The Devil's Company (56 page)

Even from the distance at which I sat I knew there could be no doubt of it. It was the very volume I had delivered to Devout Hale that morning.

“Now, I know there has been some dissatisfaction with my performance here of late,” Ellershaw continued. “There are some voices who claim I could have done more to thwart the wool interest and prevent the imminent legislation, which will certainly prove a challenge to us in years ahead. I do not think it is true. I have never ceased to work for the repeal of that legislation, but there is only so much we can do, and the wool interest has a long and deep connection to the Parliament dating back to time immemorial. I have no doubt that we will regain our lost ground, but in the end there is much to do to expand the markets that remain open and to guard our rights and privileges fiercely. In having stopped this engine, I believe I have proved my worth.”

The crowd apparently agreed with him, for it exploded in cheers and huzzahs. Ellershaw basked in the glow, and at last, when the room was quiet once more, he prepared to conclude his business.

“I do not wish to suggest that I have done all this on my own. I have had a great deal of help, and I wish now to acknowledge those who have assisted me. Our Company has a new advocate, a man who has come over from the wool interest to pursue our cause in Parliament. I should like all of you to welcome into our circle Mr. Samuel Thurmond. He has long served the wool interest, but for the past session he has been covertly working for our company, and he has vowed to use all his influence to repeal the odious legislation.”

The old man rose and waved his hat for a moment, a cheerful grin upon his face. Here was not the dour man under Ellershaw’s threats, or the tentative schemer who met secretly with Forester. Here, I saw, was a clever man, into the final portion of his life, who wished to secure some comfort for himself and perhaps the son Ellershaw had mentioned. The scheme with the pretended textiles had been perpetrated against Forester with Thurmond’s aid. The threats against the old man, the confrontation in Sadler’s Wells had been staged, I now perceived, for my benefit and for Forester’s. Indeed, I understood at last that my very presence in Craven House had been for Forester’s benefit—to make him believe his schemes were threatened by an outside inquiry—so that he might focus his suspicions upon me rather than Thurmond. It was to make him feel that a scheme was afoot, and to spur him on to strike that he might fail and, in his failing, set the stage upon which Ellershaw might climb for his triumph.

The room was now a scene of glad mayhem, with Ellershaw shaking hands, and members of the Court slapping Thurmond on the back, welcoming him to their project as though he were a hero. It seemed to me a most curious thing, since he had obtained this status by betraying his longtime allies. What, I wondered, would prevent him from betraying the schemers of Craven House? Perhaps, I thought, it signified nothing. Ellershaw had made it clear, after all, that these were men who lived from one quarter to the next, one Court meeting to another. What mattered a future betrayal when measured against an immediate success?

I felt myself mightily disgusted by these displays, and I thought to tell Elias that I would endure no more of it, but when I looked up I observed Thurmond shaking hands with a most unexpected attendee. It was none other than Moses Franco.

A thousand thoughts passed through my mind as I attempted to understand why Franco would be here and why he would be upon such friendly terms with Thurmond and several other of the Company men. Then I observed that he excused himself and maneuvered his way toward the main entrance leading to the bulk of Craven House. He opened the main doors and quickly closed them behind himself, but not so quickly that I did not see that someone awaited him outside, and from the look of clothes and body language I guessed that person to be Celia Glade.

I EXCUSED MYSELF TO ELIAS, saying nothing more than that I would return, and then pushed my way through the crowd. As I did so, Ellershaw grabbed on to my shoulder and met my startled expression with a grin, far more secure and competent than any look I had previously seen upon his face.

“Think not, because I neglected to thank you publicly, that I consider your contribution any smaller than Mr. Thurmond’s,” he said.

I ignored this barb and pushed my way forward. At length, I separated myself from the room and studied the open space of the house. Luckily, I saw the pair I sought making their way down the hallway to a small closet I knew to have been recently vacated. They must have either expected no intrusion or minded none, for they did not close the door, and upon my arrival at the threshold, I observed Miss Glade handing Mr. Franco a purse.

“What betrayal is this?” I asked, my voice booming loud enough to startle them both.

“Mr. Weaver,” Franco said cheerily, though now entirely without the accent he had affected in my presence. “I am so glad to see you, now that this is all over. There are going to be some recriminations—I know it cannot be helped—but let me say now that I am in your debt, sir, and have nothing but esteem and honor for you.”

My expression must have presented to him some intelligence he did not desire, for he turned to Miss Glade. “He has already been informed of this particular, has he not?”

The lady blushed. “I’m afraid I have not yet had an opportunity to tell him.”

“You are a spy?” I boomed.

Miss Glade put a hand upon my arm. “Take not your anger out upon him. If you are to blame anyone, you may blame me.”

“And you may depend upon my doing so. How dare you make so free with my feelings and loyalties? Have you no idea of how I tormented myself with guilt over this man’s incarceration? And now I find he was a spy in your service?”

Franco held up his hands to me as if in surrender, an effect not a little marred by his newly got purse, clutched in one hand. Nevertheless, more than trembling with fear, he turned red with mortification, and I sensed that he did indeed regret his deception. The earnestness of this evident regret so disarmed me that I stood still, having no notion of what I should say or do.

Miss Glade chose to take pity on my uncertainty. “Blame not this man,” she said. “He was but an unfortunate as you were, forced against his will into Cobb’s service.”

“Upon my arrival in London, I’m afraid I made some rather poor choices with my money, including an investment in Mr. Pepper’s engine—a scheme that brought me to the attention of Cobb. He contrived to acquire my debts as he did with you and your friends, and he then demanded of me that I form a connection with your family.”

“Your daughter was a spy too?” I asked, the disgust in my voice undisguised.

“No,” he said. “Alas, I could not depend upon so sweet a creature to deceive you, so I dissimulated with her as well. Allow me to say, however, that had the two of you found each other more agreeable, I should have had no objection to a match.”

“You do me too much kindness,” I said with bitterness.

He shook his head. “When I observed that the two of you would not form a match, I sent her to Salonica, that she might be well away from this madness. I am sorry, sir, very sorry, to have been made to deceive you. I can only hope, when you hear all, that you will not regard me with so much distaste.”

“Rather than nursing your indignation toward Mr. Franco,” Miss Glade said, “you may discover you wish to thank him. It was out of regard for you that he contacted the ministry and chose to turn coat and join with us.”

“It is true,” Franco said. “I knew Cobb to be a villain, and you to be a man of honor, and so—with my daughter safely abroad—I risked my safety in order to work for, rather than against, my new home. Sadly, one condition of my service was that you could know nothing of all this.”

“And why?”

Miss Glade laughed. “Is it not evident that you are too nice in convictions to be trusted in a matter such as this, when what is right and what is wrong is a matter of some ambiguity? We knew you would never willingly serve the French and that you must rally, if given the choice, to your own kingdom. We were less certain that you could be depended on if there was a conflict between your notion of what was best for the kingdom and ours.”

I snorted with disgust. “And so you played me like a puppet.”

“We had no wish to,” Franco said most pitiably.

“Mr. Weaver, you have been a man in this world long enough to know that we cannot always be used as we wish, and at times we must sacrifice our own inclinations for the good of something greater. If I were to learn my government had deceived me to such an end, I should not object. I should always choose they do so rather than be the loser for it.”

“And that is your choice,” I said. “Not mine. I know better than to believe the government makes a good bargain by supporting this Company. Two great powers can never live well together, and the time will come when the one must seek to crush the other.”

“The day may come,” Miss Glade told me, “when the ministry will be at odds with Craven House, but right now we are at odds with the French, and the French wish to destroy the East India Company as a means of destroying our power abroad. Politics cannot always be about what is moral and right and good for all men and for all time. It must be about what is expedient now, and what is the lesser evil.”

“That is a wretched way to manage a nation. You are no better than the Company men, thinking only from one quarter to the next.”

“It is the only way to manage a nation,” she said. “Any other method is doomed to failure.”

After a pause, she turned to Franco.

“I believe you have presented your case as well as you might,” Miss Glade said to him. “May I suggest you leave us that we may exchange a word in private?”

He did so, bowing once more and rushing from the room. Miss Glade then closed the door and turned to me, her mouth wide, showing me an enchanting grin of white teeth.

“So,” she said. “You are angry with me?”

“You speak to me as though we have some connection in which my anger might disturb you. You are nothing to me but a betrayer and a manipulator.”

She shook her head. “I won’t believe it. You are angry with me, but you do not consider me those things. Your pride is hurt because I have had the advantage over you for these three weeks, but I think when you consider the matter at greater length, you will come to see me in a kinder light. Assuming, of course, you do not already. I think you rather like me more than you will admit.”

I did not answer, for I neither wished to confess nor to lie. Instead, I said, “Tell me this. You suggest the French killed Baghat. Did they kill Carmichael? And what of Pepper?”

“As for Carmichael, we have uncovered information that leads us to suspect that one of Ellershaw’s men had it done.”

“What?” I demanded. “You will let him get away with such a thing?”

“You must understand what the risks are here. This is a struggle of nations for world power, for an empire the likes of which has never before been seen. Such a prize is to be desired, yes, but even more so, that our enemy may obtain it must be fought at all costs. Do you wish for France to dominate Europe and the world? Have you considered how well our people do under English rule—here and in the colonies? Shall I tell you about life in the Catholic countries on the continent?”

“I am aware of those matters,” I said.

“I have nothing but hatred for Ellershaw, and I, like you, wish he could be punished for his crimes, but this is a war—a war as real and with as great, if not greater, consequences as the kind fought by great armies upon battlefields. If we must endure a rascal like Ellershaw, then we must endure him—just as kings must endure monsters who sometimes make for remarkable commanders in the field.”

“So he is not punished?”

“He cannot be. Even if we had proof, which we lack, it would be unwise to move against him.” Here she smirked at me. “And none of your rough justice, if you please. Should any unfortunate accidents befall Mr. Ellershaw, I don’t believe the ministry would let the matter rest, and I would not be in a position to protect you. You must seek retribution in your other way.”

I could not know what she meant by those words, but I suspected she knew more of my mind than I would like. I turned away from her, crossing my hands behind my back. “And what of Absalom Pepper? Who killed him, and shall that person face justice?”

“I notice you turn away from me when you ask that question,” she said. “You do not trust yourself?”

Anxiety and admiration filled me in equal measures, but I could not ignore the challenge. I therefore turned to her. “Who killed him?”

“I think you know the answer,” she said, with the little smile that I had come to find both infuriating and irresistible.

“If I knew, would I not visit justice accordingly?”

“I believe you will.”

“And you will not stop me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Can the ministry approve?”

“The ministry will not know.”

I studied her very narrowly, wondering if she planned some sort of ambuscade upon me. “Yet you will not attempt to stop me?”

“You must not think me blind in my loyalty. I would do anything to keep France from gaining the power Britain seeks, but that does not mean I am unable to envision what these companies represent. You are right to wonder what happens when they grow too powerful, and I am in agreement with you that it is better that their power be curtailed while we possess a weapon with which to strike. And so you may do as you wish, and I shall, in every official capacity, take no notice of it. In a more private setting, however, I believe you will know of my approbation.”