Twenty

Silas rolled from Archer, and his joy became fear when he realised there were two maids in the other room on their way to deliver their supper. It was then that he remembered Thomas’ harsh warning and understood how careful he and Archer had to be. Had anyone else seen what they were doing, he dreaded to think what backtalk they would cause. Gossip would become scandal that could lead to any manner of problems for the man he had fallen for.

Archer leapt from the couch and stood to face the fire, presumably so no-one saw the incredible bulge at the front of his breeches. Silas was in a similar state, and it struck him that he had never been so excited in a man’s presence as he was with Archer. Up until now, sex had been sex, but just now, so close and intimate with the man, he had not been fuelled by lust. He knew exactly what it was that pumped his heart and fed his longing, and it wasn’t so much that he couldn’t say the words, ‘I love you,’ it was more that he was too surprised and confused by the uncharted feelings coursing through him.

He sat on the couch, legs crossed and pulled his ill-fitting jacket over his lap. Thomas, seeing the coast was clear, entered the room and instructed the maids to lay their trays on the reading table beneath the front window. There, he placed two bottles of fancy red wine.

‘Thank you, Thomas,’ Archer said, apparently examining the mantle clock in great detail as it struck seven.

‘My Lord,’ Thomas replied. If he was unnerved by what he had just seen, he didn’t show it. In fact, as he backed away and turned, Silas caught his eye, and Thomas gave him a brief smile. It was reassuring, but Silas detected some sadness behind it.

‘Lucy has a question,’ Thomas said. ‘If she may, Sir.’

It took a moment for Silas to realise he was being spoken to. It was going to take some time to adjust to being called Mr Hawkins, let alone Sir, and by a man he had groped. Thomas and Silas were bonded by more than their shared affection for the viscount, and perhaps it was time for Silas to stop his teasing.

‘Er, yes,’ he said. ‘Of course.’

He looked to Archer for approval, uncertain if this was the correct form, but the viscount was now rearranging the clutter on the mantlepiece, his back to the room, his excitement still too obvious to show.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ Lucy said and curtseyed. Something else Silas would have to get used to. ‘I wondered if there was any news of the Russian gentleman?’

Archer looked at him over his shoulder and nodded. Spying his smoking jacket hanging from the chair, he reached for it and put it on. It was long enough to cover him well below the waist.

It was probably best not to use his nickname, so Silas informed Lucy that, ‘Andrej got into a fight and is in hospital,’ news at which she blanched. ‘But, His Lordship says he is going to be alright.’

‘That’s good to hear, Sir,’ Lucy said, her smile of relief suggesting that this was not just casual interest. ‘I’m glad for you.’

‘Thank you, Lucy. Sally.’ Archer dismissed them. ‘I shan’t need you again tonight, but Thomas, you are able to stay?’

‘Certainly, Sir.’

The maids left, and Archer closed the door behind them while Thomas set out their supper.

‘Sorry about that, Thomas,’ Archer said. ‘Thank you for being cautious.’

‘Not at all, Sir.’

Archer invited Silas to the table, and they sat opposite each other, a spread of cold meat, pies, cheese and bread before them; a feast Silas was more than ready for. Thomas began placing an assortment of cutlery before him, arranging it neatly at precise distances until Archer said, ‘We don’t need to be formal, Tom. Pull up a chair.’

Thomas was uncertain.

‘It’s one of those times,’ Archer said. ‘I need to talk to both of you about this whole matter, and it’s not going to be possible for me to do it if you are standing there like Tripp looking down his nose.’

‘I didn’t realise I was.’

‘You weren’t, but you were going to. Sit, Tom, but get yourself a glass first.’

Thomas hesitated, and Archer sighed.

‘We are not going to be disturbed,’ he said. ‘Unless a messenger arrives in which case, I need to be disturbed. And if we are, it doesn’t matter. It’s my bloody house.’

‘Are you sure you would not rather dine alone?’

Archer rose slowly, and Silas watched, a slice of pork pie hovering before his lips. The viscount brought another chair to the table, placed a wine glass in front of it and then held the chair out for Thomas. ‘Take off your jacket,’ he said. ‘Roll up your sleeves too. We have work to do.’

Thomas did as instructed.

‘How be, Tommy?’ Silas winked, hoping it would put the redhead at his ease.

‘Happy for you both,’ the footman replied, but it was hard to tell if he meant it.

‘Gentlemen…’ Archer sat and began eating. ‘It’s high time I explained to you what I am up to. I have a story to tell you while we eat… Help yourself, Tom.’

‘I have eaten, Sir.’

‘Archer. Or Archie, if you can’t manage that.’

Thomas poured the viscount and Silas wine before serving himself a token amount.

Archer leapt straight to business.

‘You know I have an interest in the East End,’ he said, forking thick slices of ham onto his plate. ‘The charitable work which I am compelled to undertake, feeling as I do, that it is the business of those who lack for nothing to assist those who have nothing. Naturally, of late, my determination to act has been reinforced by the murders, but my interest in them is not morbid, as it appears to be among some of my class whom I saw in the area today. The society tourists.’ He shuddered. ‘I have a personal interest in these deaths which I shall explain.’

He paused for a sip of wine, and Silas followed suit. It was the smoothest tasting alcohol that had ever passed his lips.

‘Long way from a tupp’ny gin,’ he said, replacing his drink carefully. The glass was probably worth more than he would earn in a lifetime.

‘We are indeed,’ Archer said. ‘And we must work fast.’

‘We?’ Thomas queried.

‘If you are willing,’ Archer said. ‘Let me tell you my story and explain what I have been doing, and then you can tell me if you are willing to work with me. I shan’t be offended if you are not. I shall understand, but I think you can both help. Silas because he knows the area and you, Tom, because you have a far more practical mind than me, and that’s what I need. That and your detached opinion.’

Silas loved the way he spoke. His words were always so carefully placed as if he had spent hours practising his speeches before delivering them. Silas spoke whatever came out of his head, a trait that had landed him in hot water on many occasions.

‘As you know, Tom, I spent some time in the navy before I had to retire a couple of years ago.’

Thomas nodded, but Silas must have looked inquisitive because Archer explained that he had been injured and, although he could have served in some other capacity, the failing health of his father coincided with his honourable discharge, and affairs at Clearwater and the country estate needed his management.

‘What injury?’ Silas asked. ‘That?’ He pointed to the scar on Archer’s cheek.

‘That was part of it,’ he said. ‘But not all. I’ll show…’ He considered Thomas for a moment. ‘Sorry, Tom,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you later, Silas.’

‘Sir,’ Thomas said, laying his hands on the table. ‘Archer. You’re dodging around me as though I’m likely to be offended. Let me say, I am not. Nor am I upset at what I just witnessed, far from it. Whatever is taking place between you and Mr Hawkins is making you happy, and that’s all I need to concern myself with.’ He turned to Silas. ‘He was nearly killed in hand-to-hand combat. He won’t say it, but he has many medals.’

‘Yes, thanks, Tom. Silas doesn’t need to know all that. I’m just me.’

‘That’s a clagmire a-be speaking from,’ Thomas muttered with a wry smile at Archer.

‘Which, when translated means…?’

‘You’re being too modest,’ Thomas said. ‘And you stopped talking just then, because you didn’t want me to be upset that Silas is going to see exactly where your scar is, and get a lot closer to it than anyone else, to my knowledge, ever has.’ He turned to Silas again. ‘It’s across his side,’ he said. ‘From here…’ He indicated below his ribcage. ‘To here,’ below his navel.

‘Thanks, Tom,’ Archer said. ‘I appreciate your directness, but to be accurate, it wasn’t hand-to-hand, but sword-to-sword. But what matters now are the murders in Greychurch.’

Silas settled to eating as he listened while Thomas turned his wine glass between his fingers, eying the viscount with interest.

‘While I was a naval officer,’ Archer began, ‘I served with a most disagreeable man two years and one rank my senior. He was a man I knew well, but not one I cared for. At all.’ He glanced at Thomas as if the footman knew who he was talking about. ‘There was, however, another lieutenant, my rank, about whom I cared a great deal. So much so, that I was nearly driven mad by my love for him, and here, Silas…’ he added, reaching across and taking his hand, ‘you are not to become jealous.’

‘Jealous, me?’ Silas laughed. ‘I’m sure whatever you’re about to tell me ain’t any worse than things I could tell you. I don’t get jealous.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ He released Silas and threw a knowing look at Thomas. ‘Nor you,’ he said before continuing with his meal. ‘There was an attraction between the lieutenant and myself which was both mutual and undeniable. It was, sadly, also irrepressible and one night he and I were caught in a compromising condition similar to that just witnessed by Thomas.’

Although Silas liked the sound of Archer’s voice, he wished he would use less complicated sentences. By the time he worked out that Archer and the officer were caught ‘doing it’, the viscount had moved on.

‘More unfortunate was that we were discovered by our senior officer, the ship’s commander. Of course, we both expected dismissal if not imprisonment, and from a state of exhilaration and love, I crashed into abject fear.’ He looked at the curtains as if their pattern told the story of the past. ‘In retrospect, it would have been better had we been discharged and shamed. You see…’ He returned his attention to Silas. ‘The commander was so enraged by what he had seen, he took a very unusual step and said nothing.’

‘He let you get away with it?’ Silas clarified.

‘Yes.’

‘Suspicious,’ Thomas said.

‘And that’s why you are here, Tom.’ Archer squeezed his hand, but Silas didn’t mind. ‘You know some of this story, but not all, and your objectivity will be invaluable.’ He continued to eat. ‘Suspicion was also on my mind, and my fears were confirmed when my commander began his punishment. It started as if what we had done was a mild misdemeanour; having to swab decks with the midshipmen not officers, that kind of thing. It progressed over time and became more severe. Eating with the crew, backs turned to us in the mess, extra watches and so on. Eventually — and this lasted months — his retribution took the form of beatings, by him and unwitnessed. The worst kind of bullying was administered, but I was still grateful that we had not been shamed, and so I put up with it.

‘My friend, however, was not made of the same stuff. The commander’s anger turned to hatred, and its focus turned to the other lieutenant. I was free if you like, and yet my punishment continued because every day I saw the ruined state of a man I loved and the terror he was made to suffer.’

Archer’s hands trembled, and he put down his fork to hold his fingers steady. He looked through Silas, unblinking, his pupils large in the candlelight.

‘I was at the point of going to my Captain and admitting the entire story. It would have meant the end for all three of us, but it would at least stop the torment. Before I found the courage, though, it struck me that the situation was worse than I thought. The commander, I realised, was himself in love with my friend, but it was not reciprocated. He hated this man for not giving in and hated himself for loving him. He had tormented himself into something approaching a murderous rage. It was the only possibility, and it was…’

He suddenly became aware of Silas and sat back, taking a deep breath.

‘It was a terrible time,’ he said. ‘Played out behind the uniform, under the normalities of daily life aboard ship, unseen by others and unspoken about by ourselves.’

Reliving the story was causing Archer great pain, and Silas wished he knew how to comfort him.

‘The upshot,’ Archer said, ‘was that my friend took his own life. He ran himself through on his cutlass, so we were told. It was the night before we went ashore at Odessa and fell into the skirmish that earned me my injury. It was while we were en route that it hit me. My lover’s death had not been suicide.’ He paused for a sip of wine, leaving his meaning hanging in the silence until his glass was replaced on the table. He stood and unbuttoned his waistcoat.

‘I carried that certainty into battle with me, and it showed itself in my ferocity towards the foe. On the edge of the skirmish, I finally confronted my commander in the manner I confronted the enemy, and the matter was ended.’

He lifted his shirt free of his trousers revealing his stomach and the scar. Silas was fascinated. The thick red ridge ran exactly as Thomas had suggested in one crescent sweep from his side and across towards his groin. The toned flesh around it was made more desirable because of it, and the heroic blemish somehow enhanced his virility.

Archer tucked in his shirt and sat. That appeared to be the end of the story, but Silas waited, just in case.

‘I never knew the full details,’ Thomas said, his voice far away. ‘Only that you were injured.’

‘You don’t know how much easier it would have been had I been able to talk to you, Tom,’ Archer said. ‘But… The dreaded green baize door.’

He spoke as though talking about a demon, lifting his mood with a theatrically horrified expression. Thomas chuckled.

‘What’s that?’ Silas asked. ‘The door thing?’

‘The door that marks the line between the house and below stairs,’ Thomas explained.

‘And a lot more besides,’ Archer said.

‘Oh, right.’ Silas addressed him. ‘And was that it? You got treated bad because you’re queer?’ Silas ignored Thomas’ coughed outrage. ‘Your boss went a bit mad, your mate topped himself, and you got cut up in a fight? Sounds like an average night in the East End.’

Luckily, the gloomy atmosphere that had accompanied his story was soaked up by Archer’s laughter.

‘It is a very distressing story,’ Thomas said. ‘But I’ve yet to get the connection with the Ripper unless you are suggesting that your commander is involved?’

‘That’s it exactly,’ Archer said and calmly continued eating.

‘Hang on…’ This was too much for Silas to take in. ‘You’re saying you know who it is?’

‘I have a suspicion,’ Archer admitted.

‘So why ain’t you gone to the mutton shunters? The police, sorry.’ Silas didn’t understand. ‘The way things are now, they’d take any help they can get and especially from someone like you. Tell them what you know, and it’s done.’ What had started out as confusion quickly became anger. ‘Hang on. How long have you known this? Why ain’t you done nothing about it?’ Anger became rage. He stood, knocking back his chair. ‘My mates have been dying while you’ve been sitting on your arse.’

‘Sit down, Silas,’ Thomas chided.

‘I thought you was decent. Now look at you.’

‘Silas!’ Thomas shouted with such force that Silas was thrown off the rails. He controlled himself immediately. ‘Sit down, please,’ he said, lightly touching Silas’ sleeve.

Archer looked so lost, and Thomas sounded so protective, Silas’ anger calmed to mild confusion. He brushed his fringe from his eyes. ‘I don’t understand why you ain’t done nothing.’

Archer and Thomas exchanged glances.

‘Oh hell. You don’t mean…?’ Thomas’ jaw dropped, and Archer held up a finger for silence.

‘Silas,’ he said. ‘I am convinced that the Ripper and my old commander are one in the same person.’

‘Go to Inspector Adelaide and tell him,’ Silas insisted. ‘It’s what they’re supposed to be good at.’

‘I can’t go to the police,’ Archer replied. ‘Even though I believe my old commander is the Ripper, and…’ He looked once more at Thomas who appeared to know what was coming next. ‘Even though he gave me my scar as he tried to kill me. He is my brother.’