Jake White The BeginningChapter 8
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Edited by Old Rotorhead
Jake returned to the suite and tapped on the door.
“Who is it?” asked Hermione.
“Jake,” he replied.
There was a click from the lock and the door opened. Gina was obviously behind the door, but Jake’s first sight was down the barrel of a very large revolver, and behind it Hermione.
“I’d forgotten about that gun,” said Jake. “Would you mind waving it elsewhere?
“Well you threw the hat overboard, so I had to keep something as a souvenir,” Hermione grinned. “Now come in so that we can close the door, and you can tell us what happened.”
Jake sat down and explained his conversation with Count Moriarty.
“So,” Hermione began. “There are four people after the plates. This Count Moriarty, du Sang-Frappe, except we think he may no longer be with us, and then there is whoever has the plates, and someone who doesn’t. And we’d like them back too.”
“They won’t be any good,” said Gina.
“Why not?” asked Jake.
“Well...” Gina hesitated. “I expect they’ll have been damaged by light.”
Jake looked at her thoughtfully.
“You said the plates wouldn’t be any good. And then you said you expected they’d be damaged,” he said. “I think you might know more than your telling us.”
“Well I don’t,” Gina stamped her foot. “I just meant they probably got damaged.”
“Where did you go this morning?” Hermione asked Gina.
“What do you mean? N-nowhere,” Gina was caught off balance by the question.
“Yes you did. About first light,” said Hermione. “I thought you were going to the heads, but now that I think about it I must have gone back to sleep. You could have been gone quite a long time.”
“I was quite a long time. I had an upset tummy,” Gina replied, blushing.
“You need to practice lying, Gina,” said Jake. “You’re not very good at it. Now, would you like to tell us what you were doing?”
“I went for a walk,” Gina had a shifty look.
“Where?”
“Round the deck. The sun was just coming up and I wished I was able to photograph it,” Gina smiled. She was on firm ground with the truth.
“I’m sure it looked wonderful,” said Jake. “But something else happened, didn’t it?”
“No!”
Both Jake and Hermione were staring unwaveringly at her and she finally had to drop her eyes.
“Yes,” she said, quietly.
“What?” asked Jake.
“There was a man and a woman. They dragged a man out of a cabin. I recognised him as the Frenchman.”
“du Sang-Frappe?”
“Yes.”
“So you didn’t kill him,” Hermione cut in, the emphasis on ‘you’.
“I’m not a murderer,” Gina raised her voice, indicating that she thought Hermione was.
“And neither am I! Unless you want a bullet from that revolver,” said Hermione, hotly. “The only other time I was being raped! Not that you’d know anything about that!”
“Stop,” said Jake.
The girls looked at him.
“You are both out of order,” said Jake. “Gina, Hermione was protecting you. And Hermione, Gina knows all about rape. Now keep your voices down. So, they dragged him out of the cabin, Gina?”
Hermione looked somewhat chastened.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They dragged him inside, and downstairs.”
“Down a companionway.”
“If you say so.” said Gina, petulantly. “You know all about these things.”
“And you decided to go into the cabin and see if the plates were there,” Hermione joined in. “They were weren’t they? Those people had their hands full, so they couldn’t carry them. You know that the plates are no good because you exposed them them to the sun.”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
“And what happened then?” asked Jake. “No, let me guess. You found the prints, and you’ve now got them.”
“Yes.”
“What about the man and woman?”
“They came back while I was there, so I hid in the closet. I couldn’t see anything, but I know they picked up the plates, and he asked if was there anything else and she said no. So they left.”
“Anything else?” asked Jake.
“He called her Min,” said Gina.
“Min,” Jake shook his head. “Means nothing to me,” he looked at Hermione who shook her head.
“Obviously the prints are not in your luggage,” said Jake. “Or whoever was searching would have found them.”
“I’m not that stupid,” said Gina with some feeling.
“You don’t want me to comment on that do you?” said Jake. He turned to Hermione. “I think we should take it in turns to keep watch tonight.”
“Yes,” said Hermione, “I think you’re right.”
“What about me?” asked Gina.
“You, are part of what we’ll be watching,” Jake told her.
“Man that is of woman borne...”
Fitz had thought about taking Mary back to Bristol, but although she had no close relatives living he decided that she was Irish and Ireland was the place for her. The day after her death, her murder, he thought, he had contacted an undertaker, and arranged for her to be interred at a protestant church. His sense of loss was profound, but his navy training kept him on an even keel, and he had at the very least, had the satisfaction of avenging her death. The funeral was attended by the crew of ‘Moonfleet’, with Major Cockburn and Lady Jane, who had asked Fitz for permission to attend. Although he had not actually seen her mutilate her husband, he was well aware of how much she hated him, and was happy for her to be there. Major Cockburn and Lady Jane were clearly well acquainted. It seemed clear to everyone that the date of their wedding depended more on how long Lady Jane was going to go through the farce of mourning her husband than anything else. The other person who attended was Maria O’Brien. Tom stood with his Captain, ready to provide support, but he couldn’t help feeling an urge to cross his legs when he looked at Lady Jane.
The house had been searched by Cockburn’s men under the direction of Lady Jane, but although the cellar had clearly been used to imprison young girls, there were none there. She had told them that there had been groups of girls previously, she thought, probably shipped in the same way. She was uncertain as to what would happen to the house because she anticipated that it would be left to the younger brother of her late husband, who would inherit the title. He was, she told Major Cockburn, equally as depraved as his brother.
Three days later ‘Moonfleet’ slipped her mooring and left Dublin for Bristol. Twenty- four hours later she was warped into her berth in Bristol. As was normal, the first person aboard was Angelica. She was greeted by Tom who drew her aside and told her about Mary.
“I’m sorry, Miss Angelica, but I thought you should know,” he told her.
She thanked him and went below to see Fitz.
“Tom told me,” she said. “He didn’t give any details, but we’ve had trouble over the girls here. I had to shoot Lord Portmahon’s younger brother. I’m on remand at the moment.”
“No problem there,” Fitz told her. “His Lordship has gone down to meet his maker. So he can’t cause you any more trouble.”
Angelica sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. She had been upset at shooting the man, despite everyone praising her for her bravery.
“You’d better have a drink,” said Fitz, reaching for glasses and a bottle of brandy. “And you can tell me what happened.”
It was some time before they got around to discussing the ships manifest, but there were no problems with that, and the work of unloading went on as usual.
When she got home that evening Angelica sought out Lydia, who she found in the nursery. As she entered she was greeted with big smiles and ‘‘‘Lo ‘Gelica” from the four girls. She couldn’t help but smile and say hallo to all of them in turn.
“Did I get all your names right?” she asked them.
The girls all giggled and Mairead confirmed that she had.
Angelica drew Lydia aside and informed her of the news.
“Oh dear,” Lydia said. “This affair has been just dreadful. I didn’t know Mary, but everyone spoke well of her, and poor Fitz!-I hope that everything can be sorted out now. No one will think badly of you, I’m sure.”
There was no doubt that none of the people she worked with considered Angelica as anything other than a heroine, as did the people she met around the docks.
“Do you know,” Lydia went on, “I spend more time here with these girls than I ever did with my own two. I suppose it’s being granny age, but they are such a joy. How could anyone have contemplated doing them harm?”
“I’m afraid there are some wicked people in this world,” said Angelica. “Fitz loved Mary deeply, and she was a lovely person. A firebrand though. Whether he’ll ever recover I don’t know. Time, I suppose.”
Victoria was home in time to change for dinner. Over the meal she told them about the result of the raid on Portmahon House.
“I’m not sure raid is quite the right word for it. They simply knocked on the door and went in. They did a thorough search. The house was built with a chapel, although it certainly wasn’t used to worship God. In the cellar there were cages that could have held children, but they were empty. What they did find was a list of names and addresses. So some people will find themselves answering some awkward questions, although Peter said that some of them would be untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” asked Angelica.
“Yes, very high ranking, a couple of earls he said,” Victoria went on. “Some of them will be investigated, though, and that will put the wind up the others.”
“What is going to happen to the girls,” asked Lydia. “Did he say anything about them? I’m sure that there must be some sort of rules or regulations about them.”
“I’m afraid you are stuck with them Mama,” Victoria told her. “Unless you want to throw them out on the street, of course.”
“Certainly not!” exclaimed Lydia, she looked in horror at Victoria and saw that she was laughing, as was Angelica.
“Oh! That wasn’t funny!”
“Mama, the idea of you parting with those girls is simply ridiculous. We shall have to watch to make sure they aren’t spoilt.”
“I shall not treat them any differently to my grand children,” she paused a moment. “I shall have to get a governess for them.”
“Aunt Lydia,” said Angelica. “I think Ursula might like to do that. She spends a lot of time with them, and their English has improved under her tuition. I think her background is above what you would normally expect for a maid. And Betsy and Maudie have enough to do with the other four.”
“I shall have a talk to her,” said Lydia. “It would mean another new maid to train though.”
Before ‘Moonfleet’ left for Dublin Fitz came to see the girls. Initially they were overawed by him, but they soon got used to him. All was well until Aoife asked a question.
“Where is the nice lady with red hair?”
“Aoife!” said Mairead. “I told you not to ask that.”
Aoife burst into tears. Fitz reach for her and sat her on his knee. She cuddled into him and a tear leaked own his cheek...
“Mairead,” said Lydia. “What do you know about that?”
“I heard what ‘Gelica said, and Betsy and Maudie were talking about it. And I thought we weren’t ‘sposed to know.”
Lydia gathered the other three girls round her.
“My darlings it isn’t something you’re not supposed to know, but it isn’t very nice. We thought it was better that you didn’t know, but I had forgotten that children hear everything. That man who took you away from the nuns killed Mary. And then Captain Fitz killed him.”
“So we are safe now, and those men won’t come for us again?” asked Mairead.
Lydia shook her head. Was there anything you could keep from children?
“That’s right,” Lydia told them. “You are safe, and you will live here with us until you grow up.”
“What will happen then?” asked Clodagh.
“I hope you will all have happy lives doing whatever you want to do,” said Lydia, smiling.
“Will Captain Fitz come and see us again?” asked Aisling.
“Of course I will,” said Fitz.
A now happily smiling Aoife was still hugging him.
Victoria was sitting in her office running things through in her mind. The new collection of dresses was coming along nicely. The only concern that Victoria had was that she had no idea when Hermione would be back. She wanted Hermione to be there as a hostess, and last time Gina had modelled too. Perhaps, she thought darkly, the seamstresses could leave lots of pins in her dresses. She shook her head and smiled, she didn’t really mean that. Siobhan and Roisin would model some of their own creations, they’d use different colourways of the same design for them. That had worked before. Could she get Brigitte to model? Lady Bridget would be helping with hosting, which just meant wandering around chatting. Of course she didn’t have Myfanwy to do the teenage fashion, but what about Bea? She was about the same size. Seizing the moment she went up to the studio to see her.
“Good morning, not daughter,” Victoria greeted Bea.
“Good morning, not mama,” replied Bea giving Victoria a hug.
“I wanted to ask you if you would model a couple of the dresses for me, the ones for younger girls,” said Victoria.
“What, now?”
“No, when we have the show.”
“You mean put the dresses on and walk out in front of all those people?”
“Yes.”
“They’ll all look at me,” said Bea.
“Well that is the general idea,” said Victoria. “You walk along, turn and walk back, and they all look at you.”
“Yes, but they’ll be looking at me. Not the dresses.”
“And what they’ll see is a beautiful girl. Wearing a beautiful dress. A smiling confident girl, with not a care in the world.”
“They’ll see skinny wench quaking in her boots is nearer the mark,” Bea replied. “And they’ll all be thinking is she or isn’t she.”
Victoria laughed. “How many of them do you think you’ll know?”
“Enough.”
“And how many will you care about?”
“Not one of them,” said Bea, vehemently. “Not one. I’ll do it, I’ll show them I don’t care.”
“That’s my girl,” Victoria said, laughing.
“How are the little Irish girls?” asked Bea.
“Becoming more and more English with every passing day,” said Victoria. “My mother dotes on them. No more than Jake’s children, but they are hard to resist.”
Victoria thought for a moment. “I wonder if I could get them to model dresses for children?”
“Do you think there is a market for such a thing?” asked Bea.
“We have done well with what we call the ‘Young Lady’ market, so it could be worth a try. Wealthy mums showing off their little darlings,” said Victoria, her mind already working overtime on the idea. “I know they tend to keep them in the nursery with nanny, but perhaps we can start a new trend!”
“Will your mother get them a governess?” asked Bea.
“At the moment Ursula, one of the maids, is fulfilling that role,” Victoria replied. “She’s been with us a while, and has been very good. It turns out she comes from a good family that fell on hard times. They’re not local, somewhere on the south coast I believe. So it’s a step up for her. Mother is, naturally, now fretting about getting a new maid, and making sure she does everything exactly how she wants.”
Breakfast was a rather subdued affair, both Hermione and Jake having lost some sleep. A waste as it turned out, but that is the luck of the draw. They were having a last cup of coffee when a familiar figure approach the table.
“Good day, mon ami, may I join you?”
“Please do, Commandant,” said Jake, indicating an empty chair and waving to the waiter to bring more coffee.
“Thank you,” said du Sang-Frappe.
“We missed you, Commandant,” said Jake.
“Yes, it seems I was drugged. I was awakened by a steward after the boat docked. I don’t suppose you have any idea what happened?”
“I met with a Count Moriarty last evening,” said Jake. “We had a discussion, and it seems that there are others who are after the ... merchandise. I said I’d had missed seeing you, but I had no idea what had happened.”
“Ah! Someone else? I have little doubt that that would be Minerva Zábradlie and her lackey Henry Crun. You have heard of them?” asked du Sang-Frappe.
Jake noted that du Sang-Frappe managed to make Henry Crun sound as though he were something that was best left under a flat stone. He shook his head. “ Zábradlie, an odd name.”
“Slovakian. The man is English, I believe. But if they were the ones who drugged me, I have no idea how they did it.”
“Our rooms were searched last evening. They must have bribed someone to get a key. Perhaps they did the same to a steward. I was on my way to complain to the manager when I met with the Count. I believe we saw you talking to him on the ship. Could he have been working with them?”
“The Count is an old sparring partner, but I would think it unlikely that he would work with them.” Du Sang-Frappe finished his coffee and stood. “It has been pleasant talking to you. No doubt we shall meet again, Sir Jacob, Mademoiselles.”
The day passed uneventfully. Jake and Hermione took turns to catch up on their sleep whilst Gina kept herself amused.
They went down to the dining room for their evening meal wondering whether they would see Count Moriarty or du Sang-Frappe, but neither were to be seen. It was fairly busy, and it was not until they were waiting for their main course to arrive that they saw a tall elegant woman accompanied by a rather mousy looking man arrive and take their seats.
“I’ll bet,” said Hermione. “that that is Minerva whatever and Henry Crun. He looks exactly like du Sang-Frappe’s tone of voice suggested.”
The man did indeed look shifty and rather snake like, but his companion was a tall dark haired woman with a very striking appearance, not beautiful in any sense, but handsome nevertheless.
“I don’t know,” replied Jake. “But I’ll not take that bet.”
Their meal finished they made their way to their suite. The layout of the suite was interesting in that there were two entrances, one from the corridor into the main room, and another into one of the bedrooms. The idea, Jake surmised, was that the suite could be let with that bedroom, or the bedroom could be let separately. They decided that it was most likely that they would receive a visitation later in the evening, and worked out their plans accordingly. They settled down to wait.
It was midnight before there was a tap on the door. Jake nodded to Hermione who went into the bedroom with external access. Gina sat watching.
Jake opened the door to reveal the couple that they had guessed might be Minerva Zábradlie, and Henry Crun. Crun was leading and had a revolver in his hand. Jake stepped back and they entered.
Minerva looked at Gina. “Vere is odder beetch?”
“Odder beetch is right behind you,” said Hermione. “Don’t turn round, and drop the gun.”
Minerva looked as though she had swallowed something unpleasant, and Henry hesitated.
“I would, if I were you,” said Jake. “She’s not only a very good shot, but she’s already dispatched Vasilek. Of course, if you want your spine in two pieces ... might not kill you, not immediately anyway. And then she’d have to shoot your girl friend.”
“Girl friend? Don’t be ridic’lous! Put gun down Henry.”
Henry lowered the gun and Jake took it from him, then waved them into the centre of the room.
Hermione stepped into the room and closed the door. She went behind Minerva, lifted her skirt and remove a small pistol from her boot.
“Sit on the floor,” Jake told Minerva.
“Can ve not discuss in a civilised manner?” she asked.
“You come in here waving a gun, and when you lose it you want to ‘discuss’ things,” said Jake. “I’ve spent the last few years fighting the Fenians in Ireland. I don’t like them, they are traitors to the crown, but at least they fight for a cause. You are only interested in your own profit. The answer is no.”
Minerva sat.
Jake indicated that Crun should sit on the floor behind her, back to back. Jake handed his gun to Hermione. Whilst she kept them covered Jake took a pair of silk stocking and tied their hands together on either side. He took another pair, tied one end around Crun’s left ankle forced him to bend his leg and tied it to his wrist. He did the same for Minerva’s right leg and then the same the other side. He stood back to admire his work.
“You vill pay for zis!” Minerva hissed at him.
“You’re right,” said Jake. “Damned silk stockings are expensive, and Hermione only let me have them if I promised to buy her new ones.”
The ship was due to leave at ten o’clock the next morning. Their captives spent an uncomfortable night, and were not happy when, in the morning, they were dragged into a bedroom and gagged. Before she gagged her, Hermione lifted Minerva’s skirt, and put her hand up to the woman’s crotch.
Minerva stiffened. “You bloddy pervert,” she spat.
“No,” said Hermione. “Just settling an argument.”
Minerva, her face bright red, opened her mouth to reply only to have a wad of material rammed in.
Jake had a little problem with Henry until he threatened to use the gun butt to remove his teeth.
They were all happy to be on board the ship when she cast off. The weather was overcast and there was a slight drizzle of rain, but she left precisely on time for which Jake was very thankful. There was no knowing when their captives would be found.
Jake drew his coat tightly about him and went on deck to watch Danzig disappear astern. This ship was rigged as a three masted schooner, having fore and aft sails on all three masts, and square sails only on the foremast. An unusual rig, but he supposed, probably ideal in the confined waters of the Skagerrak. She had a screw propeller, and Jake could see the engine hissing and thumping through an open skylight over the engine room. There was warm air wafting out of the skylight smelling of hot oil, and Jake stood back. He did not want to end up smelling like a stoker. He estimated that she was making ten knots, which meant they would reach Copenhagen about lunchtime the next day. He was staring into space thinking about the problems with Gina when a cheery voice hailed him.
“You are taking an interest in my fine ship, the ‘Valkyrie’. I am Captain Olsen,” the voice concluded by way of introduction.
Jake turned to see the Norwegian captain, a large jovial bearded man who immediately brought to mind George Johnson.
“Sir Jacob White,” Jake replied. “Indeed I am interested, Captain. I’ve not seen this rig before, but I would think it would suit the Skagerrak better than a ship rig.”
“Yes, that’s true. You are obviously a seaman.” the captain stated.
“Master,” Jake replied. “I own two topsail schooners on a regular run between Bristol and Dublin, and an interest in two steam ships.”
“You don’t sail them yourself?”
“I have done, but I’ve other business interests that take me here and there.”
“Would steamships not be better on a regular run like that?” asked the captain.
“One of the schooners is Yankee built, and the other built to the same lines in Wales. They’re fast, I’ll replace them with steam when steamships don’t need sails.”
“You think that day will come?” asked Captain Olsen. He thought for a moment. “Well maybe. You must join me for supper this evening, Sir Jacob. Your ladies too, of course. Now I must return to my duties. It was good talking to you.”
Jake was left on his own again until Hermione came up to join him.
“This is the first time we’ve been on our own since we got Gina,” she said, linking his arm.
“You say that as though she’s some sort of disease,” Jake laughed.
“An affliction would be how I’d describe it,” Hermione replied. “Is it all over now?”
“No,” said Jake. “No, I don’t think it is.”
In Bristol everything had settled down. Lydia was happy with how the girls were getting on, Ursula seemed to have just the touch that they needed, and they were beginning to blossom. The girls always looked after the four smaller children, and played with them, much to everyone’s pleasure. Little Millie was too young yet, but it was fun listening to Jack, little Jacob and Caroline trying to say the girls names, with attempts sounding like Mwade, Fa, Oda, and Sling as they ran around the house and garden shrieking and laughing.
Victoria was now in full flight organising the fashion show. Nerissa’s millinery designs for the show were nearing completion and would undoubtedly be a big hit. Together with her upcoming marriage to Lord Kingswood, Victoria was very happy with her life. The only problem was that Siobhan and Roisin had announced that as soon as the show was over they were going to strike out on their own. This would mean that Myfanwy and Josephine would have to come back from Paris. In itself this was no problem because their six months there was nearly over. Victoria felt duty bound to go there to collect them, but that would mean that she could attend to business there as well. Overall this was no bad thing, four designers were really more than the business required. The only question was whether Kaitlyn would remain with Victoria’s. She had already cut back on the hours she was working now that there were others who could take over the cutting.
Angelica was thoroughly enjoying herself, with a warehouse full of assorted merchandise ready to be shipped to the far side of America. She had had one or two concerns regarding the sheer quantity of stuff, but Dennis had supported her, and in Jake’s absence was able to smooth over any problems either with suppliers or with the bank. The mining equipment for Hiram Maxwell had begun to arrive and was being loaded. There were so many pieces that she hoped he knew how they all went together. Nevertheless, even with everything running perfectly smoothly, she would have preferred to have Jake there, well, just because.
Everyone had, of course, been shocked by Mary’s death, but Bea took it particularly hard. She insisted that she wanted to go to Dublin to pay her respects, something her father was not happy about.
“But Hermione and Jake sorted out the cousins, and their friends, Papa,” she said. “So now there will be no problem.”
However, when ‘Moonfleet’ left for Dublin, the inspector and his sergeant were on board as her body guard. Fitz was partly grateful to her for wanting to go, partly admiring that she had the courage to face down her demons, and amused at the heavily armed escort. Fitz hadn’t seen Bea since she had arrived in Bristol aboard ‘Moonfleet’, and he was pleased to have the company of this lively and confident young lady and her escort. Fitz left Tom in charge of discharging the cargo, and together with Bea and her escort, went to pay their respects at Mary’s grave. Bea stood, head bowed and spoke to Mary.
“Mary, I didn’t know you well, but I know that you were working to find me. I know that Jake, and my father, had the greatest respect for you, and that Fitz loved you deeply. I’m sure I should have too, had I got to know you better.” she looked up at Fitz, her pale blue eyes filled with tears. “I’m sure you’ll meet her again one day, Fitz. But keep living until then, I’m sure that is what she would have wanted.”
Fitz nodded, tears running down his cheeks. Bea reached up and kissed him.
“Have you ordered a headstone, Fitz?” she asked.
Fitz shook his head.
“Then let us go and do that,” said Bea, taking his hand and leading him away. The escort fell in behind them.
Whilst she was in Dublin, Bea decided to go and see Maria O’Brien. She was, of course, accompanied by her escort who came into the store with her. Maria greeted her with a curtsey.
“Oh, don’t bother with that,” said Bea, “I’m just the photographer - call me Bea - and don’t mind my escort, my father insists. Most girls get an older lady,” she giggled. “But I get a couple of strong men. You’ve seen the latest designs?”
“I have,” said Maria, “I’m looking forward to seeing the real thing. But tell me, what happened to Gina?”
“Well,” Bea began, and went on to tell Maria what she had found out. “ ... and so you see, Jake and Hermione went off to Russia to bring her back, but we’ve heard nothing since.”
“That seems to be quite an adventure. Have you no idea when they’ll be back?”
“No, not that anyone is too worried, Jake always seems to land on his feet,” Bea told her. “I came over because I wanted to pay my respects to Mary.”
“Of course,” said Maria. “I went to the funeral ... what happened was truly awful.”
“It was,” Bea agreed.
“You must come to supper,” said Maria. “And bring the brave Captain Fitz with you.”
Whilst they were in Dublin they also had supper with Major Cockburn and Lady Jane Portmahon. The lady was not wearing black, which had caused a small scandal, but as she said, she was not going to mourn that devil’s spawn.
“Now that his brother is dead, I’ve inherited the castle,” she told Fitz and Bea. “And a considerable fortune too. When I’m in Bristol I must thank the young lady who shot his brother. Oh! Not for the inheritance, I’d have done without that, but I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be at the mercy of the brother. He was equally as bad as my husband,” she shuddered.
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