the scholar's sweetheart 8

 

Chapter 8

 

It was fortunate for Eusebius that the next day was the day Evelyn set aside to hear local cases within his jurisdiction; or so he thought, not wanting to linger in the village lockup longer than necessary, especially as he shared the space with sundry others smelling of stale beer.

Most cases were quickly disposed of; Gaffer Selkirk, for getting drunk and urinating through the vicarage window whilst making improper suggestions in what passed for song about what Eusebius Reckitt did with lady choristers was sentenced to scrub all the vicarage floors under the eye of Anna, the maid of all work.

Theo Reckitt had taken a note of the lyrics of the Gaffer’s improbable saga for Evelyn’s and his own delectation.

“Such a fine level of scatology cannot go unrewarded so I am letting you off a fine as well,” said Evelyn to the gaffer.

“Can’t I pay a fine and be let off scrubbing?” asked the gaffer, plaintively.

“No,” said Evelyn. “Next!”

Next involved a brawl between Moelo the gypsy and Sam Scroggins, who worked in the saddler.  Evelyn sentenced them to work together to repair the cobbles they had pulled up to throw at each other, manacled together so they had to co-operate. Evelyn’s solutions to such social problems may not have been according to the statute books, but on the whole they were considered fair by those under his dominion, and few ever complained. As Evelyn’s solutions were usually more lenient than the law dictated, if more demeaning and cogent, the idea of complaining and bringing down worse judicial wrath was not considered a good idea.

It so happened that the next case to be brought was by Sir Humphrey of Little Trimmington, who usually acted as magistrate in his own district.

“Humphrey? What brings you here?” asked Evelyn.

“I have a beggar caught selling certain trinkets like a gold snuffbox, and I thought you should hear his story,” said Sir Humphrey.

“Does it have a scene with dogs on it?” asked Evelyn.

“It does,” said Sir Humphrey. “You sent a list of items stolen around various parishes, and I believe we have them all.”

“Well, that’s splendid, but how did this beggar come to have them?” asked Evelyn.

“Tell his lordship what you told me,” said Sir Humphrey, to the beggar.

“I didn’t steal nut’n,” said the beggar, sullenly. “I seen this maid in liv’ry buryin’ the geegaws under an oak tree. Nice little arse swayin’ as she done it, an’ I thought, maybe I’ll try my luck wiv her, but then I seen what she ’as, and it weren’t worf my while to cause no trouble tryin’ arter a tumble wiv ’er. So I says to mesel’, ‘Neddy,’ I says, “You stay quiet an’ out o’ sight, an’ when she goes, you can dig up them geegaws an’ prig em right an’ proper.’ So I did, s’welp me an’ no theft, but finders keepers.”

“Well, I suspect the finder’s fee will be more useful to you than what you could fence them for,” said Evelyn. “None of them is particularly valuable, but some have sentimental attachment, so you will go on your way with twenty guineas, and so, Sir Humphrey, will whoever turned them in. I am happy to pay out twice for the solving of a mystery. Mrs. Hudson?”

Mrs. Hudson had come to testify about the damage to Larkin but she had screeched and threw her apron over her face.

“Oh, sir! That little idiot, Mary Manning had earth on her apron and knee marks, and to think I thought she was involved in some lewd activity!”

“Call her in,” said Evelyn.

 

Mrs. Hudson had to virtually drag Mary in screeching that she hadn’t done nuthin’, she hadn’t, and that she was a good girl.

“Mary,” said Evelyn, “Did you bury these items? Tell me the truth.”

Mary looked at them.

“Yes, I did, to take away the taint of evil,” she said.

“Excuse me? What taint of evil?” asked Evelyn.

“Your father was a lewd man, so I had to find items of value to bury, so that the evil of his presence was lifted from the house. It wasn’t stealing, it was saving you and the mistress, and oh! Now you’ve dug them up before they translate into church plate, the evil will come back!” she sobbed.

“None of these items ever belonged to my father,” said Evelyn. “I got rid of everything that did when I took up residence. Surely you remember the great clear-out? I already removed any taint of his presence including that residing in the former Turkish salon by re-decorating. So, where did you get this idea?”

“Reverend Reckitt telled me, an’ he telled me what to do,” said Mary. “And a churchman ought to know,” she added, severely.

“Are you telling me this was the Rector’s idea?” asked Evelyn, bemused.

“Oh, no, sir, the other Reverend Reckitt, him what has city learning,” said Mary, earnestly.

“My lord, may I speak?” said Shuri, who had come to see how Evelyn ran his court.

“Certainly, Mistress Lovel,” said Evelyn, formally.

“It’s based on a gypsy trick sometimes used by the unscrupulous,” said Shuri. “Someone who wants to consult the gypsy medium on bad luck is told to bring an egg, which is palmed and exchanged for one with a chicken foetus in which has had black ink injected into the egg to dye it black. This is broken and declared to be a manifestation of bad luck. The victim is told that their savings are causing them to concentrate too much on filthy lucre, not on spiritual matters, and they are told to put it all in a box and bury it by a certain tree and not to dig it up for at least three months. Needless to say, by then, the gypsies and the money are both gone. It’s a game for the deeply credulous and superstitious.”

“I see; thank you for telling the court this,” said Evelyn. “So, Mary, you have heard that this is a trick to make you believe that stealing was a good act; what have you to say?”

Mary stared.

“But he’s a Churchman,” she said. “They aren’t allowed to lie!”

“Mary, do you believe in God and say your prayers?” asked Evelyn, gently.

“Of course, my lord,” said Mary, earnestly.

“Do you ask God to make you good?”

“Oh, yes, my lord.”

“Why do you need to do that?”

“Because I thought black thoughts about Mrs. Hudson, who thought I was doing things with a man to get my skirt muddy,” said Mary.

“What you mean, I think, is that you are a sinner?” asked Evelyn.

“Well... yes,” said Mary.

“And do you think any man or woman is above being a sinner?” asked Evelyn.

“Oh, no, my lord, only One was without sin, our Lord in heaven.”

“Then, is it so far to stretch to believe that a clergyman can also sin? Surely you have heard by now that Eusebius Reckitt showed the deadly sin of anger and in doing so, hurt poor Mr. Larkin cruelly, and tried to attack my wife?”

“Oh, my lord! I am so muddled!” sobbed Mary.

Evelyn muttered a prayer of thanks that she had managed to get far enough to be muddled, not convinced.

“Eusebius Reckitt is a sick man,” said Evelyn. “I don’t know what he thinks or believes, but it is something maybe a doctor can help with.”

“She’s lying! And there’s nothing wrong with me!” screamed Eusebius, where he was waiting to be heard. “You heard that gypsy whore declare it was a gypsy trick! They used my seeming appearance to steal!”

Evelyn got up, picked up the carafe of iced water he had on his desk, walked over to Eusebius, and poured the lot inside the front of his cassock.

“Don’t use filthy words like that about the mother of my son,” he said. He went back to sit down, ignoring the thin falsetto shriek as the ice reached down Eusebius’s body.  “Mary! Technically you stole. But I understand that you were convinced to do so,  by one who should have known better. I am going to hope that you are not a thief in the common way, but you shall not be turned off. If the other servants guard their possessions with more care and let you know it, that, I fear, is the consequence of letting another persuade you into what truly is theft.  After all, is not the silver thimble what my mother bought for my wife? And my wife’s earrings were given to her by her mother. You must realise that such things had never had anything to do with my father, even if you thought I had inherited the snuffbox. My father’s snuffbox is somewhere in the midden; I threw it onto the kitchen fire and let it melt. You see, my own superstition and anger at his cruelty and bad behaviour was much the same. But I had a right to do it, as it was then my possession. Do you understand?”

“I fink so, me lord,” said the lachrymose Mary.

“Good; you may go about your business,” said Evelyn. “Bring Eusebius Reckitt before the bench, for more crimes than I was anticipating trying him for.”

“You have no right to try me! You, a sinner, son of that black sinner who sired you! You are evil and the Lord will strike you down!” cried Eusebius.

“You know what? I don’t believe I do have the right to try you,” said Evelyn. Eusebius smirked. Evelyn went on, “Take him back to the lock-up whilst I write to the bishop. I fear you will be unfrocked for the cold-blooded and evil manipulation of an ill-educated, gullible, and unintelligent girl, who might have been turned off at best, or hanged for theft of articles worth more than five and twenty guineas at worst, which to my mind would have been murder by proxy. I have, however, the deposition of Mrs. Hudson that the girl is stupid, not dishonest. Taking advantage of such a girl is a despicable as anything my father or his cronies did, because whilst they hurt bodies, you have hurt that poor girl’s soul. But for this having come out, I had been going to fine you to pay for Larkin’s pension for five years, for his loss of his job, and pay for his nurse, and let you go on your own recognisances. But this was low.”

Eusebius gasped, and his eyes widened.

“But you would not believe that the gypsies are bad!” he cried.

“Some gypsies are bad, but you will not gain trust until you give trust,” said Evelyn. “Shuri Lovel had a father as evil as mine, and my dear bride drove her phaeton over him when he attacked her. Mine died in an accident, and good riddance to him. I have reason to hate him and his friends, so you do not have to convince me that he was evil. And it is my intent to be nothing like him, so if you have a grudge against him, continuing to hold it against me is fruitless.”

“Two of his friends stripped me, and made me do unspeakable things with them!” sobbed Eusebius. “It hurt so much, and I was humiliated, and they laughed at me, and said that if I complained, Papa would lose his living! And... and then I went to a gypsy who promised to take away sin, and he used that trick on me! And I had stolen from Papa to bring all he asked, it was just after Mama died, and oh! It was the worst year of my life, and Emilius asked me who had dragged me through a hedge backwards, and I hated him for that!”

Evelyn went forward again and took the somewhat pudgy hands of the choir master.

“Eusebius, I hear you. My father and his friends made game of me... not quite in the same way, but similar. So, I understand. I really do. But it has made you sick and you need help.  The bishop will ensure that you get help, and I will be frank with him. But I cannot do this without an ecclesiastical court.” He looked at Adam Parkin. “Take him back to the lockup. I will write to the bishop immediately.”

 

Evelyn changed his mind, and rode over to see the bishop, planning to put up in an inn overnight. He bared his own soul, about how his father had made one of his paphians make Evelyn perform for the amusement of the jaded rakes who were his friends, and how that had made him despise women, giving it as excuse for Eusebius. He had believed he had cried all the tears there were to shed for the abused and humiliated little boy, when he sobbed out the story knelt before Imogen, who held him, and miraculously still loved him; but as he told the story he sobbed again, and found himself choking out that Eusebius had been even lonelier than he had been, having just lost his mother.

“But he cannot continue as a clergyman,” he said. “He is not spiritually whole, however musical he may be. He needs an alienist and to be comfortably confined somewhere.  It was unforgiveable to involve my maid, but I think somewhere his conscience lost itself and he came to believe that the ends justified the means.”

“A dangerous path,” sighed the bishop. “Sometimes it is a shame we have no more monasteries for such people.”

“I imagine his father, his brothers, and of course, I, will contribute towards a good secure place where he may have a small organ to sooth his troubled spirit, and perhaps he may heal,” said Evelyn.

“The church will take care of it,” said the bishop. “And his savings will pay his fine for your unfortunate butler. He is paid well and is not extravagant.”

Evelyn bowed.

It was not about the money, it was about Eusebius taking responsibility for his actions.

He said so.

“And that is what the church court is for,” said the bishop. “It is not solely to punish transgressions, but to understand and draw repentance from transgressors. I will pray for you both.”

“Thank you,” said Evelyn.

“You know who has been playing tricks on him, don’t you?” said the bishop.

“I can guess,” said Evelyn. “But then, if anyone miscalled my mother, I would have done the same, so do not ask me to condemn such tricks.”

“I wonder,” said the bishop, “If any such pranks were responsible for bringing Eusebius to a point where he might be brought to realise he needs help, and to accept it. I have known for a while that his temper is... intemperate, and he has been rough with some of his charges. I do not think he likes children, but his skills are... well, there are other musical people.  He must be unfrocked, of course, but we take care of our own when they need us.”

Evelyn returned home, comforted, and went to see Eusebius in the lock-up on his way home.

“Be frank with the ecclesiastical court, and be ready to work with them,” he said.

Eusebius was back to his truculent self.

“Go to hell,” he said.

“Do try not to be an idiot for once,” said Evelyn. “And let your prayers guide you.”

“Get out, filth,” spat Eusebius.

Evelyn shrugged.

He had tried.

Perhaps the bishop could make a breakthrough to build on what had come out; perhaps Eusebius might find help.

Evelyn sighed.

Perhaps the resentments, which had become resentment for its own sake, the causes long forgotten or suppressed, would be healed. Or perhaps not.

Still, miracles did occur.

 

 

the scholar's sweetheart 7

 sorry all, I was up late writing

Chapter 7

 

Larkin shuffled to the door to open it. Eusebius, impatient, shoved the door hard, and Larkin fell with a cry.

Imogen, coming out to see what the noise was about, picked up one of the chairs in the vestibule and hit Eusebius over the head with it, felling him under her fury, and breaking the spindly French chair.

 “Larkin!” she cried. “What has that wicked man done?”  she raised her voice. “Help! Help! Assault and battery! A defenceless woman in danger!”

George had already come running.

 

In the schoolroom, Cornelius barked, “SIT down!” to his charges. “There are adequate men to help and before God, Jasper, whatever you and Evergreen did to Eusebius, let us not compound it.”

“Us, sir?” said Jasper. “Or do I mean ‘We?’”

“You,” said Cornelius. “I heard you preparing to plot and decided that I did not want to know. I still don’t want to know, so pipe down, and sit down, and get back to work. Your ma is more than equal to handling Eusebius and your pa will be there presently.”

His charges shuffled, but got back to work.

 

George advanced on Eusebius, who untangled himself from the chair, got up, and came at George fists flying. George put up his fists in the approved manner to deflect blows primarily.

“You can leave him to me, George,” said Evelyn. “I saw him charge my wife and attempt to endanger my succession, and as she is tending to Larkin, I can only assume a case of actual bodily harm.”

Eusebius backed off, holding up his palms to fend off a vengeful young sportsman who took pugilism seriously enough to be able to take on a local champion, if not a pet of the fancy.

“Don’t hurt me, my lord!” he cried. “I have no quarrel with you, only with my brother, who has done something monstrous!”

“You’re a bloody liar,” said Evelyn. “I know exactly where Cornelius has been all day, save for the ten minutes or so he was visiting your esteemed father, and by the time he had walked to the church and back, he would not have had time to do anything, monstrous or otherwise, even if I believed such aky-fi nonsense!” He glanced over at Imogen. “Is Larkin badly hurt, my love?”

“His leg is broken,” said Imogen. “And I’m not sure it will ever heal fully. You’ll have to provide him with a male nurse.”

“As magistrate, I order that this fellow will pay for it,” said Evelyn, in a low, angry voice.

“I did not mean to hurt your servant!” squealed Eusebius.

“Nevertheless, you did hurt him,” said Evelyn, in the soft, dangerous tone which made Eusebius’s bowels turn to water. “And I saw you advancing on my wife with your hands outstretched. I can only assume you meant her harm.”

“I... I did not see who it was! I did not mean to be denied seeing my brother to remonstrate!” squealed Eusebius.

At that moment, the rector almost fell in the open door.

“Dear God! What has happened?” he panted.

“Your son attacked my butler, and gave him an injury which could be life-threatening, and will certainly curtail his career,” said Evelyn, his voice steady and cold. “And then he advanced in a threatening way upon my wife, who had the presence of mind to seize a chair to fend him off, as one does with a wild animal, and which his violence has broken apart. I am not a fan of Louis Quinze furniture but even so, it seems an intemperate level of artistic criticism.”

Eusebius opened his mouth to say that the marchioness had smashed the chair on him, and shut it again. He had a horrible feeling that he would not be believed.

“Ladies underwear! Corsetry!” he sobbed. “He sent me the sort of things whores wear! I... I... he insulted me in the worst possible way!”

“Eusebius received a parcel from a shop, which had a receipt with it, signed for in what looked like his own writing,” said Augustus Reckitt. “It contained certain items usually only worn by women, and rather... sketchy and.... frilly. It spilled over when Eusebius opened it.”

“Diw! Well, if you did not want people to see it, why did you not open it when you were alone?” asked Evelyn, who detected his son’s hand in this, having seen the boy set off into town the day before. Jasper would never forgive any man who had bestowed such names as Eusebius Reckitt had done upon his mother.

“I did not send for it!” yammered Eusebius.

“My poor son’s mind has been slipping,” said Augustus, apologetically. “He... he imagined that the organ sounded bad, and he sees things... he saw a goat in his room which was not there...”

“It was there! And the organ made horrible noises!” yelled Eusebius. “Only my brother could have the knowledge to do that, and to dismantle the damage! He was the author of making me look a fool with the dancing dogs!”

“A gentle rebuke to teach you not to be such a sanctimonious fool,” said Evelyn. “But even if Cornelius had sent you underwear of an inappropriate nature, that does not give you the right to barge into my house, half killing my butler, and trying to drive my wife to miscarry my putative heir. If I chose to pursue that to the full rigour of the law, sirrah, you could be hanged!”

Eusebius paled.

“I... I had no intent....”

“And yet, you barged violently into my house where it might be supposed that a gently-reared lady, recently married, might be in a delicate condition, and possibly subject to damaging hysterics even if not attacked in her own vestibule,” said Evelyn.

“I told you, I did not even realise who she was!” yapped Eusebius.

“Well, who do you think would be here, the Queen of Sheba?” barked Evelyn.

In truth, Eusebius had been so blinded by rage that he could not have told if Imogen was male or female, or what she was wearing.

“I... I thought she was a servant sent to stop me,” he muttered.

“Diw! I do not think many servants wear a round gown of lavender lutestring trimmed with blonde lace and beaded on the bodice,” said Evelyn. “Overdressed, my lady, for a morning gown?”

“New evening gown which I was trying on when I heard Larkin cry out, and ran out to see what was wrong, and that fellow advanced on me, hands held out as if he meant to grab me and do who knows what,” said Imogen. “So I picked up a chair to discourage him and screamed, and George came, and you came.”

“And even if you had been a servant, dear God! A man supposedly of the cloth assaulting one of my maidservants? It’s beyond belief!” said Evelyn.

Eusebius sat down heavily on the floor and began sobbing.

“George,” said Evelyn, “Have a couple of grooms put him in the village lockup overnight. I’ll hold court tomorrow.”

“Is... is that really necessary?” asked the rector. Evelyn rounded on him.

“He hass broken the leg of an old man, whateffer, and you know how often such things turn to pneumonia and brings on death!  If Larkin dies inside a year and a day, I will have him before the Salisbury assizes for murder, look you, and also if my lady miscarries! Yess, it is necessary!” He hissed his s’s as his Welsh accent intensified. “He needs to realise that actions have consequences!”

“I... I believe that he has lost all ability to reason,” said the rector, mopping his brow.

“I will hear that given in excuse for his actions, but how would you take it if I charged into your house, knocking over your man of all work and advancing on your maid as if I planned to tear her limb from limb?” growled Evelyn.

“I... quite so, my lord, I understand,” said Reckitt, bowing his head. “I will pray for him.”

“He will need much,” said Evelyn, grimly. 

“May I talk to Cornelius?” asked the rector, as two burly grooms dragged Eusebius away.

“No, you may not!” said Evelyn.  “He is my employee and he is currently in the schoolroom undertaking lessons to my son and some of his friends. In half an hour they will come down to breakfast, and if you were not in the habit of sending peremptory notes to my employee summoning him when he is about his work, I would invite you to join us all at breakfast, but as it is, if he has time to come and speak to you after he has broken his fast and before lessons resume, then he may do so, but I doubt he will have time. I consider that your pandering to your firstborn – yes, I remember growing up with his cruelty to Corny and his attempts to get me into trouble with my father – has made his behaviour worse. It is a shame that you were blinkered in assuming that one son could not lie and that the rest were inveterate liars, otherwise a good judicial spanking applied at a more impressionable age might have cured Eusebius of his holier-than-thou sanctimony, bearing of false witness, and cruel glee at getting others into trouble.”

The rector bent his head.

“A just rebuke, my lord,” he said, softly. He left the house quietly.

 

The gong went for breakfast, and the schoolroom party trooped down, agog to find out what had happened. Imogen had splinted Larkin’s leg as best she might, and he was being carried to the butler’s pantry.

“What has happened?” cried Jasper, horrified.

“That fellow, Eusebius, pushed Larkin over in barging in the door and broke his leg,” said Imogen, grimly. “So, was it you who sent underwear to him?”

Jasper was staring at Larkin in horror.

He turned to Evelyn.

“Sir, will you whip me now, or defer punishment until later?” he asked. “I sent the underwear. I thought it would be funny.”

“Well, son, at least you have the good sense and firm moral compass to recognise that actions have consequences,” said Evelyn. “I’m not going to whip you, but you will spend every spare moment, until I can get a nurse, in caring for Larkin, waiting on him, settling him upon the utensil when he needs it, and giving him laudanum at need, sleeping on a truckle bed in his room. I think the amount of pain he is in will do more to remind you of consequences than bearing pain yourself.”

Jasper went white, and bowed.

“Yes, pa,” he whispered.

“Your friends will continue with their lessons, and Cornelius will set you work to complete whilst you sit with Larkin,” said Evelyn. “Now go to breakfast.”

 

Evelyn intended to drive into Salisbury to seek a nurse, perhaps an old sailor, as soon as breakfast was over; but a couple of days having to see the old man’s pain would impress on Jasper the law of unintended consequences, and would drive the point home.

Of course, it was more the fault of Eusebius than Jasper, both in his extreme reaction and in his violence of entry to the hall, but that was something to discuss with Jasper after punishment, about reading the reaction of someone being pranked. Jasper did not know that it was rumoured that Eusebius held alternative preferences, and as such, the sending of female undergarments was a little more pointed than just a laugh over him being shocked that such things existed.

“Underwear?” said Cornelius to Evelyn.

“My son has a rather individualistic sense of humour, but I am certain he was mocking Eusebius for getting uptight about relationships between men and women, not for having... feelings best not spoken about,” said Evelyn. “He’s a good lad, and would not torment someone for being different.”

“I agree,” said Cornelius. “I’d give a monkey to have seen Seeby’s face, though.”

“Me too,” said Evelyn. “But then, I think of poor Larkin.”

“Seeby has never thought of others when he lashes out in anger,” said Cornelius. “I remember once when I said something that angered him, and he pushed me down the stairs, and I knocked into the maid, and her arm was badly scalded by the pot of hot tea she was carrying.  I was blamed, of course, for larking about on the stairs, according to Eusebius’s word to papa. The maid knew, and when she healed, she did her best to shield me, but she was too badly hurt to tell papa what had really happened.”

“You know, though I suspect Jasper of being the author of his other vicissitudes, I cannot bring myself to stop your father having him confined as a lunatic,” said Evelyn. “Set Jasper some work so he can sit with Larkin.”

“Yes, I will,” said Cornelius. “Well, the other three will have to put up with doing their chores without his aid, which is how I acquired their attendance.”

“I’m sure Phebe will help out,” said Evelyn. “As she won’t be able to play with Jasper for a couple of days.”

“If they get on well enough, I’ll have her in the class as well,” said Cornelius. “I have no doubt she’s ahead of the others.”

“Yes, but only if they don’t resent her,” said Evelyn.

He called for his gig to be prepared, and laid a hand on Jasper’s shoulder in approval as Jasper organised a truckle bed to be erected in the butler’s pantry.

 

the scholar's sweetheart 6

 good morning lovelies all!  I am coming close to wrapping this, it's going to turn up short but I suspect I have plenty in the earlier chapters that I brushed through to get the ideas down and will take a rewrite. 

 

Chapter 6

 

Cornelius walked into his father’s study.

“Now, Papa, what was that rather snippy note about?” he asked. “I have no patience with anything Eusebius does; I acknowledge that he has to have somewhere to stay, but I really have no desire to have anything to do with him. He has consistently tried to destroy me in your eyes ever since I was five years old and did not know that the apples hanging over our wall did not belong to you – which, by the way, according to common law they do – and he got you to whip me for picking one and eating it. I did not even understand why you whipped me, and when you asked if I understood, and I said, ‘No,’ you shook your head and said I was lost to all shame and would need more of a whipping. I hated you for a long time until Eusebius let slip that it was he who had told you I was a thief.”

“Wait a moment – it was an apple hanging over on our side?” gasped his father. “Why, Eusebius only told me that you had taken an apple from the marquis’s orchards, and I was terrified that he would have you hanged for theft, because the old marquis was like that. And use it to throw me out of my living for raising a family who thieved. Why did you not tell me it was on our side of the wall?”

“I didn’t see there was much point as you had already tried and convicted me and had your cane out ready for execution,” said Cornelius, bitterly. “I later suspected that Eusebius had not told the whole truth; it’s in keeping with the way he always kept all of us down. It’s why Emilius was so keen to join the army, where you only get punished for things you do wrong. As next brother down, he took the brunt of Eusebius’s manufactured sins, which is why he fled to be a drummer boy at thirteen.”

“Dear God! I had no idea how much I had failed you all, since your sainted mother died.”

“At least I remember her, so I could put aside the belief that my birth killed her, which Eusebius tried to tell me, saying that I was born a murderer.”

“There was a child after you, which died at birth, and she never got over it,” said Augustus, sadly. “I... if Eusebius conflated you with that child, he may have resented losing his mother....”

“He did his best to get Emilius into trouble before she died, but she often managed to intervene,” said Cornelius. “When she died, we had no more protection from your wrath, and learned to avoid both you and Eusebius.”

Augustus Reckitt fell to his knees before his youngest son, and wept.

“And I did not notice his instability, and growing insanity,” he sobbed. “Cornelius, forgive me for thinking for even one minute that you might have done something to interfere with the organ, or introduce, and then smuggle out, a goat in his room.”

“Papa! I would not touch your organ!” said Cornelius. “Is it damaged? I will beg Imogen to have it repaired....”

“There is nothing wrong with the organ, my son,” said Augustus. “I am inclined to think that Eusebius imagined it all, and caused the mayhem in his own room and then blamed it on a goat. Why a goat, I cannot guess.”

“I don’t say I would not have introduced a goat into his room if I had only thought of it,” said Cornelius, whose thoughts turned to the fact that Jasper had been late to his lessons, and had been remarkably douce over the intricacies of trigonometry. Jasper was perfectly capable of non-damaging interference with the organ, and the idea of a goat was quite likely to occur to him.

“But plainly, you did not,” said Augustus. “And I am coming to the conclusion that in the troubled mind of Eusebius, he has been put upon and targeted and his tendency to blame you is more blatant.  I did not believe for more than the briefest moment that you could have had anything to do with the aberrant plaints of your brother, which as Adam declares he could hear no difference to the organ appear to me to be manufactured in a sick mind, which sees and hears things which are not real. I could believe that the mayhem in his room was caused by him throwing things at a goat only he could see. It... it is the most charitable way to interpret his outpourings.”

“If that is the case, Papa, we need to have him confined. He has already brought trouble on the family by involving outsiders regarding those dancing dogs,” said Cornelius.  “And though that was my fault in encouraging  Jasper in talking about ‘the girls,’ and ‘dancing’ in such a way as to make Eusebius’s overly-prurient mind fixate upon his imagination of what could be going on, I am not sorry, and you cannot blame Jasper, who is too young to understand more than that a man is trying to make trouble for the mother he loves dearly, and that he wants to stop him by shaming him.”

“Indeed, the boy is the embodiment of the second commandment, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’ for it would be easy for a boy accepted by his natural father and his stepmother to pretend distance from a mother of whom some would be ashamed,” said Augustus. “I am only sorry that you felt you had to play such a prank on Eusebius without thinking it through; though nobody might have guessed that he would involve outsiders. I fear it may have damaged his fragile sanity, but I... I cannot blame you. And I am sorry to confess that I, too, laughed. You were, I am sure, much wroth on behalf of the woman you admire, and so too would Jasper have been.”

Cornelius did not have to say that Eusebius would certainly have distanced himself had Shuri been his mother.

“I am worried about how much damage Eusebius could cause, with the fragile peace between the gypsies and the villagers; and how much he might upset Jasper and irritate Evelyn,” said Cornelius. “But I don’t want to say much because I don’t like Eusebius and I am biased against him.”

“Your willingness to admit that does you credit,” said Augustus. “I confess, I am in a quandary. I do not think that it does him any good being under the pressure of his job training the choir, but he is not happy here. Indeed, I cannot think he would be happy anywhere,” sighed the rector. “Perhaps if I can scrape up enough to afford a secure dwelling, with a keeper, a small organ, and a library...”

“I will help all I can; if Shuri accepts my suit, she will accept that I must help you as I am the one with the most highly-paying job, save for Eusebius himself, and he would lose that.”

“My dear boy! I was not asking for help.”

“Papa, if it is a sickness of the mind which makes Eusebius behave so intolerably, it is a way I can reach out, whilst still disliking him profoundly. If there is any cure, I will try to be a good brother to him as well, but it will be hard.”

“Indeed, it is along the lines of hating the sin but loving the sinner, which can be hard,” sighed his father. “Let me see if I can find any alienist who would come and examine him.”

 

Cornelius was returning to the hall when he heard Jasper’s voice in earnest discussion with another.

“No, Evergreen, we can’t put dead fish all over the rectory, it isn’t fair on the Reverend, who’s a good sort. And even if we only put them in Unseelie Seeby’s room, the smell will travel. We need personal sort of tricks.”

Cornelius debated listening; interrupting; making suggestions; and having passed through this gamut of choices, walked on, deciding he did not need to know.

How much trouble could two young boys cause, after all? Even a precocious and imaginative  youth like Jasper.

He had forgotten that Jasper also had a generous allowance.

Cornelius did divert his steps to visit Woodlock as an idea was evolving in his thoughts.

“Your young brother is as thick as thieves with Jasper,” said Cornelius.

“‘As thieves?’ should I resent that phrase, brother?”

Cornelius flushed.

“It was just a figure of speech; and if you think about it, my brother, I would not use it if I felt they were out burgling.”

Woodlock considered, and nodded.

“Aye, I take your point. They have grown up together. Jasper has passed on some of his book learning which has had its uses.”

“That you are open to the uses makes me feel easier in what I was going to suggest; that Evergreen should come to the hall in the mornings to do lessons with Jasper.”

“What, neglect his chores? Other children will resent that.”

“Oh! No, not at all. And Jasper is welcome to help him do such chores as he has on top of his schoolwork, and then both of them will have less free time to get into trouble.”

Woodlock began laughing, and doubled up from mirth, slapping his knees.

“Oh, I do like you, my brother!  Evergreen has the sense to accept any learning he can get, and enough lively fear of consequences not to shirk chores, and Jasper has the sense of fairness to help him. I like it, I like it a lot.”

“That’s settled then; I’ll see Evergreen at the hall at eight for the first lessons before breakfast, for which of course he will join us.”

“I like that it is ‘of course,’” said Woodlock. “Free with her ladyship’s dowry, ain’t you?”

“She’d do anything for Jasper,” said Cornelius. “Or Phebe, for that matter.”

“Well, I am sure he won’t mind a meal with his betters,” said Woodlock. “And the gentry, they say, have meat with their breakfast every day, so he’ll grow better and stronger, which makes me happy. Whichever of us marries Shuri, Evergreen is likely to be chief one day, and any advantage he can have, I’ll take.”

“I won’t argue if you send any of your sisters or other youths who hanker for book-learning,” said Cornelius. “Teaching one or teaching half a dozen, it’s all one for me.”

“Then you might get Hesilla and Silas, but I doubt you’ll see more. Silas has one leg shorter than the other, so he needs an advantage. He’s one o’ Fowk’s get, see, and Fowk knocked him down when he weren’t hardly walking for some reason.  My sister, Hesilla, she’s a wild one and sticks by Evergreen.”

“How old are they?”

“Silas is fourteen, and so’s Hesilla. But they ain’t no more’n barely literate.”

“I can work with that,” said Cornelius. He fished in his pocket for a few coins. “Here; take Silas to the cobbler and see if having a built up heel helps him; he can pay me off with doing odd jobs.”

“Put it away; I’ll do it myself. I shoulda thought on it myself,” said Woodlock.

“Good, if you can do it, do,” said Cornelius.

“Same as curing splints in young horses; and a fine one I am not to have thought of it before,” said Woodlock, in chagrin.

“You’re used to the problem and I doubt Fowk would have let you intervene before,” said Cornelius.

“Huh. Well, I reckon you’re right there,” said Woodlock.

 

Cornelius stopped by to make his greetings to Shuri, and did not dally too long, but returned to the hall without any expectation of seeing much of Jasper that afternoon. Jasper returned in riding clothes in time to change for tea, with a quiet air of satisfaction which left Cornelius filled with a degree of trepidation, but he put it aside. How much trouble could Jasper get into on a ride?

Had he known that Jasper had ridden into town with money in his pocket, which was no longer full on his return, he might have asked questions. But it did not occur to him to do so.

 

 

Silas and Hesilla were a little overawed when Greenwood brought them the next morning; Greenwood was cocky, but it plainly covered nervousness.

“It’s good to meet you all,” said Cornelius. “I’d like to see how much you know, and I’ve written out a test on the board.  And yes, there is one trick question in there, which I hope you will all get.”

He had written out five sentences which were incorrect and the correct alternative, to copy which was correct, and had included ‘Yolks of eggs are white,’ or Yolk of egg is white.’

Greenwood read through the phrases and burst into laughter.

“I found the trick one,” he said.

It took the older two, who plainly did not read as fluently, a little longer, but they all had a laugh, which broke the ice.

“I don’t know when you have Jasper and I and Jasper and me, and I don’t suppose Hessi and Silas do, so we can say right off we don’t know that,” said Greenwood.

“They didn’t teach me that at school, look you; Imogen told me,” said Jasper.

“Well, for a bit of revision, can you explain it?” said Cornelius.

“No, but I can tell them the trick of how to do it,” said Jasper. “What you do is to take off the ‘and whoever’ and put back the sentence to see if ‘I’ or ‘me’ sounds more betterer... er, more correct,” he amended. “So, ‘Greenwood and me went to the village,’ is wrong when you make it ‘me went to the village.’ It has something to do with subject and object.”

“Correct,” said Cornelius.  “A word is the subject of the sentence if it is doing something; the object if something is happening to it.  ‘I’ or ‘We’ are subject, ‘we’ for the plural, and ‘me’ or ‘us’ for the object. In English, we don’t generally change the ending or form of a word for subject and object, and the personal pronouns are basically the only ones which we still use. So, I or We do something, but something happens to me or us.”

“Oh!” said Greenwood. “So, he or she go or do something, and things happen to him and her. Or they do, it’s done to them.”

“Well done; you have it precisely,” said Cornelius.

“That makes a big difference in sounding educated when speaking,” said Hesilla. “And so, the way people treat you from the first.”

“Exactly,” said Cornelius. “Jasper, what is so fascinating out of the window?”

“Oh, just wondering if the post had come, sir,” said Jasper.

“Well, even if it has, anything for you will wait for you,” said Cornelius. “Sit still, and stop peering.”

“Yessir, sorry sir,” said Jasper.

The youngsters settled down to work, Jasper given a Latin translation whilst Cornelius reviewed the grammatical knowledge of the others. He set them a composition on the most influential person in their lives, and summoned Jasper to show his work whilst the gypsy children wrestled with writing their thoughts to paper.

“I do know the difference between wanting and flying, but I’m not sure it makes sense, ‘the fish are flying by the ships,” said Jasper. “And I don’t know why they might be willing, willing for what? To be caught? But it’s confusing me if I was wrong about flying.”

“You are right, it is ‘volans,’ ‘flying,’ because some exotic fish leap out of the water, and their fins are adapted to glide rather than actually flying. Sailors have described them frequently, and are enchanted by them.”

“Diw! I should say,” said Jasper.

The lesson was disturbed by a tremendous hammering on the front door, and Eusebius’s voice raised and incoherent.