared to write. ‘Shouldn’t Silas be doing this?’ he asked. ‘As your secretary? I don’t want him to feel I’m taking his place.’
‘If he were here, yes,’ Archer agreed. ‘But he’s not. So, first a message to Mrs Baker at Larkspur please, and it is to read: “Send Mr Danylo to Clearwater House on the first train. Urgent. Advise arrival by return.” Something like that.’
‘Danylo?’ James queried.
‘Indeed. And one to Tom to let him know we will be returning.’
James made another note and was about to ask Archer for an explanation of his earlier cryptic question about a dead man living when he realised the viscount hadn’t finished.
‘One to my solicitor, Marks. Just say I will be with him at some point tomorrow to discuss unfinished business and the start of a new one, and then one to Doctor Markland at the Foundation. Again, to expect me at some point during the day. When we reach town, you take the luggage home while I attend to those matters, and I will be there as soon as I have been to the gallery and discovered what is written on the missing plinth.’
Artful Deception Page 7
