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He turned towards Rhys and Alexandra. ‘I’d like you both to find out what you can about this solicitors we’ve been advised to visit and see if it’s possible to set up an appointment.’ Husband and wife nodded as Henry turned finally to Bernice. ‘Can I trust you to visit the three ladies responsible for providing Billy with the Society’s address in Bristol and gather as much information as you can from each of them?’ Bernie nodded solemnly without speaking.

‘We’ll reconvene here tomorrow evening. I do not anticipate being held up overnight.’ He started towards the door, just as Billy piped up.

‘Wot about me, Mr ‘Enry?’

After a second, Henry turned back to the eager boy. Any lingering signs of distress had completely vanished, and the lad looked ready to tackle anything. With a sigh that was part regret and part bowing to the inevitable, the former policeman gave a philosophical shrug. ‘I assume that forbidding you to come will simply result in you stowing away,’ he submitted drily, ‘So, yes, you will come along too, Billy.’ He took a few steps towards the door before turning back, adding. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting your two new acquaintances, and, of course, returning the money you owe – which naturally will be taken out of your wages…’

* * *

Rob laid in his bed unable to sleep, his mind awhirl with everything that had happened since his arrival – most of it completely unexpected. He found himself thinking about what he’d actually been expecting.

An older, slightly eccentric man who was playing at being a detective after retiring from the police force, along with a spinster sister and six daughters who were simply indulging his hobby.

Lying in the darkness, he realised just how wrong his assumptions had been. Indeed, nothing could have been further from the truth. And worse, his beliefs were entirely his own creation. At no point had his father intimated that Henry Shackleford was a man in his dotage playing at being Sherlock Holmes. Nicholas too had never given him that impression. Indeed, he’d spoken about his sisters with affectionate pride and plenty of times described his aunt as a woman who spoke her own mind and certainly didn’t suffer fools gladly.

He thought back to his father’s words. ‘These are the best people in England, remember that.’

He hadn’t. Instead, he’d spent the voyage concocting an entirely false narrative.

In truth, he’d come to Paignton because his father had asked him to. Because Nicholas wanted him, to meet his family and carry letters home.

He’d grown up listening to stories about the Shacklefords, but at some point on the way here, his mind had decided they were just that. Stories.

His desire to find Tom and bring him home was very real, but he finally acknowledged that he hadn’t really believed the Shacklefords could help him do it. After all, they weren’t real detectives.

He’d certainly not expected to actually step into a very real, very dangerous investigation. His godson’s disappearance was clearly part of a much, much bigger operation than he could ever have imagined when he stepped onboard the SS Lusitania.

Grimacing, he acknowledged his prejudice and thought back to Henry and Charlotte Shackleford’s warm welcome, and not only them, but the rest of the family – despite everything they were dealing with. His assumption that he could simply arrive in their lives, and they would drop everything to accommodate him. How bloody arrogant was that? No wonder Benedict Hartley’s initial stance had been wary.

He sat up, his heart thudding uncomfortably. Both Benedict and Rhys had done as Henry had asked. They’d spoken to him like an equal, welcoming him into the fold and showing a complete willingness to help him track down Tom. Rob gritted his teeth. It wasn’t enough that he accept their olive branch, he had to give something in return. He had to offer his unreserved help to bring the entire evil to an end.

Nodding his head, despite the darkness and the fact that no one could see him, Rob finally lay back down. There was no doubt in his mind that he had skills they could use. All he needed to do now was offer them.

Slowly his mind began to relax, right up to the point when he suddenly found himself thinking about Beatrix Shackleford, and for some reason he snapped wide awake again.

During the brief time they’d spent together, he’d found her immensely likeable and nothing like he’d imagined British women to be. He chuckled to himself, thinking back to the genteel, eager to please images of the sisters he’d held in his head. Not one of them fitted into that description, not even the least little bit. Indeed, Nicholas would be laughing his head off.

What made his assumption even more absurd was the fact that he had two siblings at home who were cut from exactly the same cloth as his father - much to his mother’s eternal frustration. Perhaps he simply harboured an unconscious belief that ladies back in the mother country would inevitably be more genteel than those brought up in the Colonies…

His mind conjured up an image of Beatrix. Perhaps she would never be described as a classic beauty, but her face was definitely pleasing to the eye, and she had a quick smile and a ready wit. Turning over onto his side, he found himself thinking that he would very much like to get to know her better and felt an unexpected tingling of anticipation that they would very soon be working together…

* * *

It was undoubtedly cramped, but all seven of them managed to squeeze into one compartment on the train to Bristol the following morning.

It was Beatrix’s first journey beyond Torquay, and despite her apprehension over what they’d find at their destination, she couldn’t help feeling a bubbling excitement as she climbed on board the train.

Wedged between Charlotte and Arabella, she found herself directly facing their Australian guest, but though he favoured her with a brief smile, there was little time for light conversation, and as soon as the train began to move, the discussion turned to their next move on reaching Pounds House.

Billy had already repeated Gladys’s advice not to take a hackney carriage and although Charlotte in particular was not enamoured at the thought sitting for half an hour or more in the depths of a cart that had likely last been cleaned in preparation for the Queen’s coronation, no one could argue with the logic.

In order to avoid an undignified scramble off the train to purchase refreshments from the refreshment rooms in Exeter station, Mrs Williams had prepared the travellers a basket containing a cold collation. Unfortunately, said basket was currently positioned on Charlotte’s knee, much to Billy’s chagrin, since the chances of him pilfering a sandwich were slim to none.

Happily, they arrived in Bristol before the boy actually died of hunger. Mostly because the adult members of the party – aside from Beatrix, naturally-expressed a disinclination to eat due to perfectly understandable anxiety. Billy, on the other hand, focused, as always, on the horrific possibility of him missing his next meal, or, God forbid, the one after that, so made sure to secret a couple of egg sandwiches in his pocket for later. Watching him, Beatrix shuddered. Much more prone to thinking ahead, she’d tucked a couple of shortbread biscuits into her reticule before they left the house…

After being instructed to lead the party to the Dog and Duck without delay, Billy naturally didn’t feel the same apprehension that had assailed him during his first visit. In fact, his whole demeanour was one of exaggerated importance as he ushered his charges out into the morning daylight.

Since only Henry and Benedict had visited Bristol previously, the leaning tower of the church opposite naturally drew everyone’s initial attention. Charlotte especially seemed almost outraged that God would allow such an eyesore without smiting… well, something.