Andrew Pepper - The Revenge of Captain Paine

‘And if I need your co-operation in this task, you’ll give it to me?’ Pyke asked.

‘If the law’s been flouted, and it would seem from your assessment of the situation that it has, then I’ll do everything in my power to help bring the malefactors to punishment. Remember, Edward is one of my oldest friends and, while we might represent competing interests, I would never do anything to compromise our friendship. I hope you understand that.’

While Pyke assessed Gore’s response in his mind, the older man added, ‘I’m not saying I support these radicals. That would be obtuse. If you’ll excuse me for saying so, I think their ideas pose a real threat to the stability of our country, but if they protest within the law, I am content to give them their dues.’

‘As the Tolpuddle six recently found out, the law isn’t as impartial as you seem to imagine.’

Gore nodded, acknowledging the point. ‘You seem like an educated man. Perhaps you’ve heard of an artist called Hieronymous Bosch.’

‘Indeed I have.’

‘You know his work?’ Gore asked, seemingly delighted by this prospect. ‘I think the two of us have more in common than we’d like to admit. Self-made men with a liking for gloomy art.’

Pyke couldn’t help but smile. There was something infectious about Gore’s good-natured enthusiasm. ‘Were you thinking about a particular painting?’

‘ The Ship of Fools. Perhaps you know it?’

Nodding, Pyke said that he was aware of the painting.

‘It’s how I see this alliance between the radicals and the working man. Everyone trapped on a rudderless boat, no work ethic, no hope, just drifting slowly, inexorably, into oblivion.’

‘I thought it better described the experience of being a shareholder,’ Pyke replied. ‘Stupid, greedy people, condemned by their own self-delusion to chase after something that’ll always lie beyond their grubby reaches.’

But then Gore surprised him. Instead of taking offence, he broke into a hearty laugh and slapped Pyke on the back. ‘That’s a good one.’ He continued to laugh. ‘I like it. I like it a lot.’

Pyke waited until his smile had disappeared before he said, ‘At the risk of causing offence, perhaps I should ask you a more direct question.’

Gore took out a handkerchief and started to mop his face. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of fellow who cares whether he causes offence or not.’ He stopped what he was doing and looked up at Pyke. ‘But to pre-empt what might be an awkward moment, can I just repeat what I said earlier. Edward is my friend.’

‘I didn’t think there were any friends in business,’ Pyke said, warming to the older man, in spite of his suspicions.

‘I’m a simple man with a simple philosophy of life. I do what I do because it will hopefully make me richer but I also hope that my activities will benefit others. Take the railway, as an example. I expect to profit from the venture, of course, but so will the proprietors who have risked their savings and who will, I hope, see a favourable return on their investment. And if they benefit, so too will the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker who depend on their custom. And let us not forget the navvies who get paid for the work they perform and who spend their wages in the public house, thereby benefiting the landlord. And most important of all is the railway itself. A safe, fast and reliable mode of travel; even the flintiest of hearts would be hard pressed to deny the general utility of such an enterprise.’

‘My wife certainly wouldn’t agree with those sentiments,’ Pyke said, still trying to determine what he thought about Gore and whether his last comment had been disloyal to Emily.

‘But you, as a businessman, can appreciate them?’

Pyke shrugged but said nothing.

‘I’m pleased we’ve had this conversation, Pyke. I’ve admired what you’ve done at Blackwood’s for a while now and I felt we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.’ He held up his hand. ‘I didn’t take offence but you seemed to imply that my defence of the right to free speech was somehow calculated.’

‘I didn’t mean to cause offence,’ Pyke said, choosing his words carefully. ‘But it’s rare to find someone in your position willing to defend everyone ’s right to the freedom of speech.’

Gore bowed his head, accepting the explanation. ‘I don’t know exactly why but I felt it necessary to prove myself to you. I’m a man with a few political connections and I put them to good use today.’ His eyes were shining and his lips moist. ‘Your uncle’s legal problems have been taken care of.’

This was the last thing that Pyke expected him to say and for a moment he was too stunned to respond. ‘Just like that?’ was all he managed in the end.

‘I had a few sharp words with the magistrate in question…’

‘Bellows?’

Nodding, Gore broke into a smile; clearly the memory of this exchange gratified him. ‘A nasty piece of work, I’ll grant you, but with a few political connections, in spite of his pompous, self-aggrandising ways. The request to drop the matter, which I presented to him, was signed by Russell, the Home Secretary.’ Gore began to chuckle. ‘In fact, it wasn’t really a request. The chief magistrate huffed and puffed for a while but in the end he knew he was a beaten man. It would seem he’s desperate to ingratiate himself with men like Russell: men who will decide whether he assumes charge of the bench of the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey when the Right Honourable Charles Lord Tenterden retires at the end of this year.’

‘I’m still not sure why you felt the need to do it,’ Pyke stammered, trying to work it out for himself, ‘but I’m certainly grateful to you.’

‘I did it because I like you, Pyke. I see a little of myself in you. And I didn’t want you to think badly of me. I wanted you to know I put my money where my mouth is. Who knows? One day you might be in a position to return the favour.’ He smiled kindly at him and added, ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I should pay my respects to the host and hostess.’

As Gore moved off to join Morris, Pyke thought about their encounter and what, if anything, it told him about the man’s real character.

But that was not Pyke’s final interaction with Gore that night. A little later in the evening, requiring a place to urinate, Pyke followed a well-worn path to a row of huts at the rear of the building. His tug on one of the doors was perhaps stronger than it needed to be, because the flimsy lock gave way, and he found himself staring at Gore, breeches around his ankles, ruddy cheeked, straddling one of the young serving girls from behind. Gore’s hips wiggled in an ungainly fashion as he thrust himself at the woman’s arse, her face bowed towards the stinking cess pool beneath them. Her eyes were shut and barely registered the interruption. But Gore looked up, saw who it was and offered Pyke a subtle wink, before carrying on with his business as though nothing had happened. Pyke closed the door and left them to their respective fates.

He found Bolter by the table of food in the supper room, feeding a boiled egg to his dog.

‘How do you know the hosts?’

Bolter licked his fingers and patted the mastiff on its head. ‘Is that any business of yours?’

‘You’re an acquaintance of the wife rather than the husband.’

Bolter seemed surprised Pyke knew this but his face remained composed. ‘She’s a generous lady. Mr Prosser’s school couldn’t do without her and the like.’

Pyke nodded, a moment’s silence passing between them. ‘How did you get your burns?’

Bolter’s eyes narrowed. He tugged the mastiff’s leash and muttered, ‘Copper here needs the necessary house. You’ll have to excuse me.’