Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) (3 page)

It was at Covent Garden that Tam lost sight of Alec and his companions. Leaving The Rose, he ran up the road until he was only a few yards behind his quarry. Alec seemed in no hurry. He sauntered along the footpath, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his riding frock, while his new-found friends continued on with their banal banter, any remark made to Alec met with monosyllabic responses. Tam had a difficult time hanging back and was glad when they came to the edge of the market square. There were vegetable and fruit sellers, flower stalls, wagons and carts jostling with one another for space, and everywhere the smell of the country mingled with the soot and grime of the city. The noise was deafening.

Tam dodged in and around laden wagons, tripped on a cobbled street uneven and slick with rotting vegetables, and picked himself up to find he was the center of attention for a number of young ragged scamps, laughing at his expense. He shooed them off, brushed himself down and momentarily forgot his purpose catching the smell of hot pies and sweet fruit. He was suddenly ravenous and remembered he had not eaten since before dawn, and then only a fist of bread and chunk of cheese. Food was out of the question. He had no money.

Yet, as he continued along the street thinking of his empty stomach, the markets now behind him, the thought of a hot pie became suddenly repellent. He had lost Alec Halsey in the crowd. He stopped in the middle of the footpath wondering what to do and was shoved this way and that by pedestrians going about their business. A tradesman pushing a cart shouted at him but Tam neither saw or heard the man. He turned and retraced his steps to the corner where he had taken the fall and started a search of the side streets and alleyways. He ran almost to the Strand, out of breath and an ache in his side. There was no sign of the man and his companions. Again he returned to the corner where he had fallen and this time crouched on his haunches in the doorway of a disused warehouse that had its lower windows boarded up.

He tried not to panic. There was possibly only an hour before dusk. Already the light was dimming. Although he knew the area well he did not like the thought of spending the night without food and shelter. That Alec Halsey might have fallen foul of the three men from the Rose did not bear thinking about. The gentleman wore a sword and by the width of his shoulders and the muscle in his calves he looked well able to take care of himself in a mill. Still, three on one were not good odds in anyone’s books. And as Tam stared vacantly at the row of buildings diagonally opposite, at the coming and going of carriages and sedan chairs and men on foot, he wondered how it was possible for four men to vanish so completely. He watched the activity in the street for a long time before realizing the answer stared him in the face. His quarry had gone into one of those buildings. One building stood out from all the others.

Its entrance was set back off the street under an elegant portico and could be easily overlooked by the busy pedestrian. Tam crossed the street to better view the entrance. A doorman was in attendance. It must be a private club of sorts because the gentlemen being admitted were not of the class or position to frequent the area for any other purpose. If Alec had disappeared behind those doors, perhaps to be rid of his companions, then Tam would possibly have a long wait ahead of him. He curled up in a doorway across the street, kept his eyes fixed on the club’s entrance, and waited.

He was kicked awake by a night watchman carrying a lantern in one hand and a cudgel in the other, who demanded to know his business and was prepared to dispense his particular form of justice if Tam did not give a good account of himself. Tam explained he was waiting for a gentleman who was in the building across the street and added for good measure that he had a most important message to give him. The doorman had refused him entry and told him to wait outside. At this the night watchman let out a great peal of laughter and nudged Tam with his cudgel, but did so in a friendly fashion.

“Yer young fool! A’course he ain’t goin’ to let in the likes of you! Not less you got six guineas.” This made him laugh harder.

“I don’t understand,” said Tam politely, scampering to his feet and adding ‘sir’ for good measure because he was wary of night watchmen’s cudgels.

The man wiped dry his eyes with the back of a grimy hand and shook his head. He pointed his cudgel at the building, its entrance now illuminated with flambeaux. “That, my lad, is a brothel. A very ’igh class brothel it is, too. Called a fancy name: Turkish Bath. That’s what.”

“Turkish Bath,” repeated Tam.

“That’s right. Six guineas’ll get yer supper, a bathe in them Turkish baths, and a ’igh class ’arlot,” the night watchman said knowledgeably, although he had never been inside such an establishment and never would. “Now, m’lad, yer best be pushin’ along. Can’t stand out ’ere all night and I got me duties to do. Take yer message round his ’ouse and give it to the porter.”

“I-I can’t. I was told to deliver it here.”

“How d’yer know ’e’s still in there? You’ve been asleep.”

Tam’s shoulders slumped. The man peered keenly at him, holding high his lantern. The boy looked genuinely unhappy and he noticed he was wearing livery so his story was probably true. He pocketed the cudgel. “This message. It ain’t from ’is missus, is it?”

Tam shook his head.

The night watchman rubbed his stubbled chin.

“What’s ’e look like, this gentleman?”

Tam gave the man a description of Alec.

“Tall gent who wears his own ’air?” the night watchman repeated with surprise. “And yer say ’e’s a gentleman? The ’air will give ’im away sure enough. Stay ’ere.”

He crossed the street to be met at the front steps of the Turkish Bath by one of the doormen. The doorman peered into the blackness across the street as the night watchman spoke to him. The conversation lasted no more than a few minutes and back across the cobbles the night watchman came, his long coat unbuttoned and flapping at his sides. In the light of the lantern Tam saw that he was grinning, though his toothless smile died seeing the concern on Tam’s young face.

“Closed mouthed lot, them over there,” he confided, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Won’t say yes and won’t say no. But I managed to get ’em to tell me a thing or two.”

“He’s gone?”

“No need to fret yerself, lad. ’E’s there all right, ’cause a gentleman fittin’ your description entered the premises with three havey-cavey lookin’ coves ’e said were ’is particular friends. A’course it ain’t an establishment for low-life and so says the doormen to your gentleman. But they soon changed their minds when ’e threw down five and twenty pounds. Opened the door as wide as yer pleased for him and his friends then, didn’t they!” He chuckled to himself. “And I’ll tell yer some’in’ else for naught, lad. ’is friends are ’aving a right time of it, eatin’ ’til they’re fit to burst, splashin’ away in them Turkish baths and enjoyin’ the particular attentions of the three prettiest whores this side of Paris!”

Tam felt his face grow hot and moved out of the light. “Thank you for your help, sir.”

The night watchman peered at him closely and had a twinge of remorse recounting the carryings on in a brothel to a well-spoken young lad who obviously came from one of the big houses in Westminster. “You’d best get ’ome to yer bed. There’s no point you waitin’ cause by what ’im over there tells me, your gentleman is sittin’ in a corner drinkin’ ’is self into a right stupor. Not interested in supper, or them baths and when a sweet-mouthed whore tried to interest ’im he fairly growled at her. Waste of good guineas if yer ask me!”

“Thank you, sir. But I must wait. He—he’ll need my help to get home, if he’s as drunk as you say…”

The night watchman considered him with an open look. The boy stared back at him though he shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

“’ere,” he said and offered Tam the apple from his coat pocket. “I’ll be on me rounds then. Remember: keep yer wits about yer. It ain’t safe in these parts for a lad.” And with that piece of advice he went on his way, cudgel in hand, lantern held up high.

Alec sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, dragging the coverlet with him. Bent over, elbows on his knees and with his face in his hands, he felt weak and empty. His mouth was tinder dry. He wanted fresh air but knew his legs would not carry him to the windows.

Through his fingers he saw a porcelain bowl being thrust at him and he shook his head. “Take it away. I don’t need it,” he said thickly. “Open the windows.” He felt the growth on his face and grimaced. He waited for the first blast of cold air before he attempted to sit up straight, his hand gripping the edge of the mattress for support. He pulled the tangle of hair out of his eyes and squinted into the early morning light that flooded the bedchamber.

The room was in total disarray. Clothes littered the floor. Newssheets, rolled parchments and several books had fallen off a side table and onto the carpet. A chair was overturned. There was an assortment of bottles and dishes on the bureau, all new to him. Amongst their number were a mortar and pestle and jars of un-identifiable liquids. The room smelled of stale air and medicinals.

Mercifully, the chamber pot was empty. He remembered he had thrown up into it once. Later, a basin was used for the same purpose. He was forced to drink lemon water, and then a glass of syrupy liquid was pressed to his lips. When he had drunk it all he collapsed exhausted amongst the pillows and was allowed to sleep. The way he felt, he wasn’t sure if he had slept for five hours or five days.

“John. Help me to stand,” he muttered. Instead of his poker-faced valet, a freckle-faced youth who looked vaguely familiar came to his aid. He frowned. “Where’s John?”

“You dismissed him, sir,” Tam answered levelly, though his heart was knocking against his ribs.

“When?”

“Night before last, sir.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t fret over it. He was glad to be gone. Packed his bag and was off within the hour. Give me your arm, sir, and I’ll help you up. He looked right grateful, too. You should’ve seen his face when you came home.”

“I’m sure I did but I don’t remember it particularly,” Alec murmured.

“No, sir. I expect you don’t. Sit down here and I’ll see to your bath.”

Tam sat Alec in a wing chair by the window and without permission pulled down the sash. He then scurried away before he could be asked further questions and returned carrying one of Alec’s brightly colored silk banyans. He placed this about the man’s shoulders and began tidying the room. He felt Alec staring at him and knew he was remembered. “I’ll have everything straightened out in a trice. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to disturb you. But you slept so long I was beginning to worry I’d given you too much medicinal—”

“What are you doing here, Tam?”

“Me, sir?”

“Don’t be obtuse. I haven’t the strength or inclination for banter.”

Tam collected up the parchments and stacked these and the books and newssheets in a neat pile on the table before turning to face Alec. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m nervous. I don’t want you to tell me to leave. I’ve left St. Neots House and I’m not going back!”

“Did something happen?”

“No, sir.” He lowered his eyes. “That is, not to me…”

“I see,” Alec finally answered. “What do you want?”

“To be your valet, sir,” Tam said in a rush. “I have a letter of introduction. I’ll do a good job. I’ll work hard. You won’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be better than that surly creature you had before. I don’t know where everything is yet, but it won’t take me long to sort through—”

“Tam. Have you ever been a gentleman’s valet?”

“No. But—”

“It’s not just a matter of shining boots and tying up hair.”

“I know that, sir. But—”

“I frequently travel abroad.”

“I want to travel—to see other places!”

“I have two hounds. They travel with me. You’d be expected to care for them, too.”

“I love animals; dogs especially. And they like me. Yours do. I had them sleep with me in the dressing room so they wouldn’t disturb you. They didn’t mind a bit. I know their names too. Cromwell and Marzipan—”

“Marzi
ran
,” Alec corrected with a sigh. He heard water being poured into his hip bath. “John was the best valet I ever employed.”

“But he didn’t care for Cromwell and Marz—Marzi
ran
, did he, sir?” Tam asked eagerly, following Alec through to the dressing room. “
Did he
, sir?”

“No, he did not,” said Alec, smiling at the imploring note in the boy’s voice. “You will excuse me if I don’t ask you to share my bath.”

He was left to soap and soak in peace. The water was deliciously hot and mildly scented. An extra pail was at the side of the tub with several folded towels and a fresh banyan. He listened to Tam in the next room, pulling out drawers, scraping them closed, banging doors on the Tallboy, and quietly cursing when an object crashed to the polished wooden floor. It was a far cry from the soft-footed John, who crept about at his tasks, never spoke out of turn and was precise to a hair in his appearance. And a complete bore, thought Alec. Having Tam about would never be boring, possibly disconcerting at times, and definitely not tranquil, but never boring. Yet, he knew nothing about him, except he was a footman at St. Neots House who said he had a letter of introduction. For him? From whom, he wondered. He also wondered what his godmother would have to say about a runaway footman becoming his valet. But he did not want to think about his godmother, or St. Neots House, or Emily or…