General Well'ngone In Love (8 page)

Mr. Barnstock was now even more astonished.
“What?”

“
I didn’t do it!” Arthur
Barnstock shouted. “The boy’s not dead! He was alive, I tell you,
the last time I saw him. Go to the attic, go to Lord Liverwood’s
home, you’ll find the boy in a cupboard.” The young clerk searched
through his pockets with trembling hands until he extracted a key,
which he flung at Mr. Melamed. “There’s the key to the cupboard.
Take it! Why don’t you go?”

“
I already know that Berel
Krinkle is alive. I also know that he has been safely removed from
Lord Liverwood’s home. I only wished to hear the confession from
your own lips.” Mr. Melamed then turned to the solicitor and said,
“I hope you will assist your client, Mr. Barnstock. Lord Liverwood
may be childish, but he is not the dangerous member of the family.
He deserves better treatment than what he has received at the hands
of his nephew and your son.”

When Mr. Melamed returned to Devonshire
Square, he found the family seated in the drawing room. Miss
Krinkle was there, as well. Although she had tried to insist that
she must remain beside her brother’s bed all night, she had finally
agreed to take turns with the other members of the Lyon
household.

“
As I suspected, Mr.
Lennox did not wish to wait until his uncle passed away to inherit
the family title and fortune,” Mr. Melamed explained to the
others.

“
I cannot say I entirely
blame him,” said Mr. Lyon. “An elephant would be quite an expensive
curio to keep, I should think. It must have pained Mr. Lennox to
see his uncle squander his money on such things.”

“
That may be, but it was
no excuse to have Lord Liverwood declared a lunatic and locked away
for the rest of his life.”

“
But where does the child
come in to all this, Mr. Melamed?” asked Mrs. Lyon. “Why did Mr.
Lennox need to kidnap him?”

“
One does need some reason
to put away a relative, especially when he is a member of the
aristocracy,” replied Mr. Melamed. “If Mr. Lennox could prove that
his uncle was a murderer, I doubt anyone would object to his
removing his uncle from society. And he certainly had me convinced
that his story was true, when he brought me the boy’s
coat.”

“
Thank God, you found that
fob seal,” said Mr. Lyon.

“
But why did the
solicitor’s son become involved in all of this?” asked Mrs. Lyon,
still trying to puzzle out the mystery. “What did he hope to
gain?”

“
I believe he expected to
be paid handsomely for his part in the kidnapping and helping to
keep watch over the boy. He seems to be too enamored of betting on
horse races and boxing matches for his own good.”

“
What did they intend to
do with Berel, Mr. Melamed?” asked Miss Krinkle, speaking for the
first time.

This was a question that he hoped would not
be asked. Indeed, when he had questioned Arthur Barnstock and
received all the details of the nefarious plan, he had wondered if
he should conceal this detail from Miss Krinkle. Yet now he decided
it would be best if she knew the truth. “They intended to drown
Berel in the Thames, after the river thawed. London can be a cruel
place, Miss Krinkle. We must thank Hashem for this frost. It saved
your brother’s life.”

The little group was silent for several
moments, as they contemplated the mysterious ways of
Hashem—“Hashem” being one of the Jews’ names for God. For it is He
who holds the secrets of Nature in His Hand, to both destroy and
save, harm and heal.

“
And what about Lord
Liverwood?” asked Miss Lyon, recalling the other person who had
been harmed by this incident. “He has been released, I
hope.”

Mr. Melamed shifted uneasily in his chair.
“I have left that to Mr. Horace Barnstock. In exchange for my
silence regarding his son’s role in this matter, he assured me he
will do everything in his power to ensure that Lord Liverwood is
transported safely to his home in Kent.”

“
Cannot we bring charges
against Mr. Lennox?” asked Mrs. Lyon. “I should think that
abducting the child would be a crime.”

“
It is,” agreed Mr.
Melamed. “But for the time being, Mr. Lennox has disappeared,
probably to the Continent. We can only hope and pray that he stays
far away from Lord Liverwood, and us, for a very long
time.”

They continued to discuss the day’s events
until it was time for supper. Mr. Melamed declined the invitation
to dine at Devonshire Square. Although outwardly he appeared to be
his usual calm and dignified self, he too had been shaken by all
that had occurred and now he wished for the quiet of his own home.
However, Miss Krinkle stopped him before he could go.

“
Mr. Melamed, thank you
for all that you have done.”

“
I am only thankful that
your brother was found alive and well.”

“
Tell me, Mr. Melamed, do
you think Berel would be better off in an orphanage?”

“
No, I believe a child is
always better off at home, if he has one—a true home.”

Miss Krinkle removed a letter that had been
secured inside her sleeve. “I received this letter from my aunt, my
mother’s sister, on the day that Berel disappeared. It seems my
father wrote to her, after he realized how ill he was. She says she
and her husband would be most willing to take us in, if we would
like to join them in the West Indies. Should we go?”

“
You must make that
decision, Miss Krinkle. But it does seem that this was your
father’s wish.”

“
It was also my father’s
wish that Berel should receive a proper Jewish education. I do not
know if that will be possible in my aunt’s home.”

“
I think the community
will be able to purchase some books for Berel to take with him. And
we will not let you go penniless, Miss Krinkle. You may tell your
aunt and uncle that at least part of the money should be used for
Berel’s education. Discuss it with your brother, when he is feeling
better, and let me know what you decide.”

Mr. Lyon and Miss Rebecca Lyon accompanied
Sarah and Berel Krinkle to the coaching inn, the first stage of
their long journey to the West Indies. Mr. Melamed, who had also
come to the inn to see the Krinkles off, had found a Jewish family
that was making the same voyage, and the parents agreed to take the
two Krinkle children under their wing.

Although Rebecca and Sarah had not known
each other for long, they shed many tears when it was time to say
goodbye. Misfortune had bound them together in a way that happier
times often cannot.

While the trunks were being loaded on top of
the coach, Mr. Melamed spotted a familiar bicorne hat in the
crowd.

“
If you wish to say
goodbye, General, now is the time.”

He brought the General over to Miss Krinkle,
and then found an excuse to call away the attention of the
others.

“
I have not yet had the
chance to properly thank you, General,” said the young lady. “My
brother and I will always be grateful.”

“
It was my pleasure to be
of service, Miss Krinkle.”

They stood in an awkward silence for a few
moments. Then the General remembered what he wished to say.

“
I do not know if we will
ever meet again, Miss Krinkle, so I was hoping you might accept
this.” He placed the volume he had bought on the Thames in her
hands. “It is only a little thing, but it comes from my
heart.”

She opened the book to the first page and as
she read the inscription her face fell. “Oh, the Frost Fair. That’s
when Berel disappeared.”

“
If you would turn the
page, you’ll see there is more writing.”

Miss Krinkle did turn the page.

“
I shall treasure this,”
she said, after she had read the message.

“
Then you don’t mind
having someone like me as your friend?”

“
I’ve never had a friend
before—and I do not think I shall ever have a better one, Gen ...
Have you no other name, General Well’ngone?”

“
What sort of
name?”

“
Did no one ever give you
a Jewish name?”

The General glanced around them, to make
sure that no one was listening. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

“
I promised that at the
Frost Fair.”

“
It’s Aaron.”

“
Aaron. That’s a beautiful
name. I shall think of you as Aaron, if you do not
mind.”

“
I should not mind at all,
Miss Krinkle. I would be honored if you would think of me from time
to time.”

“
Not time to time, Aaron
Well’ngone. Often.”

She might have said more, but the coachman
chose that moment to blow his horn, signaling that it was time to
depart. In the rush, Sarah and Berel Krinkle were swept up into the
coach. The door was shut, and the horses trotted off.

General Well’ngone watched as the carriage
grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely from
sight. He felt sad, because he knew that he would never see Miss
Krinkle again. But even though his heart was more than a little
broken, the knowledge that Miss Krinkle would be thinking of him
more than made up for this pain. Indeed, he had never been so happy
in his life.

THE END

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General Well’ngone In Love
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Enjoy this free excerpt from the third
volume in the Ezra Melamed Mystery Series:

Tempest in the Tea
Room

CHAPTER
I

“
Re…be…cca! Reh…! Beh…! Beh…! ”

“
Rebecca, why do you vex the child, when Isaac cannot speak?
Your time would be more profitably spent in helping us hem these
clothes.” Mrs Rose Lyon gave her daughter a disapproving glance and
then returned her attention to the tiny dress that sat in her
lap.

Rebecca
stroked the cheek of her nephew, Master Isaac Goldsmith, age four
weeks, to reassure the infant that his inability to articulate the
name of his eldest (and surely favourite) aunt was no aspersion on
either his intelligence or his affectionate nature. “You want to
say my name. I know you do,” she whispered. When she was greeted by
a smile, or something that seemed very like, she, in turn, was
reassured that her high estimation of her only nephew had not been
misplaced.

“
Give me the dress, Mama, and I will hem it,” said the
infant’s mother, Mrs Hannah Goldsmith. “Rebecca is much better
employed in amusing Isaac.”

Rebecca could
feel the tips of her ears turn red. She dearly loved her older
sister, considering Hannah to be everything that a Daughter of
Israel should be, but wished that Hannah had not brought up the
subject, even subtly, of Rebecca’s inability to sew her stitches in
an even line.

“
She must learn to master the needle,” Mrs Lyon said with a
heartfelt sigh, plying
her
needle with expert motion. “What will people say
when her children enter the Great Synagogue with ragged hems and
uneven sleeves?”

“
That is still several years away. She has ample time to
improve her needlework. The main thing is to want to improve, which
I am sure is a thing that Rebecca desires as much as you do. Is
that not so, Rebecca?”

Rebecca did
not answer at once. The truth was that she much preferred to wield
a pen or a paintbrush than a needle, which always seemed to play
pranks with her fingers and make the most disconcerting movements
on the cloth. When she had heard Mr Franks, the father of her good
friend Miss Harriet Franks, discuss with her father a machine that
could cut cloth, sew seams and hems, and even produce a tolerable
buttonhole, she had begged her father to procure the wonder at
once.

“
Is such a machine in existence today?” Mr Lyon had
asked.

“
Oh, I do not speak of today,” Mr Franks had replied. “I speak
of a future time, when the machine will perform many of the mundane
tasks that currently occupy our hours.”

At the time,
Rebecca had been contented with this answer. Now, however, she
silently wondered if that future epoch might occur within the next
six or seven years, when she could expect to take her place among
the married matrons of London’s Jewish community. If so, she would
be spared much agony. In the meanwhile, though, she was aware that
both her sister and her mother were waiting for her reply.

“
Yes, Hannah, I should like to improve. And I am sorry you no
longer live with us in Devonshire Square, as I am sure that now
that I am older I should make a much better pupil.”

“
Bury Street is not so very far.”

“
No, but you are so busy, since you have become a
mother.”

“
I have not the time, it is true, but perhaps Miss Taylor
could perform the duties of a teacher.”

Mrs Lyon, who
had been following the conversation with interest, said with
astonishment, “Why should a stranger teach Rebecca sewing, when she
has a mother to instruct her?”

“
I did not mean to offend, Mama, but I think you will like my
little scheme when you hear it.”

At that moment
the patriarch of the family, Mr Samuel Lyon, entered the drawing
room. In place of his usually genial manner, a more serious
expression was etched upon his face. “What is this, Hannah?
Motherhood should elevate a young lady, not turn her into a schemer
or gossip.”