Jake White The BeginningChapter 8
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Victoria left the train at Manchester with hugs and kisses, and the admonition to the girls to behave, and not to get into trouble. The train, with Bea and Amanda, continued to Liverpool where Fitz met them with transport for all their bags and baggage. The next stop was the Cunard steam ship ’SS Russia’. The Purser welcomed them on board and showed them to their cabins. In answer to Fitz’s question he told them there were almost two hundred first and second class passengers, the ship did not, he said, carry steerage class passengers. Some of the passengers, he told them, would join the ship in Queenstown.
“But do not worry, Captain,” he said. “The second class passengers are kept completely separate from the first class accommodations. I doubt there would be any problem for your ladies.”
Fitz provided the appropriate gratuity and the purser left them to settle in. Fitz also left the girls to do whatever it is that girls do on these occasions, and went to explore the ship. There was the organised chaos that he was used to before a ship sailed, but on a much larger scale. This ship was nearly three thousand tons. He saw the engineer taking a break, leaning against the rail wiping his hands on a lump of cotton waste. There were officers and deckhands busy with many tasks and the final items of cargo being loaded before the hatches were secured for sea.
Fitz leaned against the rail looking forward and enjoying the hustle and bustle.
“You there! What are you doing? There’s no time to stop and watch!”
Fitz turned to the sound of the voice and smiled. “Indeed not,” he replied, “but do I have to work for my passage?”
“You’re a passenger! Oh my God, I am so sorry, but...” said the other.
Fitz was dressed as usual, having just come from the shipyard, in a pea jacket, canvas trousers and wearing a peaked cap. Just as he would on his own ship. He would change into a smarter uniform later.
“But you thought I was a seaman. Well you are right. Captain Fitzherbert, but this isn’t my ship. You’ll be the first mate, I think.”
“Yes, sir. I am sorry sir, First officer Querple.”
“Not to worry, Mr Querple, an honest mistake. I expect we shall see each other on the voyage.”
Querple grinned. “I’m sure we shall sir. I’ll tell the Captain you are aboard.”
The ladies slept well, and enjoyed their breakfast. Time would tell if they would retain it thought Fitz. The ship was now all squared away and secured ready for sea. With a little fussing from harbour tugs the ’SS Russia’ left Liverpool. The next stop would be Queenstown to pick up their Irish passengers. She would arrive there early the next morning. From there it was New York, which would take another ten days.
There was a moment when they stood transfixed, and then it was like someone had lit a candle as a flash of inspiration came to Marie.
“I know where the enfoiré will have taken her!” she exclaimed. She waved to the train’s guard. “Have my car taken off the train, I shall not require it until later.” She handed him a coin,
The man acknowledged receipt of the gratuity and hurried off to carry out her instruction.
She turned to the others. “Come on, we’ll get a cab. We’ll need to hurry!”
The Commandant, the Comtesse, and the Sergeant got into one cab. The Comtesse gave the driver and address. Jake and Hermione got in the next one.
“Follow that cab,” said Jake. An odd direction to a cabby he thought, and wondered if anyone had ever said that before.
After a journey of perhaps fifteen minutes they turned into a side street not far from the town centre. The cab used by the Comte’s men was parked outside an imposing three storey house waiting. The Commandant used the large brass knocker and the door was shortly opened by a large muscular man. The commandant pushed his way in and the man resisted until Sergeant Boursin thrust his revolver into the man’s face. The man then backed up the passageway until they were in a large salon.
They were closely followed the Comtesse, and then Hermione and Jake. In the room was a woman in black, who bore a remarkable resemblance to the Comtesse, and a couple of scantily clad girls.
The Comtesse turned to the woman. “Where is that enfoiré of a husband of mine, you old bag.” she shouted at the woman.
“You’ve no damned right coming in here shouting at me with your airs and graces, you’re no better than a whore yourself,” the woman screamed back.
“At least I’ve got a title out of it. What have you got? Look at you, madam of a provincial brothel. Now, where is he?”
“Find him yourself, bitch.”
This was shaping up to be a regular cat fight when the object of the conversation limped in through a door at the back of the room.
“Ah, I wondered how long it would be before you realised where I was,” he said. “You’ve turned out to be cleverer than I expected.” He turned to Hermione. “You’re too late, she’s a whore now, or will be when my men have finished with her. I’ve sold her to Therese.”
Marie turned to him in a fury and slapped him so hard around the face that there was an immediate imprint from her gloved hand. He staggered backwards, and sat his left buttock on the arm of a sofa with a loud howl.
“Bitch!” he screamed, struggling to stand. That effort ceased when she delivered a kick to his shin.
She turned back to Therese. “Buying stolen property now, are you? What would father have thought of you? From three hole whore to madam.” she shouted
“He’d have said I was following in my elder sister’s footsteps.” an eldrich screech from Therese.
“Ten whole fucking minutes! And you’ve held it against me all our lives.” Marie screamed at her.
The exchanges held Jake and Denis in thrall, poised to separate them at any moment. Not so Hermione, who, gun in hand, had, just moments after the Comte’s arrival, gone through the same door that he had come through. She was followed by Boursin who still had his revolver at the ready. In the passage there was another scantily clad girl.
“Where are they?” she barked.
The girl indicated up a staircase.
Hermione went up the stairs at such a pace that Boursin had difficulty keeping up with her. When they reached the landing they heard a girl scream, followed by a man’s bellow, definitely from the floor above. Hermione was first to the top floor. The sounds were coming from behind one of the doors, and almost without pause Boursin kicked it open.
In the tableau before them Susan was lying on the bed, naked, with a naked man kneeling between her spread thighs. At the bed head an equally naked man was holding her hands. Both men’s faces bore the bloody marks of Susan’s nails. Seeing Boursin’s gun the man holding Susan’s hands let go and raised his hands. Susan reacted instantly by moving her hand down to her crotch, then grabbed the other man by his testicles, and from his blood curdling scream clearly had her fingers firmly embedded. He was about to deliver a blow to Susan’s head when Hermione jammed her Derringer in his ear.
“Don’t even think about it,” she told him. “Let him go, Susan,” she went on.
The man slid to the floor, holding himself and whimpering.
The other man got off the bed at Boursin’s direction and went to stand alongside his friend. Susan sat on the bed using the sheet to cover herself. She definitely, thought Hermione, had a very nice figure.
“Better get you dressed,” said Hermione.
“They cut my dress off. It’s only ribbons,” Susan replied, with a sniff.
“Let’s see what’s in here,” said Hermione opening the wardrobe.
The first thing she did was hand Boursin a couple of pairs of handcuffs. “You might want to use these,” she said.
She examined the clothing. If, she thought, you could call it that. She selected a more likely garment. She held it up. “This should fit you,” she said.
“I’m not wearing that! I should look like a prostitute!” exclaimed Susan vehemently.
The thought occurred to Hermione that Susan had been just two steps away from exactly that. She held the garment against herself.
“Yes, I suppose you would,” she said thoughtfully. “I wonder where they get these made?”
“You could try Victoria’s,” said Susan, sarcastically. “I’ll stick with the sheet.” She stood up and adjusted the sheet around her.
Boursin had the two men handcuffed.
Hermione was musing over some of the other contents of the wardrobe, wondering what went where, and what might be exposed. Perhaps she would have to ask Victoria if she could make them. She wasn’t watching as Susan walked over to the man who had held her hands, but turned when he screeched. Susan had caught a nipple between her nails, squeezed and pulled downwards causing the sound. To relieve the pain and pressure his knees bent, opening his crotch. Susan kneed him hard in the testicles, and he collapsed to the floor groaning in agony.
Hermione looked at Boursin who merely shrugged. “Shall we rejoin the Patron and your husband, milady?” he asked.
Boursin led the way down the stairs followed by Susan and Hermione. Susan seemed to become more of a puzzle every time Hermione thought about her. She decided that before too much longer she would solve that puzzle.
They arrived back in the salon to find it rather more crowded than when they left. Commisaire Catte had arrived with several men. Marie and Therese now had their arms around each other and there had clearly been tears. Fromage was balanced with his right buttock on the sofa arm, and Catte and Commandant du Sang-Frappe were engaged in a fully fledged pissing contest. Jake was looking rather lost. Boursin motioned to two of the gendarmes and instructed them to go upstairs and collect the two prisoners.
The Conte looked at Susan. “My men turned you into a whore,” he sneered. “You won’t be able to get enough after them!”
For the second time that morning the Comte received a hefty slap from a woman. The other cheek this time. It left Susan holding her hand which was obviously somewhat painful.
“Like you, they weren’t good enough,” said Hermione. “Much too slow”.
“You even lose against women,” said Marie
“And,” said Therese, “if they had succeeded at least she’d have had something of a decent size. Not like your little tiddler.”
“Not big enough to satisfy a five year old.” Marie giggled
Both the sisters laughed, whilst the Comte turned purple with rage.
Everyone seemed to tune into the end of the argument between Catte and du Sang-Frappe.
“I’m taking them with me to Paris where they are wanted for kidnap and if you interfere again the biggest load of shit you can possibly imagine is going to descend on your head. Understand?”
There was silence.
The two gendarmes appeared with the prisoners, both of whom were now clothed. They were, however, walking with difficulty.
Du Sang-Frappe commandeered the police van and the Commissaire’s carriage to take them and their prisoners to the railway station.
“How am I going to get back,” Catte whinged.
“Walk, or wait until I sent your vehicles back. Or do what you usually do when you visit here.”
Therese disengaged herself from her sister, with mutual promises to keep in touch, and took Catte’s arm.
“Come along,” she said. “I’ve got another new girl that I’m sure you will enjoy. She has something truly unique.”
Victoria got off the train before Bea could see the tears. She knew that her husband was right, that Bea had to fly, but it was very hard knowing that the girl she had come to love was going away for who knows how long, and would encounter who knew what dangers. She shook her head. There was a young man in a very smart version of a coachman’s attire approaching her.
“Lady Kingswood?”
“Yes,” said Victoria. “I have three pieces of luggage.” she told him in answer to is unspoken query.
He quickly had a porter with a trolley take her luggage to the coach. Victoria stepped into the coach and sat down.
“It’s about five miles, Milady,” the coachman told her. She settled back to enjoy the ride.
After threading their way through the city centre traffic they headed out to a small village on the outskirts. The journey took just under an hour. The coach pulled up in front of a large country house.
Bessie Graves came out to meet her followed by a footman and a maid. Bessie seemed unsure as to how she should greet Victoria. She had seen her at Jake’s wedding, but had not had an opportunity to talk to her. Victoria realised what the problem was, and before this could become an embarrassment, Victoria stepped up to her and greeted her in the manner she had learnt in Paris, a kiss on either cheek.
“I’m still Victoria to my friends,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, and welcome,” said Bessie. She linked her arm with Victoria. “Come on in and we’ll get you settled and then have tea. You must have had a tiring journey.”
Half an hour later they were sitting in Bessie’s sitting room, with cups of tea.
“How was the journey?” asked Bessie. “I always find it so tiring.”
“I travelled with my step daughter, Beatrice, and her companion. They are going by boat to America. Rather upsetting. She isn’t, as I’m sure you know, much younger than me and we really are the best of friends.”
“America?” Bessie questioned.
Victoria went on to explain the reasons, and how Bea had wanted to go.
“And you don’t approve?”
“No, no! Not that. Just worried. I mean, after everything she has been through in the past, and now a long sea voyage, thousands of miles by train, and no knowing what they will find in San Francisco. And beyond that ... who knows?”
“Yes, that would be a worry. I am always concerned when my own family even go to London.”
Bessie congratulated Victoria on her marriage, and they exchanged generalities for a few minutes.
“The girls will be here shortly, Victoria,” Bessie told her, “They will tell you about their ideas, I won’t enlarge now and steal their thunder. Suffice to say that subject to viability it has the support of both Graves and myself.”
Victoria knew well enough that any idea or action that didn’t have Bessie’s seal of approval was unlikely to go ahead. They chatted for another half hour and then there was the sound of a carriage, footsteps, and Evie came in followed by Harriet. Victoria stood to greet them and Evie flung her arms around her.
“Oh! Victoria, it is so good to see you, I don’t have to curtsey and call you milady do I? You really have done so well...”
“Whoa, whoa,” Victoria laughed. “Of course you don’t! And I think you have done as well if not better than me. Everyone wants your designs. Our dresses made with them are some of the biggest sellers”
Victoria turned to Harriet and took her hand. “And it is good to see you again Harriet.”
“May we take Victoria away from you to see the children, Mama?” asked Evie.
“Of course you can,” Bessie told her, “We’ve chatted long enough I’m sure.”
Evie was clearly a very proud and enthusiastic mother, showing off her children. Harriet on the other hand, clearly loved her children, but was more reserved.
“Are you going to have children, Victoria?” asked Evie.
“Yes, I hope so,” Victoria told her. “Peter would certainly like a boy to carry on the title. I am a little apprehensive after Caroline, but yes, I think two would be nice.”
“An heir and a spare,” joked Harriet.
“They’d both have to be boys for that,” Victoria laughed. “And I’d really like a girl.”
“So that you could start fashion for toddlers,” Evie laughed. “How are the young miss fashions going?”
“Difficult to start with, but once we got one or two interested,” said Victoria. “Then other mothers had to compete. Couldn’t have their little misses overshadowed.”
They went downstairs and sat in the drawing room, where Victoria enquired about Evie’s work.
“We have a hard job keeping up with her,” said Harriet. “And now she’s interested in woven fabrics, and she’s studying how those are made.”
“Well it’s interesting,” said Evie, “and it complements what we are thinking of.”
“True,” said Harriet. “You may remember that my original interest was in house furnishing. That’s when Evie started improving on what I was doing. What we are proposing is starting a shop here in Manchester devoted to all aspects of furnishing and housewares. A lot of what is available is reproducing old stuff. Chippendale is all very well, but we need to move on. So we want to present things that are new and exciting. You import a lot of fabrics, and we thought that if it had a branch of Victoria’s that would be beneficial to all of us. And Evie could have more new dresses!”
She grinned at Evie, waiting for a reply to her teasing.
“I’m a designer,” said Evie tossed her head and looked down her nose at Harriet.” Not a mechanic! I have to look nice for when people visit. They don’t expect me to be covered in dye stuff from head to toe.”
Victoria laughed. She realised that this exchange was just banter between two women who worked together as two parts of the whole, and were obviously good friends.
Harriet laughed. “The business side of things is more for Papa and Stephen, Evie’s husband, that is, and you and Jake, of course. Edmund is more often covered in dye from head to toe like me.” She looked at Evie. “Somebody has to do the work,” she said, loftily.
“It sounds an exciting idea,” said Victoria. “We’ll need to see what premises are available, and get a plan together. Are you sure there is a market for this kind of thing? Dresses, I can say that where there are women there will be a demand for them. I have to admit that furnishing isn’t something I think about. At home it was Mama’s province, and Kingswood Grange was fully furnished when I moved in. Hmm ... it’s something I will have to give some thought to.”
It occurred to Victoria as she was saying this that perhaps Kingswood Grange was in need of updating, and perhaps putting her stamp on it. What Peter would think of that was another matter, and she didn’t want to take advantage of his love for her.
“We’ll take you out tomorrow, and show you the city centre,” said Evie. “We’ll have a walk round and you can get some idea of what it is like.”
Before dinner Herbert Graves drew Victoria aside.
“We are to some extent relying on your experience, Victoria,” he told her. “The girls are enthusiastic, and Stephen thinks it should work. But they admit that they need your name as an attraction to get the ladies in. I hope they made that clear.”
“I don’t think they actually said that, Mr Graves. But I did realise that it was a matter of some importance. As far as it goes at the moment, I am quite happy to open in Manchester. As to the viability of their idea, I think some research would be in order.”
“Aye, you’re right. It needs some work. There will have to be agreement from all of us before anything happens, I’ll not put money into a risky venture, and I’ll bet Jake won’t either.”
“My husband is a bank director, Mr Graves, if he doesn’t pass it...”
Herbert Graves laughed. “Then nothing will happen,” he finished for her. “I am well aware of the way banks operate. But would he foreclose on you?”
“If I wasn’t making money, yes. I’m sure he would be very gentle about it, but yes, he would.” Victoria replied. “After all he has his shareholders to think of.”
Victoria had an excellent day with Evie and Harriet looking at the city centre. There were a great many shops, although nothing that would be competition for Victoria’s, and there was nothing similar to the proposed venture. Was this, Victoria wondered, a gap in the market that needed to be filled, or was it a gap that didn’t need filling? When she was on the train the following day returning to London, it was the problem that occupied her mind.
Peter met her from the train, and over supper that evening she told him about the trip, and the proposal.
“It’s an interesting idea,” he confirmed. “And you have exposed the nub. Do people want to redecorate their houses, or are they happy with them as they are? I might turn the question around and put it to you. How would you feel about it?”
Victoria smiled. “I’ve been thinking about that, and...”
And at this point her husband realised he had made an error. Possibly an expensive one.
Jake, Hermione and the rest of the party arrived back at the station just after the last express of the day had left. There was only one thing for it, they would have to have a special train. The party broke into three groups. Jake and Denis went to talk to the station master, Sergeant Boursin guarded the prisoners, and Marie and Hermione took Susan to find Marie’s, or rather the Comte’s private car. The problem they found was that it had been placed in a siding, and the floor was perhaps a metre and a half above the track bed. Since it was designed to be boarded when it was stopped at a station platform there were no steps. Worse, the door handles were nearly another metre higher. The three of them, one dressed only in a bed sheet, were standing beside the car discussing the problem.
“This is ridiculous,” said Hermione. “I can get on a horse without any problem, but I cannot reach that door handle.”
“I don’t see what a horse has to do with it, you would have a stirrup part way to put your foot in. You don’t have that here,” said Marie.
“Ah!” said Hermione as inspiration struck. “Susan, you are the lightest. If I link the fingers of both hands like a stirrup, then you could put your foot in, and reach up to the handle.”
“I shall lose my sheet if I do that,” Susan replied.
“And now is the time to suddenly become coy? Marie will steady you and hold the sheet around you.”
Hermione linked her fingers to form a step. Susan placed her foot into the step that was formed and straightened up, with Marie’s hands on her waist, steadying her and holding the sheet. Susan reached the handle without difficulty, grasped it, turned it, and the heavy door swung open, over balanced by Susan’s weight. As it did so Hermione was pushed backwards, her fingers came apart and she ended up on her backside, leaving Susan hanging on with one hand. Marie, in surprise, tripped backwards in the opposite direction, and ended up on her backside. In doing so she tugged the sheet, which had merely been tucked together over the top of Susan’s barely existent bust. The sheet came undone and fluttered down, covering Hermione. Susan was left hanging onto the door handle as it swung to the point where Susan met the side of the car, bounced, and began to swing back the other way. It would have ended up open at a right angle to the car, had Susan’s held on, but her hand gradually slid along the polished brass until the handle turned, her hand slid off, and she fell the half a meter or so onto Hermione. Now relieved of Susan’s weight, the door continued its swing until it closed with a loud clunk from the latch.
“Do you ladies have a problem?”
At the sound of a male voice, Susan hid her face, pointless really as Marie suggested to her later. Hermione could see nothing through the sheet. Marie looked up to see a young man in a railway uniform.
“Yes,” she said. “I am the Comtesse de la Grande Fromage, and this is my railway car. I am trying to get into it, so that I can find a dress for my companion. Do you have a ladder?”
The man held out his hand to assist Marie to stand.
“Of course, milady, at once.” he said.
And with a lingering glance at Susan, he left. When he returned, Susan was fully covered with the sheet and Hermione was brushing herself off. This was a futile exercise, since there was a good deal of oily residue mixed with ash and clinker on the track bed. He placed a short ladder against the car, stepped up and opened the door, and then handed the ladies up into it.
“Leave the ladder,” said Marie, bending down to hand him a coin.
Marie and Hermione looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. They looked at Susan who appeared to think she had ended up with a couple of mad women.
“What is so funny?” she asked, crossly.
By the time Jake and Denis arrived the three ladies were each wearing one of Marie’s dresses. Marie’s, since it had been made for her, fitted perfectly, whilst Hermione was slimmer and slightly taller, but the dress still looked fine. Susan on the other hand, was shorter and not only slimmer, but did not fill out the top of the dress as Marie would. It was, however, much better than the sheet.
“An engine will be here in a few minutes,” said Denis. “We will stop at the station to pick up Sergeant Boursin, and perhaps we should acquire some food too.”
Twenty minutes later they were on their way. The engine was a Crampton express type, which would mean they could make a good speed, and another car had been added for the guard and the prisoners, still in the care of Sergeant Boursin.
Bea turned out to be a very good sailor, Amanda less so, but they certainly enjoyed the voyage, which, unlike Jake and Amelia’s was relatively calm. Fitz was able to have long conversations with the captain, regarding how to handle a steam ship, which turned out to be largely using the sails as he would with a sailing ship. The engine was used to leave harbour, and to assist in adverse or light winds. The boilers burnt about 90 tons of coal per day. He also met with the chief engineer who was only too happy to find someone who was interested in his engine. The knowledge he gained would stand him in good stead in the future. Running the engine it seemed, was the very least of it. Oiling and maintenance were of vital importance. He came away with a good knowledge of how the engine worked, how to start and stop it, and how to make it reverse. He could well appreciate the value of that.
As New York came into view they were with many of the first class passengers watching as it gradually came over the horizon. They slowed to pick up a pilot and then increased speed again. They were approaching Bedloes Island when Fitz pointed out to the girls a sailing ship coming towards them. There was little room to manoeuvre in the channel but the pilot altered course a point to starboard to give the other ship more room, as was prudent, steam after all should give way to sail. It was at the same moment that Fitz noticed, as he was quite sure the Captain did, that the ship had also altered course, turning across in front of them. Collision was inevitable, even going full astern there was no way the the ’Russia’ would stop in time.
The ’Russia’ caught the other ship on her beam, the iron stem making a huge gash in the side. The sound and sight were familiar to Fitz from his own recent collision, and looking at the damage it was clear that the ship was mortally wounded. As her propeller bit into the water the ’Russia’ backed away from the other ship. Within a few minutes there were several small boats alongside the stricken ship, taking off her crew.
Under way again the ‘Russia’ passsed the stern of the other ship. The name on her stern was still above water, ’Figlia Maggiore’, Trieste. She had moved out of the main channel and was settling fast. As they moved further away they could see nothing below the tops of her lower masts. There was already a salvage vessel approaching her. The scavengers never take long to arrive to see what pickings there were for the taking thought Fitz. He had been so engrossed in watching what was going on, that he hadn’t realised that he had a girl on either side of him, holding on tightly.
“We’d better get ready to disembark,” he said, gently disengaging himself. He wasn’t too sure what Bea’s reaction would be if she knew Amanda had been hugging him. But in the circumstances...
A hotel for the night was the first priority, and once that was done Fitz left to find train tickets to their next destination, Chicago. From there they would take a train to St Joseph. Aitchison, on the other side of the Missouri was where the Overland Stage Company started for California. Stage coaches were hardly the most comfortable way to travel, and the better part of two thousand miles was a grim prospect.
When the train arrived in Paris the following morning, Jake, Hermione and Susan went straight to their hotel. Commandant du Sang-Frappe and Sergeant Boursin ensured that their prisoners were securely locked up and then proceeded to go though all the official actions that were needed to see that they remained secure. Marie went first to her apartment to change. Having done so she sought out Michelle Roux to tell her the story of her husband’s misdeeds. Michelle, who had no reason to spare the Comte from any embarrassment, agreed to spread the story as far as possible. She would also make sure that an acquaintance, who she knew who fed gossip to the newspapers, would ensure that the story appeared in print. Marie then headed for her usual social meeting places to get the story of her husband’s activities into the gossip mill before he was able to refute it. By telling Michelle it ensured there were two ‘reliable’ and supposedly independent sources.
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