Chapter 32

Edited by Old Rotorhead

Jake was sitting deep in thought when Hermione and Susan returned just before lunch. The pair of them were clearly on a high after shopping, a curious state that almost all women seem to enjoy - or should that be suffer from?

“We’ve had a wonderful time, Jake,” said Hermione, dropping several bags and boxes.

“We did,” said Susan dropping some bags on the pile, twirling around and dropping into a chair.

“And we’ve more stuff to be delivered when some alterations have been made,” Hermione went on, sitting in another chair, kicking her shoes off and massaging her feet with a groan of satisfaction.

The door opened and it appeared that there was a disembodied dress entering the suite. Both girls turned to look, wondering what was going on. As the door closed Myrtle popped out from behind the dress, which, as she held it by the neck and stretched to keep the hem off the floor, was longer than she was tall.

“Hello,” said Hermione. “Who are you?”

“Myrtle Sauvage, milady,” said Myrtle. “Your new maid.”

She made it sound as though it was fait accompli

At this point Jake came back to life. “I asked her if she would clean your dress whilst she was waiting for you to get back,” he said. “I left it for you to have the final say, my love.”

“Of course you did,” Hermione laughed. “Worried because she’s a pretty girl, I expect. Show me what you’ve done, Myrtle. It was a horrible mess.”

“Yes, milady, it was.” Myrtle confirmed.

She held up the dress so that Hermione could see it. It was now spotless, and any damage had been repaired.

“Wonderful!” Hermione exclaimed and showed it to Susan, who nodded her agreement.

“Do you mind travelling?” Hermione asked Myrtle.

“No, milady. I am happy to travel.” said Myrtle. “Will there be any adventures?”

“Adventures?” Herminone queried.

Jake was stiffling his laughter.

“Yes, milady. I read in the newspaper...”

“Oh! Yes. I do hope not. I’m sure I’ve had enough adventures for one trip,” Hermione smiled. “What about you Susan?”

“Yes,” Susan agreed. “But it was exciting ... some of the time.”

“You weren’t frightened, mademoiselle?” asked Myrtle. “I’m sure I should be.”

“Yes,” said Susan, “that too. Most of the time. But Lady Hermione always makes you feel safe. She always has a plan.”

Well, thought Hermione, that is news to me.

Jake decided that he needed the bathroom, as he could hold the laughter in no longer. When he returned Hermione had engaged Myrtle as her and Susan’s maid.

Two days later they left for the south. Marie had insisted they use her private carriage.

“I shall not need it, and it will be returned when you have finished with it,” she told them.

Fitz carried the larger items of their baggage across to the hotel to book two rooms. They were greeted by the lady who owned it.

“I can see you’ve too much stuff to go on the stage,” she said. “Almost everyone who comes here does the same. Ezra won’t give you much. He’s a skinflint, tighter’n the backside on one o’ they river crawfish. It’ll be two rooms for the night then.”

“We may have to take what we can get for it,” said Fitz.

They got the trunks up to one of the rooms so that they could sort it.

“How much does your sea chest weigh, Captain,” asked Amanda. “I mean just the chest.”

“Ten or twelve pounds,” said Fitz, “maybe fifteen. Why?”

“Well we need something to put everything in, and you don’t really want to part with it, so why don’t we put what we are going to take in that.”

“All together,” mused Fitz. “Yes, why not?”

“That’s a great idea, Amanda,” said Bea. “Whilst we were in the Stage office, I noticed that they also run the Overland Freight Company. We could put the rest on that.”

“Right,” said Fitz. “Even if it takes a couple of months to get there it will still be in time. It will take a while to get things sorted out with the ship. That’s what we’ll do.”

They set to laying out everything from the trunks and making decisions as to what they would take, and what was not important. Amanda was neatly folding everything they were taking and repacking it into Fitz’s sea chest. After that the rest was packed into two of the large trunks. Everything was then carried over to the stage office.

Having to actually do something had the clerk huffing and puffing. Everything was weighed and Fitz paid for the carriage to San Francisco.

“That’s too heavy,” said the clerk, indicating Fitz’s sea chest.

“How can that be?” asked Fitz.

“Twenty five pounds per person,” said the clerk.

“You weighed that at seventy three pounds,” said Fitz. “There are three of us, so at twenty five pounds each that’s seventy five pounds.”

“Yes, but that’s three bags, and that’s one box.”

Fitz felt in his pocket for a ten dollar bill. “Would this overcome the difference?” he asked.

A look of sheer greed entered the clerk’s eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I could overlook it,” he said, pocketing the bill.

Their next call was the general store where they found the storekeeper, Ezra, waiting for business. Ezra could best be described as cadaverous. He was six feet tall with receding dark hair, piercing eye’s set in a face that had the skin tightly stretched over the bone structure. He was a complete contrast to the Overland clerk who had the appearance of a well fed pig.

“Ye’ve sometin’ ter get rid o’,” he asked. “If’n it’s frocks they ain’t got a lotta value.”

“No,” said Fitz. “We want to buy some things.”

They eventually managed to purchase three blankets and three water bottles. Even buying from Ezra wasn’t easy, and Fitz was very glad he hadn’t had to argue over selling anything to him.

“Yeuch!” said Amanda. “He was creepy.”

“So was that clerk,” said Bea.

The dining room was surprisingly well patronised that evening and they wondered where all the people came from. Two of them, the clerk and Ezra, were obvious. But when they considered how many buildings there were, and the fact that the street seemed to be deserted most of the time, it was surprising. The meal provided defied accurate description, but was some sort of stew with the major component being ... beans. There were lumps of meat in it, but identification proved impossible. It was accompanied by bread and beer. Amanda was looking askance at what was on her plate, whilst the other two were tucking in.

“Eat up,” Bea encouraged her. “You’ll need all your strength before we reach San Francisco.”

“Are you sure about it?” asked Amanda. “It doesn’t look very nice.”

“I’ve had a damned sight worse,” Bea told her, thinking of what she had been given when she was in Ireland.

“And the beer isn’t bad,” Fitz added. “This is far better than you’d get on one of Her Majesty’s ships.”

“What about on your ship, Captain?” asked Amanda.

“Depends on the cook we can get. We’ll provide good stuff, and hope he can cook it,” said Fitz.

After breakfast the next morning they arrived at the stage office at half past seven to find a coach with a team of six horses waiting. Sacramento was nineteen hundred miles away and the stage coach would be their home for nineteen days. If the weather was good fifteen days was possible.

The conductor looked at Fitz’s sea chest, and was about to comment, but Fitz spoke first.

“It’s for the three of us. The clerk agreed it was alright. He weighed it at seventy three pounds, that’s under the allowed weight.”

“We’ll put it at the bottom and put the mail bags on top. You can’t get in yet, there’s mail to go inside.”

There was one other passenger, James O’Malley who was going to Carson City. Whilst they were standing around waiting for the stage to be loaded they compared their weapons. Fitz had brought a .38 revolver for protection, which was pronounced to be a sensible choice. O’Malley showed them an Allen revolver tucked into his belt. This was a weapon colloquially known as a ‘pepperbox’, having six barrels which rotated as the trigger was squeezed and the hammer raised. It was fairly old and had seen a good deal of wear.

“I don’t suppose you ladies are armed,” O’Malley observed.

Bea withdrew her .32 revolver from her reticule. Following Bea’s example Amanda drew out a Derringer.

“Where on earth did you get that?” asked Bea, who had no intention of letting anyone know she had a similar one in her boot.

“Your father gave it to me,” said Amanda. “to protect you.”

Bea laughed. “Have you ever fired it?” she asked.

“No,” said Amanda. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

The conductor had joined them. He looked at the assembled weaponry.

“Can anyone hit anything with those?” he asked.

Perhaps thirty feet away there were some old bottles suggesting that this conversation had been had before. O’Malley aimed his pepperbox and pulled the trigger. He was, of course, aiming the uppermost barrel, but that wasn’t the one that would fire. It was the next one that would do that. That, plus the effort involved in pulling the trigger meant that he missed, to the point where no one saw where the shot went. He tried again with no better result. Having discharged all six barrels the result was ... no one knew where any of the bullets had gone.

“Should frighten people you’re not aimin’ at,” remarked the conductor. “How about you Captain?”

Fitz had several very near misses, but most of the bottles remained intact.

“You’d better try firing yours,” Bea told Amanda. “Just so you know what it’s like.”

Amanda’s hand was shaking as she ‘aimed’ the Derringer and Bea seized her wrist to hold it steady. There was a loud bang, and it was just as well that Fitz was behind her to catch her.

“Now, lean forward a little, and then fire again,” Bea told her.

This time, although no one saw where this shot went, at least Amanda seemed to be less of a danger to herself or any of the others.

“And what about you little lady,” said the conductor with a grin.

Bea missed with one shot, the rest sent bits of glass flying.

In the silence that followed you could have heard a pin drop. Well, if your ears weren’t ringing from all the gunfire you could have done.

The conductor coughed. “Time to go,” he said.

There were mail bags on the floor of the coach but eventually they were able to settle one in each corner. They were just settled when the driver let out an inarticulate yell, cracked his whip and they were away. It was a fine early summer morning and the fresh breeze through the open windows was quite invigorating. The countryside presented scene of rolling hollows and rises not at all unlike a rolling ocean after a storm. There were patches of corn growing in the rolling grassland, green and lush. After a few miles the landscape changed to almost exactly flat and level, and would remain like this for seven hundred miles.

The coach was swaying as it rode over the somewhat uneven road, but not so much that it would prevent Bea from cleaning her gun. She produced her gun cleaning kit from her reticule, which seemed to have magical properties as far as capacity was concerned. She cleaned her gun and reloaded it. She then held out her had for Amanda’s Derringer, which she cleaned, and held out her hand for ammunition.

“Oh! I packed it in the Captain’s sea chest,” she said.

Bea felt around in her reticule and pulled out two rounds and reloaded the pistol, and handed it back to Amanda.

“Are you not cleaning your guns, gentlemen. The powder residue will damage the barrels.”

“I’ll do it when we stop,” said O’Malley.

She held out her had to Fitz, who reluctantly handed her his revolver. She broke it and removed the fresh ammunition he had already reloaded it with. She cleaned and oiled it, reloaded it and handed it back to him, an eyebrow raised over her smile.

“Thank you,” said Fitz.

Every ten or twelve miles the horses were changed and the passengers were able to get out and stretch their legs, or use the facilities, such as they were, in the four to five minutes allowed. When darkness fell they settled down to sleep. This was not too difficult since the road was good and the sway of the coach was not unlike being rocked in a cradle.

About an hour before dawn, those who were asleep were woken by a sudden bump, the coach seemed to lean to one side and the driver pulled up with a good deal of cursing.

A few minutes later the conductor shone a lantern in the window. “Ladies, gentlemen, you’ll have to step out a while, we’ve a broken thorough brace.”

Once they were out Fitz realised what the problem was. One of the heavy leather straps that allowed the coach body to be suspended from the springs at either end had broken. The driver and conductor were attempting to repair it. Standing in the drizzly predawn darkness they all hoped this would not take too long.

It took two days for Hermione and Susan’s shopping to be complete. With the help of Myrtle, it was all packed into trunks ready for them to leave for the South. When they arrived at the station, Jake observed the supervision of loading of the luggage, accoutrements, and, he thought most appropriate, impedimenta, into the baggage compartment of the carriage.

There was, of course, the usual hustle and bustle at the station, with crowds of people, many of whom were merely spectators. It was through this throng that by pure chance Jake spied a familiar face. He made his way slowly through the throng, every so often catching a glimpse of the face. He saw the compartment into which the person had entered, but his attempts to reach that compartment seemed to be thwarted by people talking to others leaning out of windows, until just before he reached his destination he heard the guards whistle and the hiss of steam as the engine began to move. If he was not to be left behind he had only one option. He lunged forwards, grabbed the door handle, opened the door and, as the train jerked, fell onto the floor of the compartment. The door was slammed shut behind him. I seem to remember doing this before, he thought. Confirmation that history was repeating itself came when he heard a familiar giggle.

“I cannot imagine that you have got some young lady into trouble this time, Jake,” said another familiar voice. “I seem to recall attending your wedding quite recently.”

Jake struggled to his feet. “Lady Bridget! My apologies!”

The train jerked again and Jake ended up in Brigitte’s arms.

“And once again you are molesting my companion,” Lady Bridget went on, a broad smile on her face. “Now, I’m sure we will obtain some amusement from your explanation this time.”

Brigitte planted a kiss on Jake’s cheek before she let go of him. He sat on the seat opposite, looking a two very beautiful women.

“We are going to the south of France, and The Comtesse de la Grande Fromage lent us her private carriage.”

Lady Bridget raised an eyebrow. “You must be well acquainted with the Comtesse.”

“Anozer of your conquests, Jake,” said Brigitte, and as usual her pronunciation of his name sent a shiver down his spine.

“It’s a long story,” said Jake.

“We have a long journey,” said Lady Bridget. “at least until the first stop, when I imagine you will need to return to Hermione. She will be wondering where you are.”

Jake launched into the long story.

At the rear of the train in the Comtesse’s private carriage Hermione, Susan and Myrtle were sorting out what was needed on the journey. Myrtle was telling them what she had stocked the tiny kitchen with and taking instructions on how Hermione and Susan liked their tea. It wasn’t until there was a quiet moment, about half an hour after they had left the station that Hermione realised that something was missing.

“Where’s Jake?” she asked.

“He’s...” began Susan, “ ... not here. Where can he be?”

Myrtle had followed this, her English improving rapidly, but nevertheless she replied in French.

“Milady, I saw him going towards the front of the train. But that was sometime before we left. I thought he must have returned.”

“Well,” said Hermione, “There’s nothing we can do until the train stops. We’ll have the train searched, and if he isn’t on it, we’ll have to go back. Either way he’d better have a good excuse.”

“Perhaps the Comte has kidnapped him,” Susan suggested.

“More likely some damned woman!” Hermione snapped, clearly not happy.

At the end of his recounting the story of the recent events, Jake enquired the reason for Lady Bridget’s journey.

“I’m on my way to see my parents,” Lady Bridget told him. “They have written to me telling me of their intention to return to England, and mama asked if I would help her. I decided that going overland through Egypt would be the easiest, since there is a railway now, and it is certainly the quickest way. I think by the time we return the canal should be open. So we should be able to stay on one ship all the way. So much easier.”

“It will make a big difference,” replied Jake.

Just then the train started to slow and a few minutes later, with a big hiss of escaping steam it came to a standstill at its first stop.

“I must go,” said Jake. “I shall not be very popular.”

As he opened the door, Brigitte stood and kissed him goodbye.

Almost before the train came to a standstill Hermione was on the platform. There were few people getting off the train and there were no hold ups as she almost ran the length of the train. Susan had been dispatched to get the guard to detain the train, but she felt that the driver should be persuaded too.

At the precise moment that Brigitte kissed Jake, Hermione reached the open door.

Fitz and O’Malley helped unload the mail bags, and the driver and conductor set about repairing the thorough brace. When the repair had been effected the conductor said they’d have to leave some of the mailbags behind.

“Be readin’ fer they Injuns,” the driver cracked his face into a grin.

“We’ll send someone to guard it when we get to the next stop,” said the conductor.

They got back into the coach and set off again. About an hour and a half later they arrived at the next stop where they would change horses and stop long enough for breakfast.

They had noticed at the other stops, which had only been brief, that the driver had been treated with respect, but here, as he was conducted into the adobe building, he seemed to be treated with godlike awe. This, as Fitz knew, was not so different to the treatment of the old mail coach drivers in England. The building into which they were conducted had walls constructed form mud brick, which had an external rendering of mud which had cracked and fallen off in many places, exposing the brick. Inside the roof beams were merely trees stripped of minor branches and bark, between which some of the sod covering of the roof was hanging down. Light was provided by two openings which had shutters hanging off either side, and the door, which looked as though it would fit where it hit. Most of the stops they made on this first part of the journey were variations on this. All three were aware of the appalling housing conditions that prevailed, particularly in rural areas of England, but neither Fitz nor Bea felt that this building was suitable for housing stock, let alone people. There were no cupboards or shelves and in one corner there was an open sack of flour. On the floor beside it were fire blackened utensils, the fire itself being the only means of cooking. In another corner were three or four rifles, muskets and a shotgun together with powder and shot.

There were a number of men, hostlers and herdsmen, to look after the horses, of which there was a fair number, and to harness the teams. They were dressed in very rough fashion, most of their clothing looking home made by someone whose acquaintance with a needle and thread was only slight. Most wore a rough shirt tucked into baggy pantaloons, on the inner thighs of which were stitched leather patches. These were tucked into the tops of long boots. All the men wore elderly slouch hats and all had long straggly beards, some so luxurious that it was impossible to tell where their mouths were. Most had belts draped around their hips with a holstered gun, some left and some right. On the left they generally had the hammer pointing forward. The weapons were mainly a selection of .44 calibre revolvers that had been locally manufactured in the Confederacy, and most looked as though they would be more danger to the owner than to anyone else. The exception was the station keeper who boasted a Colt Navy, though of uncertain vintage. All the men had large knives either tucked into their boot tops, or in sheaths attached to the belt.

The only furniture in the room was a long table and benches and this was where they sat for breakfast, which was in keeping with the surroundings. There was a battered metal plate and mug in front of each person, and the man in charge dumped on each one chunk of bacon hacked off a belly that looked as though it had been hung over the open fire for as long as anyone could remember. A chunk of bread which was no more than two or three days old, together with beans completed the presentation. The tin mugs were filled with a dark brown liquid that certainly wouldn’t have been described as coffee in Europe. Fitz and Bea tucked in whilst Amanda looked at the food in horror.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bea.

“How can you eat this?” Amanda returned the question.

“I’m hungry, and as I’ve said, I’ve had worse,” said Bea.

“Again, it’s much the same as on one of Her Majesty’s ships,” said Fitz. “Except there would be peas instead of beans.”

Amanda picked at it for a while. She was a fairly well rounded girl, but it looked as though by journey’s end she would be classed as skinny.

This was fairly typical of their stops over the next several days.

Jake followed the running Hermione along the platform and into their car. She seemed to have had a clearer run than he, since he had had to dodge around several people, and by the time he was in the car Hermione had already entered their sleeping accommodation and locked the door. Jake knocked on the door and called to her, but all he heard was sobbing. He gave up and went into the salon and sat down.

Myrtle entered the salon from the tiny kitchen. “Ah! Sir Jacob. We were so worried. But you do not look happy.”

Susan had seen Hermione followed by Jake as she came back from the guard’s compartment. She turned and went back to inform the guard that the missing man had been found. Myrtle was with Jake when she returned. He was sitting in the salon looking very glum.

“She won’t talk to me,” he told her.

“Where were you? We were very worried,” said Susan. “I thought that dreadful man had got to you.”

Jake explained how he had seen Lady Bridget and Brigitte, and how, as he was leaving, Brigitte had kissed him goodbye at exactly the moment that Hermione looked into the compartment.

“It was perfectly innocent,” said Jake. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Lady Hermione isn’t herself at the moment,” said Myrtle. “She is expecting her visitation.”

“Visitation?” said Jake. “Who is she expecting?”

“That is it,” Myrtle continued, “she is not expecting, and I think this is upsetting her. You should go and comfort her.”

Jake looked at her, and then at Susan, who appeared equally baffled.

Myrtle rolled her eyes. “Her monthly visitor, m’sieu!” she said. “It means she is not with child.” She shook her head at what she perceived to be a lamentable lack of understanding. “Go and comfort her.”

“I would,” said Jake. “But she has locked the door!”

Myrtle grasped him by the hand and pulled him up. She then pulled him to the door of the sleeping compartment and before he could see how she did it, the door slid open. Myrtle pushed him into the sleeping compartment and slid the door closed. She walked back into the salon shaking her head.

“How did you open the door?” asked Susan.

“Simple, the doors are made to be opened from the outside if there is a problem. You just have to know how to do it,” Myrtle replied.

“And what did you mean about being with child?” Susan went on.

“You really don’t know?”

“I, I had a rather sheltered upbringing. I know very little of these things,” said Susan.

“I am the youngest of five sisters, and I had two elder brothers too” said Myrtle. ” They are all married, and you learn all about the ups and downs of married life and problems with babies, even if no one tells you directly. It is very upsetting for a woman when she does not have a baby when she wants one.”

“Oh ... and...”

“Precisely.”

Jake enjoyed a less than friendly greeting when he entered the sleeping compartment and found Hermione sobbing.

“Go away! I hate you!” exclaimed Hermione, and continued sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” said Jake, a good fall back, although he really wasn’t sure whether he was apologising for being absent for the first part of the journey, or for ‘that kiss’. Neither, he felt, were entirely his fault, but that obviously didn’t matter.

“That woman was throwing herself at you. Like they all do. Susan thinks you are wonderful, Myrtle goes all gooey when you’re mentioned. You don’t even need a valet because she loves looking after you, and there’s all the rest of them. And now Brigitte kissing you in public! You just collect women like other men collect, I don’t know, walking sticks.”

It was entirely the wrong thing to do, but the statement was so incongruous that Jake just had to laugh. He picked up Hermione and cuddled her. In moments she was laughing too.

“Well women do throw themselves at you. And they all have babies, and I can’t,” Hermione started to sniff again.

“Well, that certainly isn’t true, I don’t have that many children. None of the women you’ve mentioned have. I suppose I do have quite a few children, but if you remember four of them we have adopted, and Angelica is my ward. As to Brigitte kissing me in public, well, this is France.”

“That wasn’t the sort of kiss the French do. Anyway, don’t change the subject. Caroline and Millie...”

“Took some time to become with child. We have only just started, and we probably missed your most fertile time.”

“What about Amelia?”

“Amelia?” Jake was somewhat taken aback, as far as he knew no one even knew that Amelia had had a child. A little boy in fact.

“Yes, Amelia.”

“Amelia was before I had asked you to marry me. I’ll admit that she fell quite quickly, but she thought she was past that sort of thing. But she had had children previously, I think that might make a difference.”

“But you are still in touch with her.”

“That is true. She went to Italy so that she could say she adopted a little boy when she returns to Bristol. She owns a percentage of the two steamships and it is necessary for me to keep her appraised of progress, and to send her money. Her money earned by the ships.”

“You didn’t tell me any of this.”

Jake was somewhat piqued by this.

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, sharply. “And perhaps I should. But apart from Nerissa, I had no idea anyone else knew. But,” he mellowed, after a moment’s thought, “you are right, it does matter, and I am sorry.”

“Mama says you should never try to keep a secret, because sooner or later it will get out. Just look at me. She also said to be careful who knows your secret.”

“Yes,” Jake replied. “That is something worth taking note of.”

“Now, I think we should celebrate our reunion,” Hermione smiled and kissed Jake.

“Reunion?” Jake puzzled.

“You were away for at least an hour and a half,” Hermione pouted.

Some time later they rejoined a smiling Susan in the salon. A few minutes later a smiling Myrtle came in with tea. The walls of the car were very thin and they were both aware that the rift between Hermione and Jake had been repaired.

Victoria travelled to London with Peter the next morning. He needed to spend several days there attending to state business. Victoria, having arranged to stay with him overnight in his London apartment, took a cab to the London shop. She was greeted by Annabelle, who assured her that everything there was running perfectly. She had two excellent assistants and a seamstress who carried out any alterations that were required. The latest designs were proving extremely popular in the Capital, and sales were brisk. Annabelle took Victoria up to her apartment for refreshment.

“How far advanced are you?” asked Annabelle.

Victoria was somewhat taken aback. “Advanced?” she asked.

“Unless I am mistaken you are with child,” said Annabelle.