The Travellers
Page 1
The Travellers
J. Howard Shelley
Copyright 2014 John Howard Shelley
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
THE TRAVELLERS
Prologue
On a very cold evening in early January eighteen twenty-four, a stranger stood upon the threshold of the large salon into which he had that instant been conducted and gazed appreciatively at the unfamiliar surroundings. He had met his sponsor, the Compte D'Etienne, a jovial and easy going man with whom it was easy to fall into friendship but three days previously and, after a pleasant evening playing cards in the Compte's town house, an invitation to the most select gaming house in the city had (as the stranger had intended) inevitably followed.
It was to be assumed from the admiring expression that the establishment, located in a discrete situation just off the Langenstrasse in the centre of Strasbourg, found favour with the newcomer, although as he had been warned what to expect he showed was no surprise. Even the most casual and disinterested observer would have rapidly concluded that, as gaming establishments went, this one was out of the ordinary, rivalling the Nonesuch in London or anything the Jardin Du Palais Royal had to offer.
Not even the harshest critic could have discovered any fault with the decor and facilities. The main room, into which the stranger had strolled, was splendidly lit with no less than four chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Just in case there might be a corner of the room which, by an oversight, had escaped illumination, there was a candelabra on every table and sconces lined the walls. The decoration was rich and fashionable, without ostentation yet tasteful and the furnishings, while not opulent, were of the finest quality, in the most up to date style and designed with comfort in mind. The wines which this establishment served were from the most exclusive vineyards and then only from the finest vintages, and the delicacies designed to temp the most jaded of palates, were prepared by a small army of highly paid chefs.
Strasbourg was, even then, a cross roads of Europe. As the capital city of Alsace, it was an important city in its own right, but it stood next to the Rhine; that mighty thoroughfare that cut across Europe, and it was thus also an important port. To the east across the river was the state of Baden in the German Confederation, to the north Belgium and to the south Switzerland. Westward there was the great Champagne region of France.
Travellers from other nations were attracted there by the history and the sights and it was not unusual to see Danes travelling south, Savoyards travelling North and English visitors passing through on the grand tour en route to Vienna. The conversation in The House reflected this. On this evening alone the visitor could hear, in addition to the predominant German; French, English and snippets of Italian. It mattered little, the patrons of this exclusive establishment were wealthy, well-educated and could switch effortlessly between any of the main European languages spoken here. If all else failed, they could resort to the universally understood language of Latin. This then, was a cosmopolitan venue catering for a cosmopolitan clientele in a cosmopolitan city.
There were, of course, those people who regarded “The House” (its real name had long since been forgotten) as too stuffy and rated the company and the entertainment a bore. They were few and generally their distain arose more from their inability to secure an invitation to the premises than from any genuine disapproval of the activities behind the front door. The members chose who to admit very carefully and it was generally agreed that it was easier to gain admission to a number of European Royal households. The stranger had been told by his sponsor that only a week previously, a minor prince of an equally minor principality had been politely but firmly shown the door after he became so drunk that he insulted a fellow member. He would never be readmitted.
Mr. Liversedge, the larger than life and very English personality who presided over The House was every bit as well known in Strasbourg as his establishment. Even those who had not yet been granted admission were prepared to acknowledge him if they met him in the street, doubtless in the hope that they might be more fortunate in the future. It was not that he was particularly handsome; indeed, the opposite was true, he was portly, middle aged and his face was round and singularly unprepossessing. Yet gentlemen found his conversation interesting and ladies said he was charming and respectful. He was therefore a welcome guest at any number of soirées and parties and although he did not dance, as he was known to be extremely fastidious as to the company he kept, his attendance did accord the gathering a certain cachet.
He claimed no noble birth, the extent of his wealth was unknown and it was a mystery, even to the most frequent visitors to The House, quite how he had managed to insinuate himself so completely into society. His ton was good but this would not, on its own, normally be enough to be recognised, yet even the highest stickers were prepared to pass time with him. There were, of course, still places where only those who could claim noble birth were admitted and from those places Mr. Liversedge was excluded. He did not appear to mind this exclusion and, as he was inevitably able to report intelligently upon what had happened at these events, it was almost as if he had been in attendance anyway.
Moreover, it seemed he was extremely well connected. He claimed acquaintance with most of the noble houses of Europe and rarely did a visitor arrive at the House without its impressive proprietor being able to identify his lineage. Furthermore, he had an uncanny ability to identify who might soon arrive at The House and when they might be expected. The Members had long since ceased to comment upon this apparent ability to peer into the future having become used to hearing Mr. Liversedge predict that the Count of this or the Duke of that would be arriving soon and then seeing that same person present himself requesting admittance a few days later. No-one knew how he could possibly predict that a foreign gentleman was about to descend on his club and although this mysterious ability had long been accepted, it was still regarded with some awe.
From the rare glimpses afforded of Mr. Liversedge’s private apartments, the members concluded that he was an avid reader. He took the best newspapers from the European catalogue, a well-thumbed copy of Debrett’s stood amongst rows of tomes listing the great and good of all the countries of Europe together with other reference books showing their coats of arms and mottos. He also took a great many society papers and magazines and he kept a scrap book of cuttings together with a diary. Although he had been seen writing in both no-one had ever been permitted to view their contents. Still, even with all this information, it was still hard to conceive how one man could know so much.
The younger patrons of the establishment were wont, on occasion, to try to confound this apparently encyclopaedic knowledge and uncanny prescience but their efforts met with indifferent success. One enterprising young prince arrived at the door to The House with a richly dressed middle aged man whom he blithely introduced to mine host as the “Compte de Perpingnon”. Mr. Liversedge bowed deeply and welcomed this new visitor with his usual bland expression. Some five minutes later, the alleged ‘Compte’ heard a discreet cough;
“Would Your Excellency like a glass of Claret?” asked Mr. Liversedge.
“Why yes, thank you” the visitor replied automatically. Immediately the room burst into laughter. Realising he had been found out the visitor cocked an enquiring look at his host.
“Your Excellency could hardly be the Compte De Perpingnon as that title became extinct over one hundred years ago. Tell me, how did you find London?”
His Excellency the Ambassador o
f the King of France to the Court of King George of England was stunned.
“How did you ...?” he stammered to a halt and looked around in a bewildered fashion. Mr. Liversedge bowed slightly and moved away, his countenance fixed in its usual impassive expression. An elderly gentleman tapped the stunned ambassador on the shoulder and laughingly advised him,
“Don’t ask. He won’t say. He chuckled, "and truth to tell, it is much more amusing watching people trying to catch him out.”
“He ought to work for the government,” replied His Excellency feelingly, “he would be good at that. My own wife doesn’t know I’m back in France yet.”
No one had ever seen Mr. Liversedge cast the dice or hold a hand of cards and although the racing journals of a dozen European Capitals were delivered for the convenience of the patrons, he had never been known to place a bet or offer a tip. Yet his knowledge of all forms of gaming was acknowledged as unmatched. He was unhesitatingly applied to as the arbiter of all matters related to play and his decisions were rarely questioned. He could spot an ivory turner or a card sharp in seconds and several “gentlemen” had been unceremoniously ejected from the premises after they had been caught out by his quick eye.
He dressed plainly in black although his clothes were well cut by the finest tailors and his knowledge of fashion was particularly nice. He never endorsed a fashion or style, and he pretended not to notice the more extravagant apparel sported by his younger patrons but if a particularly well cut coat caught his eye he would, on occasion, be moved to offer a graceful compliment. The wearer’s tailor soon thereafter invariably noticed an increase in business.
No visitor to The House was ever heard to complain as to the quality of the refreshments. Mr. Liversedge ensured that the food and drink he served was of the finest quality and exquisitely presented. He was painstakingly discrete and, other than he was unmistakably English, no-one knew anything about him at all. It may have been that the servants knew more than this, but not even the offer of significant bribes had induced any one of them to talk. Either they knew nothing, or they were breathtakingly loyal.
The sum of this understated splendour together with the conviviality and expertise of the owner meant that while play often was for very high stakes, it was scrupulously fair (any ivory turner being rapidly and unceremoniously shown the door) and other than giving a warning about dipping too deep, even the most censorious parent had few qualms about taking his son to play there or allowing him to visit on a Grand Tour. Liversedge had even been known to intervene to prevent a young man’s enthusiasm getting away with him and had on several occasions agreed to keep a keen but unobtrusive eye on the son of one of his patrons. This was a place a man could relax, enjoy a very good glass of wine or a superb brandy with his friends and play piquet or deep basset or, if that was his choice, throw dice for any stake without having to worry whether your opponent might be using Fulhams, and where debts of honour were paid promptly, in full, and without excuses.
The stranger was impeccably dressed without calling attention to himself and although he was unknown to the other patrons, the few disinterested glances sent in his direction were sufficient to reassure the members that he was accompanied by a member and the porter had been right to admit him. In time, if he wished to return, he would have to confirm his identity and someone would have to promote his membership but for now his demeanour, and the company he kept, proclaimed his status. Then again, the members had confidence in Liversedge, few imposters gained admittance in the first place and never had one managed to return for a second visit; if the stranger did not have the requisite credentials of breeding and wealth Mr. Liversedge would find him out in a trice and he would be politely but firmly shown out.
The newcomer was somewhat shorter than the average man and slightly built, but he was wiry withal and he had a stealthy air about him which would make any footpad think twice. His height, and his unpretentious mode of dress would have rendered him easy to overlook in a crowd. Yet, for all his small build, he did not appear diffident or shy. To the contrary, he had a confidence and an air of self-assurance which proclaimed wealth and the habit of command. He smiled politely to the footman as he gave his cloak and hat into his care. This lackey, who had, in the course of many years' service in gaming establishments encountered countless such garments, was quick to recognise the quality of these items and smiled in anticipation when the stranger pressed a coin into his hand. A few seconds later he was astounded to discover that he held a gold coin rather than the usual silver item and he made a mental note to ensure that the owner of the coat lacked no comfort in future. Such largesse was rare indeed!
The owner of the cloak having, by these simple means, ensured that whatever the demands of the other patrons of the establishment, his needs would be the first priority, spoke a few private words into the ear of his sponsor. This worthy, apparently happy to leave his companion to his own devices, smiled in response, gave a slight nod and turned in the direction of a small group of friends who had hailed his arrival.
Glancing purposefully around it was to be inferred that the stranger had been looking for Mr. Liversedge because, having identified this individual, he walked purposefully in his direction. Liversedge was, at that moment, engaged with a young gentleman whose raiment proclaimed that he was a pink of the ton or at the least wished to be considered as such. As the stranger approached it was apparent, from the overheard conversation, that this young gentleman had experienced a run of bad luck,
“Perhaps,” Mr. Liversedge advanced in a tone which left the luckless gambler in no doubt of his obligations, “you would like me to send a man around to your house to obtain some further money for you? Or you might like to leave a pledge?”
As the exquisitely dressed gentleman knew quite well that he would not be permitted to leave without paying his debts in full, or if he did so, he would face the embarrassment of never being permitted to return, replied with some dignity that his friends need have no concern on that matter and hurried off to the servant waiting in the hall to tell him that he had urgent need of further funds.
The Stranger had the intention of taking Mr. Liversedge by surprise. Without waiting to be noticed or introduced he leaned forwards and said softly;
“I see you have succeeded then,” and he stood back and waited to see what effect his words might have. The Stranger was not disappointed, it was apparent that for a split second Mr. Liversedge did not recognise who had addressed him although the voice was familiar. Then, to the astonishment of all the other patrons present, not one of whom had ever seen Mr. Liversedge anything but absolutely composed, he exclaimed,
“Your G-Grace, but ...but...” and he turned alarmingly pale.