Chapter 24
The three of us regarded Daniel in what must have been satisfying perplexity. His smile deepened, and he returned to his tea.
“How d’ye smuggle a whole ship?” Mr. Grimes was the first to ask. “Sounds daft, if you ask me.”
“You change the paperwork,” Daniel said, as though this was a minor detail. “You need the cooperation of the clerks in shipping offices and possibly whoever is in charge of loading and unloading cargo, but if those men have lost heavily in a gaming house and are desperate to pay off their debt…”
I sat up straight. “You mean Mr. Draper is threatening these men with ruin or worse, unless they make certain a ship coming up the Thames is diverted to docks he chooses?”
“Docks he owns,” Daniel corrected me. “Or at least, a space on the docks. He couldn’t do this in one of the big dockyards, because it would be noticed more quickly.
The River Police keep their eyes on the large clippers from China and other places.
But small ships bringing things from Amsterdam or the Baltic or Africa can sail on past the large dockyards and put in at the smaller ones under Blackfriars Bridge or elsewhere. ”
“Cheeky sod,” Mr. Fielding growled. “Then Draper can comb through the cargo and sell off the most valuable things. Which might include brandy, antiquities, or opium.”
“Or weapons,” Daniel finished. “Some of these small traders will ship anything that brings in a profit. They might not be too careful about what they carry, if someone pays them enough money.”
“The people who commissioned the ship to haul guns or opium will be a bit annoyed if their cargo never arrives where it is supposed to,” I pointed out. “How does Mr. Draper deal with that?”
“I imagine he has men working for him who will dissuade the cargo’s owners from complaining too much,” Daniel said.
“Many of Draper’s men—and Draper himself, I discovered—used to work for Naismith, and some still do.
Naismith is irritated enough that he’s thinking of purging his ranks of the disloyal.
He is aging and worries that his underlings are itching to take over. ”
“Don’t sound sorry for him,” Mr. Fielding said. “He’s a right nasty villain.”
“Who is claiming he had nothing to do with Carter’s death,” Daniel said, his voice falsely light. “Said it in all sincerity.” He shrugged. “He might be right, but even if he didn’t, he will damn well know who did. And tell me.”
Mr. Fielding sent him a baleful stare. “Is this the agreement you came to? You eliminate Draper and his business, and Naismith tells you who really murdered Carter? If you can believe him.”
“Something like that. I also let him know what would happen if he lied to me.”
Mr. Fielding snorted a laugh. “You can’t threaten Naismith. The police will never invade his territory or arrest him, and he knows it. They’re either too terrified, or else they’re taking payments from him.”
“Mr. Monaghan, perhaps, would not be afraid,” I suggested.
Daniel glanced at me. “You could be right, Kat. He hates corruption even more than he does villains.”
“So, what do we do?” I asked. “Go in against hardened men at Blackfriars or tell Mr. Naismith we refuse to help him? I assume he threatened you with something dire if you decided not to take on the task.”
“Oh, he did.” Daniel looked away. “But I agreed, so it’s not a difficulty.”
He pressed his lips together and did not elaborate on what that threat was.
I knew he would not tell me, at least not now.
It might be me Mr. Naismith threatened, but not necessarily.
Daniel had a son he loved, and he had other friends, like Mr. Thanos, he’d adamantly protect.
He’d even agree to Naismith’s terms to protect Mr. Fielding.
“If you bring in the police at Blackfriars, you will have to prove the ships are being diverted,” I said. “If the paperwork has been tampered with, how will they know what is supposed to be there and what isn’t?”
“Yes, it is a tricky problem.” Daniel stretched his fingers, an avid expression taking over. He enjoyed tricky problems. “Mr. Thanos, that clever lad, might help there. If we can get hold of some of the records, he’d be able to tell how they’d been altered.”
“Mr. Thanos is painfully honest,” I said. “He could not disguise himself as a clerk for a shipping agent and get himself into their offices. He’d never fool anyone.”
“No, but there are others who can.” Daniel sent a meaningful look at Mr. Fielding, who grimaced. “Thanos need only examine the papers we bring him. You certainly aren’t going anywhere near shipping offices or docks in Blackfriars, Kat. This is an underhanded and dangerous investigation now.”
“I’m not such a fool,” I said in some irritation. “I’d be useless going up against gangs of dockworkers and Mr. Draper’s ruffians.”
“Good,” I heard Daniel mutter under his breath.
“I presume one of those ruffians murdered Mr. Banks,” I continued thoughtfully.
“I wonder why they killed him, though. If Mr. Banks was working for Mr. Draper, wouldn’t those running the scheme at the docks know this and believe he was technically on their side?
Or was Mr. Banks an honest sort of person and tried to stop them somehow?
Then again, perhaps Mr. Banks didn’t know about the smuggling, was running an errand or some such for Mr. Draper at the warehouses, saw someone he recognized among the gang, and confronted him. ”
“Well reasoned,” Mr. Fielding said with some admiration.
“We must not forget about Mr. Ramsay,” I reminded them. “He had a connection to Mr. Banks we should not ignore. We’ve only Ramsay’s word that he considered Mr. Banks a friend, and both Hannah and I recognized him for a tough the moment we saw him.”
“I have not forgotten him,” Daniel said grimly. “Meanwhile, we will scout the docks and then raid.”
My worry returned. “Rushing straight into the peril you admonish me to stay out of.”
Daniel took my hand in his warm one. “I know how to take great care, my love. Also, Grimes won’t let anything happen to me, will he?”
Mr. Grimes, who’d scooped up more biscuits, saluted me with one. “I never do.”
I did feel a bit better knowing Mr. Grimes would be with Daniel, but I’d worry for him too, as well as for Mr. Fielding.
“You might not have so difficult a job with the scouting,” I announced. “I have already sent Albie and his mates all over Blackfriars to tell me what they find. If you visit me later today, I will be able to give you their report.”
* * *
As much as I would have liked to sit in the comfortable drawing room sharing tea with Daniel and friends the rest of the afternoon, I had to return to Mount Street. Mr. Davis could only fend off inquiries from Mrs. Bywater for so long.
Daniel led me out the way in which he’d entered. A room in the back of the house gave onto a garden, and that garden’s gate led to a small lane behind it.
We emerged from the lane into Minerva Place, on the opposite end of the square from Mr. Naismith’s house.
This street connected with a main road, where Daniel hailed a hansom and put me into it.
He paid the fare, whether I wished it or not, and bade the cabbie not to stop until I was within strolling distance of Mount Street.
I wanted to embrace Daniel again before we parted, but of course I could not do such a thing in the somewhat crowded road. Daniel dropped a kiss to my lips as he assisted me in, then I landed in the seat at the same time the cabbie’s horse clopped forward.
I turned to try to keep Daniel in sight, but he was already gone.
By the time I clattered down the outside stairs at the Mount Street house, unbuttoning my coat as I went, the family upstairs were in the middle of luncheon. The kitchen was empty, silent, and tranquil.
Mr. Davis would be upstairs serving, the footmen with him, the maids going about their daily tasks on the upper floors.
Elsie was in the laundry again, singing to herself as she liked to do.
A pot of stock steamed gently on the stove, and ingredients waited on the table for me to make them into something delectable.
I sighed in satisfaction as I filled the kettle and set it on a burner. There was something about an orderly, quiet kitchen that soothed me.
I’d straightened up the unknown gentleman’s kitchen in Barnsbury Square before I’d gone, not trusting the three men I’d left behind to do it properly.
I could grow fond of such a house, I reflected. While I knew the likes of me could never afford it, the layout and decoration gave me ideas of what I could do with the little house in Kensington Daniel and I would occupy.
I began sifting flour with baking powder and a bit of salt, preparing to make a quick bread filled with apples that were starting to go soft.
I’d finely chop those and bake the bread in a loaf pan, to cut up to serve with tea or for pudding.
I needed to melt the butter before I stirred it into the batter, rather than cut it in as for scones, which would give it a silkier crumb.
As I swirled a pan of fragrant butter on the stove, Mr. Davis appeared.
“Thank God you are back” was his greeting. “I can serve an improvised luncheon without question, but I’d never make any sort of headway on supper.”
“Did they mind warmed-over roast and vegetables from last night?” I asked without turning. Butter melted quickly once it started to go, and if I took my eyes from it, it would burn.
“They never noticed.” Mr. Davis’s statement held derision.
“Ate it up while they discussed whether they’d go to the country for shooting again this year.
Mrs. Bywater is all for it—wants to mix with her country-set friends—but Mr. Bywater does not want to take time away from his firm.
Lady Cynthia ate quietly and let them battle it out. They reached no conclusion.”
As I turned from the stove with my little pot of melted butter, Mr. Davis snatched a bun from the plate of them I’d left from breakfast and chewed on it as he went out.