Another Small Kingdom (23 page)

Chapter Forty-six

W
hen friends meet pleasantries are exchanged, or so we are told by those who know about such things. Two figures had indeed met and were dimly visible in the light from a tavern window among the scraps, rubbish and other detritus that somehow grows and thrives around such establishments.

‘What the hell do you want you bloody, wall-eyed bastard? Let me alone.'

From this mode of greeting we may safely assume that the man who had caught hold firmly of Kitty Mullen's wrist and held it tightly as she squirmed to free herself was not one of those she regarded as a friend.

‘Hold still, Kitty, or I'll twist your blasted arm off altogether.'

Kitty gave up the struggle. The wall-eyed bastard, or Gregory as we know him, released her wrist.

‘Try to run and I'll break your leg at the knee.'

Kitty looked at him, sullenly rubbing her wrist, and as running was not an option open to her, expressed her feelings only in words.

‘What's brought you over here? Scarpered have you? Gone on the run? Paper out on you in London, is there? Some magistrate finally tumbled you? About time.'

The dingy street was not far from Ann Street, dark and ill-lit as befits a neighbourhood of taverns, jilt shops and brothels frequented by sailors from the nearby docks of Bendell's Cove. A small commotion in an alley beside a low tavern would have disturbed no one, had anyone been close enough to hear it. Kitty couldn't see Gregory's good eye on her, but she could imagine it as he spoke.

‘I dare say you heard someone was about? Heard someone was asking around?'

‘Maybe.'

‘You did. I know it. I made it my business for you to know and to know quick. That's why you thought it best to slip out the back when you saw me in the tavern.'

‘You were at the bar when I saw you. How did you get here before me?'

‘Ah, quickness is a thing you learn early if you want to be a successful thief-taker. And I've been very successful, ain't I? Very successful indeed. So successful, in fact, that I've moved up in the world.'

‘Oh, yes, what are you now, a public shit-house attendant? No, not you, nothing so fancy, how about a shit-house attendant's arse wiper?'

Gregory's face moved closer and what light the grimy window gave out fell on it. He grinned and his wandering eye became even more active as the other beamed on Kitty.

‘Very drôle, Kitty. I always did think you a girl with a keen sense of fun.' Then the grin disappeared. ‘But we can't stay here exchanging pleasantries like old friends, can we? You have an appointment with someone and it's my job to get you there.'

‘You've no rights to pull people over here. You're a London tickler and outside London you ain't worth spit and this ain't even outside London, it's America. I could call for help and have you put in charge.'

‘You could try to call for help, dearie. You could try, of course. But I doubt anyone would come to your aid. You see, you'd be dead with that pretty neck snapped if I saw you as much as try to open your mouth. Come now, be sensible, Kitty. You're taken. Let's go quietly shall we? No sense in any fuss.'

And Kitty saw the sense of his argument. England or America, she was indeed taken, so she went quietly.

Chapter Forty-seven

L
ord Melford was at a solitary dinner in his rooms when the door opened and Gregory pushed Kitty into the room, followed, and closed the door. He then snatched off his tall hat and stood with his arms by his side.

‘Kitty Mullen, sir. As asked for and now delivered.' Gregory turned to Kitty. ‘This here is Lord Melford, a proper Lord, not the Jack Doran sort. So watch your tongue and your manners or you'll get my hand across you.'

Kitty looked at him with a scowl then turned her attention to the man sitting at the table. Melford smiled a greeting.

‘Miss Mullen. Please come and sit down. I'm dining as you see and I hope you won't think it churlish if I carry on with my meal.' Melford gestured to Gregory. ‘Come now, Gregory, let's be gentlemen. See to the lady's chair, sir, if you please.'

Gregory took a chair, pulled it out and motioned to it with his hat.

‘Arse over here, dearie, and sharp about it.'

Kitty wasn't sure whether to be defiant or humble so she walked non-committally to the chair and sat down. Melford waved his knife at the bottle on the table.

‘Come, Gregory, do the honours. Give the lady a glass of Hock, fill her glass.' Gregory leaned across, picked up the dark bottle and poured the light coloured wine into the glass on the table in front of Kitty. She looked at it suspiciously. Melford laughed. ‘She doesn't trust us, Gregory. Well, nothing wrong in that. I like to see a little sensible caution. Take a sip, Gregory, show her there's nothing there but Hock.'

‘No, you taste it, Mister. Poison would have no effect on him.'

Melford grinned.

‘Sensible girl.' He picked up the glass and took a healthy drink, put the glass down, reached for the bottle, refilled her glass then refilled his own. ‘There now, point proved, all friends together.' Kitty looked at the wine, then picked up the glass and swallowed the contents at one go. Melford watched her and laughed. ‘Damn me, I wouldn't want to match you glass for glass if that's how you drink. Another?' Kitty wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, nodded and held out her glass. Melford motioned once more with his knife to Gregory and carried on eating while Gregory poured, but half way up the glass the wine gave out.

‘This one's dead.'

‘Then get another, Gregory, we have a guest. We can't give a bad impression on first acquaintance, can we?'

‘This ain't no first acquaintance, sir. Kitty and I have met before.'

‘Old friends, how wonderful. Even more reason for another bottle.'

Gregory provided another bottle, finished refilling Kitty's glass then moved away and stood watching them. Kitty took another drink and waited. No doubt she would be told what it was all about when the man at the table was good and ready.

Melford finished his meal and Gregory cleared the table except for the bottle and glasses. Melford turned to Kitty, smiled and picked up his glass.

‘To friends, old and new alike.' He drank. Kitty picked up her glass and took a drink without responding to his toast. ‘You're a girl that doesn't waste words I see. Better and better. A slack mouth can be a very troublesome thing. But now, my dear, we must get down to issues. Issue one, why am I here? Issue two, what do I want? Issue three, where do you fit in? Very well. One, I am here on business, urgent business. Two, I want to meet with your mistress. Three, you must bring her to me. There, clear and simple.'

‘It's neither clear nor simple to me. What business, what mistress and why me?'

‘As to my business, that's my affair. As to what mistress, then let's call her Madame de Metz shall we?' Kitty remained silent. ‘No? How about Fanny Dashwood?' Again no response. ‘Oh dear, still nothing. Then how about Molly O'Hara?'

‘All right, you know her. But that still don't mean I should bring her here.'

‘Too true. She'll want a reason to come. How about you tell her that Lord Melford sends his compliments and begs her to attend on him in his rooms.'

‘Does she know you?'

‘I'll let her answer that, Kitty. Now, you know the reason Gregory brought you so your visit is finished, as I see is your wine, so you'd better be on your way. Would you like Gregory to escort you? No? I thought not. Well then, goodbye, Miss Mullen.'

Kitty got up and went to the door.

‘If she agrees to come, and I only say if, mind you, when would you want it to be?'

‘Well, it's too late now for a respectable lady to come to a gentleman's rooms, so it will have to be first thing tomorrow. Ask her to breakfast with me at nine.'

Kitty opened the door.

‘I'll ask.'

‘Good girl.'

The door closed and Melford looked across at Gregory.

‘Should you follow?'

‘No. I know their roost. Will she come do, you think?'

‘Oh yes, she'll know Trent sent me. She'll come all right.'

And Lord Melford poured himself another glass of Hock.

‘Decent Hock this, I feared for the wine over here but this Hock is quite acceptable, quite acceptable.'

Once out of the hotel and across Congress Square, Kitty hurried back to Fanny Dashwood's rooms in Ann Street and was out of breath when sat down at the table beside Molly.

Molly pushed her glass across.

‘Take a pull and get your breath. I knew something was up when you were gone so long.'

Kitty took a drink of the gin.

‘I told you someone was asking questions about us and when I was out, I heard he was nearby in a tavern.'

‘Heard how?'

‘It doesn't matter now. It was a fix. The bastard sucked me in like a babe. I went into the tavern, saw him at the bar and then slipped out through the back. That's where he took me. It was Gregory.'

‘Gregory!'

‘No other.'

‘And he took you?' Kitty nodded. ‘But this is Boston not London. Why should a London thief-taker pull anyone over here? What in hell's name is he doing over here anyway?'

‘He's working for a man named Melford, styles himself Lord Melford. He took me to him. This Melford seems to know you, Molly, knows you were de Metz and now you're Dashwood. Even knows your true name, O'Hara. Who is he?'

Molly stood up, her concern gone.

‘He's Trent's man, he's been sent by Jasper Trent and if that cunning bastard Gregory is working with him then, thank God, say I. Come on now, take me to Melford.'

‘He said nine tomorrow, breakfast.'

‘We go now, Kitty, sod and damn tomorrow and breakfast. We go now and I'll make Lord Melford jump. Sending for me and coming the high and bloody mighty. Come on, Kitty, we've work to do so let's be at it.'

Chapter Forty-eight

T
he next morning brought another early caller to Macleod's house. Macleod was, this time, in no hurry to leave the breakfast table and left Amélie to answer the door. As usual she took her time but the caller had patience and she eventually came into where Macleod and Marie were seated.

‘There is a man who says he wishes to see you.'

‘Does this man have a name?'

‘He says he is an English m'lord and calls himself Melford.'

Macleod looked across at Marie who shook her head to indicate the name meant nothing to her.

‘Does he say what his business is?'

‘No. Just that he is m'lord Melford and wishes to speak with M Macleod.'

Macleod stood up.

‘I will come.'

Amélie left the room to return to her duties and Macleod excused himself to Marie and went to the street door. Standing waiting was a well-dressed young man who wore an air of confidence and a false smile which he bestowed on Macleod as soon as he saw him.

‘Mr Macleod?'

‘I am.'

‘I am Lord Melford. You don't know me but I have heard a great deal about you. May I come in?'

‘State your business, sir.'

The false smile broadened.

‘Ah, direct and to the point, the American way. Well, sir, I wish I could be as direct but I fear that here on the street that is not possible.'

‘Your business, sir, or I close this door and you may go to hell.'

The smile disappeared.

‘My business is of the New Orleans sort and, forgive me if I seem coy, it involves a lady whose name I refrain from using in so public a place. A lady, I may add, sadly recently widowed. That is my business, sir.'

Macleod stood to one side.

‘Come in.'

Melford entered, waited while Macleod closed the door then followed him into the room where Marie was waiting. Marie stood up.

Melford turned on his smile.

‘Madame, please do not get up on my account.'

‘Madame de Valois speaks no English.'

Melford let his false smile play on her for a second then spoke in perfect French.

‘Eh bien, Madame, we must of course speak French.'

‘Come, sir, you said you had business with me. What business?'

‘As Madame de Valois has risen, need we detain her? Business, especially our kind of business, is such a bore for the ladies. Perhaps she has other more interesting things that might occupy her?' Macleod looked at Marie who did not move. Melford waited a second then accepted the situation. ‘The lady chooses to stay, very well. But I warn you, Madame, my business is of the very dullest sort, in short it is money business. Might we all sit down, do you think, Mr Macleod?' Macleod motioned to a chair and Melford waited until Marie had sat down then seated himself. Macleod remained standing. ‘My business is delicate, Mr Macleod, so I ask again whether Madame de Valois might have other things to do rather than …'

‘Madame de Valois wishes to stay. Whatever you have to say will be said in front of her or not at all. Now, get to it or get out.'

‘Very well, bluntness is to be the order of the day, I see. Good, that suits me well enough. You have a property,' here he looked meaningfully at Marie, ‘I am charged with making you an offer for that property, a cash offer. Name your price, sir, and if it's within reason I'll be happy to accept. There, would you say that was sufficiently, getting to it?'

Shock and disbelief were nicely blended in Macleod's reply.

‘Are you asking me to hand Madame de Valois over to you for money?'

‘To be blunt, sir, I am. All we need to decide is how much money. And if you will be advised by me, make it a handsome amount. My principal expects to have to pay well for the property, so why disappoint him?'

Macleod returned to the door and pulled it open.

‘Get out.'

Melford stayed seated.

‘Come now, Mr Macleod, no histrionics, this isn't Drury Lane. You are a man of business and so am I. Let's behave as such.'

‘Get out of my house, damn you, before I throw you out.'

For the first time since entering, Melford's self-confidence seemed shaken. He stood up unsure of what to do. There was a brief pause of indecision among the three of them until Marie spoke.

‘Please sit down, Lord Melford.' She then looked at Macleod. ‘Please, Jean, close the door.' Melford smiled a smile that was no longer quite so obviously false and sat down. They both looked at Macleod and waited. Macleod slowly closed the door, came back to the table where he remained standing while Marie continued. ‘Now, Lord Melford, am I right in assuming that the property you refer to is myself?'

Melford's confidence had fully returned.

‘Quite correct, Madame. I thought I would be dealing with this gentleman but I see now it is you I should be talking to. You have information which my principal is willing to pay for. It is of no concern to me or my principle which party is paid for this information so long as we get it.'

‘Who is your principle?'

‘Ah, now there I must decline to answer, but if you doubt the sincerity of the offer I can reassure you easily enough.' He put his hand into his coat, pulled out a folded paper and handed it across. Marie took and opened it. ‘A banker's draft made out, as you see, to the bearer and the amount left blank.' He held out his hand and Marie passed the paper back to him. He put it back into his coat. ‘Once I am satisfied that the information is indeed worth whatever price we agree, I will fill in the amount and hand over the draft.' Marie said nothing. ‘If you are in any doubt about the genuineness of the document perhaps you would like Mr Macleod to look it over. He is, I understand, a lawyer.'

‘That will not be necessary.'

Macleod could contain himself no longer.

‘Who the hell sent you?'

Melford looked up at him.

‘As I said, no names. Except perhaps one to show good faith, his Royal Majesty, King George. I do not mean that literally, of course, it was not him who sent me, I am but a humble cog in that wheel of State, a mere messenger, but ultimately my authority to act in this matter resides in the British crown. So, Madame, will you take His Majesty's money and share with me what you know?'

‘No, damn you, she will not and you, sir, will get out. I've heard all I care to from you. Neither Madame de Valois nor any information she may have is for sale, not now, not ever.'

But Melford wasn't shaken this time. Marie, he was sure, was interested in his offer and it was she who had the information, not Macleod.

‘I see. The lady must do as you wish not as her own inclinations might dictate. Am I to presume then that while she is a prisoner in your house she must obey your wishes?' Macleod didn't answer. Melford saw that the point had struck home and followed up his advantage. ‘Well, sir, keeping a lady against her will would be frowned upon in London but I must assume that here in Boston it is merely another part of the American way.' The monstrousness of the charge momentarily confused Macleod. He wanted to take Melford by his collar and throw him out but he also wanted to refute totally the charge that Marie was being forced, against her will, to remain in his house, a prisoner. ‘Unless, of course, I am mistaken and the lady is here of her own free will?'

He looked at Marie for an answer.

‘I am here, sir, entirely of my own free will.'

Melford returned to Macleod.

‘Then I think, Mr Macleod, that what it comes down to is, what does the lady wish in this matter? Does it not?'

Macleod realised that the moment for action had passed and also realised that what Melford had just said was, unfortunately, absolutely true. The choice was Marie's to make. He looked at her and waited.

She stood up.

‘I regret that you have been misinformed, Lord Melford.'

‘Misinformed, Madame?'

‘I have no idea what information you are talking about. Certainly I have none that I could sell to you, even if you
are
acting on behalf of His Majesty King George. All the information I have is that I am a distant cousin of Mr Macleod's on his mother's side and I am paying him a visit. Not, I fear, information of any value but you may have it without charge. You must tell His Majesty King George that I regret any inconvenience or expense I may have unwittingly caused him. Good day, sir.'

Melford looked from Marie to Macleod, who was looking at her and smiling.

‘I see.' Melford stood, bowed slightly to Marie and walked to the door where he stopped. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you both. Please accept my humble apologies. Perhaps you would accompany me to the door, Mr Macleod, since my business here is quite finished for the time being.'

Lord Melford left the room followed by Macleod. Marie heard the street door open and close. No words, as far as she could tell, were exchanged.

Macleod returned to the living room, walked about for a moment, then came and stood in front of Marie.

‘I don't understand.'

‘What is it, Jean, that you do not understand?'

‘You said you wanted to sell your information to the British.'

‘Yes, that is what I said.'

‘And Melford is from London. Why did you refuse to deal with him?'

‘This Lord Melford
says
he is from London and he acts the English lord very well but tell me, Jean, have you ever met an English m'lord?'

‘No.'

‘Neither have I, so all we truly know about him is what he himself told us. Yesterday your business friend, Monsieur Bentley, comes to question you about me. First he does not speak French so well, then he speaks it very well. Also he mocks the story we tell him and he does not hide that he is mocking it. Today a stranger calls who says he represents the British Government and offers money for the information I have. Does it not seem to you that these two callers might be connected?'

And it suddenly seemed to Macleod that she was right. They might very well be connected.

‘I hadn't thought of that.'

‘Think of it now, Jean. You said we were safe now we were in Boston. It does not seem to me that we are safe. It seems to me that we might still be in great danger.'

Macleod reluctantly agreed with her but decided that if she thought herself in danger, now was the time to persuade her to place herself on the side of America.

‘Marie, there is only one sure way for you to become safe. You must go with me to Washington. There is a man there, a man whom I trust completely. He was the one who sent me to New Orleans. He is a high official of the American Government. You must come with me and tell him all you know. Once that is done you will indeed be safe.'

‘And then?'

Macleod didn't understand the question.

‘And then, what?'

‘I will be safe to do what? I have no home, no money. I am running away from the murder of my husband. If I tell what I know to this man you trust so completely, will he pay me, will he pay me enough to go away and start a new life in the safety you say he can give me?'

Macleod was painfully aware that all he could truthfully say fell far short of what he wished he could say.

‘He is an honourable man, I'm sure you will be treated fairly.'

‘Oh, Jean, I am trying to behave like a woman, to think like a grown person not a child. Do not become a too trusting child yourself when I need you most. We were followed from New Orleans, you were attacked and I nearly murdered. We arrive in Boston where you think I will be safe and your house is at once besieged by people who know who I am and why I am here. If I travel with you to Washington would you say I had a good chance of getting there alive if we are already watched, as we certainly are? I think not.'

Macleod saw her point.

‘But what else can you do?'

‘We can think. Are Bentley and Melford together and, if so, who do they represent? If they are not together, does Lord Melford really represent the British? Are St Clair's friends here yet and will they try to silence me once more? How much should I ask for the information I have? There is a lot to think about before I decide what I must do, Jean, would you not agree?'

Macleod's grasp of the situation, he was becoming aware, was considerably less than that of Marie.

‘You may be right, you probably are right, but how do we go about answering any of your questions? These people come from a world of secrecy and intrigue that we neither of us know nor understand.'

Marie paused for a second as if Macleod had said something of importance.

‘Jean, why were you chosen to go to New Orleans by this man in Washington that you say you trust?'

‘I served as an officer under him in the late war.'

‘And?'

‘And he knew that I spoke fluent French.'

‘And?'

Macleod thought for a second but nothing came.

‘That's all, except that he trusts me.'

‘You were a soldier and speak French and because of that he chooses you for a most secret and dangerous mission, a mission which requires you to be a skilled agent, to move among people who live, as you say, in a world of secrecy and intrigue?'

‘He needed someone he could trust, someone unconnected with this business, someone from the outside.'

‘Why? Did he not trust those who worked for him?'

‘I suppose not, not all of them anyway.' Macleod found he was becoming increasingly confused and uncertain of himself. ‘But I trust him and I know that if we could get to him we would be safe.'

Marie was obviously not convinced.

‘You may be right, but the question is, I think, would we get to him? And my answer is that we would not. No, first, Jean, we must try to do what we can here in Boston.'

‘But you said Boston was not safe.'

‘No, not so long as we remain in ignorance of who these people represent. If we could only be sure that Lord Melford was indeed working for the British. If he is, then he is my best chance.'