The telegram reached Charles that same evening. Thinking it must be from Jeremiah Hawke, he told the boy to wait in case there was a reply, and he took it into his study to open. Pulling it from the envelope, he stared in amazement at the message it brought: Sir, come at once STOP Sophie needs you STOP Hannah.
What could have happened that Hannah felt the need to summon him by telegram? He quickly wrote a reply: On my way STOP Arrive Paddington Friday STOP Leroy.
‘A telegram from Hannah!’ Louisa had been incredulous. ‘What is Sophie’s maid doing sending you telegrams?’
‘She’s told me to come at once,’ replied Charles.
‘She’s told you to come?’ Louisa looked outraged. ‘And you’re jumping to her bidding?’
‘She says Sophie needs me,’ Charles said simply. ‘And if she needs me, I shall go.’
‘Sophie’s chosen her own path,’ snapped his mother. ‘She’s not your responsibility. Has Hannah sent Dr Bryan a telegram as well?’
That’s an interesting question, thought Charles. If not, why not? And why has Hannah telegraphed me?
‘I’ve no idea, Mama,’ was all he said. ‘But I do still have some responsibility for Sophie’s welfare, so I shall go.’
Before he left in the morning a second telegram arrived: Meet Paddington STOP No reply please.
He was at Truro Station for the first train to London, and when he arrived at Paddington he found Hannah waiting on the platform.
‘Hannah, what is all this about?’ he cried. ‘What’s happened to Sophie?’
‘Nothing yet, sir,’ she replied, ‘but there is news that I needed to tell you face to face,’ adding, ‘before you see Miss Sophie and without her knowing.’
Intrigued, Charles led her to the station restaurant and sat her down with a cup of tea and a piece of fruit cake. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘you’d better tell me what all this is about.’
So Hannah told him about the visit from Luke Mangot with the certificate recording the marriage of one Nicholas Bryan with Dolly Mangot.
‘I sent him packing, but he said he’d be back to talk to Miss Sophie herself. He’s asking for money.’
‘But you saw the certificate?’
‘Yes, sir, and I’ve written down all I can remember from it.’ Hannah pulled out her piece of paper and handed it to Charles. ‘Of course,’ she said as he looked at it, ‘we can’t be sure it’s the same Nicholas Bryan.’
‘Oh, I think we can, Hannah,’ Charles said. ‘Tell me again exactly what this Luke Mangot said.’
‘He said that Nicholas had told them he would pay this Dolly for her marriage certificate, and then they would no longer be married.’
‘And she believed him, do you think?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe all she wanted was the money.’
‘And her brother came to show you the certificate, wanting to sell it to you for more than Nicholas was paying.’
‘Well, not to me, sir. He wanted to see Miss Sophie. Only I didn’t want him to be the one to tell her that Dr Bryan’s already married... if it’s true, that is.’
‘You were quite right to send for me,’ Charles said. ‘Have you any idea where I can find this Luke Mangot fellow?’
Hannah shook her head miserably. ‘No, sir, not unless, well, he did say something about sending a message to a public house in Southwark, the Drummer Boy, if we changed our minds.’
‘When did he come?’
‘Thursday morning, sir.’
‘And he hasn’t been back since?’
‘No, sir. Though he threatened to. I’ve stayed home all the time till I come to meet you.’
‘Where does Sophie think you are now?’
‘I’m on my afternoon off, sir.’
‘Good. Well, the first thing we have to do is find a telegraph office, and then I’ll go straight to the house in Hammersmith. And if this Luke Mangot shows his face again I’ll deal with him. You come home in an hour or so and you’ll be surprised to see me at the house.’
They parted company and Charles immediately sent a telegram to Mr Staunton, alerting him to developments and telling him to set Jeremiah Hawke on the new trail: Dolly Mangot, St John’s Church, Waterloo, and the Drummer Boy, Southwark. With that all done he took a hansom to Hammersmith, deciding to tell Sophie that he’d come to town for a business meeting with Herbert Hawthorne, the other part-owner of The Minerva.
The cab dropped him outside the house and Sophie saw him from the window. She ran to the front door and threw it open, greeting him with a wide and welcoming smile.
‘Charles!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing in London? How lovely. Come in, come in, and I’ll put the kettle on. Hannah’s out for her free afternoon, but she’ll be back soon. You will stay for supper, won’t you, or do you have somewhere else to go?’
‘Nowhere this evening,’ Charles said, taking off his hat and coat. ‘Tomorrow I have to meet with Mr Hawthorne, the other owner of The Minerva, to discuss our plan for buying another ship. I’m hoping he may want to invest with us again.’
When Sophie had made tea, they sat together beside the parlour fire in companionable conversation.
‘Did you take AliceAnne to the farm last Saturday?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Charles. ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
‘You did.’ Sophie smiled. ‘And you’re a man of your word. I’m sure she was pleased.’
‘She certainly seemed so,’ answered Charles, remembering AliceAnne’s delighted smile when he told her she could go, and that he would take her.
‘The other thing I should tell you, cousin, is that I have found a suitable house for us in Kenwyn, just outside Truro. My mother, AliceAnne and I will be moving there in the next month. It’s much smaller than Trescadinnick, of course, but that makes it a much easier place to run. Mama says we can easily manage with just the Paxtons to look after things.’
‘The Paxtons!’ Sophie hadn’t thought about what servants she would need at Trescadinnick; she had just assumed that they would all stay on.
‘When Mrs Paxton heard we were moving out, she asked if she and Paxton could move with us. She said they were getting too old to learn new ways, and of course my mother was delighted.’ He smiled across at Sophie’s stricken face. ‘I’m sure you’d rather choose your own servants, Sophie, though I expect Edith and Ned will want to stay. Oh—’ He paused and Sophie said, ‘What? Something about Ned?’
‘No,’ said Charles. ‘Well, yes and no. Ned brought some news home yesterday. Old Nan Slater over at Tremose has been found dead in her home.’ He saw the colour drain from Sophie’s face and said, ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. I’d forgotten you’d visited her just recently.’
‘How did she die?’ whispered Sophie.
‘They found her out by the woodshed. She must have been fetching firewood and fallen. I heard that she’d died of cold.’
‘When?’
‘No one’s quite sure,’ replied Charles. ‘They found her on Tuesday. She’ll be taken to the church today.’
‘Her son is away at sea,’ Sophie said. ‘He won’t even be at her graveside.’
‘The people of Tremose will be there, Sophie. She won’t go unattended to her grave.’
The cheerful atmosphere in the little parlour vanished and Sophie shivered. ‘Poor Nan,’ she said, ‘dying alone in the cold.’
Moments later the door opened and Hannah arrived home.
*
Nicholas had decided not to meet Sophie outside the church the previous Sunday. Let her find that he was not waiting, dancing attendance on her. And if people gossiped, well, that was her fault.
Thus it was that he heard nothing of her absence until her letter arrived from London. When he realized where she was he was irritated. She should have told him she was going. Still, he thought, at least she seems to be preparing for the wedding. Sorting out the house and buying mourning clothes, she’d said, so the trustees must have given her some money when they met the previous Friday. He could have done with some of that. He still wanted to ensure that there was no tangible evidence of his marriage to Dolly five years ago.
Sophie had said she wasn’t sure when she’d be home, but she would write again soon with all her plans. She suggested that he went to see the rector about having the banns read. That, however, did not help him with his money problems. He was glad Sophie had made no further mention of his father and his Penvarrow blood. He could only hope she’d decided to believe him. Once they were married he would find the letters she’d mentioned and burn them; then there’d be nothing to prove he was anything to do with the Penvarrows.
That afternoon he sat down and wrote back to Sophie, telling her he missed her and couldn’t wait until they were man and wife. When he’d sealed the letter he found himself imagining their wedding night, the night he would take possession of her and do with her as he chose. Hot with excitement at the very thought, he needed a woman now, and so he took horse and rode into Truro. He knew just the place to go.
*
With Hannah acting as chaperone, Charles was persuaded to stay at the house in Hammersmith. Hannah prepared Mary’s room for him, and they spent a quiet evening before the parlour fire.
The postman arrived soon after breakfast next morning and Charles was pleased to see he had a letter from Mr Staunton. He took it upstairs to his room to read it in private.
It was a long message from Mr Staunton, telling him that Jeremiah Hawke was on his way back to London.
When we received your telegram Hawke took the afternoon train to London. He plans to visit St John’s Church Waterloo to look at the marriage records for January 1883, and then to go and find Luke Mangot at the Drummer Boy in Southwark. He suggests you should meet him there at midday on Saturday.
Hawke had moved fast and Charles was determined to keep the appointment in Southwark; far better to meet Luke Mangot away from the Hammersmith house. Until they knew exactly what he was after, Charles didn’t want him anywhere near Sophie.
‘It’s as I thought,’ he told her when he returned downstairs. ‘I have to meet Minerva’s other owner at midday.’
‘Can I come too?’ asked Sophie. ‘I’m interested in our ship.’
Charles shook his head apologetically. ‘Not this time, Sophie,’ he said. ‘This is very much an exploratory meeting. Mr Hawthorne is an elderly man and would be uncomfortable doing business with a woman. I have to talk to him alone, but I promise you I’ll tell you everything that was said, when I get back.’
Sophie looked disappointed, but she was sensible enough to know that what Charles said was right, and she didn’t want to put the other man against the deal because there was a woman involved. ‘Come back this afternoon, and tell me what he said.’
Charles took a hansom to Southwark and as he crossed the Thames he looked out at the narrow streets snaking their way from the main thoroughfare. The cabby drew up at the kerb and Charles, looking out and expecting to see the public house, found he was facing Waterloo Station.
‘Sorry, guvnor,’ the man said. ‘It’s in an alley off of Cons Street. I don’t take my cab into them streets. You’ll have to get out here.’
Charles got down and paid his fare. ‘Round the back of the station,’ said the cabby, ‘an’ keep yer wits about yer if yer really going to the Drummer.’
After several false starts Charles finally found the tavern, seeing its grubby sign hanging out into the alley. He was just walking towards the door when he heard a call behind him and spinning round saw Jeremiah turning into the narrow lane.
‘You got the message then,’ the big man said.
‘Yes. How did you get on this morning?’
‘I’ll tell you about that, soon enough. Better get inside here before some likely lad thinks we’re ripe for plucking.’ As they reached the door, Jeremiah Hawke paused and said, ‘Leave the talking to me.’
When they entered the pub Charles wasn’t at all certain that they were any safer than they had been in the street, and he was glad to have the reassuring bulk of Jeremiah at his side. The bar was dark and smoky, furnished with scarred wooden tables standing on a sawdusted floor. Heads turned as they entered but Jeremiah, ignoring all the other customers, walked up to the bar counter and ordered two pints of ale from the drudge standing behind it.
A large man, the landlord, moved up beside her as she drew their beer and said, ‘Haven’t seen you gents in ’ere before, ’ave I?’
‘No,’ replied Jeremiah easily. ‘Come to meet someone.’
‘Who’s that then?’
‘Luke Mangot. Got some business with him. In here, is he?’
‘Wouldn’t know,’ replied the landlord.
Jeremiah took out a half-sovereign, laying it on the counter but keeping his hand over it. ‘Help you to look?’
The man’s eyes glinted at the sight of the coin, and he cast a glance round the room, before giving the slightest nod towards a young man seated at a table in the corner, a half-empty glass in front of him.
‘Refill for him then,’ Jeremiah said, and waited for it to be pulled before leading the way over to where the young man was sitting.
He looked up as Jeremiah and Charles approached. He was older than Charles had first thought, probably about twenty-five, thin-faced, with straw-coloured hair and close-set faded grey eyes. Jeremiah set the refill down in front of him and hoiking a stool from under the table with his foot, said, ‘Luke Mangot?’
The man didn’t touch the glass but stared up at him. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘My friend and I just wanted a word with you.’ Jeremiah sat down on the stool, placing his own glass on the table, but Charles remained standing, effectively blocking the way to the door.
‘Oh yeah? ’Bout what?’
‘About a visit you paid to a lady what lives in Hammersmith.’
Luke’s eyes narrowed, but he said, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I dunno any ladies in ’Ammersmif.’
‘Then I’ve made a mistake,’ Jeremiah said. ‘It must’ve been someone else what called, wanting to do some business. I’ll bid you good day.’ And downing his pint in one long swallow, he got to his feet.
‘Just a minute,’ cried Luke. ‘Maybe I do remember visiting someone in ’Ammersmif. But what’s it to you?’
‘More importantly, Mr Mangot,’ replied Jeremiah Hawke, ‘what’s it to you?’
‘I was just trying to ’elp the lady, but she weren’t there.’
‘Help her? In what way?’
‘Just wanted to tell her somefink. Somefink I fought she’d wanna know.’
‘And there was no thought of asking for money... or anything like that?’
‘Just a bit of business,’ Luke said. ‘That’s all. ’Ad sommat I thought might interest ’er.’
‘I see.’ Jeremiah sat down again and Charles, drawing up another stool, sat down beside him. ‘And what was that?’
Luke gave him a crafty look and said, ‘That’s between me an’ ’er.’
‘No,’ Jeremiah said firmly. ‘It ain’t.’ He stared the young man down, until he looked away. ‘It’s between you and us now. We’re the ones what’ve got the money to buy things, and we might, just might, be interested in what you’re selling. But of course, if you don’t wanna deal, that’s down to you. I’m sure Mrs Dolly Bryan might prefer us to deal direct with her.’
At the mention of his sister’s name, Luke looked anxiously round the bar and said, ‘Well... all right. But not in ’ere.’
‘I suggest we go and visit your sister,’ Jeremiah said. ‘Don’t you? At 14 Clayton Street?’ Luke’s eyes flickered at the mention of Dolly’s address, and Jeremiah added, ‘I’m sure you want the best deal you can get for your sister.’
Luke jerked his head at Charles and said, ‘Who’s he then?’
‘He,’ replied Jeremiah Hawke, ‘is the man with the money.’
Luke stared at Charles for a moment before saying, ‘’Ow do I know I can trust yer?’
Jeremiah, already getting to his feet again, said, ‘You don’t. Shall we go?’
The three of them left the bar, watched by the landlord, but no one else seemed to have taken any notice of the encounter. Hushed, private business was often conducted at the Drummer Boy.
When they arrived at Dolly’s house she stood at the half-open front door, not allowing them inside.
‘What you want, Luke? And who’s these?’
‘We come to talk business, Doll. ’Bout you know who?’
‘I don’t wanna talk about ’im,’ Dolly snapped. ‘Told yer before, I don’t want no trouble wiv ’im.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Doll. This bloke’s got money. He’s ready to buy.’
‘I ain’t stupid,’ retorted Dolly, ‘an’ it’s because I ain’t stupid I don’t wanna talk to them, whoever they are. You think I want Nicholas round here, beating me up?’
‘Mrs Bryan,’ Jeremiah said, ‘please don’t be alarmed. We just need to speak with you. I have a suggestion to make which might suit us both.’
Dolly was still about to say no, when Luke said, ‘It can’t hurt, Doll, just to see what they’ve got to say. Come on, girl, let us in. Don’t wanna be seen wiv them on the doorstep, do yer?’
Reluctantly, Dolly stood aside and they all trooped in to the house. From the tiny hallway a flight of steep stairs ran up to the first floor, and behind that was a door leading into the only downstairs room, a cramped kitchen-cum-living room. Dolly didn’t sit down or ask her visitors to. She turned to face them and stood, arms akimbo, and said, ‘Well?’
‘Mrs Bryan,’ Jeremiah said, ‘I have, this morning, been to St John’s Church, Waterloo, where I looked at the marriage records kept in the vestry there, and in those records I found one dated 6th January 1883.’ He gave her a serious look and said, ‘Does that date have any significance for you?’
‘What d’yer mean? Significance?’
‘Is that a special date in your life?’
When Dolly didn’t answer, Jeremiah went on, ‘You see, there is a marriage registered for that date between Dolly Mangot and Nicholas Bryan. Now, I believe that you are the Dolly Mangot mentioned and that you are still married to Nicholas Bryan.’ When Dolly still said nothing, he added, ‘Is that true?’
‘’Course it is,’ cried Luke, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘Tell ’im, Dolly!’
‘Thank you, Mr Mangot, but I’d prefer Mrs Bryan to answer for herself. Now, I’m working for two gentlemen who look after the interests of a certain lady, who thinks herself engaged to marry Nicholas Bryan. Obviously, she cannot marry him if he is still married to you. Have you got the marriage certificate?’
‘No,’ said Dolly, speaking for the first time. ‘I ain’t.’ But her eyes flicked to her brother and Jeremiah caught the glance.
‘That’s a pity,’ Jeremiah said, ‘as this gentleman needs proof for his client. We wouldn’t need to take it away. We just need a sight of it.’ He let the idea hang for a moment and then said, ‘Would a half-sovereign help you find it?’
Luke’s hand went straight to his pocket. ‘Been looking after it for her,’ he explained. ‘Just in case Nick come back for it.’ Still holding on to the certificate, he showed Charles and Jeremiah what was recorded on it. And when he’d noted the details, Jeremiah parted with the coin which, like the certificate, vanished into Luke’s pocket.
‘Now there’s one more thing we need you to do,’ Jeremiah said, turning to Dolly.
‘Another way we can arrange things to your advantage. We need you to come with me to visit a lawyer and swear an affidavit to the effect that you married Nicholas Bryan on 6th January 1883 at St John’s, Waterloo, and though estranged, are still married to him.’
‘What’s an affi... affi-thing?’ asked Luke
‘It is simply a statement made on oath, before a special lawyer. Your sister would go with me to make this statement, which could be used in court should the occasion arise.’ Jeremiah spread his hands. ‘There would be no need for Nicholas Bryan to know anything of this arrangement. He would only be informed that there is evidence in the form of the church records of your marriage. The affidavit would simply be kept on record in case of need.’
‘No,’ Dolly said firmly. ‘He’d come and find me.’
‘It seems to me that you, and your brother, might be happier living somewhere else. My friend here,’ he indicated Charles, ‘would be happy to defray the cost of moving.’
Luke was interested. ‘What d’yer mean “defray”?’
‘What he means,’ Charles said, speaking for the first time, ‘is that if your sister would like to move away from London and start a new life, I should be more than happy to help her do so.’
‘You mean pay cash,’ said Luke, anxious that there be no doubt of what was on offer.
‘I mean pay cash,’ agreed Charles. ‘Not to get her to swear the affidavit, but to help her move somewhere more congenial when she has done so.’
‘How much?’ asked Luke.
‘I was thinking two hundred pounds,’ Charles said, hoping that this would be enough.
‘That’s double what Nick was gonna pay yer!’ Luke said to Dolly. ‘Set us up for life, that will.’
‘Nick’ll find us,’ Dolly said bleakly.
‘No, he won’t. Not if we go to Australia!’
‘Australia!’ echoed Dolly incredulously. ‘Why would we wanna go there?’
‘Cos then he won’t find you! An’ there ain’t nothing for us here in London, is there?’
‘What I am suggesting, Mrs Bryan,’ Jeremiah explained, cutting into this argument, ‘is that you come with me to the lawyer on Monday. Once I have the affidavit you’ll have the two hundred pounds in your hand and you can go anywhere. By the time Nicholas Bryan is confronted with his attempted bigamy, you will have disappeared to your new life.’
‘Come on, Dolly,’ urged Luke. ‘This is a chance we’ll never get again.’
Dolly looked at Jeremiah and said, ‘An’ he’ll never know I told yer?’
‘He won’t know,’ said Hawke. ‘But if he ever did come looking for you, you’d be long gone... without, I’m sure,’ he added, ‘having told anyone where.’
At last she was persuaded, and Jeremiah Hawke and Charles left the tiny house with the promise they would come back on Monday morning to take her to a Commissioner of Oaths and then provide her with the funds for her new life.
And so it was that three days later Dolly Bryan and her brother walked out of the house in Clayton Street, carrying their worldly possessions in two cardboard suitcases, and disappeared. Luke kept the marriage certificate safely in his pocket. They hadn’t had to part with it, so if Nicholas did ever catch up with them, Luke pointed out, they could show it to him to prove that they had not sold it to a higher bidder.