Chapter Seventeen
The traffic in London was heavy, so they didn’t arrive at the large grey three-story stone building that served as the home of the War Office. Tristan and Marcus, after showing the letter demanding their presence that morning to a guard on the door they were shuffled from one room to another by a variety of guards and clerks until they were finally shown to the third-floor office of a Colonel Rogers. After a few minutes, the ensign that was serving as his secretary opened the door and ushered Tristan and Marcus into a large, well-appointed office with several expensive rugs on the floor and a mammoth oak desk, behind which sat a colonel with grey hair and a scowl.
Seated to the right of the colonel was a captain who appeared to be about Tristan’s age and two older gentlemen in expensive black suits and bright silk waist coats.
“Ah, Captain Sizemore, you are here, please have a seat,” The colonel rose and indicated two high-backed wooden chairs before the desk. I’m Colonel Rogers, the head of Indian operations, and this is my assistant, Captain Phillips. The other gentlemen are Mr. Lewis and Mr. Morgan, representatives from the East Indian Company. And of course, Sergeant Berkley, Captain Sizemore’s assistant.”
Tristan had an uneasy feeling that he’d just walked into an ambush; he exchanged a questioning look with Marcus, who raised his eyebrows in response. After over a decade of working closely together, Tristan and Marcus didn’t need words to converse with each other; they had developed a silent method of communication that simply involved looks and raised eyebrows. Right now, both men were speaking volumes to each other without saying a word.
Tristan took the farthest chair while Marcus settled his considerable frame into the chair closest to the door. The chairs were hard and designed to keep the user awake and focused, whatever this meeting was about Tristan doubted it would be a pleasant meeting.
“We were wondering when you would deign us with your presence, we are busy men Captain,” Mr. Lewis said, giving Tristan a withering look before taking a pinch of snuff out of a small silver box.
“It is Lord Sizemore Earl of Rawlings now; I left the army almost a month ago.” Tristan replied, wishing he had a hat so he could tap it on his knees in annoyance. Know that he had a little extra blunt he would have to stop at a haberdasher and buy one. “And the note I received simply asked me to stop by this morning, it did not specify a time. It is still technically morning.”
Tristan wasn’t about to be bullied or talked down to by some officious man he’d never met before.
“Yes, well that is one of the reasons we asked you to come in today. Your services as a translator and investigator in India were superlative, and we were hoping you would go back for us.” Colonel Rogers.
“Go back, to India?” Tristan asked in disbelief.
“Yes, we would like you to return to India with Sergeant Berkley as soon as possible, and once you are there you are to report to Colonel Sutherland of the East India Company stationed in Madras.” Colonel Rogers stated.
“I am sorry sir but that is out of the question. I recently married and I have two estates to take care of.” Tristan shook his head, appalled at the idea of returning to India and leaving Arabella behind.
“I cannot accept that answer, your skills with language and your ability to integrate with the native populations makes it mandatory that you return. You are needed in Madras to help quash uprisings, the Company needs you which means England needs you.” Mr. Lewis gave Tristan a condescending look, as if to say his refusal was not acceptable.
“Out of the question, I will not leave my wife or walk away from my responsibilities here. I served my country for over thirteen years. I have no wish to return. Now, if there is nothing else to discuss, I have other business to conduct today.” Tristan stated trying to keep his temper.
“That is a coward’s answer,” Mr. Morgan sneered. “The East India Company needs you, which means your country needs you, end of discussion.”
“I would not call my friend a coward if you want to keep your face as it is. He bled and nearly died for England.” Marcus said evenly giving the smaller man a look that would have sent any sane man running.
“Is that a threat?” Mr. Morgan snapped, turning bright red.
“Gentleman, calm yourselves,” Captain Philips said loudly. “Lord Tristan has every right to say no. As he stated, he is recently married and he is the last of his line. In addition, he will need to take his seat in Parliament for the fall session.”
“While that answer is disappointing it is to be expected. And Lord Sizemore has indeed more than his share for England.” Colonel Rogers stated. “If you will not return to India we would still like you to help us by reviewing reports and dispatches from India. Both you and Mr. Berkley have extensive experience with the internal workings of India. They would be fulltime positions here at the War Office. You would report directly to me and Captain Phillips would be responsible for your daily assignments.
Tristan turned to exchange a look with Marcus, who nodded imperceptibly.
“We would be happy to, but again, I have my estates to see to. I cannot be in London year-round, nor do I wish to. So I thank you for the offer, but again I must refuse.” A steady source of income would be a blessing to help clear the debts and build a stable future for himself and Arabella, but he didn’t want to live in London year-round. He had promised Arabella they would return to Avondale after a few months and he meant to keep his word.
“Do you mean to let this man dictate to you?” Mr. Morgan thundered.
“Mr. Morgan, you forget yourself. Captain Sizemore is a peer, as he stated he has done his duty to England,” Colonel Rogers retorted, giving the well-dressed business man a withering look.
“Please, Gentleman; this is not how to persuade Sir Sizemore to take the position.” Captain Phillips said. “As the dispatches and reports do not arrive on a daily basis there is no need for Sir Sizemore or Mr. Berkley to be here every day. They can report daily while they are in London and I can send the reports to them by courier while they are away from London.”
Tristan turned to Marcus, who gave him another subtle nod.
“Yes that is acceptable,” Tristan replied.
“Excellent, while it is not the outcome we wanted it is still positive. As you will be working for us as consultants instead of commissioned officers this is the amount you shall be recompensed.” Colonel Rogers scribbled something on two pieces of paper then slid them across his desk towards Tristan and Marcus.
Tristan leaned forward to take the piece of paper and read the amount scrawled on it. The colonel was offering him a thousand pounds a year, it was a significant amount, and the job would give him a sense of purpose.
“It is agreeable,” Tristan replied. Besides him Marcus nodded.
“Yes, the amount is fine,” Marcus said.
“Wonderful, thank you gentlemen, I am glad we were able to come to an agreement. I expect to see you both here Monday morning at ten. Captain Phillips will see that you have the correct credentials that you will need to gain access to the building, and show you to your assigned office.” Colonel Rogers stood and moved around his desk to offer first Tristan and then Marcus his hand. “Welcome to the war office gentlemen.”
Tristan rose as well to shake the colonel’s hand, as Marcus did the same.
Half an hour later, Tristan and Marcus stepped out of the building and into the bright morning sun. “How much did they offer you?” Marcus asked as they stopped before the carriage.
“A thousand a year, and you?” Tristan inquired as he looked about seeing a group of soldiers a few feet away.
“Eight hundred, better than a clerk, almost enough to live as a gentleman,” Marcus replied.
“Indeed, the back pay was a nice surprise,” Tristan said. While Captain Phillips had been showing them the tiny, sparsely furnished room on the third floor that would serve as their joint office an ensign from the payroll department had arrived and handed them each an envelope filled with money. Back pay, as well as a bonus for taking on a dangerous assignment in enemy territory
“It was, how much?” Marcus asked.
Tristan opened his and looked inside quickly counting the money inside; it was a bit over two hundred pounds more than enough to buy Arabella pretty frock or two and a new bonnet.
“Two hundred and seventy pounds and you?” Tristan replied.
“Two hundred, a nice bonus indeed,” Marcus replied, stuffing the envelope safely inside the hidden pocket inside his jacket. “What do you think Jules wants to tells us?”
“Hopefully that my brother in law is on a ship bound for Australia,” Tristan replied as the carriage turned a corner quickly forcing Tristan to grab the strap above his head to hold on tight. Tristan had forgotten how much he disliked London from the congested noisy streets and the smells to the teaming sidewalks. Once all his family’s debts were settled he would return to Avondale with Arabella and try to properly woo his wife.
As they began down the steps towards the sidewalk Tristan frowned, one of the men looked familiar, Tristan elbowed Marcus gently then when Marcus looked at him pointed to the sergeant at the bottom of the steps.
“Isn’t that Sergeant Roberts?” Tristan asked.
Marcus studied the older man for a moment, then nodded. “Aye, he was in India with Colonel Kennedy last I knew.” Marcus stated.
Tristan and Marcus trotted down the few remaining steps and over to the sergeant who was holding up a piece of paper that said looking for work.
“Sergeant Roberts?” Tristan asked and the older man turned to look up at Tristan, his face going from confusion to surprised recognition.
“Lieutenant Sizemore, and Sergeant Berkley as I live in breath, and in London in civilian clothes.” Sergeant Roberts held out his left hand to Tristan, who took it and gave it a firm shake.
As they shook hands, Tristan noticed for the first time the network of scars crisscrossing the left side of the sergeant’s face, and the black eye patch that covered his left eye. The sergeant had once been famous for his good looks and all the female attention that they garnered, but the left side of his face was now a ruin. The scars moved down to his neck, and even covered the back of his left hand.
“It is simply Lord Sizemore now, and Mr. Berkley,” Marcus stated, shaking Robert’s hand next.
“You bought out sir?” Robert’s asked looking from Marcus to Tristan.
“Aye, I made captain just in time to have to give up my commission. My father and brothers died, making me the heir to an earldom. I had to return to England and sort out the mess they left,” Tristan replied.
“And I couldn’t let him return alone, who would watch his back?” Marcus joked.
“Sorry for your loss sir,” Roberts replied.
“Thank you sergeant, by why are you he, and looking for work?” Tristan asked.
“Tis a sad tale, about two months ago, our base was attacked. The powered magazine was set on fire, and there was an explosion. As you can see, I was burned. The army said I was too injured to serve anymore; I was put on a hospital ship and sent home. The hospital released me four days ago. I haven’t been able to find work; seems no one wants a damaged ex-soldier.” Roberts shook his head.
Tristan looked at Marcus, who nodded in agreement as they exchanged silent communication. They needed a valet, especially now that they were in London. In the past, Marcus had taken care of Tristan’s uniform and seen that his clothes were taken to a laundress, but now they were both gentlemen.
“You served as Colonel Kennedy’s valet, didn’t you?” Tristan asked.
“Aye, sir that I did, for over fifteen years?” Roberts replied.
“Well Mr. Berkley and I have recently moved to London and have need of a valet, if you would like to work for us. I can give you sixty pounds a year, as well as room, board and clothes. If you would be interested in the position.” Tristan asked, and a smile lit the older man’s face.
“Aye, Sir, I would. Thank you kindly, I was becoming a bit desperate, I was down to my last farthing.” Roberts stated.
“Well, do you have your things with you?” Tristan asked.
“I do, sir, here beside me.” Roberts nodded to a small leather footlocker and a duffel bag.
“Excellent, you can start today then.” Tristan replied
“If you don’t mind sir, there is another man here with me, a nice young man who was under my command till the explosion, Private Rhys Cayden. He needs a position as well. He’s a good lad sir and will do anything you ask if you give him a chance,” Roberts asked.
Tristan thought of the back pay he’d just been given, it was more than enough to hire two men and still buy Arabella a few frocks.
“If you recommend him, Roberts I will happily give him a position, call him over then,” Tristan said.
Roberts gave a nod and limped the ten feet to where there were several men in uniform standing together. Roberts said something to one of the men, who hefted a duffel bag and followed Roberts back to Tristan and Marcus. As the private approached, Tristan could see that the man was young, very young, and like Roberts, he had been badly burned, judging from the burn scars on his face and neck. The young dark-haired man was also leaning heavily on a crutch as he limped towards Tristan and Marcus.
As the private approached Tristan knew that no matter what the young man did he would give him a position, no soldier who had been so badly injured should be tossed away as he had been. Roberts stopped in front of them with the young man.
“Private Rhy Cayden this is his Lordship Sir Sizemore and Mr. Berkley, both late of the 110th foot. His lordship said he might have a position for you,” Roberts said making the introduction.
Private Cayden ducked his head to Tristan and Marcus in turn, “I’ll do anything sir, clean your stable, exercise your horses, just please give me a chance. I’m down to my last farthing.”
“Do you know anything about plants or gardening, Mr. Cayden?” Tristan asked.
“Oh, aye, sir, I do. I was born on a farm in Wales.” Rhy replied.
“Well then, would you like to come be my gardener private? I’m recently married and recently moved to London; the house I inherited has a sad excuse for a garden and a large conservatory. My wife is an avid gardener and needs help to bring both back. Would you like the position? I could pay you twenty pounds a year, plus room, board, and clothes.” Tristan asked.
“Oh, yes, sir, gladly,” Rhys replied with a nod.
“Well then, grab your things; my carriage is at the end of the block. I have a stop to make before returning home.” Tristan said.
Marcus bent and grabbed Robert’s footlocker and swung it up on his shoulder, ignoring the sergeant’s protests.
“Come along then, men, we have a fine Cook at home who will see you both put on weight soon,” Marcus said, nodding for the men to follow them.
* * * *
The carriage rolled to a stop before the large stone building that housed the Metropolitan Police force, Tristan looked out the carriage window at the tall dark building then over at Roberts and Cayden. On the ride through London the men had told Tristan of the attack on their outpost in India, and then the harrowing trip back to London on the hospital ship. Tristan was again grateful that he’d been born to a life of privilege that had granted him enough funds to buy a first class cabin on the ship for the passage home.
Tristan reached into his pocket and pulled out several farthings, he reached across the carriage and held them out to Roberts.
“I’ll be at least half an hour. There is a pie shop across the street buy yourself, Cayden and my driver, Jeremy something to eat and some tea.” Tristan said. “All right?”
“Aye, sir, and we’ll keep an eye on the carriage too,” Roberts replied, taking the money with a smile.
“Come on, Marcus,” Tristan said, climbing out of the carriage. He walked to the front of the carriage and looked up at Jeremy. “I’ll be at least half an hour. I gave Mr. Roberts funds to buy you all some tea. Wait for me here.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy touched his hat in response as Marcus joined Tristan on the sidewalk.
“Come on, Marcus, let’s get this over with.” Tristan said, not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have.
Tristan and Marcus were shown down a dark corridor to Jules office, by a thin young uniformed man. The young man knocked briskly on the door and opened it when the cry of “enter” came. Tristan nodded his thanks to the young man as he stepped into the small dingy office followed by Marcus.
Jules rose from behind his cluttered desk to welcome both Tristan and Marcus.
“Come in, come in don’t mind the mess I’m a bit buried in work at the moment,” Jules bent to scoop an armful of documents from off one of the chairs before his desk, and then set them down on a small table behind his desk.
“I can see,” Marcus replied bending to uncluttered a chair, then give Jules a questioning look.
“Oh just drop it on my desk,” Jules said with a sigh, hen motived for Tristan and Marcus to take the cleared seats.
“Hell Jules, what did you want to see me about, I’m hoping you sent it to tell me that my brother in law is on a hulk even as we speak bound for Australia,” Tristan replied settling into the empty chair.
“Um no, there was a bit of a problem, Jules replied pushing paper aside to sit on the edge of his desk.
“Problem, what sort of problem?” Tristan asked.
“Lord Kenyon was being moved from his cell to a boat to transport him to a hulk when he tried to escape, in the process he fell down a flight of steps and broke his arm and suffered a concussion. The prison doctor said that he needed his injuries treated before being transported. By the time his injuries were treated the ship he was to be transported on had sailed.” Jules stated.
“Bloody hell, so the bastard is still in London?” Marcus drawled.
“Ah no, yesterday he was placed in one of the only cells available for a gentleman of his standing as the prison is rather full. But the cell had two occupants already. Apparently Lord Kenyon began to brag about how he liked young women, very young women and how he had sold the virtue of two girls to some men.” Jules stated.
“The man is scum,” Tristan drawled.
“Indeed apparently he kept on bragging about his love for young girls, his tongue probably loosened by the laudanum the attending surgeon had given him. Any way the two men in the cell with him were there because they had severely beaten a young nobleman for assaulting their sister. The men did not like what they heard apparently and decided to be sure that Lord Kenyon never hurt another young woman.” Jules stated.
“So he is dead?” Tristan asked in disbelief.
“Aye, the guards on duty apparently heard Lord Kenyon’s bragging and as they both had sisters they didn’t immediately come to his defense,” Jules said with a sigh.
Marcus looked over at Tristan and then with a shake of his head began to laugh. “In India there is a belief in something called karma, where the bad things you do will come back to visit you. I would say Lord Kenyon got what he deserved.”
“Indeed, what about his body? Was there a death certificate issued?” Tristan asked.
“His body is in the lower tunnels to stay cold, and the prison doctor issued a death certificate. But as two of the prison magistrates are old admirers of your sisters the death certificate does not mention that he died in Newgate. It simply states that he died from injuries sustained in an accident,” Jules turned and pulled open one of his desk drawers and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to Tristan.
Tristan looked over the document to see that said his brother in law was indeed dead. Tristan slipped the death certificate into his pocket wondering what he would tell Penny latter.
“Thank you Jules,” Tristan said, “I guess I will need to collect his body.”
“The prison has a man they use, I could have him take care of the body and then contact you.” Jules proposed.
“Yes, that would be good,” Tristan replied.
“Now that business is out of the way after your last visit I had two of my men begin to look into the deaths of your father and brothers,” Jules stated.
“Indeed, what is there to look into? They all died from various accidents, or so I was told.” Tristan replied.
“I’m not sure what you were told, but your father and brother’s didn’t all die immediately, my investigators discovered that they were injured in their shall I say escapades and taken to the house of a, hold on I have the name some place,” Jules turned to root through the papers on his desk, after a moment he found a crumpled sheet of paper and turned back to Tristan and Marcus. “Ah, yes, a Doctor Fletcher to be treated. Apparently, according to what my men learned, your father and brother’s told onlookers that Doctor Fletcher was their personal physician. Your father and brothers all then died while in the doctor’s care.”
“Dr. Fletcher, that name is familiar. Wait he is the physician who has been treating my mother and sister.” Tristan replied.
“Now that is interesting, I’ll keep looking into the man, and I’ll contact you when I know something,” Jules stated.
“Thank you, Jules. Why don’t you come by tonight for dinner, and we can talk and you can meet my wife?” Tristan suggested pushing to his feet.
“And dinner is at six, and be hungry, the cook is excellent,” Marcus stated, pushing to his feet.
“I’ll be there, as an impoverished bachelor, a free meal is always welcome,” Jules replied.
“Thank you, Jules, for everything,” Tristan said.
“No need for that, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead. I’ll see you at six then,” Jules said.
Tristan nodded his thanks as Marcus shook Jules’ hand, then followed him out the door into the dingy corridor beyond.
“Are you going to tell your sister when we get back?” Marcus asked.
“Aye, but I’m not sure how. I know my father, brothers, and her husband treated her like a brainless child and told her what to do her whole life. I won’t do that to her, I’ll have to tell her the truth, all of it.” Tristan replied.
“I’ll help you if you like, and Tristan, this thing about Dr. Fletcher, it is bad, Tris,” Marcus said softly so that no one the people in the corridor would hear him.
“I know, and Marcus, thank you for what you said earlier when you came to my defense,” Tristan stated.
“No need for that is what brothers do for each other, but you’re welcome. Let’s go home, I’m hungry, and you promised to take Arabella to the menagerie.” Marcus replied.
“That I did, fancy going to look at an elephant?” Tristan asked, earning a laugh from Marcus.
“Perhaps, but I was thinking what if I pretended to leave with you and instead walked back to the house I don’t trust Miriam. There is something not right with that woman.” Marcus stated moving down the corridor towards the exit.
“Aye, tis a good plan. You approve of me hiring Roberts and Cayden don’t you? We can use the help and I couldn’t leave a soldier on the street like that,” Tristan replied.
“If you hadn’t I would have, and we do need a valet especially if we are going to be out among the fashionable people.” Marcus said with a grin.
“Hell, you are right. Just don’t let me become one of the men I despise,” Tristan stated.
“It won’t but I’ll happily kick you in the behind if I think your head is getting to big,” Marcus teased.
“I know I can count on you, come let’s get home, I need to tell Penelope and then take Arabella and the boys to the Menagerie.” Tristan replied with a grin.