Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 23

  “To my limited knowledge, sir, most folk have.”

  “They do, indeed, but very few of those fathers cause the vicar’s eyebrows to rise when it comes to burying them in his churchyard! Sir Godby Burke was born in a very different name, I am quite certain; Jewish, and not of the English stock, either. Rumour insisted he was a Russian fled from the persecutions there, which was a sensible enough thing to do, one must admit – but he had made himself rich from nothing and nowhere, and that is not an easy achievement for the honest man.”

  “Thus a wife such as I, with a father such as you, would do much to add respectability to the Burke family, sir?”

  “Exactly so, my dear.”

  “Knowing that, you nonetheless welcome him, Papa?”

  “I know nothing, Louise, but I believe him to be a man with whom you could make a happy, and very prosperous, life. To be honest, my dear, you do not have the makings of a housewife about you. Was you to marry a clergyman and have to make and scrape then you might have a sad time of it! Wed to Sir Richard you will have a Housekeeper and a Cook and will be able to pass the mundane tasks to them – to your benefit and that of your husband!”

  She was forced to admit that she was a poor hand in the kitchen, and had no love for the drudgery of a house; a life with her piano and her books was far more to her taste. She wandered off to talk with her mother.

  “Oh yes, indeed, my dear – you do not wish to be reddening your fine hands in the kitchen or washing small-clothes in the laundry-room. Not your sort of thing at all. Your sister Hilda will no doubt fit into such a life, but you would not.”

  Hilda was at fifteen a bulky, bustling girl, all hips and chest, who would suit a poor rector and propel him remorselessly up the ecclesiastical ladder – bolstered by her good works and enthusiasm. Louise shuddered at such a prospect.

  “The pianoforte and good books will be to your hand all of your life in the company of Sir Richard. You will be obliged to present him with children, of course, but that need not take up too much of your time. You may find yourself obliged to accompany him to America on occasion – but travelling is comfortable now and an English gentlewoman with a title will be much cosseted in the States. He may prefer you to stay at home if he is to travel to their West, and that will leave you entirely unpestered by his demands for a year or more at a time. He is in many ways an ideal sort of husband; I am inclined to envy you, my dear. Do accept him! While he is away you may take Victoria or dear Jonathan to stay with you!”

  The thought of taking her youngest brother or any of her sisters off her mother’s hands did not appeal to any extent; being mistress of her own household did.

  “You should commence a diary, my dear. At a later age you may wish to make it a record of your life as a country lady and perhaps send it to a publisher. You would like to be a literary figure, I doubt not.”

  “I had thought one day perhaps to write a novel, Mama.”

  “How vulgar! Not a thing that people of our sort will do, my dear. Except, of course, for those in straitened circumstances – they, poor souls, may have to accept any indignity short of coming on the town!”

  “Coming on the town, Mama? Whatever may that be?”

  “None of your business, my dear. You should not take one up on a slip of the tongue – most undignified!”

  “I am sorry, Mama.”

  She wondered still what the expression meant – but there was none she could ask, for she was sure that her Papa would not want to discuss the question with her.

  Provided one took the first train out of Blandford, it was possible to travel to Liverpool in a day, changing at Poole and London and Birmingham, taking a cab between different stations at the latter two. It was inconvenient and tiring, but so much preferable to the old days of post-chaise that few regretted the advance of the modern age. The greatest inconvenience was occasioned by the separation from Plaistow – it was impossible that he should travel First Class in the company of his master and he had to sit further down the train, the hand baggage in his care. As Plaistow also had to oversee the transfer of the trunk from the luggage van at the rear he was a busy man when they changed.

  Half a mile from Lime Street by two horse growler and they entered the ‘little place’ in Liverpool soon after eight o’clock in the evening.

  There was a small garden and gravel drive to the front, but the cab pulled round to the rear where there was a mews, a row of stables and coach houses serving the dozen houses in the street. Sir Richard’s own town groom, aided by his driver and the indoor man, rushed his baggage into the house while Plaistow led him on the path round the side of the house to the front door. The master did not use the back door, ever.

  The elder downstairs maid opened the door as they appeared and curtsied them in, the politeness for both equally, for the valet was a very senior gentleman in the staff hierarchy and could have her dismissed at a word.

  Lined up behind her were four other maidservants and Cook, all equally polite.

  “Beg pardon, sir, but I presumed you to eat on the train and have made tea and a plate of sandwiches and some cake for an evening repast.”

  Cook’s accent was rigid, and artificial; he was sure he could pick up the faintest Irish brogue well suppressed in the background.

  “Thank you, Cook. That will be very welcome. Travel is tiring and a cup of tea especially welcome – the stuff they make on the train is hot and wet and that is the best one can say for it!”

  Mr Williams had assured her that Sir Richard would be a kind master, while all went well. She risked a smile.

  The indoor man served him in the small dining room, assuming, he said, that he would not require the formality of the large. He escorted Dick on a tour of his new domain as soon as he had eaten – taking him through the five other rooms downstairs and then leading him up to the master bedroom, with its dressing room, and then to the eight others on the two floors above stairs. The staff quarters were in the attics, and none of his business.

  “The bathroom, sir, is newly appointed by Mr Williams, quite in the latest mode.”

  There was a cast-iron and enamelled bath and a huge gas-fired hot water boiler dominating the chamber; a very modern flushing water closet; and a separate hand basin, with a hot water tap as well as cold. Observing such luxury made Dick appreciate just how old-fashioned Burkes was. He must write a letter to Briggs, demanding such up-to-the-knocker innovation there. It would be the talk of the whole County; there would be many to deprecate such ostentatious indulgences– cold water had done them for generations.

  Plaistow made a show of unpacking and spreading Dick’s meagre wardrobe through the closets and cupboards; he said not a word.

  “You will wish to acquaint yourself with the tailors of Liverpool, I would imagine, Plaistow. When you have done so I would like you to make the arrangements for me to be dressed in what you consider to be appropriate style. I must remind you that I shall be making contact with many of the local business community, and their opinion of the well-dressed man may differ from yours or mine.”

  Plaistow bowed in silence – he would remember that his master did not always keep the company of gentlemen.

  “I shall as well be making some visits to the manufacturers of great guns over the next months. That will demand at least one trip to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I believe. Those visits will be made as an Engineer Officer. I may need to accompany policemen on occasion, dressed in civilian clothes of an appropriate station – an old-fashioned frockcoat, for example.”

  Plaistow assimilated this last demand, ventured to ask whether this would be on government business.

  “I am employed sometimes to perform tasks for Whitehall that are best dealt with in clandestine fashion.” Dick thought for a moment, realised he had no alternative than to take Plaistow wholly into his confidence; he could not hide anything from his man. “You have noticed the smaller leather case to be locked, Plaistow, and the key not to be on the ring in your possession.”


  Plaistow had, and had taken pains not to comment upon it. He had presumed it contained money or valuables that his master could not trust to him; he had decided that if it were so then he would leave at the end of his year – he would not stay if his master had doubts of his probity.

  Dick put the case up on the dressing table, undid the two locks and opened the lid.

  “Two Colt revolvers, old-fashioned now, but very true and well-balanced, the Navy especially. As well, a pair of Smith and Wesson forty-fours, pieces of the most modern design, as you see. Percussion caps, ball and powder for the Colts. Brass cartridges for the Smith and Wessons. Tucked away in their little leather holsters, a pair of pocket pistols, of the Derringer type, with their rounds. As well, two packets of twenty-five of linen cartridges for the Sharps rifle that sits in the gun case with the twelve-bore. I sometimes carry these when working for the government.”

  Plaistow had never seen a handgun before, had read of them, but only in the penny newspapers.

  “Keep the key with the others, Plaistow. If we travel to America I shall show you how to use them and buy you your own.”

  Plaistow decided not to give his notice on his day.

  “A fine house, Mr Williams, I am very pleased with it. I must see your new estate very soon, sir!”

  “Mrs Williams much looks forward to the prospect of your visit, Sir Richard!”

  “I understand Mrs Williams to be your sister, Mr Robinson?”

  “She is indeed, Sir Richard, and has brought us even closer together, sir!”

  “To our mutual delight, sir. It was a very fortunate occurrence that brought us into contact, Mr Robinson. We have all of us benefitted greatly, I believe.”

  They discussed business for a while – an occasion of mutual self-congratulation, for the firm was profiting and growing quite remarkably. They agreed that it was time to expand their activities into the North-East of England and to Scotland – they should become a truly national concern.

  “It is my intention to put some of my personal funds into the world of naval ship construction, gentlemen, much as Miss Parsons was considering. The Empire demands a Navy, and warships can no longer be wooden sailing vessels – there is a need for great ships with big guns!”

  They agreed that times were changing, and that England must not lag behind.

  “As well, I believe my presence here to be redundant, gentlemen. What can I do that you are not? Better far that I am not to interfere when you know so well exactly what is to be done.”

  Mr Robinson was not too sure that Sir Richard was right, and Mr Williams could not find tactful words to express his agreement.

  “Best I think that I remain as a director – making my opinion clear on matters of policy but taking no part in the day to day business.”

  They could accept that.

  “Are you to remain in Liverpool, Sir Richard?”

  “In the first instance, I must.”

  Three days of accompanying Plaistow to the tailors and haberdashers and boot makers he had identified in Liverpool, enduring the tedium of having his measurements taken and trying to display interest in cut and cloths and the minutiae of style.

  Briggs had forewarned him that Plaistow would make the immediate acquaintance of the valets and butlers of the large houses in his vicinity and would discover from them their opinion of the best outfitters in town before peering in their shop-windows to come to his own decisions.

  On the fourth day a note was delivered with the morning post; Mr Burke was recommended to drink a pint of porter at Murphy’s Lounge just off Lime Street at nine o’clock that evening. He should wear day dress with a green neck-tie.

  Dick passed the note to Plaistow.

  “A green neck-cloth, sir. We do not possess such a garment, Sir Richard, but I shall remedy the omission.”

  “I was sure you would, Plaistow. The coat must have pockets capable of concealing the small pistols.”

  “Will you go unescorted, sir?”

  “I must, Plaistow, though I may well recruit another man-servant for the house. An ex-soldier perhaps.”

  “I beg your pardon for displaying curiosity, Sir Richard, but are you to be involved with the Irish in some way?”

  “Not to my knowledge, Plaistow, but it will provide a cover in Liverpool where there are so many Paddies. While you are talking with your contemporaries you may wish to mention the presence of many Americans in the city – just to discover whether others might not have noticed the same.”

  “I am told, sir, that the White Rose pub is a favourite of the menservants of the locality, sir. I must make their acquaintance – the gossip often reveals the latest tailor or haberdasher worthy of one’s patronage.”

  Dick was surprised, but realised that every trade must have its own secrets open only to the initiates.

  “A Freemasonry of valets and butlers, one might say, Plaistow.”

  “Perhaps a little more respectable than that, sir. Freemasonry does smack of vulgar little boys playing nasty little games in secret!”

  “Very true, but they have a degree of power… no, wrong word, influence, shall we say. Even so, fancy dress is not for me!”

  Murphy’s Lounge was an old public house, low beamed, smoky, grubby at the corners as if the staff never quite had time to finish putting the broom and mop round the floor. The bar was half-full with a clientele that was wrong for the ambience of the building – there were men in newish and expensive coats and trousers and polished boots and well-kept hats. Not an open-neck to be seen, nor shirt-sleeves. These were shopkeepers and lesser professional men, none of the gutter roughs at all. They were people of a like kind and mind who chose each other’s company and preferred not to welcome outsiders or the chance-met. The whole bar room smacked of conspiracy, but with no air of violence – this was a place of words rather than action; Dick was ready to bet that no other man in the room was carrying a gun.

  He made his way to an empty table where he could sit with his back to the wall and able to watch the door and the bar, nodded to a white-aproned waiter and called for a pint of porter. It was a heavy, dark beer, not unpalatable, but he doubted he would have the head for many pints of it – too strong for his taste.

  Two men wandered in from a door beside the bar, begged his pardon for disturbing him and sat on the empty chairs across the table; casual patrons, one might suppose.

  One was no more than a heavy, a bodyguard, muscled and bright enough but watchful, his eyes never still and looking always around the room, not at Dick. The other was in his thirties, dressed in working day-wear, brown jacket and neckcloth over a white shirt, much like any other in the room – a solicitor’s clerk perhaps, not a man of his hands.

  “Mr Richard Burke, I believe? Dutch Bob said you would be here.”

  He had given the word, should be the right contact. He had an American twang overlaying a middle-English accent, a man who had been some years in the States but not born there.

  “Honest Abe, I presume?”

  The man nodded in acceptance of the correct reply.

  “The iron-clad turret ship will be launched in twenty days, sir, and after fitting out is to be sold to the government of Sweden, according to its papers. It is due to sail by February next on its trials and will proceed under sail and steam to Londonderry, where a crew will board her and she will be commissioned as a Confederate ship of war and will cross to Bermuda to coal and take warlike stores and then will seek out Federal blockaders around the Gulf Coast. Almost all of the blockaders are sailing frigates, wooden ships, and none will last half an hour under her fire. The blockade will be utterly destroyed within the space of a week.”

  “Payment?”

  “To be made, in gold, at Londonderry, two days before she leaves Liverpool – the manufacturing yard having little faith in Confederate solvency. They wish to lay hands on the gold coins and assay them before they hand the ship over.”

  Dick nodded and filed the information away in his mind.

/>   It was not sufficient simply to denounce the ship to the authorities – the Confederates would then take their money elsewhere and buy in France most likely. Best by far to take their cash from them first – the gold ending up then in the British Treasury where it could be argued over for many years. Once in the hands of Her Majesty’s Government there would need be a court ruling before ever it was released, and with the ordinary delays of justice that would be a matter of anything up to a decade, by which time the Confederacy should be ancient history.

  “Because it is a turret ship, sir, the guns must be installed in the yard; it is not like a broadside ship where the cannon can be added after construction. It is unlawful to build a ship of war for a country actively engaged in warfare without specific prior permission from the authorities. The yard cannot use the Alabama pretext, hence the claim that it is to be sold to Sweden.”

  “What of Southern agents? Are there people of theirs trying to keep their secrets safe?”

  A shrug of the shoulders – this was England, they would not dare take any action here.

  “I will do what I may, sir. Should the delivery date be changed then a simple note to my house will suffice rather than risk a meeting. What is this place, sir? I am not at all sure I am happy in this company.”

  “A talking shop, no more, sir. Men whose ancestors came from the ‘Emerald Isle’ and who are inclined to talk up ancient grievances; a harmless hobby in most cases! A few will support the Irish Republican Brotherhood and their gunpowder bombs, mostly with rhetoric but occasionally with money or, rarer still, with a safe house. Most of them cannot resist the temptation to boast, to announce how much more patriotic they are than the rest of the clientele here. As is always the case with the Irish, one half of them will turn informer at the least provocation; if Paddy looks cross-eyed at Mick’s wife then the police have a list of his transgressions within the day! Both Union and Confederacy have tried to mobilise the Irish to them, and I believe them to have recruited agents from them, but really they have had little success. Generally speaking, in America, the Catholic Church has been dead against abolition – they want the blacks kept in shackles for all eternity. In New York the Catholic priests have roused the Irish into outright revolution against the Federal government, to the extent of massive rioting and the arson of a black orphanage, with the kiddies still inside! It makes sense to keep an eye on these people as a result, so I am seen here every week or two as a friend to the Cause, listening to the drunken windbags and asking just the occasional leading question. If any attack is ever made on the Federal people in Liverpool then the hard men will be recruited here.”