After Bartholomew fed me supper, removed the tray, and served me claret that Grenville had sent with me, I went over things with him. Bartholomew had already made friends with every other lackey about the place, and likely knew the gossip upstairs and down about the inhabitants of each house. I told Bartholomew what Fletcher had talked about, and I asked if he had learned anything from the other servants about the boy called Ramsay.
'Yes, sir,' Bartholomew said, dribbling wine into my glass. 'From what I gather, he's a quiet tyke. Not the mischievous kind, I'd 'uv said, but not cowed much by the others, either. The tutors call him Ramsay minor. That means he has an older brother, that they called Ramsay major, even though the older brother's gone off to work for his father. No one called me and Matthias minor and major,' he went on, chuckling. 'Mostly they just shouted at us to bring their boots.'
'Which of you would be major?' I asked curiously. The brothers looked much alike and were roughly the same age. I'd long thought them twins, but Grenville had told me they were not. Grenville did not know himself which was the elder and which the younger.
Bartholomew cleared up the matter. 'Matthias is older,' he said. He caught up one of my boots and leaned against the table to clean it. He spat on the leather and scrubbed busily with a brush. 'But not by much. I popped up less than a year after he did. We have two more brothers, younger than us, about one year apart.' He grinned. 'Our mum and dad, they were much partial to each other.'
I smiled, imagining the four brothers in a rough and tumble but happy household. 'Ramsay is a normal boy, you'd say?'
'I wouldn't call any of the lads here normal, sir. Their fathers' arses are all planted on piles of money so high they must go dizzy. Ramsay's dad is rich as sneezes, they say. Like them Rothschilds.'
'Ramsay is in this house, am I correct?' I inquired.
Bartholomew spat again, brushed vigorously. 'Stands to reason. It's much easier for him to get up here to put a snake in your bed than if he were at Fairleigh.'
'Do you think you could get your hands on young Ramsay? I'd like to ask him a few questions.'
Bartholomew set down the boot. 'Right now, sir?'
'Yes, unless he is meant to be doing something else. I do not wish to get the boy into trouble with Rutledge.'
'You leave it to me, sir.'
Bartholomew left the room, a spring in his step.
I envied his energy, and his youth. I had to say, however, that so far my stay in the country had been good for me. Riding each morning was beginning to harden my muscles again, and the fresh country air renewed my appetite, which had never been light to begin with.
I liked it. I stared into the flames and contemplated the differences between life here and my life in London. I really ought to return to Norfolk, I thought. My home was there, and so were my memories.
My memories. Memories were why I had gone to London and not east and north to the fens when I had returned to England. There were certain memories I did not want to face in Norfolk, even after all these years. I felt them there, waiting for me. Here in Berkshire, on the border of Wiltshire, the tentacles of the memories were weaker. But I'd felt them even in India, strive as I might to break them off.
What I ought to do was return there with part of my new life, with a person who could banish the memories. Louisa Brandon could do that. She was stronger even than memories of my father and my deep boyish hurt when I'd realized as a child that he'd hated me. Louisa could look at me with her wise gray eyes, put her hand on mine, and say, 'It does not matter any longer, Gabriel.' And thus it would be true.
Of course, I could not be traveling to Norfolk any time soon. Here I was in Berkshire, earning money to stave off poverty, investigating vicious pranks and a murder. Norfolk, and memories, would have to wait.
Bartholomew was a long time in returning, so I rose and limped across the room to refill my glass. I noted my boots positioned neatly on the floor. They had never been so shiny until Bartholomew had come to work for me. I'd had a batman in the army, but his idea of shining boots had been to bang off the mud and most of the dung and toss them into a corner. At the time I hadn't cared-they'd simply get muddy again.
I heard Bartholomew's tread in the hall as I sat down again. He opened the door and pushed young Ramsay inside with a beefy hand on the boy's shoulder. I greeted Ramsay and offered him a glass of claret.
He accepted. He walked quickly to the chair by the fire, seized the glass Bartholomew brought him and took a long gulp.
Ramsay minor was at the age of just before he would shoot into his full height and his voice would drop. He had very light brown hair and blue eyes and pale skin. He held his claret glass with a practiced air, but he did not relax.
'What is your other name, Ramsay?' I asked pleasantly. 'The one your mother calls you?'
He assessed me over the rim of his glass. 'Didius, sir.'
'Didius,' I mused. 'Very Latin.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Nothing to be ashamed of. My Christian name is Gabriel. Very Biblical, I've always thought. I hope Bartholomew did not frighten you when he persuaded you to come to see me?'
Ramsay cast a glance at Bartholomew, who grinned back at him. The boys as a whole seemed to like Bartholomew, who was good-natured and friendly. Bartholomew knew his place, at the same time offering his own brand of wisdom in his deferential way. He also towered at least six and a half feet high and had biceps that bulged and flexed in an alarming fashion. I'd spotted more than one boy feeling his own arms after seeing him.
'No, sir,' Ramsay said.
'Good. Now, Mr. Ramsay, why did you decide I was a lover of reptiles?'
Ramsay jumped, looked guilt-stricken. 'It was just a bit of fun, sir. You know.'
I tried to sound reassuring, but had already realized, during my brief stay here, that I had no idea how to talk to boys. 'I do know, Ramsay, I've been to school. How did you manage it? You have to walk right past Rutledge's sitting room to get to my stairs.'
Ramsay's gaze went to the window. 'Climbed the tree outside.'
I was impressed. 'And no one saw you?' My room overlooked a bleak hill that led to the canal. The path below was much frequented, and the boys played cricket in a field not far from the walls.
'It was dark already.'
'Are you telling me you climbed up that tree, in the dark, carrying a snake?'
'Yes, sir.'
I raised my glass. 'I commend your ability and bravery. The snake did not frighten me, Ramsay.'
'I know, sir.'
I took a contemplative sip of wine. Ramsay did the same. 'The other events here,' I said slowly, 'have not been quite as harmless.'
Did I imagine a glint of apprehension in his eye? Or would any boy look so, while questioned by the secretary to the headmaster?
'No, sir.'
He could not seem to drop the sir. Ramsay could have addressed me as he would other servants-by last name alone. Perhaps something in my air prompted the sir. My late father would have had apoplexy that Ramsay dared address me at all. The boy's family, despite their great wealth, were merchant class, their status below my family's landed gentry. My father would not have even spoken to Ramsay or his father had he met them. He would have snarled something about upstart burghers and crossed the street to get away from them. Even as he'd owed half the bankers and money-lenders in London, he had despised them.
'I will tell you the truth, Ramsay.' I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. 'Rutledge has asked me to look into the pranks. But I am not Rutledge's toady. I will learn all I can, and then decide what to tell him.'
'Yes, sir.'
I could not discern whether he believed me or not. 'Nor will I reveal to him the source of my information. So I wonder if you will tell me, what are your own opinions on the matter?'
Ramsay looked at me in surprise. I suppose he'd thought I was leading up to accusing him of the crimes. He took a fortifying drink of claret. 'I really couldn't say, sir.'
'I know you do not want to peach on your fellows, but I will keep anything you suggest to me in confidence. I am not certain how to convince you that is true, but I will give you my word, as a gentleman.'
