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.

 

 

the scholar's sweetheart 5

 

Chapter 5

 

The search of the servants’ rooms and belongings yielded nothing, including checks up the chimneys, and out of the windows, lest anything was dangled on a thread, a trick Jasper knew. The servants all waited downstairs whilst George and Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, undertook the search, Larkin being too old for such things. Larkin was essentially a pensioner already, and Evelyn advanced George the difference in pay in cash.

Mary was found to have an apron dirty with mud, the mark of her knees pressing into earth quite apparent, on an apron discarded in her room and not sent to the laundry.

“And if you got muck on your apron from kneeling, knowing that you smuggle periodicals into church to read, I don’t think you were praying,” scolded Mrs. Hudson. “If you were one of the kitchen girls, you might have been careless gathering herbs from the kitchen garden, for the gardeners gather the flowers to be brought in to be arranged, and I can only think of one reason why a girl might kneel in the dirt!”

“Oh, and what’s that, Mrs. Hudson?” asked Mary.

“Don’t you act the innocent to me, miss! Whether it was a groom, one o’ them gyppos, or a gentleman, you’ve been into a man’s trouser fall to give him pleasure with your mouth, and it doesn’t do your reputation any good, even if you ain’t sleeping with him.”

“I never did!” cried Mary, in lively horror.

“I saw you slipping out before these thefts began; aye, and you met up with some gentleman in the lane, because you were seen. Still, I suppose it’s better than biting the hand that feeds you by stealing.”

Mary sobbed.

“You are unfair!” she cried.

“Well, then, how else did you soil your apron so?” demanded Mrs. Hudson.  Mary could give no reasonable answer.

She scowled sullenly when Mrs. Hudson docked her pay and made a note of it for leaving dirty linen in her room with no good reason.

“And I’ll leave off a note about your lewdness in the hopes you’ll change your ways,” said Mrs. Hudson.

 

oOoOo

 

“I can’t help wondering if Eusebius Reckitt is behind it, look you,” said Jasper, to his crony, Evergreen, who was Woodlock’s younger brother.

“Gentlemen don’t filch things,” scoffed Evergreen.

“N....no, but suppose something he said put someone in mind that it would be good to get the gypsies blamed?” said Jasper. “I didn’t mean he’d been in the house and done it, whateffer.”

“You make me laugh, picking up on that Welsh accent.”

“Diw! My grandmother iss Welsh, and she accepted me without argument,” said Jasper. “And it is a pretty accent.”

“Well! You aren’t laying out a case against that old grundiguts for nothing,” said Evergreen.

“No, and I wondered if you were up for japing him just for the sport of it, because he is a nasty fellow, and upsets my tutor and used to get him into trouble for the fun of it when they were growing up,” said Jasper.

Evergreen brightened.

“What had you in mind?” he asked.

Jasper spoke for several minutes, and Evergreen had to hold his sides with laughing.

 

oOoOo

 

Eusebius Reckitt was fond of playing the church organ in the mornings to start the day well. It has to be said that this was less to make a joyful noise unto the Lord than to make a pompous noise unto the glory of Eusebius Reckitt.

He was put out to find that certain drones were playing continuously whilst he tried to play, and that the notes of the middle octave were afflicted with a certain level of vibrato which Bach had never indicated in any of his scores. As Bach was Eusebius’s favourite composer, whose works tended to the minor keys, and the drones were in major key combinations, the sound was not so much otherworldly as like nothing on earth.

Eusebius discovered that the drone effect had been achieved by the jamming of folded paper down the keys to hold them down, and removed these unwanted adjuncts. But nothing could stop the vibrato, including lower c which positively farted. Eusebius slammed out of the church in a temper, cuffing the boy who pumped the organ and conveniently forgetting to pay him. The boy went to complain to the vicar that Mr. Eusebius hadn’t paid him for his attempts to make the organ sound like a donkey braying and breaking wind both at once, and accepted a groat from the Reverend Reckitt, and fled as he heard the sounds of intemperate rage in the voice of Eusebius, who was shown to know some very naughty and unecclesiastical language.

The reason for this unholy outbreak of temper was the mayhem wrought in Eusebius’s room by Honeysuckle, a nanny goat belonging to the Widow Hodges, who did the vicar’s laundry, but who confined Honeysuckle when linen was laid out on hedges to dry, since Honeysuckle’s culinary tastes were ecumenical, and sun-dried undergarments seemed to her to be a delectable treat. Being offered a room in which such dainties were to be found in a basket, as well as a bunch of flowers in a vase was, to her, a high treat.  Evergreen had procured her whilst Jasper was doctoring the organ, and the boys kept cave for each other in getting her upstairs and into the correct room.

Then they jumped out of the window as the stumping of Eusebius’s feet was heard coming in from the church, landing into a roll on soft grass.

“Now I must go and sort out the organ so it sounds good again,” said Jasper, who had used tape as an addition to the flaps allowing the air into the pipes to effect the vibrato.

Eusebius stormed down the stairs complaining about the goat. Honeysuckle followed him, in the hopes of something more appetising, and came upon the vicarage maid, who was used to the goat, and took her home by the expedient of walking ahead of the creature with a posy of dandelions. Thus, by the time the rector had unravelled what Eusebius was complaining about there was no goat, only mayhem. The open window had carried away any smell of goat; and as the youthful Eusebius in a temper had been known to throw things about, his father made mild tutting noises, and recommended tidying up.

“You aren’t taking it seriously, father!” cried Eusebius. “I wager Cornelius had something to do with it, and with spoiling the organ.”

“Cornelius would not harm the organ; he knows how much it means to me,” said Augustus Reckitt. “Are you sure it is spoilt? That’s a serious accusation.”

“It made weird noises!” cried Eusebius. “Someone had set up a drone by jamming it with paper, and it was vibrating!”

“Show me,” said the rector.

Eusebius strode over to the church, pursing his lips as his father waved him to the bellows. Augustus Reckitt was every bit as musical as his son, but preferred the pastoral care of the souls in a village to the dubious honour of training a choir in a city. He sat down, and played Bach’s little fugue, with great speed and verve, impressing Jasper, who had shot up the organ pipes and was hiding behind them to avoid being caught. Greenwood had returned to complete the chores he was neglecting for the pleasure of pranking Eusebius, bribing his next sister up, Hesilla, to cover for him and swear he had not left the camp if anyone asked.

“I can see nothing wrong with this organ,” said the rector.

“It... it was farting!” said Eusebius. “And all the paper jammed in...” he tailed off; the paper he had pulled out of the jammed drone was gone.

This was because it was in Jasper’s pocket, both to spook Eusebius, and because scrap paper always came in useful.

“Eusebius, my boy,” the rector’s voice was soothing. “You really do need a repairing lease. You are overwrought and imagining things.”

“I did not imagine it! Ask the boy who pumps! And what do you think happened in my room?”

“I will ask him,” said the rector.  “As to your room, I do recall the incident when you were thirteen....”

Eusebius flushed. “I... I don’t know what came over me then, but this was done by a goat! I saw it!”

“To be sure, to be sure,” said the rector. “I fancy even village life must be too much for you. I shall see about renting a quiet messuage, and a kindly housekeeper to look after you.”

“Are you suggesting that I am deranged or something?” demanded Eusebius.

“It is the kindly interpretation of your bad behaviour, and odd assertions, which seem all of a piece with your accusations against the gypsy tribe, and your misinterpretation of the dancing dogs,” said Augustus Reckitt, putting an arm about his son’s shoulders.

The arm was thrown off with a rough shrug, and the rector’s lips tightened.

“You are behaving very oddly, Eusebius,” he said. “Now, I shall help you straighten out your room, and I suggest you go back to bed, and I will send up your meals on a tray.”

Eusebius was shaken; his father did not believe the terrible things that had been done to him! He was almost ready to welcome a day in bed, being pampered.

Jasper, meanwhile, came down from his perch, and made his way back, by circuitous route, to where he was supposed to be, or at least, one of the places he might be expected to be, currying the horses and speaking to them in an odd patois of Rom, Welsh, and English. He hugged himself in glee that the rector was questioning the sanity of Eusebius. It was a cruel thing to do to a man, but Jasper was very fond of Cornelius, who had never belittled him for being a gypsy, who admitted when he did not know something, who did not talk down to or condescend to his young charge, and who, moreover, might be about to become a second father in the way Jasper had never seen Woodlock, who was more by way of being an uncle to him.

 

Meanwhile, the rector called on Adam, the boy of all work, who also pumped the organ. Adam was an orphan, and Reckitt had taken him in as a servant rather than have him put on the parish. Adam worked diligently, if given orders, but could not be described as clever.

“Tell me, Adam, did the organ make odd noises?” he asked the boy.

“Ar,” agreed Adam. “Ain’t it s’posed to?”

“Not really, no,” said Reckitt. “In what way were the noises odd?”

Adam stared at him, mouth half open.

“Well, it made noises like it allus do,” he said. “I pump un, an’ whoever sits at it attacks it with hands an’ feet, an’ it groans like a cow.”

“Are you saying you noticed nothing different when Mr. Eusebius played this morning to how it usually sounds?”

Adam considered.

“Naow, not really,” he said. Adam was tone deaf, and did not care for the sound of the organ, but he was paid extra for pumping it, and was saving his groats to buy land with one day.

 

Adam was sent for Cornelius, who had just run Jasper to earth over the lessons he was truanting from.

“Diw! The village scholars have a holiday, I thought I had one, too,” said Jasper, with shameless mendacity.

“The arrangement was, every weekday morning until you caught up,” said Cornelius. “I know; it’s a glorious day. We could take your books into the paddock if you liked.”

“That would be famous!” said Jasper.

At this point, Adam turned up.

“If you please, Mr. Cornelius, the rector wants to speak to you,” said Adam.

Cornelius made an exasperated noise.

“Please inform my father that I do have a paid job here, in preparing Mr. Jasper for continued education and that I am not available to dance attendance on him at all hours over whatever Eusebius is imagining I have done this time... I will write a note for you,” he added, seeing Adam’s slack jawed incomprehension.

He had brought Jasper’s books down, with thoughts of a bribe of working outside, and shuffled them as if he could conjure paper.

Jasper produced one of his pieces of scrap for him.

“Ah, thank you,” said Cornelius. His note was brief and pithy, and a more or less direct expression of his exasperated words, with the addition that he would be free after nuncheon and would attend upon his father then.

It was still early enough in the morning that the rector would have to kick his heels for a few hours, since Jasper was only half an hour behind his lesson schedule, and Cornelius had, in any case, been occupied with the accounting of payment in kind for the work of several of the gypsies in clearing and cutting dead wood in the coverts.  The old marquis had seriously neglected the place, and frankly, the gypsies were a boon, as they would work for kind, saving Imogen’s money, as providing food and a proportion of the wood cut was relatively easy. Not that Imogen minded paying and investing in the estate, but Cornelius knew how Evelyn hated relying on her money.

The rector received the note, and blushed with shame that he had disturbed his son at the important job of schooling the marquis’s son, who may not be the heir, but was plainly a much loved son of the household, by marquis and marchioness alike. He frowned a little over the phrase ‘Whatever Eusebius imagines me to have been doing now,’ wondering if this implicated Cornelius in somehow causing Eusebius to think that the organ had developed problems; certainly Cornelius had the knowledge to jam notes to make a drone. Then his conscience smote him; he had always taken Eusebius’s word over that of his younger sons, and it appeared that he had been wrong to do so.  And for a younger son, cast always as the villain of minor vicissitudes, perceived or real, it must be very trying to deal with.

 

the scholar's sweetheart 4

 

Chapter 4

 

Clearing up after the fete was, as these things always are, monotonous and depressing. The food, apart from any which had been dropped and trampled, had gone. The decision to provide cut bread as plates, in the medieval fashion, had worked well, especially with hog roast.  Some had been dropped, and those that had not been picked up by the gypsy children to take home had been devoured by local dogs. Shuri and Woodlock bore a hand in seeing things taken down, and stowed where needed, and Woodlock took drunken gypsies from the loose box they had been stowed in, whilst Adam Parkin, the village constable, bore off the rest. There appeared to have been a brawl between village and tribe, but honours looked to be even, so Cornelius shrugged.

“It’s entertainment for both sides I haven’t had to organise,” he said.

Parkin gave a rather creaky laugh.

“Now that’s philosophy, Mr. Corny,” he said. “Be it true your oldest brother tried to make trouble?”

“Yes, but I’m trying to keep it quiet,” said Cornelius.

“Mr. Theo is hot angry about it,” said Parkin. “Almost came roaring up to the rectory to take a swing at Mr. Seeby.”

“He’d better not; what an example for his pupils!” said Cornelius.  The brother closest to him in age, Theophilus, ran a village school for the cleverer boys, and the odd girl, ready to move on from Mother Parkin, Adam’s wife, who ran a dame school. The village sent several of its youngsters every year into the artillery regiment, where Emilius, the brother between Eusebius and Theophilus, was a lieutenant, as well as a few lads who went to sea. As promotion was on merit in both, they did well for the extra education.

 

 

Eusebius had every intention of hoping that all would be forgotten if he lay low and said little; and perhaps he might have lived it down, and caused no more upset had not Theophilus come up to the rectory on the following Saturday, to see both his father, and say his piece.

“See here, Seeby,” said Theo, “You might get pleasure out of being a canting hypocrite and a spoilsport of all kinds, but it won’t do, it won’t do at all. It reflects on Papa, for one thing, as well as on me, in a responsibility as village dominie, and on Corny and hence his lordship.  Now I don’t know how you get away with setting a bad example for your choir boys, but I won’t have you doing so for the village lads. I’ve just broken one of them of the bad habit of being a tattle-tale, and then what does my own brother do, but tell tales, and not just tales but wild conjectures which could have been verified. You might have checked these ‘girls’ beforehand, you know, but no, you must go running off to spread lies, calumnies and prurient whispers. And because you were taken down a peg or two, I have your example to teach the lads why tale-bearing is bad, but I am ashamed that my own brother should act in such a way, and I have to live it down.”

Eusebius was aghast.

“You surely did not spread the tale to the village brats?” he demanded.

“Too right, I did,” said Theo. “And a good salutary tale of how a tell-tale gets their long nose bitten right off it made too.”

“You little bastard!” hissed Eusebius. “I will never forgive you, either, you or Cornelius.”

“Oh, grow up,” said Theo. “You just have a down on the gypsies, and as several of them are coming to my school, I don’t want any trouble between them and the other scholars. And if you try to foment any by your usual method of sickly sweet hidden sneaking, I will find out and I will pound you. What, did you think we weren’t wise to you when you used to go to Papa and say things like, ‘Oh, Papa, I didn’t know Theo had a day off school to go fishing, do you think he’ll bring us a good catch?’ and ‘Oh, Papa, I forgive Theo for hitting me, of course, do you think something has upset him to be so bad-tempered?’ with pretended sympathy. So I will be listening out for you saying anything like, ‘Oh, of course, it’s not proven that any of those gypsies were responsible for... whatever trouble there has been,’ because I know how you are.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Eusebius, sulkily.

“You do, but so long as you keep yourself to yourself, I won’t have to pound you, will I?” said Theo. “You might as well keep yourself to yourself, anyway, as nobody else likes you enough to want to spend time in your company.”

He left Eusebius simmering. And unfortunately, Eusebius simmering was also Eusebius plotting. However, after he had taken himself for a brisk walk, he seemed to calm down, and the Reverend Reckitt heaved a sigh of relief.

 

oOoOo

 

“Have you seen my snuff box, cariad?” Evelyn asked Imogen.

“Which one, the gold one with dogs on the china lid, or the silver one with classical scenes?”

“The gold one. I don’t use it as often but I had a fancy t o use it to judge the shepherds’ dogs for their show,” said Evelyn. “They all swear each has the best dog, who herds sheep to a series of whistles, and do everything but get up on their hind legs to demand a cut of mutton and eat it with knife and fork.”

Imogen laughed.

“Oh, to any man, his dog is the best.” She frowned. “It was on your commode, last time I saw it.” She rang the bell, which was answered by George Dobson, the enthusiastic footman.

“George, ask Larkin... no, actually, you’ve taken on most of the butler’s duties, haven’t you?”

“Yes m’lady, I’m learning the ropes, so to speak,” said George. “Larkin won’t let his lordship pension him off. Not until he’s seen the next generation into the world.”

“And he doesn’t count Jasper and Phebe, I suppose,” sighed Imogen.  “His lordship’s gold snuffbox has gone missing, and now I come to think of it, I missed a pair of sapphire earrings. I wish you will ask around, and see if anyone seems to know more than they ought. I don’t want to make unfounded accusations and there may be a reasonable explanation, but I want to know.”

“Yes, m’lady, I’ll see if I can find anything out,” said George. “What it isn’t is gypsies, as none of them have been in the house.”

“I never supposed it might be,” said Imogen. “A snuff-box is a little large to start suspecting magpies.  I’ll ask Phebe if she took it to play with; it would make a pretty trunk for a doll in a dolls’ house to have.”

“I didn’t take it, Mama,” said Phebe, who had come into the room. “And I wouldn’t, without asking.”

“I didn’t think you would,” said Imogen. “I suspect it most likely that a maid knocked it off the stand and broke the painted china lid, and is afraid to own up; and if so, it might be that Jasper is handling it and seeing to having it mended.”

“I’ll go and ask him,” said Phebe.

She was soon back with Jasper.

“I haven’t had anything to do with it, Ma, Pa,” said Jasper.  “George is asking the servants; if any of them did break it, it would be reasonable to ask Woodlock or Shuri whether any of the tinkers could mend it. I can pop over and find out?”

“Yes, do, and make it clear that nobody is suggesting wrongdoing,” said Evelyn. “It’s no very great deal, just annoying.”

More items went missing, including Imogen’s silver thimble, over which she cried, as it had been a gift from Evelyn’s mother, Enid.

 

Woodlock came up to the hall.

“I come to swear an oath none of the gypsies have been stealing, my lord,” he said to Evelyn. “I’d beat seven bells out of anyone who tried it.”

“Thank you, Woodlock; but I am already certain it is none of your people,” said Evelyn. “I trust you all. You are my family, after a manner of speaking. And you have eaten at my wedding table. I know the customs.”

“Aye, and we appreciate that you understand it,” said Woodlock. “Some of us think it might be someone in your household who may have taken against us, and is doing it to cast blame.”

“The thought had occurred to me,” said Evelyn, grimly. “But I don’t want to upset my staff by searching their meagre belongings. It’s something I hope to solve without a collective search.”

“Well, I wish you luck. You’re welcome to send Cornelius and a bailiff to search our things; in fact, I wish you would.”

“If you ask it to clear you, then I shall, and put it to the servants that it might be as well if something of the sort is in order for their protection, too,” said Evelyn.

Imogen insisted on being part of the party to search the women’s belongings, which was only fitting, and a duty not to be passed to a servant.

“And thanks to Woodlock and Shuri for insisting on this search to clear everyone,” said Imogen.

“What if stuff is found here?” asked one brawny woman.

“Then we will listen to any reasonable explanation, including a member of the hall staff having been suspiciously friendly to have planted it,” said Imogen. “And if anyone was acrobatic enough to climb into those places from which items disappeared, then he or she could make more performing acrobatics for people not stealing,” she added. “If it is an individual stealing, then I leave it to the tribe to enact punishment for stealing from family, for the marquis and I consider you extended family as you are also related through one of my relatives to me.”

One of the older men stepped forward.

“I picked up a good spade off of your gardener, lady; I didn’t think of it being about family. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll deal with you later, Tasso,” said Woodlock. “Give the spade back.”

“If your people need a good spade, for Tasso’s honesty in speaking up, consider it a gift to the tribe; we have replaced the gardener’s spade,” said Imogen. “I acknowledge the temptation, and that Tasso will suffer some retribution.”

“He’ll take a blow from each of the men for damaging our reputation,” said Woodlock. “He’s a good forager, places where we aren’t welcome, but it’s a habit which dies hard.”

“Thank you,” said Imogen.

The search did not take long, and a few items turned up which must have come from the gentry. Woodlock himself had a fine hunter watch in chased silver. He winked at Cornelius.

“It might have fallen out of the pocket of a farmer who threatened one of the kiddies with a pitchfork, after he accidentally fell on his arse in a puddle and knocked himself out by banging his head on my fist,” he said.

“Keep it out of sight,” said Cornelius. “I have no time for those who threaten children with deadly weapons, even if they were stealing chickens.”

“Only eggs,” said Woodlock.

“Well, here, they will trade chores for eggs,” said Cornelius. “I know it’s less fun, but then, it’s also less nervous.”

Woodlock grinned.

“I do like you, my brother,” he said.

“And I like you, but I’d like to see your children learn that they don’t have to steal,” said Cornelius.

“The village, even your brother, is under my sworn protection,” said Woodlock.

“He’s a sanctimonious idiot,” said Cornelius. “He used to make a habit of getting us younger ones into trouble with Papa, in such a way that it did not sound like sneaking.”

“Isn’t bearing false witness one of the ten commandments?” said Woodlock.

“It is; and in a way, it also breaks ‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’ for it disrespected papa’s discipline,” said Cornelius. “And I swear he hates Evelyn because he covets his position.”

“Some churchman,” said Woodlock, dryly. “At least as he has not been at the hall, you cannot suspect him of stealing to throw a bad light on us.”

“Indeed, for it would be the sort of thing he might do, to manufacture ‘proof’ of something he is convinced he knows,” said Cornelius. “I am grateful that he cannot have done it; I fear it would destroy Papa.”

 

At the hall, Evelyn assembled the servants.

“The gypsies asked if my people would search them to clear them of theft. Do you, as my staff, wish to be cleared in like manner?”

His man, Spalding spoke up.

“We do feel that it would be good for us to be cleared,” he said. “At least, I feel so, as I am one of the people most able to be in a position to steal from his lordship and her ladyship. It feels like being under suspicion all the time, even though his lordship assures me that he trusts me absolutely.”

“It must be them gypsies; they do steal,” said one of the chambermaids.

“Gypsies steal when they have no other choice,” said Evelyn. “But this tribe considers us as family, and to steal from family is something they account a serious sin. Besides, how would they steal things from our private bedrooms? I think anyone would notice them, don’t you, Mary?” he hoped he had her name right.

Mary looked down.

“If you say so, my lord,” she said, colourlessly.

“I do say so,” said Evelyn. “Someone would have to be able to perform miracles to get into this rambling pile and creep up to bedrooms, including figuring out which bedrooms her ladyship and I occupy since we don’t use the master bedroom. And to find her ladyship’s sewing kit and to know how it would upset her to lose the thimble my mother bought her. Though I do wonder if that theft was just an act of spite from someone told off for not wearing a fresh clean apron on Sunday, as it is expected that clean clothes will be worn on the Sabbath. Wasn’t that you, Mary?”

Mary mumbled something about forgetting which day it was.

“Funny,” said Imogen. “Your excuse when I rebuked you was that you had nothing clean back from the laundry, which was proved to be untrue, for I rebuked the laundress and had to apologise to her when she showed your clean clothing in the basket with your name on it which you had not bothered to collect. However, if you took my thimble in a fit of spite and own up to it, or indeed have anything else to say, I appreciate honesty.”

“I still think it was the gypsies,” said Mary.