Keeping Bad Company (3 page)

‘Hence this committee?'

‘Yes. Luckily the government won't be rushed into anything, though McPherson and his gang are doing their best. Anyway, to get back to Calcutta. With McPherson rampaging round making so much noise, it stirred up all the old feelings in poor Griffiths. He stood up in public, at some dinner or another, and told McPherson to his face that he was no better than a pirate and the government shouldn't pay him one single rupee of compensation.'

‘Brave.'

‘I agree. If I'd been in Calcutta, I hope I'd have said so. Griffiths added for good measure that McPherson was a disgrace to his country and men like him, if they weren't checked, would get the British thrown out of India.'

Tom thumped his fist into his palm, caught up in Griffiths's oratory.

‘And the threats?' I said.

‘He told McPherson that if he went on cheating Indian farmers out of their land, one of these fine days he'd be found on a lonely road with his throat cut, and serve him damned-well right.'

‘You heard all this from gossip?'

‘No, I heard it from Griffiths himself. He said the only thing he regretted was that they'd hustled him out of Calcutta before he could say worse.'

‘I can see why the Company wanted to put the whole breadth of India between them,' I said. ‘But has Mr McPherson been found on a lonely road with his throat cut?'

‘No. He's here in London, bursting to give his views to the committee. He and his gang came over on the same ship as I did. But the point is, that's exactly what happened to his assistant, Burton. He was supposed to be meeting McPherson one morning. McPherson found him dead, and his luggage looted.'

‘But how does that concern you as a witness, since you were in Bombay all the time? Or Mr Griffiths, come to that?'

‘Because Burton wasn't killed in Calcutta. He was killed just outside Bombay. McPherson and his people were honouring us with a visit.'

‘Why?'

‘McPherson was making his way back to London, to pull strings here. He was travelling by way of Bombay because he wanted to realize some of his assets there, he made no secret of that.'

‘Assets?'

‘Calling in loans, mainly. Even a fellow as rich as McPherson can't stand the loss of five thousand chests of opium without taking some harm. Then there were jewels. Everybody knew he was bringing some of his collection back to London with him to sell. While he was waiting, he used his spare time in Bombay trying to make things as difficult as he could for poor Griffiths.'

‘Did he succeed?'

Tom looked into the fire and sighed.

‘Yes. Griffiths is a stoic. He tried not to let it show. But the sight of McPherson parading around as if he owned Bombay made him furious. His health's not good either. He's had warnings from the doctor about his heart and should be leading a quiet life, but with this business going on, he can't rest. I'm sure McPherson knows that.'

‘But would it matter to him what Mr Griffiths thought, if he was so lacking in influence?'

‘You'd have thought not, but there's something between them that goes a long way back. I don't think Griffiths has told me the half of it.'

‘What about this Burton who was killed?'

‘I don't know much about him, except that he was about my age and supposed to be McPherson's right-hand man. McPherson must have trusted him to have him carry the jewels.'

‘The ones from Calcutta?'

‘No. They came by ship, as you'd expect. These were another collection, from somewhere inland. Nobody seems to know quite where. McPherson's interests stretch all over the place. Anyway, Burton was bringing them from wherever it was and McPherson rode out on his own in the early morning to meet him. There are some big red rocks by the road that make a good place for an ambush. He found Burton and a native servant dead by the side of the road, with their throats cut. Their luggage had been looted. The other servants had run off.'

‘The jewels were gone?'

‘Some of them. But the most valuable, Burton had carried in a belt under his clothes. They were still there.'

‘Were you or Mr Griffiths present when any of this happened?'

‘No, of course we weren't.'

‘Then I don't understand how you're involved.'

‘Because of a diamond hawk,' Tom said.

I stared at him.

‘Hawk?'

‘Swooping on its prey, head and body set with diamonds, ruby claws, eyes and beak. It's a brooch the size of your hand. I thought it a vulgar thing, but it was supposed to be worth a fortune.'

‘How does that come into it?'

‘It was part of McPherson's hoard. I found it on Griffiths's desk.'

The fire shifted in the grate and coals fell on the hearth. I scooped them up without taking my eyes off Tom's face.

‘It happened two days after Burton was killed,' he said. ‘Griffiths had asked me to fetch some report from his desk. I moved the papers, looking for the report, and there was the hawk.'

‘What did you do?'

‘Picked it up and took it to Griffiths. Of course, I had no idea that it belonged to McPherson. But Griffiths recognized it. He told me I was to go straight away with him to the Governor and explain exactly what had happened. So that's what we did.'

‘Did Griffiths have any explanation?'

‘None at all.'

‘How had he recognized it as McPherson's?'

‘He said it had belonged to a lady he knew.'

‘So what was it doing on his desk?'

‘He said he had no idea.'

‘Did the Governor believe him?'

‘I don't know. I think he'd have liked to believe him. I don't think he cared much for McPherson either.'

‘So was there a trial?'

‘No. Officially Burton was murdered and robbed by bandits. But of course the Governor had to send a report to London. Months later, word comes back that there's going to be a parliamentary committee looking into the affairs of the Company. It's mostly about the opium compensation business, but because of McPherson it's all connected. Griffiths and I were ordered to London.'

A lot of questions were in my head, but Tom looked mortally tired and the loud clock in the nearby workhouse was striking two. Tom told me that he was lodging in a house in the City which the Company owned, but I persuaded him that it would be madness to walk across London at this time of the morning. He consented to eat a slice of the pie and drink a cup of despised English tea, then I lit a candle and showed him through the little doorway into the room that I keep as my own study. It looked cosy by candlelight, with its bookshelves and daybed piled with shawls and cushions. Tom could sleep there. I could see his eyes going round the room, looking for things that would help him understand what sort of person his sister had become. If I'd found him changed in seven years, what might be going through his head about me?

In the morning, I was up before Tom and going quietly downstairs in my riding clothes. As usual, my great friend the groom Amos Legge, was waiting for me on horseback at the gate into Abel Yard, holding the reins of my mare Rancie. We had our morning canter in Hyde Park, before the fashionable world was up and about. I told him that my brother was back, but no more than that because I supposed Tom had been talking in confidence. As he helped me down from Rancie, an idea came to me.

‘Tom needs exercise. Would you take him riding in the park one day? Not on Rancie, more of a weight-carrier.'

Upstairs, Tom was sitting at breakfast in the parlour, being waited on by an obviously enchanted Mrs Martley. The remains of bacon and eggs on a plate suggested she'd used up most of our week's supply on him and a smell of toast hung on the warm air. I sat down by the fire in my riding costume and made some for myself from what was left of the loaf.

‘There are things we must discuss, Liberty,' Tom said.

My heart sank. That pompous tone was back. I buttered my toast, poured tea and ate and drank with deliberate slowness. Tom passed an impatient hand over his chin.

‘I need a shave.'

‘You've got too accustomed to having servants,' I said. ‘A man won't suddenly appear and do it for you.'

We went upstairs to my study, leaving Mrs Martley clearing up. I sat on the daybed, leaving Tom the armchair.

‘Who's paying for all this?' Tom said.

‘My palace here, you mean? I am.'

‘From giving music lessons?'

‘Only a few, these days. Chiefly, I'm an investigator.'

‘Of what?'

‘Of anything. I try to solve problems for people. When they can afford it, they pay me.'

‘It must stop,' Tom said.

I managed not to say anything, biting my tongue.

‘I didn't sleep much,' Tom said. ‘I've come to a decision on what to do about you.'

I released my tongue. It was probably bleeding.

‘Oh yes?'

‘When all this is over, you're coming back to India with me.'

‘I am, am I?'

Tom wasn't even looking at me.

‘I can borrow your fare against my future salary and rent a small bungalow for the two of us. I don't suppose it will be for long because I dare say you'll be married within a year.'

‘Oh really. Have you anybody particular in mind for me?'

‘Nobody in particular, but there are a lot of Company men in their thirties and forties who don't want to go all the way back to England to find a wife. Good, intelligent men, some of them. You'd like them.'

‘Should I indeed? Just as well.'

He'd failed entirely to notice my sarcasm and grinned with relief at having got a difficult scene over. The grin faded when I stood up.

‘Did it occur to you at any point to consult me about this great plan?'

‘You love travelling. You'd like India.'

‘I'm sure I should, under other circumstances, but I'm not going to be shipped out with a label round my neck: “Surplus to requirements. Please marry.”'

‘Libby, you know very well it's not like that. My responsibility to our parents . . .'

‘Your responsibility to our parents is to remember what they taught us about the rights of men and women. That doesn't include trying to tyrannize a sister who is doing perfectly well leading her own life – and is two years older than you.'

I went on in this vein for some time, quite possibly sounding pompous myself. Tom kept trying to interrupt. The noise we made probably carried to Mrs Martley downstairs. Eventually we exhausted ourselves and just stood glaring at each other. The sight of us back in nursery mode again left me quivering between laughter and tears. I sat down on the daybed and held my right hand towards him, palm flat, our childhood sign of truce.

‘Pax.'

‘What you won't see, Liberty—'

‘Pax.'

He saw he'd get nothing out of me until he did it, so reluctantly held out his own palm and said the word. I made myself speak in a calm voice.

‘Tom, the trouble is that you know very little about the life I lead. It's mostly my fault. I should have told you more, but it's not easy in letters. In any case, it means you're assuming things about me that simply aren't true. I promise you that in the seven years you've been away, I've done nothing that I couldn't have told our mother and father about if they were alive.'

‘It's not a matter of what you've done or not done. It's your reputation that's—'

I held my palm out again and went on talking.

‘You don't have to take my word for that. There are two people I'd like you to speak to. One of them's our father's old friend, Daniel Suter.'

‘I want to call on Suter in any case. I hoped you were going to marry him.'

‘We thought we might, for a while. Only he married Jenny and they're two of the happiest people I know. Tell Daniel that he's to answer any questions you care to put to him about me.'

Daniel could tell Tom a lot, including the events that had led me to my unusual trade. A lot, but not everything.

‘Then there's another friend. You haven't met him, but he helped our father in the last few days of his life, and he brought Rancie to me. His name's Amos Legge. He's head groom at a livery stables in the Bayswater Road . . .'

Tom seemed about to protest again.

‘. . . and he's been the best of friends to me. I shall see him tomorrow and tell him that he's to answer all your questions, only you'd better be prepared for that to take a long time, because he won't be hurried. I've already told him that you'll go riding in the park with him.'

That seemed, at last, to silence Tom. I wrote down the addresses of Daniel Suter and Amos's stables, then we went downstairs where Mrs Martley was making an ostentatious noise washing up. So our voices had carried. She brought Tom his hat and coat and said she was sure we'd be seeing a lot of him. I went to see Tom to the gates of the yard and told him that he'd find a barber to shave him somewhere around the Burlington Arcade. As I watched him walk away down the mews, I thought that he hadn't replied to Mrs Martley's remark about seeing a lot of him. We shouldn't see him again until he'd spoken to Daniel and Amos. When he'd heard all there was to hear from them, should we see him at all? I only hoped I hadn't lost my brother all over again.

T
he next few days brought no more visits from Tom. The only news of him came from Amos, who had twice taken him riding. I gathered that both rides had been long ones, but it would have been unfair to Amos to press for more details. I tried to distract myself with a case that Tabby and I had been working on for a while, involving a silver coffee pot and a remarkable amount of silliness from a family that should have known better. We concluded it to everybody's reasonable satisfaction and so were five guineas richer. Still no sign of Tom, and I began to wonder if he'd washed his hands of me altogether. Then one evening he appeared as Mrs Martley and I were clearing up the supper things. He looked tired and thinner in the face.