Page 62 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“They just vanish then, as though they had never lived?” Lord Ragsdale asked in amazement.
Capper nodded. “It certainly makes for untidy records,” he said.
“Blast your records,” Lord Ragsdale said. “These are people we are talking about.”
“I know, my lord, I know,” Capper said. He directed his attention to Emma. “Miss Costello, I can think of only one way to learn anything, and that is to locate the ship’s manifests for those convict voyages. They may or may not contain the information you seek on prisoner rosters.”
He turned back to the ledger and ruffled through several more pages before pausing. He pounded on the ledger in triumph. “And here we have the ships, my dear.” He leaned closer to the book, then began to write on his pad again. “There were six ships in the 1804 transport.” He looked up at them. “And we are only assuming here that they were transported in 1804, and not 1805. It could not have been 1805?”
Emma shook her head. “I think it was almost October when I was taken to Prevot.”
“Well, then, here we are. TheMinerva, theLady Penthyn, theFriendship, theMarquess Cornwallis, theBritannia, and theHercules.” He wrote down the names of the ships and handed it to Emma. He spoke to Lord Ragsdale. “I will send you with a porter to the Home Office archives. I do not know that they can offer you any assistance, but the records could be there.”
Lord Ragsdale rose and shook hands with Capper. “We appreciate your efforts.”
“It was paltry,” he said, nodding to Emma. “And you must also realize, my dear, that even if you discover they were transported, that is far from being a guarantee that they are alive.”
“I know that,” Emma replied, looking at the names on the paper she held. “But I must try.”
Capper nodded and walked them to the door. He handed a note to the porter, who led them quickly through the corridors to the Home Office, looking over his shoulder in fear at Lord Ragsdale several times. They followed him up a flight of narrow stairs and into a room filled with file boxes. “Criminal Business there in the corner,” he said, gesturing to a row of boxes stuffed on shelves.
“You are all kindness,” Lord Ragsdale murmured. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Well, Emma,” he began when the porter left. “Shall we start?”
Hours later, his head was pounding in dreadful earnest as he paused and looked at the pile of papers that surrounded them. His good eye was beginning to tear and blur, and he knew he was defeated. Emma watched him from the middle of her pile of papers, and he could see nothing but concern in her eyes.
“You have to stop, Lord Ragsdale,” she said, her voice practical, as though she admonished him over tea and biscuits. “I am discovering how much I can bear, but I could not bear it if you lost the sight in your eye because of this.”
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he began, but she stopped him with a gesture.
“I’ll stay here a little longer,” she said. “Why don’t you go home?”
“I feel like a quitter,” he protested. “Perhaps if I just lie down for a while and close my eye. . .”
“I won’t hear of it,” she insisted as she got to her feet andpulled him to his. “You used to tease me about ‘too much exertion,’ but this is truly too much for you. Just leave me a little money for hackney fare.”
He fished in his pocket for some change and handed it to her.
“We can return tomorrow. . .,” he began, then sighed in exasperation. “Oh, bother it! Emma, I am to go to Bath tomorrow with Clarissa Partridge!”
She smiled at him, “That is hardly lover-like, my lord. It is a good thing I do not intend to tattle to her. I will return here tomorrow, if I have your permission. And you will go to Bath and fix your fate.”
He wished she would not put it like that and nearly told her so.
Before he could speak, she stood before him on tiptoe and dabbed at his eye. “Please go right home and have Lasker give you a cold cloth for that. I’ll follow soon enough. I promise.”
“Oh, very well,” he grumbled.
He was still muttering to himself as he descended all those stairs and found himself on the street again. He hailed a hackney, gave his direction, and sank into it with some relief as the jarvey cracked his whip and they started off. He closed his eye, wondering if he would be dreaming of ships and lists all night, and praying that Mama and Sally had no evening plans that would affect him beyond a little polite conversation over dinner.
They had traveled several blocks toward Mayfair when he suddenly realized where they had gone wrong. He sat up and pounded on the side of the cab. “Stop this thing!” he roared.
The jarvey did as he was bid. “Sir?” he asked in frosty surprise.
“Turn around,” Lord Ragsdale said decisively. “Take me to the docks.”
~
He sank back into the cab two hours later, just as the sunwas going down. He could scarcely see out of his good eye, and he wondered how much of a peal Emma would ring over him. He held the lists tight in his hand and brought them close to his face. “Yes!” he said in triumph and closed his eye for the return trip.
