The Middle Passage

  ‘If you wish.’ I helped her clear a little table while Billy expertly shuffled the pack she had handed him. Long fingers made the cards arch from hand to hand. ‘How long will they be out there?’

  Rachel sighed. ‘All night probably. They’ve been very excited about a new star they’ve spotted low on the horizon. They’ll want to plot its progress.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you are here. I hope they take a very long while to mend your ship.’

  ‘Have you no other friends here?’

  Billy began dealing.

  ‘A few. There’s a French family who live in the house next-door. I hesitate to call them friends, but we sometimes get together. The girl is bearable, but her brothers, Charles and Albert, are horribly competitive–always after Peter and Mabel about their telescope.’ Rachel tapped her fingers on the table as we waited for the cards to fall. I fanned my cards in my hand and realized I’d been dealt a dud selection. I scowled at Billy, suspicion high.

  He smiled with smug pleasure at his own hand. ‘I do enjoy a good game of Whist. What are we playing for? Guineas?’

  ‘Please!’ I spluttered. ‘I doubt Rachel’s father would approve of you turning his drawing room in to a gaming house.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know–that sounds rather fun,’ chimed in Rachel, evidently not unhappy with her own hand. ‘But I don’t have enough pin money to join a game played with stakes set so high.’

  ‘AND you shouldn’t gamble.’ Good lord, I sounded like a Quaker, but with Billy trying to lead our hostess astray, it would appear I was all that stood between Rachel and financial ruin. Half the noble families in England had been wrecked by that particular vice and I knew better than to gamble with Billy. He had a way of twisting bargains in his favour. ‘We play for biscuits.’ I plonked down a plate of the almond ones I had so enjoyed earlier.

  Rachel clapped her hands, looking her age for once rather than her usual thirteen-going-on-a-world-weary-thirty. ‘Agreed. I prefer sweet things anyway.’

  It was Billy’s turn to scowl: he would never live down the damage to his reputation if news got out that he had spent the evening tamely playing cards for confectionary. He doubtless regretted passing up the chance of debauching himself in the dockside inns.

  ‘Your lead, Cat,’ he growled.

  ‘Always is.’ I smiled sweetly at him and threw down a knave of clubs.

  The following morning I woke late, enjoying the luxury of a soft bed by an open window. A cool breeze ruffled the sheets and stirred my hair. I sat up, stretched and yawned. The only relic of the previous day’s adventure with the wasp was a slight tenderness on my chest from the sting, otherwise I was in full fighting form, eager to get out and face the world.

  Below my room, on the terrace, I could hear the chink of cutlery on china and the scrape of chairs. Breakfast must be proceeding in the open air–how lovely. I was about to stick my head out of the window to call a cheery good morning, when I caught the tail end of a conversation. One of the speakers was unfamiliar: it appeared Mr Flanders Senior had returned during the night and was interrogating the family.

  ‘Who did you say they were, Mabel?’ I spied a portly gentleman with a shiny dome of a head tucking in to a plate of eggs and bacon.

  ‘A young lady and gentleman from London, passengers from the Dolphin.’ Mabel gave the answer calmly as she poured him some tea. She was clearly not worried that she was going to spark any extreme reaction in her father. Just in case I began dressing: if I was to be out on the street in a moment, I would prefer to be in my day clothes than a night gown.

  ‘The Dolphin is not a respectable vessel,’ Mr Flanders said severely.

  ‘They weren’t on board by choice. Mr Shepherd travelled out on one of your ships–the Artemis. They got stranded on San Domingo and things are so unsettled there they had little choice when it came to arranging a passage home.’

  Mr Flanders harrumphed but from the sounds of knife on plate had turned his attention to his breakfast.

  Scrape of chairs again.

  ‘Ah, good morning, Mr Shepherd. I trust you slept well.’ Mabel made the introductions to her father. I paused out of sight, intrigued to catch this glimpse of Billy in society when he didn’t know I was watching.

  ‘Mr Flanders.’ Billy’s tone was nicely judged: respectful but not obsequious. ‘Thank you for letting us stay in your very pleasant home. Your children have been first rate hosts.’

  Mr Flanders was placated by the compliments. ‘Not at all, sir, not at all. Do take a seat. You are rested, I hope?’

  ‘Your accommodation is faultless.’

  ‘Bacon?’

  ‘Not for me this morning. I rather over-indulged on biscuits last night.’

  ‘Yes, yes, my cook is a marvel when it comes to creating such fancies. Tell me, what line of business you are in?’

  Extortion, theft and general thuggery.

  ‘I am in the import and export business, luxury goods in the main. I deal directly with the best of the London warehouses.’

  Scenting an opportunity for profit, Mr Flanders set about persuading Billy of the virtues of his shipping line. My interest no longer held by the boring turn of their conversation, I decided it was time to go down. I reached the breakfast table just as Peter came running in from the other direction.

  ‘Mabel, Father!’ he shouted, his face pale with shock. ‘Someone has stolen my telescope!’

  Scene 3: The Theft

  ‘What!’ Mr Flanders stood up, knocking his chair to the floor. ‘How could this have happened? You know better than to leave it outside.’

  ‘It wasn’t outside. I put it away late last night after our last session.’ Peter stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘Mabel saw me if you don’t believe me. It went into the storeroom as usual–but the door was forced and that was all they took–well, Mabel’s notebooks too, but nothing else of value.’

  Mabel gasped.

  My eyes went to Billy but he looked only mildly interested, not shifty as if he had something to hide. ‘Do you have many burglaries round here?’ he asked.

  Mabel was hugging her arms to herself, too shocked to say much. ‘Never–not that I can remember,’ she whispered.

  Rachel flounced in at that moment, a froth of lemon skirts, unaware of the drama at the table. ‘Morning, Papa.’ She stretched up to kiss his cheek. ‘What’s wrong? Have you met Miss Royal and Mr Shepherd yet?’

  Mr Flanders shook himself like a dog emerging from a river. ‘Apologies, my dear. I quite forgot my manners. Miss Royal.’ He bowed to me and I curtsied. ‘Please forgive our distraction–that telescope means a lot to us.’ I could tell he wished Billy and I to the devil this morning, uncomfortable having strangers in the house while dealing with this crisis.

  ‘I know it does,’ I said, taking a seat beside Mabel and patting her wrist. ‘Please, do whatever you think necessary and take no notice of us.’

  ‘Telescope? Something happened to that mouldy old thing?’ Rachel asked blithely, twirling a ribbon hanging from her waistband.

  ‘Rachel, do you know anything about it?’ Her brother rounded on her, his suspicion obvious in his tone. ‘Did you take it as a joke?’

  ‘It’s gone?’ She looked up at him, hurt in her eyes. ‘And you suspect me? I don’t find anything remotely funny about that obsession of yours, and I certainly wouldn’t take it. You might as well suspect Miss Royal here, or Mr Shepherd.’

  ‘But you never liked it.’ Peter folded his arms stubbornly.

  ‘Peter,’ Mabel warned quietly, ‘it wouldn’t be Rachel. She knows how much it means to us.’

  ‘And it wasn’t me,’ I added, trying to deflect attention before the three siblings came to blows. ‘I could find no more use for it than as a hat stand.’

  ‘If you would accuse me, you are welcome to search my room, sir,’ Billy added stiffly, playing the outraged gentleman with great conviction. Funny, because in almost any other situation I would have put him at the top of
my list of suspects. That was unless he was playing some very deep game (always possible with him). He could have stolen it in the dead of night and stowed it away somewhere.

  Billy caught me staring at him as I tried to fathom his guilt or innocence. He raised a mocking eyebrow, aware of exactly what I was thinking.

  ‘We must gather the servants–find out if any of them saw anything,’ Mr Flanders stated, ringing a bell on the table.

  ‘My notebooks,’ Mabel whispered in shock. ‘All my work–and our new findings. Oh, Peter, what are we going to do?’

  He came round the table and hugged his sister. ‘Get them back, of course. I won’t accept any other outcome.’

  The morning passed in a subdued mood. No one liked the feeling that we were all under suspicion. Mr Flanders conducted a search of the house from attic to cellar, impartially looking through every room, even his own. Nothing. The telescope and notes were not under his roof.

  Billy offered his services to detect how the thieves had got in. I accompanied him to the storeroom while the search of the rest of the house continued, intrigued to see what he thought he could discover. He did nothing for a while, just stood looking at the scene of the crime. The storeroom door had been forced with a crowbar; the woodwork splintered round the keyhole. He then crouched down and examined the area where the telescope had stood, studying the marks on the floor.

  ‘Anything?’ I asked, a tad impatiently. I hated the feeling that he knew more than I did about this.

  ‘Not your professional cracksmen, Cat,’ he announced, straightening up.

  ‘How can you tell that?’

  He tapped the doorframe. ‘No self-respecting thief would make such a pig’s ear of this–risk wakin’ the house–not when there’s a lock that could be picked with no trouble at all.’ He sniffed at the inadequate security. ‘Child’s play–couple of picks and hey presto, you’d be in. Smashin’ the door like this is a mark of a rank amateur.’

  I could see his point and was surprised none of us had heard anything. I said as much.

  ‘No one sleeps this end of the house but Mr Flanders,’ Billy said. ‘I checked already. And ‘e was late home so that puts the theft between midnight and two in the morning–that or ‘e sleeps like the dead and didn’t wake up when the thieves were chopping at his defences.’

  ‘Have you learnt anything else?’

  ‘Hard to say. Marks on the floor suggest it was dragged out on to the terrace, but they might be from when Peter set it up earlier.’ He cracked his knuckles then rubbed his palms together. ‘Let’s see if we can find a trail in the garden.’

  I could tell he was enjoying himself, pitting his wits against our thieves. This more than anything persuaded me that he was innocent of the crime.

  ‘You’ve lost your vocation in life, Billy,’ I said as I trailed after him in to the leafy walks of the garden below the terrace. Bright blooms decked the dark foliage with such gusto, reminding me of the time when the milliner had gone particularly wild on the Duchess of Avon’s Easter bonnet. I plucked a petal and crushed it between my fingers. The air was already humid, the ground steaming, scents heavy in the air. ‘You should’ve turned thief-catcher for Bow Street, not be their most wanted.’

  He snorted and batted a branch out his way. ‘Wouldn’t see me working for a bunch of Charlies like them. I know enough to keep my own boys in line–I ‘ave to know all the tricks or they won’t respect me.’

  I thought it doubtful anyone respected him–feared, yes, but respect? Still, the theory was sound: knowledge kept you one step ahead of those who would harm you.

  ‘Can you teach me?’ I asked seriously.

  He spluttered. ‘Gawd, Cat, don’t make me laugh!’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘Thinkin’ of turnin’ into a Moll? I thought you’d already turned down my offer to join my gang.’

  I swatted him with a broad leaf snatched off a nearby bush. ‘Don’t be daft. I know enough to use a long spoon to sup with the devil.’

  He grinned, understanding all too well which role I had cast him in.

  ‘I just think it’s best to know–be wise to the tricks of others.’

  ‘Too right. But it would come with a price if I tell you anythink.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘There goes my lovely idea. I’ve already struck a bargain with you once, Billy, and look where that got us–me escaping a French prison by the skin of my teeth and you in a right pickle when I outwitted you.’

  He scowled, not liking to remember our stormy meeting in his house after my return from Paris. ‘Right pickle’ was perhaps not stating the case strongly enough: he’d come close to killing me and realized a few things about himself he didn’t like–for one, that he was soft when it came to hurting me. And above all else, Billy despised softness. It was also probably why he liked me as he knew I had claws.

  ‘I’ll think about it then.’ He held out a hand to stop me going any further. ‘Won’t ask for more than you want to give.’

  As we say in the theatre, pull the other one, it’s got bells on.

  Billy knelt down in the mud to look more closely at the ground. ‘This is where they went over.’ He looked up at the fence. ‘I guess they took the telescope apart and hefted it up then dropped it on the other side–that’s how we can be sure there was more than one. See!’ He pointed to the flattened earth the other side of the boundary. ‘One of them stood there.’ He squinted. ‘Boots. Size eight or nine. Like mine.’ He winked as he showed me his own salt-stained pair from Bond Street.

  ‘So men rather than women? We can count out most of the domestic staff.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know: there’re a couple of hefty lasses in London I know very well whose feet are as big as mine.’

  I blushed. ‘You can spare me the details, Billy. I want no further information about your crew of thieves.’

  He looked mock-hurt. ‘I thought you wanted to know the secrets, Cat?’

  I folded my arms. ‘I’ve thought better of it.’

  He flashed me a grin then turned back to our business. ‘No, you’re right, Moggy, last night’s thieves were lads not ladies. I wonder where this goes? Not the straight route back down to the port. If I had a valuable bit of kit to flog I’d be heading down to the dock to shift it as soon as maybe.’

  ‘Perhaps they aren’t as experienced as you at fencing stolen goods?’

  He tapped my nose with his grubby finger. ‘Excellent point, Cat. You’ll make the gang yet, you will.’

  I rubbed off the smudge he must have left behind. ‘No chance. You wait till I put in my application with the Runners–then you should worry.’

  He laughed at that. ‘They haven’t got the sense to employ you–what with you bein’ a girl and all that. But if they did, you’d halve the crime in Covent Garden in a month–I ‘ave every faith in your abilities. ‘Ave me out of business before I could say Robinson Crusoe.’

  I was rather pleased with the compliment–even if it did come from Billy. ‘Why thank you, Mr Shepherd.’

  He leaned closer, changing the banter for something else–something I definitely didn’t want between us. ‘You’re welcome, Miss Royal.’

  I ducked, avoiding the kiss he’d been planning to plant. I wanted no repeat of the incident at the Bath Assembly Rooms. ‘Let’s get back and tell the family what we’ve discovered.’

  Billy groaned. ‘Why don’t you just give in to what we both want?’

  I started walking. ‘I suspect what I want and what you want are as far apart as London and Botany Bay, Billy. Miss Abingdon, remember?’

  He swore at the reminder of his affianced status to a brewery heiress.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said primly, anxious to get back among other people, feeling as if I had just had a very narrow escape.

  Act II

  Scene 1: The Rivals

  News of the break-in at the Flanders house attracted the neighbours like the wasps to the fig tree. By midday the drawing room was overflowing with conce
rned well-wishers come to offer their support and, I suspect, gloat that it had not been them. The two maids were run off their feet keeping up with the demand for refreshments that all the family had to pitch in to help.

  ‘Who are all these people?’ I whispered to Mabel as we refilled the teapot in the scullery.

  ‘The wives and families of our father’s business acquaintances in the main. They all live up here–it is the best part of town. We all tend to live in each other’s pockets–it’s an island phenomenon.’

  Billy strode by on his way out, his heels clicking on the flagstones.

  ‘Making your escape?’ I called after him.

  He turned and doffed his hat to Mabel. ‘I do not have a talent for small talk–I’ll leave that to the ladies. I thought I would go see what I can find out down in the docks, put feelers out if anyone wants to flog…I mean sell a telescope to a gentleman about to depart the island.’

  ‘Oh, good idea!’ Mabel gazed at him hopefully, her hands clasped to her chest. ‘And please, do ask after my notebooks too–they are more important to me than even the Herschel. That can be replaced eventually but my work can’t.’

  Billy gave her a condescending smile that would have had me jabbing him in the ribs. ‘Of course, Miss Flanders, I will try my best.’ He nodded and continued on his way out, taking the back route to avoid the company in the drawing room who had spilled out on to the terrace.

  ‘Work?’ I asked, measuring out the tea from Mabel’s silver caddy.

  She carefully poured in the hot water. ‘I’m not sure if I should let you in on the secret…Peter might not approve.’

  I said nothing, hoping she would feel the urge to confide. Fortunately for my curiosity, she did.

  ‘We think we’ve spotted a new comet.’ She put the kettle back on the stove and looked up at me, expecting some reaction.

  ‘Oh, good.’ Was that right?

  Apparently, not enough. She frowned. ‘When I say “new” I mean really new–one no one has ever seen before. If we can get our information to the Astronomer Royal before anyone else plots it, we will get our name in the proceedings of the Royal Society at the very least.’