The hint of a wicked smile crossed his lips. “A tavern,” he said in a very low voice. “These things may be arranged if ordered carefully. I know the very place where we can take a pot or two at our liberty.”
I RETURNED TO MY DUTIES and observed the men of the India yards watch go about their work gloomily, as did I until three o’clock, when I received a summons from Mr. Forester. I was most unwilling to spend time alone with him, for I in no small way believed him to be responsible for Carmichael’s death, though I knew not how or, to be blunt, why. Nevertheless, he appeared to me the most likely cause of this pretended accident, and I had no choice but to act ignorant. If I were to avenge my friend’s death, I needs must play my part and let all out in the end.
I found Forester’s door open; he bade me close the door and sit.
I looked up to find him smiling on me, looking rather like a man wearing a comical mask. “You have been in Mr. Ellershaw’s personal employ about a week now, is that not right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“It is a rather unusual arrangement, do you not think so?”
I attempted to appear confused. “I cannot say what is usual or unusual here, for I have not been in attendance long enough. I can say that at times unusual arrangements are all that we have available to us, and we must make do as we can.”
Color rose to his face, and I could not but observe that he understood my allusion to his liaison with Mrs. Ellershaw. “I do not understand why your benefactor has taken upon himself and his own purse to have you manage the watch,” he said.
“I know little of internal politics, but he is a member of the Court of Committees, and so the whole of the Company is his concern, or perhaps that is how he sees it. I hardly think it strange that he should take steps to aid the Company. And as I understand it, a man in my position could not be hired until after the meeting of the Court of Committees. If Mr. Ellershaw saw an urgent need, his handling of the matter appears to me quite ordinary.”
“Perhaps so,” Forester conceded. “It may well be that this is nothing more than a matter of Ellershaw’s wisdom. I do have one difficulty with that theory, however, based on other actions, other inclinations, the man has adopted.”
“And what is that?”
“I believe Ellershaw has grown quite mad. His mind is disordered with an amorous disease. I’m sure you have heard it. Everyone knows it to be true.”
“Sometimes,” I said, with deliberate caginess, “those things everyone knows to be true are the most false things of all.”
“Play not such games with me. You’ve witnessed his behavior for yourself, I’ve no doubt. And even if you choose to ignore the signs of madness engendered by the French pox, you’ve seen that he is a slave to the betel nut, a most disgusting habit he learned from savages in India.”
“Those brown things he eats?” I asked. I chose to let down my guard, for I truly had no idea of this food.
“Yes. I am told they are most addicting, and half of India is in the thrall of this poison. It affects the body, it is said, like coffee—only more strongly; once tasted, it holds its victim in its grip forever. And it produces another side effect.”
“Madness?” I guessed.
“Precisely.”
It took a moment for me to think how I should respond to these accusations. “You appear rather determined to believe that Mr. Ellershaw is mad, and you are most desirous that I believe it too. I wish to please all members of the Court of Committees, but in this I am afraid I cannot help you. You say my benefactor is mad, but I hardly know him well enough to ascertain such a thing, for I have only known him as he is now.”
“Were you to come across a stranger howling at a flock of sheep, Mr. Weaver, you would not need to learn his life’s story nor interview his friends to know the behavior was strange, only if it was unusual for this particular man. Similarly, you should have no difficulty in evaluation by observation, by placing it in context.”
“I must restate my position that I think your observation flawed.”
“Gad, sir, did you not hear him threaten to impale an old man with a burning poker? Is that not madness?”
“He would say it was naught but strategy, and I am new enough to Craven House to know nothing different. I have seen nothing to bring me to such a conclusion. I do know that such charges can be regarded with suspicion when the man making the accusations has much to gain from the ruin of the accused.”
He leaned forward now, adopting an almost avuncular pose. “You have me at a disadvantage, to be certain, but I am not ashamed of what has transpired between me and that lady. You must not think that my accusations stem from my actions. Indeed, it is precisely the opposite. I first met that lady when I grew concerned about her husband’s behavior.”
“Again, I must tell you I have seen no just reason for these accusations.”
“Hmm. And would you tell me if you did? Pray, don’t answer. It is an unfair question, and Mr. Ellershaw is your patron. I know you to be a man of honor, sir, who does not like to betray a man who has helped you. But I beg you to recollect that your true business is to help the Company, not a single man within it. If you should see anything that would indicate that Mr. Ellershaw is not acting within the Company’s interest, or perhaps is not capable of so acting, I hope you will come to me. That is the nature of a company, after all.”
“I believed the nature of a company was making money regardless of the consequences.”
“Nonsense. The word derives from the Latin, com panis, signifying the act of baking bread together. That is what we do. We are not individual men seeking our own fortune; rather we are a collective, baking our bread in union.”
“I am delighted to learn that we engage in such useful and brotherly activities.”
“Now that you have learned, I must beg you not to encourage him with any further nonsense. Blue cloth suits, indeed. Do you believe you shall further your cause here by making him the object of public humiliation?”
“I only made a suggestion. I hardly think it of such great import.”
“Then you do not understand how impressionable his mind has become. Or perhaps you do not wish to. Mr. Ellershaw pays you, so you, I suspect, will feel an impulse to inform him of this conversation. I beg you not to do so. It is important you understand that I am not his enemy but the Company’s friend, and if he were to believe I conspired against him, the Company would suffer in the ensuing confusion. And you must know I don’t conspire against him, I merely work for the good of the Company. Someone must rise to his stature once he is gone.”
“And that would be you, I suppose. An interesting thing to say, as he has made no suggestion that he wishes to be gone. Yet you claim to act only out of concern for the Company’s interest.” I chose to nock my arrow and let it fly. “In whose interest is your congress with his wife?”
To his credit, he did not look away. “Matters of the heart cannot always be controlled by will alone. You are a man, Weaver, and must know that.”
I could not but think of Miss Glade, and for a moment I felt a true sympathy for Forester. I soon recollected myself, however, when I considered the death of Carmichael. Whatever sadness of the heart he might feel did not excuse his monstrous schemes. “I have already told you I should not like to be the one to make such a revelation to Mr. Ellershaw. And as to this conversation, I would hate to be the cause of discord within these walls, particularly while I inhabit them myself.”
He smiled at me. “You show great wisdom.”
“It is not wisdom, merely prudence. I hardly wish to involve myself in matters outside the purview of our bread-baking, despite what Mrs. Ellershaw believes. That lady accused me of involving myself in an inquiry about which I know nothing. What precisely does she think to be Mr. Ellershaw’s interest in her daughter?”
He smiled. “You are sly, sir. You tell me you have no interest in the matter, and yet you attempt to trick me into revealing information of the most delicate nature.”
> “If you do not wish to speak of it, that is of no concern. I may choose to ask Mr. Ellershaw after all.”
He half rose. “You must not. I believe Mrs. Ellershaw is wrong, and her husband does not pursue her daughter, but if you speak of this, it may well awaken the sleeping beast of curiosity.”
“Then perhaps you should tell me.”
He sighed. “I will tell you only this. The girl, Bridget Alton, was Mrs. Ellershaw’s daughter by a previous marriage. Truly a striking girl, if I may be permitted to so observe. Very much like her mother—tall, with the whitest skin I have ever observed, and hair so blond as to be nearly white, yet her eyes are of the most remarkably dark brown. It made her most arresting, and we could take her nowhere without men stopping to stare. That she was attached to a family of some importance and possessed a significant settlement only increased her luster. Yet, despite these advantages, she chose to wed without her family’s permission. It was one of those sordid clandestine marriages; you know the sort. Mr. Ellershaw, though he would hardly exchange two words with her at table, flew into a rage. He promised to track the girl down and punish her, so Mrs. Ellershaw has made every effort to conceal the girl from her husband’s attentions.”
“It is a private family matter, then,” I proposed. “Nothing to do with the baking of bread.”
“Precisely.”
I thought it most expedient to act as though I believed him and thus rose and offered him an immediate bow. As I reached for the door, he called me once more.
“How much is it that Mr. Ellershaw pays you?”
“We agreed upon forty pounds a year.”
He nodded. “For a man with your varied mode of income, the regularity of payment must be very pleasant.”
I paused for a moment. Was he toying with me? Did he have some inkling that Mr. Ellershaw paid me only a fraction of what I might hope to earn if I practiced my usual trade? I had to presume not, so I merely assented and left the room.
I SUPPOSE THE DEVIL was in me, for I did not hesitate upon leaving Forester’s office to pay a visit to Mr. Ellershaw. Perhaps I wished to punish the man I believed responsible for Carmichael’s death, and perhaps I merely wished to stir up the hornet’s nest to see what emerged. No matter, I decided; I had let things stand long enough, and if I were to make progress I would need to make a move, even if it be the wrong one.
I found Ellershaw alone, and he invited me in though he was busy reviewing some lengthy documents and appeared to resent the intrusion. “Yes, yes, what is it?”
I closed his door. “Sir, I have just come from the summons of Mr. Forester.”
He looked up from his document. “Yes?”
“I believe, Mr. Ellershaw, he may mean you more harm than you know.”
I now had his full attention. “Explain yourself.”
“He wished me to confess your schemes and meanings.” I took a deep breath. “He warned me from putting my faith in you and—well, sir, he told me you were mad.”
“The devil take it!” he shouted, and slammed his hand so hard upon his desk that a bowl of tea rattled and spilled. “Damn you, Weaver, have I asked you to play tattler with my fellow members of the Court? What impudence is this? This damn Court of Proprietors meeting is breathing down my neck, I tell you. I am fighting for my very stature, and you bring me this nonsense!”
I confess his rage at me took me by the greatest surprise. For a moment, I felt the full force of his upbraiding. “I believe,” I managed to say, “that you informed me of secret committees plotting against you and the need to discover this prior to the meeting of the Court. Surely Mr. Forester’s efforts to undermine your work and reputation—”
“Quiet!” he shouted. “Enough of your palaver. I shan’t endure such disloyal talk from a mere underling. If I were in India, I should have you thrown to tigers for what you say. Have you no knowledge of what a company is, what it means to be part of a company?”
“I understand you put much stock in the communal baking of bread,” I ventured.
“Go see to your tasks,” he said to me, his voice now more quiet, his temper more restrained, though he still appeared as though he might once more roar with the least provocation. “See to your duties and I shall see to mine, and trouble me no more with your theories of secret committees and plots. If you make trouble for me, Weaver, when there is so much to be lost, you will regret it, I promise you. And replace that damned dead man, I tell you. I shan’t have any positions unfilled because there’s a fool crushed by crates.”
And so I was dismissed, that I might contemplate all the errors I had made during the day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HAT NIGHT I MET WITH MR. BLACKBURN AT THE TAVERN OF HIS choosing. It was a neat place with many candles and lamps, in Shadwell near the timber yard, sufficiently far from Craven House for him to believe he was quite safe from discovery there. Inside, an unremarkable selection of middling men—tradesmen, small merchants, even a bespectacled clergyman—took their quiet drinks and meals. Blackburn and I found seats near the fire, for the warmth and because Blackburn explained that any accidental spills would dry more quickly there. Once we had sat, a handsome girl came over and asked us for our orders.
“Who are you?” Blackburn demanded. “Where is Jenny?”
“Jenny ain’t well, so I’m here for her.”
“That shan’t do,” Blackburn said. “I want Jenny.”
“It must do,” the girl answered, “for Jenny’s got the flux and so shooting blood out her arse she’s not like to live, so you’ll have to make do with me, won’t you, my sweet?”
“I suppose you will have to suffice,” he said, with evident glumness, “but you must let her know I take this most unkindly. Very well, I shall have—damn it, be prepared to listen, I say. I will have a pot of ale, but I must make myself very clear. You are to wash the pot very carefully before I am brought it. Wash it, I say, and dry it with a clean cloth. There must be no dirt upon it, nor any foreign matter in the ale. You are to make very careful inspection before I am brought what I order. Mind me now, girl. If you don’t, you’ll answer to Mr. Derby.”
She turned to me without pausing, as though such odd requests were best dismissed with no comment. “And you, sir?”
“Also a pot,” I said. “But I shan’t complain, if the amount of dirt is not above the usual.”
The girl departed and came back in a few minutes, setting our pots down before us.
Blackburn took no more than a glance at his. “No!” he cried out. “No, no, this will not do! This will not do at all! Look at this, you stupid slut. There is a fingerprint made of grease upon the side of the vessel. Are you blind not to have seen it? Take this filth away and bring me something clean.”
“It ain’t going to be clean when you’re wearing it ’pon your head, now, is it?” she asked.
My cooler temperament recognized her question as belonging to the rhetorical variety, but Mr. Blackburn seemed to take it rather more seriously. “I cannot abide such talk, for the thought of such an assault upon my person is an abomination.”
“You’re the balmy nation, not me,” the girl answered, hands firmly on hips in a well-practiced attitude of sauciness.
This exchange had gathered the attention of the bulk of the room, and now, from the kitchen, came a rather portly man with an apron across his chest, no wig, and a shaved head. He pushed through the crowd and arrived at our table. “What is this? What’s the trouble here?”
“Derby, thank Jesus,” Blackburn breathed. “This impudent baggage is serving your drink in necessary pots and mixing the contents with night soil.”
This struck me as a rather severe exaggeration, but I kept my council.
“He’s right mad,” the girl said. “It ain’t nothing but a finger smear is all.”
Derby struck the girl in the head, but not hard. In fact, he hardly hit more than hair and cap, and I knew at once it was for show. “Draw him another,” he said, “and be sure it’s spotless this
time.” He turned to Blackburn. “I am sorry about that. Jenny’s got the flux, and this girl ain’t familiar with your likings.”
“I did instruct her,” Blackburn said.
Derby held out his hands in a gesture of good-natured frustration. “You know how these girls are. They grow up in filth. You tell them clean, they think so long as it lacks a cat head floating upon the top, it will do. I’ll go be sure she understands.”
“You must make certain,” Blackburn said. “Cleanliness of drinking vessels comes in three stages: the application of soap, the complete and entire removal of soap with clean water, and the drying with a clean cloth. Inside and out, Derby. Inside and out. Make certain she knows this much.”
“I shall indeed.” The fellow walked away, and Blackburn informed me that Derby was his sister’s husband’s brother, insinuating so that I could not but understand that the fastidious clerk had helped the publican out on an occasion or two when money had been hard to find. As a result, Derby indulged Blackburn’s desires, making his establishment the only one in the metropolis in which Blackburn felt he might safely drink.
“Now, sir,” he said, “as to your business, I believe you will find me your servant, and you will have just observed one of the most important principles of the orderly man’s trade: the series. Once you inform your interlocutor there are to be three components to your discourse, you have established a series, and a series, sir, is undeniable. Once a man hears the first point, he shall long to hear the remaining ones. It is a principle I have often used to my advantage, and now I share it with you.”
I responded with joy that he had been so good as to pass along this wisdom, and I begged to hear more of his philosophy of order. Thus began a long lecture interrupted only by my occasional comments of approbation. Blackburn spoke for well over an hour, and though I believed his notion of the series had some merit, it appeared to be the jewel in his intellectual crown. Rarely did his ideas transcend the matronly dictums of A place for everything and everything in its place and Cleanliness is next to godliness. Yet it was not only in these platitudes that Blackburn’s peculiarity lay. As we talked, he aligned our pots of ale. He removed the contents of his pockets, ordered them, and replaced them. He tugged repeatedly at his sleeves, announcing that there was a formula, a ratio of coat to shirtsleeve, that must be observed at all times.