CHAPTER 31 #2
A wry laugh. “That is putting it politely. But yes, and so I confided my predicament to him and my brother. Jarvis said he would solve it.” The memory seemed to send a spasm of pain through her body.
“He murdered my husband and contrived to make it look like suicide. It saved me and the Taviot name from ruin.” A grimace. “Oh, but at what a cost!”
Tears beaded on Lady Kirkwall’s lashes. “You see, he had the evidence of my wrongdoing. And from then on, my brother and I were in thrall to all his evil plans.” A pause. “Not that my brother needed much coercion. He loved money more than honor.”
Wanting very much to learn the truth for Wrexford, Charlotte seized the opportunity to press for answers.
“We have discovered that your brother and Jarvis saw an opportunity to make a fortune betraying Britain when Taviot was appointed to a diplomatic delegation tasked with assessing our country’s military situation in the Peninsula,” she explained.
“Though our sources say the plan was Jarvis’s alone, and that he duped your brother into sending coded messages containing British military information. ”
“I wish that were so,” responded Lady Kirkwall, her voice growing fainter. “But no, Jarvis and Fenwick were clever enough to create enough smoke screens, as it were, to obscure their evil doings. They were both equally guilty.”
Charlotte felt both relief and disgust at finally knowing the truth about the past. As for the present . . .
“I’m going to fetch Maitland,” she said. “I know Wrexford has some questions concerning recent events, so I would like to ask the two of you about the consortium. However, as I don’t wish to reveal my real identity to him, I shall disguise my voice—”
“Your secret is safe with me,” assured Lady Kirkwall. Charlotte fetched the inventor, and Hawk moved a barrel from the shadows to serve as a seat for him.
“Wrexford wishes to know the details of how the consortium’s sophisticated plan for defrauding investors of their money came into being,” she announced in a low, raspy voice.
“The irony is . . .” A rattling cough cut short Lady Kirkwall’s reply.
McClellan’s gaze turned grim. Time appeared to be fast slipping away.
But, rallying her strength, Taviot’s sister managed to continue.
“The irony is, this scheme was actually started as a legitimate venture. Jarvis had some training in steam engine technology and had been following the development of steamboats in America. When he heard that Maitland—a leading innovator in the field—had returned to England, he saw the opportunity to make a fortune by developing an oceangoing propulsion system and selling it to the government for its navy.”
As the lady gasped for breath, Maitland ventured to speak up.
“I—I never intended there to be any fraud. I truly believed I had made great innovations with a propeller design and could build a workable system. When Jarvis and Taviot came to me and offered to fund my research, as well as give me shares in the company that would make me a very rich man, I jumped at the chance.”
“So what happened?” asked McClellan.
“The propeller prototype works,” answered Maitland.
“But I haven’t yet figured out the optimum size and precise curves needed to propel a large ship through rough ocean waters.
” A sigh. “And I still haven’t hit upon the right design for a steam engine capable of crossing vast oceans.
Firstly, it had to be powerful enough to propel a ship through bad weather.
And even more importantly, it needed to be efficient enough for a ship to be able to carry enough fuel for long voyages. ”
Maitland made a face. “I kept telling myself that the answer was there, just out of reach, and that I simply needed to think harder—and be given more time and money—in order to grab it.” He fisted his hands in his lap.
“And so I let myself be seduced by Jarvis’s suggestion that we keep pretending that we were making great progress.
I—I suppose that I came to believe my own lies. ”
“Jarvis can be very seductive,” rasped Lady Kirkwall.
“We know the da Vinci manuscript was going to be a grand revelation at your gala reception. It’s a rare and arcane item—how did the consortium come to know about it—and then to steal it?” growled Charlotte.
“I knew of it from my Oxford days, as I was a student in Balliol College. I thought it a clever idea . . .” Maitland’s expression turned to one of self-loathing.
“Until Jarvis calmly announced that he had stolen it and made sure that Neville Greeley would never tell a soul about the theft.” He pressed his palms to his brow.
“You must believe me, I had no inkling of the depths of his depravity until then. I swore to myself that I would somehow free myself from his clutches.” A shuddering sigh. “But I was too cowardly to act.”
“You are not the only one,” whispered Lady Kirkwall. “But you may make amends by working for the good of mankind in the future.”
“I swear that I will, milady,” answered Maitland.
A smile touched Lady Kirkwall’s lips. Releasing a breath, she closed her eyes.
A moment later, she was gone.
* * *
“Gibbs! Bowers!” called Horatio above the noise of the steam engine. “Bring up the two-pounder and bolt it into the brass mount on the bow!”
Wrexford leaned over the larboard railing and squinted through the swirls of vapor and ash spewing from the smokestack. The hull of the boat was cutting through the currents of the incoming tide at a fast clip, throwing up splashes of foam-flecked water.
Was he merely imagining it, or was there really a pale cloud of steam visible up ahead, indicating that they were indeed gaining ground on Jarvis’s vessel?
“Milord!”
The earl turned to see Horatio turn the wheel over to one of his men and come to join him.
“We’re catching up to them, sir.”
“Are we?” Wrexford still couldn’t make out any distinct shape through the haze.
Horatio grinned. “See for yourself.” He clicked open his spyglass and passed it over.
Once the earl steadied the instrument and rotated the lenses, the stern and the smokestack of a steamboat up ahead sharpened into clear focus. He watched for another moment, taking satisfaction in seeing it grow slightly bigger, then snapped the spyglass shut.
“Jarvis is in the rear of the boat, manning the tiller, and his two cohorts are stoking the boiler,” said Horatio. “But we are faster. Another quarter hour and we’ll be in range.”
“In range for what?”
“Blowing his propeller to kingdom come,” answered the midshipman. “Colonel Jarvis doesn’t know it, but Mr. Tilden and I decided to experiment with mounting a small bow chaser on our boat, as it might prove very useful when patrolling the river for pirates and thieves.”
“Clever,” said Wrexford.
In answer, Horatio turned on his heel. “Gunners!” he bellowed. “To the bow with the powder and shot.” To the earl, he added, “I’ve had my men practicing their marksmanship. And they know just where to aim in order to disable the colonel’s boat.”
Wrexford fell in step behind the burly sailors carrying the bags of gunpowder and small cannonballs, while Horatio gathered a half dozen sailors from the starboard side and sent them to fetch muskets from the weapons box. Their quarry was now easily visible with the naked eye.
Closer, closer. He moved to the railing, tapping his palms impatiently against the varnished oak.
“We’ll get him, milord,” said the midshipman as he came to stand beside the earl. “My men are crack shots.”
“I don’t want him dead, Mr. Porter. I intend to take him alive.”
“That may not be possible—”
“Just get me close. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Sir!” called one of the gun crew. “We’re in range.”
Horatio hurried to take charge of the attack on the enemy. “Aim low at the stern, lads. We’re looking to disable the boat, not destroy it.” A pause. “We’ve put too much blood, sweat, and toil into crafting the hull and engine to let that miserable piece of filth wreck them.”
A cheer went up from the sailors around them.
“Jarvis isn’t liked by the men,” confided Horatio. “He’s a bully and a tyrant.” He took a moment to gauge the wind. “Elevate the barrel another two degrees and then fire at will, Gibbs.”
In the next instant sparks exploded from the brass snout of the bow chaser, followed by a crackling roar. The shot was a trifle short, the cannonball skipping over the water to land just behind the fleeing steamboat.
“That’ll be a kick up his arse,” shouted one of the sailors, drawing a chorus of laughter.
“Concentrate on the task at hand, lads,” called Horatio. “Make the next one count.”
But before they could reload and fire again, a sudden lick of flames shot up from the other boat, followed by a dull boom.
“Damnation,” muttered Horatio. “I was afraid that might happen.”
“What?” demanded Wrexford, as black smoke began to cloud the boat.
“Jarvis isn’t experienced in actually operating a steamboat.
He likely had his henchmen feed excess fuel into the boiler, thinking the hotter, the better.
But too much pressure causes the boiler door to blow off its hinges,” explained the midshipman.
“Those two varlets will have been killed by the blast . . .”
With the other craft now helplessly disabled, their steamboat was fast approaching it. Wrexford saw Jarvis look back at them, then climb up on the stern and dive into the water.
“Sir, I’m afraid we have no choice but to shoot the traitor,” said Horatio, “unless you wish to let him get away.”
Wrexford was already peeling off his coat. “Keep your boat close, and be ready to throw me a rope.”
“But milord—”
The rest of the midshipman’s words were drowned by the sound of rushing water in his ears. The river was cold as the devil’s heart, and for an instant the earl’s limbs went numb with the shock of it.