Chapter 6: The Acquisition of Apparel, Accoutrements, and Information

May 1826. London.

It was decided, between Mimi and Amy, that the Greenaway family should spend at least a week in London before heading north to Grantham. I of course acquiesced to whatever the ladies proposed. Even after less than two years of married life I knew better than to go against the wishes of my wife – and those of my former mistress.
Amy spent the week showing Mimi and the children the sights of London, including some of the more fashionable dressmakers, while I dealt with the several tasks that required attention before leaving for Grantham.

First and foremost was to visit Saville Row and purchase a complete set of new clothing; shirts, waistcoats, jackets, trousers, cravats, and not forgetting drawers, etc. I had arrived in Blanchards dressed in seamen’s ‘slops’, which are garments donated by sailors to those who have lost their own clothes in shipwrecks. I had not suffered a shipwreck, but the crew of the good ship Bonaventure insisted all my clothes be destroyed when I boarded the vessel after rolling around in an effluent rich stream while grappling with Lord Byron.

A month after my arrival in Blanchards I obtained replacement clothing; coats and trousers, from a tailor in Valenciennes ... However these garments were more functional than fashionable, and I noted many amused glances thrown my way when walking along the Strand, the Mall, and other popular thoroughfares of London.
I entered my tailor’s premises in Saville Row and handed him a list of my requirements. Mr. Montague Burton had all my measurements in his ledger, and assured me he would have all the new garments ready for me a day before I set out for Grantham.

My next stop was Jermyn Street, where Mr. Barrett of Maidstone had recently opened an establishment. The boots made by Gucci of Livorno were now the property of Callum Keane; one pair of the two pairs of boots crafted by Mr. Barret of Maidstone was now resting on the seabed of the Gulf of Spezia, and the other pair were looking rather the worse for wear. The lasts for those boots were in Maidstone, and it would be a simple task to dispatch the lasts to Jermyn Street and have new boots produced.

“Oh dear! We have been rather cavalier in looking after our footwear, haven’t we, sir?”
Somehow I stayed my fist from punching the fellow in his pretentious mouth.

“They have been repaired, although the cobbler was more practiced in working with farmer’s shoes rather than bespoke boots Mister Barrett.” I said through gritted teeth.
Eustace Barret, eldest son of Mr Barrett of Maidstone, manager of the Jermyn Street shop, and reason for Barrett’s reputation as the finest bookmakers in the country, gave a sniff of disdain.

“It looks as if he would have been more at home shoeing cart horses. I suppose you wish me to replace this sorry looking article with a new pair?”
“Two pairs, if you please, Mister Barrett.”

“Shall you require the knife pocket in the top of the boot, as this one has?”
I shook my head “No, but I want a concealed pocket for a knife in both new pairs.”
Eustace’s eyes lit up. “A secret place to keep a blade, how intriguing. What size of knife are we thinking about, Colonel?”
I shrugged. “Probably no more than nine inches overall length.”
Eustace rubbed his chin “To have that size of knife secreted in a boot calls for some ingenuity.” He grinned. “But I have the skill and inventiveness to furnish such a pair of boots. I will send to Maidstone for the lasts we have for you. They should arrive here within a few days. Come back tomorrow with the exact measurements of the knife and I will set to constructing your boots as soon as the lasts arrive from Maidstone.” He paused a moment. “Are you left or right handed?”

“Right handed, but why do you ask?”

“To make a concealed pocket in a boot one must site the pocket in a part of the boot not always on open display, e.g the inner sides of a pair of boots, not the outer sides. A right handed gentleman will find reaching the inner side of a right boot difficult, whereas the inner side of a left boot is much more accessible. Try it, if you have any doubts, and see what I mean.”

I felt a bit of a fool as I put my right hand down to the inside calf of my right leg. I then carried out the same manoeuvre for the left leg. What Eustace Barrett had said was correct; releasing a blade with one’s right hand from a right boot would be awkward, and much slower than taking the blade from the left boot.
I nodded. “Left boot it is, Mister Barrett,” and tried to ignore the smirk that spread across his face.

My next stop was Mr. Wilkinson of Cow Lane, maker of the finest blades in London.
I spoke to a supercilious member of the staff, who was aghast when I described the knife I wanted constructed.

“We do not make blades for assassins, sir, but for gentlemen.”
I bit my tongue and let the man’s insolence pass. Given my requirements for a knife, able to be secreted about my person, it could be supposed I was the former rather than the latter.
As I was leaving the establishment, a young man who did not bear the superior air found in many who work for well-established firms with a long and reputable history, spoke quietly to me.

“The weapon you require can probably be made at the Sykes Foundry in Dead dog Alley, Shoreditch, sir. Ask for William Fairbairn at the foundry.”

William Fairbairn laughed when I told him of my experience at Wilkinson’s.

“I expect you spoke to Lemuel Radcliffe; he has ideas and manners well above his station. He knows nothing of fighting with sword or dagger, but only of those gilded and engraved weapons gifted to generals and admirals.”
I explained what I required in a knife, with the main object being I could carry it completely concealed in my boot.
He listened intently, and when I had finished he began sketching different shapes of blades. After a half hour he produced a completed drawing of a knife, annotated with measurements. He pointed out the salient points of the design.

“I will forge this knife from eight inches of one eighth thick steel, one and a half inches wide, tapering to a point. It is primarily a stabbing weapon, a stiletto, although I will temper it so that both edges can be sharpened for cutting and slashing. I will nip the ‘waist’” at the midpoint. A four inch blade is enough to kill a man, and a four inch handle is the minimum for a good grip, which is needed when driving a blade into flesh.” He gave me a hard look. “Have you ever stuck a knife in some one’s guts?”