Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

CHAPTER 1

PORK PIES!

Monday 17th January 1898

I set Mr. Wilkins about for his morning duties, and instructed that he not set foot in the parlour. I took a breath to calm myself and said a quick Hail Mary before I called, “Come in Mr. Troy.” My valet entered the study, closed the door and when I nodded permission, he took the seat opposite me at my desk. He was not as well put-together this morning as usual. His black uniform suit had not seen an iron and he’d missed fastening a button on his shirt. The valet’s white kid skin gloved hands were in his lap, fingers fidgeting like a nervous schoolboy attending the headmaster’s office.

I sat back in my captain’s chair, observed his twitchy countenance, and steepled my fingers.

“Now, Mr. Troy, I need to know every single detail, do you understand, from the top, tell me exactly what happened.”

“Yes sir. I understand sir.” Mr. Troy was silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then, with his soft northern accented voice, he said.

“It was my turn, sir…we all take turns, see…to arise firs t, light the fires and start the range—it takes a while to the range warm up enough for baking bread. Mrs. Twigg’s on earlies for a week, then me, then Mr. Wilkins. Anne-Marie and Maud take their turn too. We start the range and put on a brew.”

Much to my chagrin, the goings-on below stairs had never really factored in my thoughts, I was a content employer as long as the house was warm and clean and my meals were served on time. I rise at eight o’clock each morning and my tea tray is delivered at five past the hour on the dot! I’d never realized the servants shared the duty of starting up the kitchen range each morning at such an ungodly hour.

“Well, this week it’s my turn to rise early,” Troy continued. “My alarm woke me at half-past-six. It was brass monkeys cold and the house was silent. I put on my dressing gown and slippers and I stepped onto the landing with my lamp in hand. I don’t like to waste the gas light, see, as it’s just me about the place. I noticed the door was ajar—the door for the room your unfortunate friend, Mr. Euan was staying in. I became concerned because the man had not been in his right mind when you brought him home, sir. I was worried that he was unwell, and so I knocked lightly. There was no reply. I looked around the door and saw the room was empty. I had no idea where he’d gone. I went downstairs with just my lamp for light, and half way down I heard a strange scraping sound. At the foot of the stairs I saw a low light flickering under the door of the parlour. It gave me the shivers, cos no one else was supposed to be downstairs. I was sure it was my turn for earlies. I don’t know if I was still sleep-sodden, sir, but I gritted my teeth and opened the door. At once the room was like an ice house. I saw a lamp on the mantle and I heard the scraping sound again. I looked around the door to see the drapes for the back window were open, billowing in the wind and a man in an opera cloak—Mr. Euan sir, he was climbing out of the window! Whatever are you doing, sir? I hollered, but he didn’t look back or acknowledge me. I placed my lamp on the floor and rushed to the window as he tumbled the rest of the way out. I leaned out and grasped at the cloak to drag him back inside but he escaped my clutches and ran off through the garden. I was confused as to why Mr. Euan hadn’t just called at my room and asked me to open the front door if he needed to leave so urgently. It was then that I turned and saw your mahogany silver cabinet was open, sir.” Mr. Troy paused and stared at his feet, before looking up and continuing in a pleading voice.

“It’s a terrible sight sir, just terrible. Your lovely collection,” he whimpered. “The girls polished all of the silver yesterday and I was with Mr. Wilkins when he inspected their work. The smallest trinkets are all gone, sir.”

I tightened my jaw, unwilling to allow my servant to see the grief I felt at this loss. I could not even allow myself to envision the mess of my treasured collection for it would distract me from what I required to achieve here. I leaned forward and clasped my hands upon the desk and I asked calmly, “What did you do then?”

“Raised the alarm, of course! Oh sir, I just don’t understand it!” Troy exclaimed frantically. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but Mr. Euan is your friend. You are a kind and godly man, sir; you opened your home to him when he was at his darkest hour,” he sobbed, wringing his hands and shaking his head anxiously.

“Mr. Troy,” I said raising my voice to pull him from his vexatious spiral. “I do think you’re rather getting ahead of yourself and jumping to conclusions.”

He looked up and met my eyes, squinting in confusion.

“How sure are you that it was Mr. Euan you saw?” I asked, sewing the first seed of doubt.

“I…um, admit, I never saw the fellows face, but who else could it have been climbing out of the back window with pockets full of your silver? Mr. Euan’s room is empty. The servants are all accounted for and all were abed. Who else could it have been?”

“You read the broadsheets, man! You know as well as I that there has been quite a speight of burglaries about town of late—“I said suggestively. I hated deceiving my valet, but I was in rather a tight spot. For this ruse to work, Mr. Troy needed to doubt his very eyes and come to his own conclusion.

“No sir!” he exclaimed with horror. “It cannot be, it cannot…I could not have witnessed a theft by the Dandy Rogue!” he gasped theatrically. His gloved hand shot to cover his mouth and his eyes widened. All levels of society were awash with rumour as to his true identity. It was believed that Cavell was one among the aristocracy, and in turn, the elite began to distrust their friends and acquaintances. The broadsheets had made Cavell into a sort of hero in the eyes of the common folk. He was believed to be a radical anti-imperialist—one who did not believe in the God-given right of Her Majesty to ‘civilize’ any foreign territory she desired. Cavell would steal from the rich—especially those who had made their money from slavery and plundering British Colonies. And, my god, I loved him desperately.

“Indeed, I do believe you might have seen the Gentleman Thief the papers speak of. It was my first thought. You see, Mr. Euan knocked on my bedroom door late last night to thank me for my hospitality. He told me that he would leave early to catch the first train from Euston. You had already retired for the night so I did not want to wake you. I rose and let him out through the front door. The man you saw climbing out of the window could not have been my troubled friend for he had already vacated the house.”

“Oh gods, oh gods,” Troy exclaimed in a panic, wringing his hands anxiously. “Please forgive me for casting aspersions as to the honesty of your friend, sir. I’m so deeply…deeply ashamed. I didn’t know he’d left us. I didn’t for one second consider that it wasn’t him.”

I held my hands up placatingly, “Calm yourself, my good man. It was an easy mistake to make. I can see that the discovery of the theft has left you in quite a state of discombobulation.”

“Indeed, sir, indeed. I just keep thinking what could have happened if one of the ladies was on earlies. The thief could have ravaged a poor defenceless girl!” Troy cradled his head in his hands, and I felt rather sorry for him.

“Too early for a nip of brandy?” I suggested. He looked up, removing his shaking hands from his face. “I’ll be okay sir. I just can’t believe that I’ve seen the Dandy Rogue. Gods, the blaggard! Oh, Mr. Hannan, whatever shall we do? What will the neighbour’s say? I fear you’ll become a society talking-point and I know how you value your privacy.”

He wasn’t wrong there! I would have to do all I could to control the information on the burglary. “Tell me, has a constable been sent for?”

“Yes, yes. I called over young Jasper, our paperboy, and told him to find a bobby, quick smart and send him here.”

“Listen to me Mr. Troy,” I said calmly. I needed to be delicate in broaching this subject so as not to make the man even more anxious than he already was.

“Could I possibly ask a favour?”

Troy nodded. “Anything sir,”

“I must be frank. This is not a pleasant thing I ask, but…our lives could be in danger.”

“I will do what I can, sir,” Troy replied keenly.

“Very well. I ask that you do not tell the police that Mr. Euan was at this house.” A stretched out moment of silence passed before I continued.

“I took a terrible risk in bringing him back to my home. I mentioned to you before that he had made some…shall we say, errors of judgment. Well, it appears that was quite the understatement and before he left he informed that he has acquired some fearsome enemies,” I explained, “It would be the worse for all if his enemies discovered that I had offered him protection. Do you understand?” Our eyes met and Troy’s widened on meeting mine.

“You…you want me to lie…to the police?” he gasped.

“Not lie as such,” I assured “but omit that Mr. Euan was ever here.”

“But…but, sir? Lyin’s a sin.”

“I know, I know. I do feel terrible asking you to do this. If this theft had not taken place there would not be an issue, but, as you said, a theft by this Dandy Rogue will draw attention to our home and could lead to unwanted interest, so I must consider the safety of my entire household.” I paused for a moment’s thought.

“I have a swift solution. We shall attend the midday service at St Giles and remain behind for confession. That way neither of us need carry the burden of this small sin carried out for the protection of our household. In the long run we are doing a good thing, are we not? We are protecting Mrs. Twigg, Maud, and Anne-Marie from unsavoury interest. With my intervention Mr. Euan is back on a righteous path, and with your omission my household will remain safe.” To my mind it sounded like a grand plan, but would Mr. Troy agree? For several tense moments we eyed one another like cardsharps before Troy conceded,

“Very good, sir.”

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