A Death for King and Country (10 page)

Chapter Eighteen

In which I make an exhibition of myself at the
docks

‘So you’re telling me your little brother is stowing away on board one of these ships.’

The harbourmaster was a tall craggy man, whose face had been so weathered by the sea his age could have been anything between thirty and fifty-five. He wore a tightly curled beard, but my impression was this was out of necessity from the battering of cruel winds at sea rather than any sartorial sense. His harbourmaster’s hat was jammed down tightly over his head, so that he appeared to have no ears. His eyes were wide, blue, and filled with suspicion.

‘My brother is a full thirty-three years of age,’ I said slowly and clearly. ‘But he has the mental age of a small child. He sounds like a man, but this is completely misleading.’

‘He is prone to tantrums,’ added Rory. ‘And when he is in a rage can be a danger to himself or others.’

I flashed him a look of alarm. The last thing we wanted was for the harbourmaster to decide he had to get the police involved.

‘Not that he would mean to hurt anyone,’ I said quickly.

‘Aye, disn’t ken his ain strength,’ said Rory becoming gruffly Scotch under my rebuke.

‘And this is him, is it?’ said the harbour master picking up the sketch Rory had done for him. ‘Is a good likeness?’

‘Yes,’ I said truthfully. Rory’s talent was as obvious as it was surprising.

‘Right, I’d better round up some men,’ said the harbourmaster. ‘I have more than one ship going out on the tide in an hour.’

‘You won’t hurt him, will you?’ I asked with real fear in my voice.

‘Might be better if you came along, sir,’ he said to Rory. ‘Help calm him down if necessary.’

Rory and I exchanged a look.

‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘it’s his sister that’s best at that. I tend to enrage him more often than not. Seeing as how I am often called to restrain him.’

‘Right,’ said the harbourmaster, ‘if you’re used to restraining him you are definitely coming with us. We’ll call you, miss, if we need to talk him out from somewhere.’

‘Thank you,’ I said sincerely. I could only pray that Bertram was unconscious when they found him. If the pretence was that he was a stowaway I hoped that they had not tied him up. That would led to the most awkward of questions and as yet I could think of no response.

At least this time I was waiting in the harbourmaster’s office. It was not as warm as the tearoom, but the seats were comfortable and the views out of the window unhampered by steam.

The rain had continued to slow and was now no more than a relentless drizzle. Fog hovered on the horizon, but far enough out, that I had a good view of the open expanse of sea beyond. Before I had sailed with Hans and Richenda such a view would have gladdened and uplifted me. Now I knew that no matter how beautiful the sea might seem she could be wild and cruel. There were two liners in dock. The dockside itself was now awash with both the suppliers loading the ships and the passengers arriving for their voyages. The harbourmaster’s office allowed both draughts and sound to pass freely through and I heard the excited exclamations of those seeing their ship for the first time. With the fate of the
Titanic
so few months behind us it surprised me that so many people were still so eager for sea travel.

I knew the White Star Line had seemingly been ruthless in distancing itself from the disaster. All the surviving crew and staff had been relieved of their employment the next day, so no one on one of the White Star ships would find themselves sailing with a ‘Jonah’.
[17]

The thought of Bertram being unwillingly, unwittingly, sent out to sea made the pit of my stomach lurch. To the best of my knowledge he had never sailed before, and his home in the Fens had engendered in him a deep dislike of all forms of unconfined water. I feared his finding himself suddenly at sea might bring on a heart attack – if his capture had not already done so. I knew he would be furious at my ruse to find him, but I would so much rather bear his wrath than see him further endangered.

There was nothing for me to do for the moment but worry. I would have much rather been out looking for him, but I knew all too well how large these ships were. The cargo ships that were also in dock I assumed would be vastly cavernous inside; the cargo bays as large and dark as any unlit cathedral.

The enormity of all the ships unsettled me. That structures much larger than most buildings on land should pitch and roll their way across the depths of the ocean awakened a primeval fear. But perhaps if one had not been associated with a disaster at sea one could forget the darkness beneath. Perhaps Bertram would awaken and think only of the sumptuousness of his surroundings. If we failed to find him perhaps he would find the motion of the sea gentle and reassuring.

The thoughts turned round and over in my head. I felt nauseous and dizzy. The drinks from the tea-shop must have been even poorer than they had tasted. The draughts in here were bad enough that I was shivering. I must have indeed presented a sorry sight when, what felt like hours later, a docker burst through the door.

‘Are you the man’s sister, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘You’re badly needed.’

I had been sitting still for so long that my legs shook when I stood and I almost fell.

‘Is he alive?’ I asked.

‘Aye, ma’am,’ said the docker with a grin. ‘He’s certainly that.’

These words seemed to bring strength back to my limbs. ‘I’m ready,’ I said.

‘Would you mind if we ran, ma’am?’ asked the young docker. ‘Only it’s urgent.’

‘Lead the way,’ I said, and hitched up my skirts to a degree that would have made even my lion-hearted mother faint.

We ran across the docks in the direction of one of the cargo ships. ‘Make way! Make way! Coming through!’ the docker cried. People scattered before us. As a number of dockers who were not involved in the search called out comments, I tried hard not to hear and I am fairly sure one older lady crumpled in shock as I flashed by. My ankles were on display for all to see and I did not care. My mother had been right being involved with the Staplefords had not been good for my moral well-being, but I was so afraid of what I might find on that cargo ship. I needed to know. I needed to get there as fast as I could. It could be that only I could divert Bertram’s fury and thus negate the risk of a heart attack. What were bare ankles compared to a man’s life?

The boy in front of me pelted up a gangway and I followed. The wooden platform bounced under our feet. The gangway led directly into the side of the ship, so that at the top I hesitated to allow my eyes to adjust to the gloom. The boy ran between a number of loaded pallets and disappeared. I followed and soon found myself at the top of a short ladder. There was nothing for it: I would have to shimmer down and hope that no one at the bottom was watching. I scooped my skirts up over my arm and holding on with one hand managed to climb awkwardly down. I was now in a narrow, metal corridor. I saw the boy waiting a decent distance ahead on the other side of an oval bulkhead door. ‘In ’ere, ma’am,’ he called.

I rushed over to find a small room so filled with people that I could not enter. It was a cold storage place of some sort. There were sacks and shelves filled with all sorts of things. We must have been below the waterline because the air was decidedly chilly. Backed up against one wall was Bertram, his hair and eyes wild. He was holding a large knife in front of him. Rory was engaged in trying to reason with him, but his voice was getting louder and louder and more and more Scotch. The harbourmaster and three dockers had edged round the side. I glimpsed at least one cudgel.

‘What on earth is going on?’ I cried.

The harbourmaster’s head whipped round. ‘What the damnation is she doing down here?’

‘You said to fetch help!’ said the young docker. ‘And she was the only one in the office. I thought you meant her.’

The harbourmaster’s eyes widened. ‘Did you climb down here in those skirts?’ he asked, I felt somewhat indelicately.

‘I certainly didn’t take them off,’ I responded tartly. ‘Now, what seems to be the problem? I am glad to see you have found my brother and that he appears to be well. Why have you not brought him off the ship?’ I said trying my best to imitate the
grande dame
that my mother could do so well. I tuned my tone to that of nurse and demanded, ‘And why on earth do you have a knife, Bertram? That is not acceptable behaviour. Put it down.’

‘Get out, Euphemia,’ yelled Bertram. ‘Save yourself! They are murderers and kidnappers.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ I said, trying to convey the message he needed to play with my eyes to Bertram. ‘These nice men have helped me find you. And you know Rory. He would never hurt you.’

It seemed to me that the tension in the room was lessening slightly. Certainly, the cudgels had been tucked back out of sight. I hoped my teacherly no-nonsense approach was making them all feel just a little stupid.

However, Bertram did not put his knife down.

‘Don’t you understand, Euphemia?’ he roared. ‘These men knocked me out and locked me up down here. Now, they have come to finish me off.’

‘Nonsense,’ I tried again to indicate that he needed to play along. ‘No one has harmed you.’

‘I suppose I hit myself on the back of the head,’ snapped back Bertram. ‘I have a tremendous bump and there is blood in my hair.’

‘That explains it,’ I said kindly. ‘You must have fallen. It is very dark in the cargo hold.’

Bertram began to protest again, but I quickly spoke over him. ‘I will take you to see Dr Fitzroy,’ I said loudly. ‘You know how he always makes you better.’

Bertram looked quite manic at this, but then suddenly his expression changed. ‘Dr Fitzroy,’ he said. ‘You mean this whole situation is down to Dr Fitzroy?’

‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘and no matter how much these men want to help you none of them work with Dr Fitzroy or his friends.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Bertram. He handed the knife to Rory. ‘Sorry, old chap. Blow to the head confused me a bit like Euphemia said. Can we leave now?’

‘Certainly,’ I said, ‘but if you gentlemen will please do me the courtesy of giving me a head start? Ladders and skirts do not mix well.’

There was a degree of embarrassed shuffling, and the last vestiges of male bravado faded from the room.

[17]
In sea lore superstition a Jonah is one who will bring disaster on a ship and her crew. It was rumoured that the White Star Line felt anyone who had survived the
Titanic
would remind passengers of the disaster seemed to be the company’s ruling. It seemed that as far as they were concerned, the best thing was to forget the whole incident as quickly as possible. After all, her sister ship, the
Olympic,
was still sailing. I found the whole situation most disheartening.

Chapter Nineteen

In which a good dinner is ruined by discussion

By the time we reached the hotel it became clear that Bertram had suffered a severe blow to the head. Rory helped him upstairs and I summoned the hotel doctor. He was able to assure us that the chances were that Bertram would not suffer lasting damage, but that he required complete bed rest for at least the rest of the day, if not tomorrow as well. He also suggested that someone should sit with him, so that should he become nauseous or further confused a doctor could be called at once. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what such changes would mean, but I decided I would rather not know.

‘I’ll stay with him, Doctor,’ said Rory. ‘I am sure the hotel will allow a cot bed or some such thing to be brought in under the circumstances.’

‘How did he come by the injury?’ asked the doctor.

‘He fell,’ I said quickly.

‘Rushing down steps,’ added Rory. ‘Man is always in a hurry.’ He made the mildly disgruntled noise of a servant who finds his master tiresome.

‘So he was not inebriated or in a fight?’

‘Goodness, no!’ I said. ‘My brother is not that kind of man.’

The doctor lowered his eyebrows and appeared to consider me for a moment. ‘In that case I will advise the hotel of your requirements and ensure they comply. I imagine there will be an extra charge.’

‘Oh, that is not an issue,’ I said, careless of Bertram’s expenses. He had never appeared to be short of money, so I assumed he could easily pay whatever charges were incurred. Rory gave me a curious look.

The doctor left us shortly afterwards. Bertram was muttering under his breath.

‘That’s nae guid,’ said Rory. ‘If he comes round I will have a devil of a time convincing him not to come down for dinner.’

‘I will leave. He is more likely to argue with me than you.’

Rory sniffed meaningfully. ‘If you say so.’

I made my escape. I made my way down the corridor to my room. I knew I would be very hungry later when my excitement and confusion from the day wore away, but at this moment I wanted nothing more than to wash the smells of the dock from hair and skin, and to rest upon a comfortable bed.

When I reached my door I found that my key would not turn in the lock. I stood there, stupefied. Could it be that I had been wrong about Bertram’s finances, and that White Orchards had consumed all of his wealth? Were we about to be thrown out upon the street?

Panic flared within my chest, but then just as quickly faded. The key in my hand bore a very different number to the one upon the door. I had come to the wrong room. I had gone in the direction of my room at the previous hotel. Clearly, I was more shaken by the day’s events than I realised. I turned, and with some effort managed to retrace my steps to my room. As I did so I realised that something was different. When I opened my door, the key having worked this time, I saw quite clearly that the carpet in the hallway was a great deal brighter in colour than the one in my room. I had paid it no attention this morning, but clearly last night a new carpet had been laid. The new pattern was exactly the same as the one in the previous hotel.
[18]

I spent no more time thinking about the hotel, but summoned water for washing. Having completed by ablutions, I undid my stays and laid down upon the bed. I had the forethought to ask the maid to knock me up in good time for dinner.

Much later, rested and revived, I made my way down to the dining room. I trusted Rory would summon me should anything be amiss with Bertram. My disturbing them would only add to the time Bertram needed to recover. I thought it likely he remained some way from forgiving me my ruse and that my presence would only agitate him.

The thought of a solitary supper did not depress me. After all the excitements of the last few days some quiet solitude would be most welcome. But it was not to be. Barely had I placed my hand upon the dining room doorknob when a waiter appeared at my side and redirected me to a smaller room.

‘Your companions are awaiting you here, Miss,’ he said opening the door. Seated at the table I saw Rory, thankfully not in his servant’s livery, and a whey-faced Bertram. ‘I will give you a moment to consult the menu,’ said the waiter and shut the door behind me.

‘Dinnae be blaming me,’ said Rory. ‘If they had not put down that new carpet he would never have thought of it.’

‘Have you also suffered a blow to the head?’ I asked Rory coldly.

‘I would be careful how you answer that,’ said Bertram, ‘or she will be about giving you a head injury yourself.’

‘As if I would be so uncouth,’ I said, sitting down opposite them and frowning in annoyance.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Bertram, ‘I heard Euphemia flashed her ankles for the whole docks to see. That seems mightily uncouth to me.’

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I was not used to Bertram making this kind of comment.

‘Are you sure you are well enough to be at dinner?’ I asked. ‘The doctor did suggest …’

‘Pah!’ interrupted Bertram. ‘I’ve been made a fool of twice today. I will not lie back and … and … take it.’

‘I can quite see how eating soup will prove you more manly,’ I said.

Bertram scowled ferociously and scratched at his beard with vigour.

‘Don’t do that! Not at the dinner table!’ I exclaimed in horror. ‘It is far from hygienic.’

‘Euphemia,’ rumbled Bertram as ire built up inside him like steam in a kettle, ‘What the devil were you thinking …’

‘I was thinking only of how we could find you quickly before the ship set sail. A circumstance I suspect your assailants were counting upon.’

‘What gets me,’ said Rory, ‘is why they did not just drop you off the end of the quay. It would have been far less risky and most likely it would have been thought an accident.’

I nodded. ‘It is odd.’

‘I am sorry to disappoint you both,’ said Bertram, but neither Rory or I paid any attention to him.

‘It is the same with the clerk not simply saying that Fitzroy had got on the boat. That would have completely ended our investigation.’

‘I suspect the clerk may have panicked,’ I said. ‘Presumably he has been paid off to turn a blind eye to certain things. But that is a long way short from arranging fatal accidents or even lying to investigation officers. Do you think they thought you were from the police, Bertram?’

‘Good God, Euphemia. I am a gentleman!’

‘What you say would lead to the conclusion that there is more than one level of criminal involved. There are men who have been bribed at the docks and there are those who actually took Fitzroy away. I can only imagine that removing him from a place against his will would not have been an easy task, and may have involved considerable violence.’ Rory’s voice had crept back to his correct butler English and away from the Scotch. Obviously sitting in a private dining room was having an effect on him. I rather enjoyed his Scottish burr.

‘Euphemia, are you listening to me?’

‘What? Yes. More than one group of criminals involved. Though I also think it is worth considering that murdering someone inevitably leads to the death penalty. One must be quite desperate to risk that, don’t you think?’

‘Or a fanatic,’ said Bertram darkly. ‘Who knows what kind of people would be after Fitzroy.’

‘Both Rory and I have seen him kill and display no remorse. He is a most ruthless man.’

‘I thought you rather liked him,’ said Bertram, scratching his beard again.

‘No,’ I said shortly. Though the truth was far more complicated.

At this point the waiter reappeared and took our orders for dinner. To my horror Bertram ordered soup. After he had left I could not contain myself. ‘Bertram, men who have beards should not order soup. It sticks most unattractively in their whiskers.’

Bertram looked pained. ‘I do know how to use a napkin, Euphemia.’

‘Yes, but it is fish soup. You will stink all evening.’

Bertram pulled his shoulders back and adopted his most formal expression. ‘Then I suggest you do not sniff me.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ burst out Rory. ‘Forget the soup. What are we going to do? For the life of me I cannae see we have any avenues to follow.’

‘Of course, we do,’ said Bertram. ‘We need to kidnap that clerk –’

The door opened.

‘Soup,’ announced the waiter.

[18]
It never fails to surprise me how subtle changes in one’s environment can lead one unconsciously to the strangest conclusions.