CHAPTER 16
THE CLUB
I led Charles from the British Museum with the assistance of a small box of safety matches he’d kept in his pocket, which we struck time and time again to light our way. Once outside in the frigid night air we took one of the waiting Clarence carriages. The night watchman opened the gate for us and we exited, travelling through the deserted Bloomsbury streets. The carriage turned and travelled down Shaftsbury Avenue, as theatre goers and the hoi-polloi were well under the influence of alcohol, the revellers singing and dancing on the streets even in such brutally cold weather. Charles was silent, his head lolling with the rhythmic sway of the carriage. We passed through Piccadilly, continued onto St James, and then turned onto Pall Mall. Many gentlemen’s clubs could be found Pall Mall. On the south side, at the corner of Waterloo Place, is my club, the Athenaeum. Beyond this are the Travellers' Club, the Reform Club, and the Carlton Club. As a Conservative Member of Parliament Benjamin Cavendish frequented several clubs on Pall Mall, as well as clubs elsewhere and of course, the subsidised Members Bar in the Houses of Parliament! And so it concerned me just how much exposure Lawrence Blake had been given to the influential men of London society. Of course, some would think his Theosophist ideology was pure poppycock, but there were men of influence, like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, for instance, who was a keen advocate of the Society for Psychical Research, and Blake had garnered a warm reception from that particular circle of scientific and spiritual believers.
The carriage pulled up on Waterloo Place outside the neoclassical behemoth that was the Athenaeum Club. After Charles and I stepped down I gave the driver a generous tip and instruction to return to the British Museum.
Charles was in a bad way, leaning on a lamppost and looking, for all intents and purposes, as if the sky had fallen in. His current malaise was partly from overdoing the drink, but most importantly, the heinous discovery we made at the Secretum. I vouched that neither of us could go home until we’d sobered up somewhat and decided what we would do about this revelation. Charles did not know I’d taken the photograph of Nathaniel Everett with Sebastian and kept it as evidence. My paramour had been young and na?ve when led astray by the devilish American rogue. I knew that in the photograph I held safely in my pocket, Sebastian had been eighteen and that Everett was his first male lover. He’d seduced, drugged, and abused him, and then attempted to sell Sebastian for use by other men. The fact that there were any such debauched erotic photographs of Sebastian in existence made my blood boil with rage. Sebastian despised what he had become under Everett’s Svengali manipulations and I would ensure he did not suffer more. I would keep the photograph and give it to Sebastian so he could decide what was done with it.
I pushed my top hat securely upon my head, and awkwardly, with my cane stuffed under my armpit, wrapped my arm around Ashe’s waist and near dragged him up the steps and towards the club entrance. I knocked on the glass fronted double door. The night porter saw me standing there, and at first glance he appeared a little worried. I hurriedly searched for a calling card in my pocket and pressed it to the glass. The young man came from behind the reception desk and peered at the card, then returned behind the desk and checked the member’s book. Satisfied, only then did he unlock the door. I staggered in to the warm foyer with my inebriated friend in tow and walked Charles to the marble reception counter. The scents of cigar smoke, coffee, and masculinity that filled my nostrils when entering these hallowed halls always girded my loins and made me feel at home.
“I do beg your pardon Mr. Hannan we’ve had several pretenders putting on airs to gain entrance of late and so the door stays locked after midnight until I can verify identification. The kitchen is closed but the night butler can attend to your wishes,” the servant’s name badge said he was William Salter.
“Thank you, Salter,” I leaned Ashe against the counter and then gave my hat, coat, scarf and cane to the night porter. I helped Charles out of his greatcoat, a task that became rather comical. I do not recall what happened to his top hat, maybe he left it in the Secretum? I asked Salter to add the name of Charles Ashe to the guestbook.
“Is there a room available?”
“Aye sir, room eight,” the night porter replied while in a pleasant hand, he added my guest’s name beside mine.
“Very good, I need to sober my friend before I send him home. Ask the night butler to bring up a carafe of strong coffee and some scones or whatever is at hand to line his stomach!”
“Of course. Very good sir,” the night porter said, handing me the key to room eight. “Would you like me to assist you up the stairs with your guest?”
Ashe was a soporific drunk, but grumbled, “Its fine, I’m not a child, I can waaalk,” while his eyes remained closed and he was held up by the reception counter. I raised my brows in mild disapproval, thanked William, who then rushed away to inform the butler of our requirements.
“Come along, let’s get you upstairs.”
“Oh Beneddiicttt,” he slurred. “Are you game for some backgammon? Will you finally take me to bed and let me have my way with you?” Charles wore a ridiculous grin on his face.
We mounted the stairs. “My friend, even if there was a chance, of which there is not, you cannot stand on your own two feet unaided, so I have grave doubts about the performance of your cockstand.”
Ashe gasped in outrage, and then laughed, his boyish laughter echoing off the vast high ceiling of the stairway. “Hush now, gentlemen are abed!” I scolded. Ashe mimed locking his lips, and then tossed away the imaginary key.
I delivered Charles into room eight without further upset and poured him into a hearthside chair. Then I lit the gas fire and turned on the bedside lamps to give muted illumination.
I used the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and then returned to see Charles sitting staring morosely at the dancing flames. A light knock on the door stole my attention. On opening it and standing aside the night butler pushed a wheeled trolley into the room and set it between the two hearth chairs.
In a low, measured voice, he said, “Good morning sirs, as requested, a carafe of freshly brewed coffee with scones, jam, and cream. Should you require anything else please ask William and it shall be arranged.” I nodded and tipped the night butler before he exited silently and closed the door. I unbuttoned my jacket and sat in the second hearth chair.
“Come along now; let’s get you sobered up so we can have a conversation. How do you take your coffee?”
Charles remained staring into the fire as if he had not heard a word I’d said.
“Charles,” I said sharply and he jumped in his seat.
“Sorry, sorry. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do,” he simpered. “He can ruin us all Benedict! I can’t believe I was such a bally fool to become embroiled in this.” Charles fisted his hair and folded, his head in his hands resting on his knees.
“Come now,” I gentled. “A few cups of coffee and a little something to eat are required. We shall come up with a plan, I assure you.”
Charles raised his head, his eyes looked red and swollen, as if he’d silently been crying.”
“How do you take your coffee?” I asked again.
“Milk with three lumps, please,” Charles sniffed, sitting up and dragging his silk handkerchief from his lapel pocket. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “And I must confess I am a little peckish. I didn’t eat much at dinner. That spicy food plays havoc with my digestion.”
“Which is why the claret went to your head! Come now, help yourself,” I invited, to which he did.
By half-past-one in the morning Ashe was wide eyed with a little cream and jam decorating his moustache that I was reluctant to mention because it amused me so.
“It’s awfully kind of you to look after me Benedict. You are a good friend. Thank you,” Charles said with a sniff.
“It was the least I could do, you were in shock, and I would not have abandoned you in such a state.”
“All of the things Blake preached have been circling in my head. How could we intelligent men be coerced into joining such a mountebank in his plan? He has a police detective, a judge, and a lawyer under his thumb, as well as a member of parliament and several men of business. What are we going to do?” he said again, exasperated.
I knew of Jack Dancer’s membership, but not of a judge, or the lawyer. I trembled a little, understanding just how much damage could be done if we were found by Blake to be betrayers .
Ashe continued on his tirade, “It’s clear to me now that Blake brought down poor Lord Ardmillan. Over the past year he bled Euan of every last shilling and made him into a grovelling submissive.”
“Did you know it was Euan who stole my silver?”
“No!”
“It is a sorry affair indeed. He offered the stolen silver to Blake as a way of winning his way back into to the brotherhood. Blake returned the silver to me and he had Euan committed to the Colney Hatch Asylum.”
Charles gasped in horror. “Good God! I could see Ardmillan wasn’t in his right mind, but how unbelievably cruel.”
“Agreed. An order from a judge is required to have a person committed, and it makes sense now that Blake used his influence to dispose of Ardmillan, a man he now considers a liability.”
“Gods, I had no idea of Euan’s fate. I know he was your friend. I’m so terribly sorry.” Charles paused and absently stroked his moustache, unknowingly rubbing the jam and cream into it. He let out a sigh. “It seems Blake holds all of the cards. He has been welcomed into our homes, introduced to our families, and promoted as a theosophist by wider high society. We’ve been hoodwinked by a master trickster, and in turn, exposed ourselves to great, great danger. He could end us all. I…I am at a loss on how to proceed.” Charles rested his face in his hands again. I felt deeply sorry for the man.
“Tell me,” I ventured, “Do you believe that what Blake plans to do…his so called great work, is possible?”
Ashe looked up and met my gaze. “I told you before; I became a part of Fratres Seminis for the sex and companionship. I was beginning to harbour doubts after the debacle at Exeter Hall, but now I am sure this whole thing is a sham and Blake is quite mad!” he groaned and raised his hands in exasperation, “What are we going to do?”
I waited for a beat, before I said, “What do you think about us ensuring he gets his deserved justice?”
“Go on!”
I sat back in my chair and steepled my fingers, thinking for a moment. “There is power in information, my friend. Approaching him with accusations of fraud will force his hand and he will expose us. We cannot let that happen. Blake believes he holds all the power because of what he knows of us. I suggest that we change that dynamic. We need to collate as much information about Blake as we can. He has at least one other name, Nathaniel Everett. Scoundrels like him do not suddenly become scoundrels overnight. I’d wager he’s been devious as a fox for many years. We have a judge, a lawyer, and a police detective in our ranks; therefore we need irrefutable proof that Blake is a fraud to convince them that they are all mere pawns in a devil’s game.”
“Yes. Belief is a weapon and it can be used to manipulate men into doing the most despicable things,” Charles stated.
“True, true. And so, collecting proof of his shady past is the only way we can win. I say that we should play our parts exactly how Blake directs and permit this final rite to proceed. For that to occur I will locate the Staff of Asklepios , ” I determined.
“Ye gods, if only I wasn’t bollocks deep in this hullabaloo it would be the most delicious caper for the Illustrated Police News.”
I chuffed a laugh, “Indeed.”
Ashe sat thoughtfully and tapped his bottom lip, and then wiped a hand across his mouth, dislodging the remaining distracting flecks of cream from his moustache.
“Very well. I have been tasked with making masks: bull, goat, fawns, satyrs, and nymphs, all in the Greek tradition. I shall do my best to continue as if nothing is amiss yet I will also make private inquiries. Fields are a private inquiry agency my father has used a time or two. They are the height of discretion. I will also send telegrams to the Lacroix Agency in Paris, and the Pinkerton’s Agency in New York for information about Nathaniel Everett.”
“That is an excellent idea. Your experience in journalistic investigation will be invaluable in this endeavour,” I praised. Finally, the clouds seemed to part and Charles re-emerged as his confident, smiling self. I was glad that we had decided upon a positive course of action, however, there was another issue that I had been reluctant to deal with. In the circumstances I knew that now, I must be candid.
“You’ve, of course, heard news that young Leopold will return to us within the month?”
“I did indeed. The poor boy is yet another innocent victim in Blake’s plan.”
I did not believe the boy to be as innocent as Charles claimed. Leo seemed to gain a great deal of pleasure from the lifestyle he, Blake and Cavendish led while he was in London.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that Blake and Cavendish have decided upon a plot to ease Leopold’s passage back to us. In his letter to Benjamin, Leo stated that he requires a girl to pretend to be his fiancée. Benjamin suggested—” I paused and ran my fingers anxiously through my curls, “—God forgive me, please remember that this is Cavendish’s wish, not mine.”
“Out with it, man! ”
“He asked me to request if your sister Cecilly would—.”
“No!” Charles stood his face an expression of thunder. He turned and paced towards the dressed window, while agitatedly smoothing his moustache. He turned and his eyes set on me.
”I will not allow my innocent sister to be used in any way by the cabal. My God! The stones of that man, how dare he! How dare Cavendish attempt to reduce my sister to the level of a…a common harlot! The man has two daughters of age. Would he not sacrifice either of their virtues for the cause?”
I held my hands up defensively. “Please, calm yourself, Charles. We are of agreement on this matter. I too would be appalled if it was my sister whose name was bandied about in such a frivolous way. But I am merely the messenger. I will deliver the response of no, and they will require me to make an alternative arrangement.” I paused and pinched the bridge of my nose “I am at a loss on who to suggest for the role,” I said despairingly.
Charles returned to the hearth chair and sat down. We were both silent for a long moment, watching the dancing flames, before, haltingly, offering a tender smile, Charles said, “Thank you Benedict, not only for looking after me tonight, but for your careful handling of this delicate situation. You are a true friend.” I could see then that I truly did have a friend and ally in Charles Ashe.
“Fear not. We will see this through; we will expose this charlatan together!”
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