Alternative bride 18

 

Chapter 18

 

“His Lordship is not in residence... gawdstrewth! Milord!” said the lordly butler. “Your face!” Gerard had taken off his mask.

Jane was taking in the house, which to her standards was larger than the term ‘hunting box’ should indicate. It was mostly of red brick, with a black diaper pattern, and Caen stone surrounds to the oriel windows; but it was not approached in the centre as was common, but to a grand doorway on the right hand side, where the building was all stone, and did not exactly mismatch the rest of the house, but was certainly of a different period. Though the long windows down the central seemed more modern than their setting. Jane knew immediately that this house would suit her very well.

“Milton, permit me to make you known to my lady wife, who has been nursing my burns from a footpad’s careless discharge of his pistol by my face,” said Gerard.

“I... I beg your pardon, my lord, I was taken aback,” said Milton.

“I was a trifle startled myself when it happened,” said Gerard. “Where’s Christopher?”

“In the study, my lord.”

“I’ll find my way. Show her ladyship the usual offices, and introduce her to Mrs. Jevvins.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Milton.  “If you wish to leave your outer clothes and make yourself comfortable, the cloakroom is under the staircase and you will find a discreet door off it. May I take your cloak and pelisse to hang up? I cannot think what his lordship is doing driving you in a curricle at this time of year.”

“Thank you, Milton, how delicately you put that,” said Jane. “As to the curricle, it involves a wager.”

“I see, my lady,” said Milton.

Jane made herself comfortable in the surprisingly spacious ladies’ room, there having been a gentleman’s room as well, seemingly extending back into the body of the house. Hearing another flush, she supposed these offices to back onto, and share drains with, those for the use of the servants. She washed her face, and was gratified to have running water in a sink in which to do so, and emerged refreshed. Milton had summoned a middle-aged woman, who was presumably Mrs. Jevvins. Jane smiled and went towards her.

“Mrs. Jevvins I assume?  I am Jane, Lady Wintergreen. His lordship has waxed most complimentary on your raised pies, having complimented one we found in an inn on the way as being almost as good as yours.”

Mrs. Jevvins flushed in pleasure.

“Well, that’s good of his lordship to say so, he’s always liked my pies.  I don’t let the cook do baking, you understand, only cookery.”

“Everyone has their specialities,” said Jane, gravely.  “I ran my stepfather’s household, and I know that one can leave a cook alone most of the time, but there are things that require supervising. I am sure my stepfather will find money going shorter as his cook would never think to use the meat from a Hessian soup as a ragoo, for example, or to make Davenport fowl at the same time as Salamagundy so that the yolks of eggs discarded from Salamagundy are used in the Davenport fowl.”

“Oh, my lady! There was an awful scandal in the newspaper, but if you’re the wrong sister, I am glad he married you, not that other little butterfly!”

“Poor Madelaine, she’s a bit of a lightweight, and so is her mother,” said Jane, able now to bring it down to that. “May I have a grand tour of the house whilst Gerard is discussing buying in extra grain?”

“Of course, my lady.  The staircase is Jacobean, though of no great virtue; no strap-and-jewel work at all, most of that is in the study, the only room which hasn’t been pulled about a bit and made over. Caen stone and brick throughout, you can see it was Elizabethan originally by the chimneys, but the fourth viscount threw up a ceiling in what was the great hall, through here,which is now a ballroom, and high enough, but not as high as it was.  And he opened a door to the staircase and closed the one in here, taking down the little gatehouse, and putting long windows onto the front drive all the way along.  He added the study and library the other side of the stairs as well, that wing being seventeenth century. The cloakroom and closets were originally a priest’s hole with a tunnel leading out, and the tunnel used now for the drainpipes.”

“What a sensible use of the space,” said Jane. “Was that my lord’s doing, or his father?”

“It was something his father started, but his lordship had the work completed,” said Mrs. Jevvins. “The left wing used to house the usual offices of running the house, but that’s now all in the modern wing,” she went on. “Now the housekeeper’s rooms are a boudoir and sewing room for my lady, the butler’s pantry is a reading room for his lordship, and the servants’ dining hall is a games room with a billiard table. The old kitchen has been made into a dining room, and the new kitchen built on at the back with all the modern conveniences, making a little courtyard, fully enclosed, behind the salons which open off the ballroom. When there is company, they are commonly used for card-playing.”

“I am glad the kitchen is at the back not in the right-hand wing, I had visions of food cooling after having been brought on a long tramp of half a mile or so,” said Jane.

“Bless you, my lady, no!”  said Mrs. Jevvins. “And the old scullery now used to keep things warm with chafing dishes for when they’re wanted.”

“I would like to see the servants’ quarters and assure myself that you have everything you need,” said Jane.

“Certainly; would you like to see the boudoir rooms on the way?”

“Oh, yes; this house is inviting me in and it would be unfriendly not to let it show me what is to be my domain,” said Jane.

“Oh, my lady, I am glad you feel that way. It is a friendly house.”

 

The boudoir and sewing room were cosy without being too small, and there was a wicker day bed as well as a window seat, well padded, in one of the large oriel windows, overlooking the drive and formal gardens at the front.

“Here I shall doubtless bring sewing to perch and dream,” said Jane, happily.

“The window off the sewing room looks over the rose garden,” volunteered Mrs. Jevvins. “Not much to see at this time of year, but it’s a picture in summer, and the smell is lovely.”

“Oh, how splendid,” said Jane. “What an absolute honey of a pair of rooms; I feel almost guilty that the remodelling robbed you of them.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, my lady, I have a couple of nice rooms down from the kitchen which overlook the central courtyard with its herb garden, and my own door onto it too.”

“Oh, lovely! I am glad,” said Jane. “Oh, what’s in here...” she opened a door. “A secret staircase!” she declared in delight.

“Yes, upstairs is the mistress bedroom, and another boudoir and the master takes most of the rest of the wing, with dressing-rooms for maids and valets.”

“Poor Alice and Minnie!  They will be glad to be settled somewhere,” said Jane. “I fancy Jelves is used to his lordship being peripatetic.”

“Him!” said Mrs. Jevvins. “Well, I don’t say as but Jelves knows how to care for his lordship, for he does. My brother, he is, but I lived it down by marrying.”

“I would have been lost without Jelves when his lordship was shot at and wounded,” said Jane. “Oh! You did not know; he has horrid scarring to his face, which shocked Mr. Milton, but it will heal. A flash in the pan in his face, but at least no ball to take out.”

“Dear me, you have been tried in fire and no mistake!” said Mrs. Jevvins. She followed Jane up to the bedroom and its adjacent sitting room over the lady’s rooms downstairs, and Jane poked around, finding the master bedroom, at which she blushed; it had the faintest tang of Gerard’s scent, and was undoubtedly his room. Back down she glanced in the games room and in Gerard’s sitting room, a masculine room with dull red leather chairs, a few book shelves, brandy, a writing desk, and a heavy pouf for putting the feet on if dozing in the big armchair by the fire. There was a windowseat here which also looked out on the rose garden.

The old kitchen had plainly once had a huge open fireplace, largely filled in and covered in wooden panelling to make a grand mantel and overmantel, with a large, but not excessive, fireplace within it. The rest of the walls were plastered with mouldings, and decorated in celadon green with white swags of plasterwork, and white profile bas relief portraits.

“Thats’s his lordship’s father and mother, and his sisters, who died,” said Mrs. Jevvins. “He wanted them to be part of family dinner, which sounds a bit pagan to me.”

“It’s a reminder at a family occasion, and keeps their memories in his heart,” said Jane. “Now, do we go through the scullery to the servants’ quarters?”

“It’s one way, yes,” said Mrs. Jevvins. She led Jane through into a big, modern kitchen, with two closed stoves, a big central table, and polished utensils hung on the walls.

There was a sudden silence.

“Good morning, I am Jane, Lady Wintergreen,” said Jane. “We are hoping to spend a protracted length of time here, though at the moment, we are travelling through, as you might say. His lordship and I would be grateful if something can be rustled up for a nuncheon however. He has a nasty burn on his face, but it will heal. We met with a highwayman. There is no big story surrounding it, and other than being painful, it causes him no trouble.  Now I hope everything is to your satisfaction here, and I will be happy to hear any complaints, but we will be on our way again before nightfall; it is a matter of a wager and an obligation. I see you have the very latest of closed stoves, which must be the envy of many.”

“Except the sweep,” muttered one of the male staff.

“Well, it is good to force them to use a sweeping machine, and not small children,” said Jane, firmly. “We can progress to the new wing through here? Thank you,” as one of the men held the door for her.

“Men sleep above the kitchen, women in the attics,” said Mrs. Jevvins. “My quarters here, and Mr. Milton over there. And here we are behind the stairs, with the offices for the servants; through this baize-covered door, and back to the vestibule, the library there, the muniment room or study here, and here’s his lordship and Mr. Eastby.”

“Ah, Mrs. Jevvins, giving my lady the grand tour?” asked Gerard. “Jane, my dear, my cousin, Christopher Eastby, who is my steward.”

“Delighted to meet you,” said Jane. “I trust all is in order?”

“It is, Chris is very efficient,” said Gerard. “The extra wheat will be bought in, if necessary with the massive tax on it to import from abroad. The peasantry will not go hungry.”

“We laid down the lands to Swedish turnip and oats, principally,” said Eastby. “Oatmeal might not make much in the way of fine bread, but it makes bread, as well as gruel, and is good sustenance, and grows in colder climes more readily.”

“We shall doubtless thank G-d for any bread we can have if the winter is bad,” said Jane.

“Amen,” said Eastby, Gerard nodding.  “What do you think of the house?”

“I love it, what I’ve seen of it,” said Jane. “There are odd doors and passages which I have yet to explore. And Mrs. Jevvins told me about the former priests’ hole, and the use of the underground passage for drains, I am much impressed.”

“We have Bramah closets upstairs as well,” said Gerard. “Opening off the head of the stairs. Not entirely convenient, but more convenient for the servants to empty chamber pots than having to go outside.”

“Indeed,” said Jane. “I will look forward to returning soon to explore more thoroughly.”

“Yes, we will leave when we have had a bite to eat, if you can manage that, Jevvy.”

“Away with you, Master Gerard! When have I failed to find you a bite to eat?”

“We may have to be frugal this winter,” said Gerard.

“I know a good way to serve liver and bacon stew,” said Jane, brightly.  “I told my stepfather and stepmother that it was venison and they congratulated the cook.  They’d never had venison and knew no different. I knew they wouldn’t eat it if they knew what it really was. So we don’t have to tell Gerard, do we?” she beamed at Mrs. Jevvins, who laughed.

“Oh, he’s a good boy, and will try anything,” she said.

“Well, they use liver in pate,” said Gerard. “I look forward to learning how to eat like a king in a frugal manner.”

“And even my stepfather would eat Swedish turnip mashed with potato, onion, and the leaves of the Swedish turnip cooked like cabbage mashed and fried as bubble and squeak,” said Jane. “And he is a man who calls turnip of all kinds fit only for animal feed.”

“Wife, you are manipulating me,” said Gerard, laughing.

“Why, yes, my husband, I think I am,” said Jane.

 

Mrs. Jevvins produced cold meats of all kinds, with a hot pea soup to warm them before getting back on the road, bread-and-butter, pickles and chutneys, and a rapidly-made curry of chicken to be something else warming.

“I have much to learn from you, Mrs. Jevvins,” said Jane, happily.

“I think I am looking forward to working with you, my lady,” said Mrs. Jevvins. She did not say that she had not been looking forward to working with Madelaine, of whom she had heard.

 

oOoOo

 

Back on the road, Jane sighed contentedly.

“What, not happy to be travelling again?” laughed Gerard.

“Oh! I am happy enough to travel with you, but it is a big hurdle to be over to find I get on well with someone I suspect is your favourite housekeeper. It’s a beautiful house, and it felt more like coming home than I have ever felt in my life.”

“Truly? It’s where I grew up much of my life. Papa was the heir until I was twelve, and then when grandpapa died we moved to the main seat in Wiltshire, which is large, modern, impersonal, and I hate it. Christopher, however, loves it, having grown up there as the son of a younger daughter whose husband was the local vicar. If you prefer Wintergreen House to Winter Hall, I’ll send Christopher to administer the Hall. He’d love it.”

“Oh! If you would not mind...”

“We shall have to be in London for me to speak in parliament, but unless there is anything which catches my interest, I would as soon be a country gentleman. We can put in an appearance in the Season if you want?”

“Do we have to?”

“Next year? Yes. I do need to show you off. But thereafter? Only if you feel like it.”

“I should like to be a country mouse.”

“Yes, but I would like your irritating family to see you roar.”

“Oh! Yes, I suppose I should like that too, because Helen and Madelaine are sure to try to be patronising at me. To put me in my place and show me that you did not choose me, only that I was there, and you were in a flaming temper.”

Gerard flushed.

“Sadly, I cannot dispute that; but may I say that if I had realised your age, and had got to know both sisters, there is no question but that I should have chosen you.”

Jane flushed, and looked pleased. Even if it was not entirely true, since his reasons for marrying were originally purely for the succession, and Madelaine had been ‘suitable,’ it was nice of him to say so.

And Jane knew that Gerard had come to love her, as she loved him.

And they had the rest of their lives together, doing crazy things like pretend to elope, or sensible things like take care of his peasants.

The only flies in the ointment were Mr. Frith, and, if they should encounter him again, Mr. Whittington.

But they were flies who were at a distance.  For now.

 

alternative bride 17

 and I wrapped it last night, yay! I have been thinking about Felicity and Philippa and I was thinking that I might approach each as a novella and put them together like I did with the two stories in Emma's Education

Chapter 17

 

“So, Gerard, why is coining a bad idea?” asked Jane. “I mean, I know it’s illegal, but they are making more money, not stealing it.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Gerard.  “Because they aren’t making more money, they’re making more coinage.”

“Well, isn’t that the same thing?” asked Jane.

“Not at all,” said Gerard. “Coinage merely represents money. But the extra money is not backed by gold in the Bank of England, and in theory, your coiners could break the bank by wanting to have all the false money replaced with gold. So, the government could not pay the soldiers and sailors, or the judges, and the whole country would grind to a halt.  Also, with extra money, it causes inflation, the price of things go up because with more half-crowns, each one is worth less, as with a glut of fruit.  So the prices go up, but the people not involved in coining aren’t getting paid any more.”

“Oh! So effectively it is stealing from the poorest who can least afford it.”

“Exactly,” said Gerard.

“Well, we shall watch out for a counterfeit half-crown.  How will we know?” asked Jane.

“Langcostard showed me one; no milled edges, and the face of the king looks singularly like a toad,” said Gerard.

“All the royal family have that profile, heavy lips and no chin,” said Jane.

“Well, yes, but more so than usual,” said Gerard. “You know, when we turn back, I’ve a good mind just to go to the hunting box.  And if Frith follows, we get to meet him on my home ground.”

Jane laughed.

“And he could hardly dispute who you were with the staff to prove your identity,” she said.

“Exactly,” said Gerard.

 

Leicester was a busy city, and as noisy as London might be, with street cries, a knife grinder, barking dogs, making Star cock his plumy ears, and a military band. Gerard negotiated his way through the streets at a sedate walk, and the horses flicked their ears contemptuously. They were used to the noises of London, including bands, fireworks, and cheering crowds. Gerard paused at an intersection to let the marching militia pass by. There was a moment’s silence as the tune they were playing ended, and the column wheeled. Boom! Boom! Boom! The big drum sounded to announce the next item. Unfortunately, the drum was right by a gentleman fresh in from the country, and his horse, already nervous from the noise; and the horse bolted. Gerard tossed the reins to Jane, and leaped down, running to intercept the runaway horse. Jane gasped, then made herself be calm, as an agitated mood would quickly communicate itself to the horses via the reins.

Star yapped.

“No, stay with missus,” said Jane.

Gerard reached the head of the charging, panicked horse, and grabbed the bridle, running alongside it. Jane thanked G-d that he was athletic and could run fast enough not to be dragged under the plunging hoofs. The running horse slowed, and Gerard managed to turn it before it crashed into a crowd of screaming women and children, trapped between buildings and with other people on either side of them. Some of the crowd who had assembled to watch the marching band had been passing children off to one side in a hurried effort to save life, but most were just staring.

Gerard helped the shaky man off his horse.

“G-d bless you,” said the countryman, a man in his forties. “I’d never have ridden Abraxus into town if I’d known he would have to face the militia.” He paused. “Masked?”

“I have facial burns,” said Gerard. “The frost in the mornings and driving pain me without the mask.”

“Ah, I see,” said the man. “Doctor David Thorby at your service; doctor of divinity.”

“Viscount Gerard Wintergreen at yours,” said Gerard.

“Ah, off to your hunting box? The papers say you got married.”

“Yes, and honeymooning out of society,” said Gerard.

“Very wise, very wise,” said Thorby. “I... dear me, I feel quite shaken.”

“If you’ve discharged your business, I will be pleased to drive you home; it’s a bit of a squeeze and my wife’s dog might be affectionate.”

“Oh, my dear sir!  I will not get between a newlywed couple, I believe I will take Abraxus to an inn, and take a dish of tea, to calm my nerves, and let him get over the shock, I have a whole list of duties from my good lady.”

“If you’re sure... I hesitate to leave you without support.”

“Too kind!” murmured the reverend. “No, the Good Lord provides me with my support, and the East India Company provides me with tea, and my good lady keeps me straight in all other ways.”

“Ah, the love of a good woman is a marvellous thing,” said Gerard.

“And how nice it is to see the aristocracy make a love-match, and that you speak so confidently despite an accident to your face.”

“She nursed me devotedly,” said Gerard, fondly.

He shook hands with Thorby, and returned to the curricle, to the wagging tail of Star and the relief of Jane.

“You are brave, Gerard,” said Jane.

“Someone had to do something,” said Gerard. “Reverend Thorby was glad of some assistance.”

“And so were those in the crowd he did not ride into,” said Jane. “Is he able to continue without aid?”

“Yes, I did ask,” said Gerard. “And though I’d be inclined to stay, one does not wish to unman a chap by insisting.”

“Well, then, how far are we going today?” asked Jane.

“Out of ruddy Leicester, to start with,” said Gerard, dryly. “I was planning on having nuncheon in Loughborough, and push on to Derby, stopping to rest the nags and drink tea at one of the villages on the way. There’s one toll gate, just before Derby.”

“Good,” said Jane. “How many days have we been going? I’ve lost count.”

“We’re on the fourth,” said Gerard. “Getting sick of it?”

“No... well, maybe a little,” said Jane. “But we do need to keep him occupied.”

“Of course, when we do double back, he may feel a need to go on and see if he can pick up the trail again,” said Gerard. “Now that dratted band has gone, I think we can finally escape from Leicester.”

Jane laughed.

“You make it sound like Dante’s ‘Inferno.’

“At the moment, it feels as if we have to make our way to the deepest circle in order to get out,” said Gerard. “I’m sorry, if I hadn’t slept so long, we might have been on the road before everyone was up and doing.”

“You needed the sleep after yesterday’s long drive,” said Jane. “I am sure we shall be able to be on the road soon... oh, dear, sheep.”

“You were saying, my dear?” said Gerard, turning left to avoid the herd of sheep. “I know Leicester well enough to avoid the main routes and still get back on the road north. Hold tight, this will be an interesting drive.”

They went through a number of back roads, bringing small children out of houses to stare, and some adults as well. Jane waved back to those small people who waved to her, and Star sat on her lap, tongue lolling, and wagging his plumy tail.

And then the numbers of houses were reducing, and they were out into the country. Hay still stood in the fields as yet unharvested, gaining such sustenance as it might from the sunny days, even though the nights were cold.

“The further north we go, the more behind the harvest,” said Gerard, grimly. “Will you mind if we make a detour?  I want my steward to buy in excess wheat to make sure my tenants all have bread.”

“Why should I mind something so important?” said Jane. “You must make sure your tenants are fed.”

 

oOoOo

 

Mr. Frith set off, hoping to catch up with his errant daughter this day, for surely the populace must have risen in outrage at her abduction by that man. Man was not the word he used in his thoughts, and he truly believed that Lucy must have been somehow trapped or tricked, for he could not understand that, having grown up with both Franklin brothers, Lucy did not even notice Peter’s colour. He intended to point out how forebearing and generous Abe Orpington was in continuing to offer marriage despite Lucy’s ruined reputation. She must surely come to see that this was the best solution to her foolishness in falling for some trick.

Frith was now almost a day’s drive behind Gerard and Jane, though Orpington was catching up on Tom and Sally, being a better driver, and with a better team than the stable lads had been able to put together in a hurry. Tom now drove into each inn yard singing ‘Hearts of Oak,’ as a protection. As it happened, they had left the region covered by the newspaper Frith had chosen for his advertisement, which brought Tom much peace of mind when he realised this. This led to him not hurrying as much at each stop, with the result that he and Sally stopped off to see a country fair, which was profitable for both, as Tom beat the local champion in the bare-knuckle ring, using tricks he had learned in the navy.

A purse of twenty guineas added to their largesse from Wintergreen would go a long way towards saving towards a small country inn to set up house in. They arrived at the inn where they planned to stay the night co-incidentally at the same time as Orpington.

Orpington might perhaps have been forgiven mistaking Tom for Mr. Franklin, whom he had never formally met, and having the prejudiced man’s inability to tell apart anyone not strictly Anglo-Saxon in features. It is less to his credit that, having met Lucy, he was unequal to recognising that Sally was not Lucy.

Consequently, he seized Sally by the arm.

“Come on, you naughty, tiresome girl; I have you now, and I have a special licence, so I can marry you whenever I want, and then you will learn how to behave.”

It is not to Sally’s credit that for one brief moment she considered letting an unquestioned gent marry her, and a life of luxury flashed past her eyes; the phrase ‘You will learn how to behave,’ however, pulled those thoughts up short and she looked up at the cruel eyes of her captor. Then she screamed.

Sally knew how to scream; in an inn, a girl who could scream could embarrass either a fresh or a drunken client into desisting with amorous endeavour. Anything jammed into the seat of origin of such unwanted lusts was also good, and Sally knew how to ply an expeditious elbow.

“Rape! Help!” squealed Sally.

Tom helped Orpington in his journey to the ground by hitting him once on the side of the head.

“’Ere, squire, wot d’you fink you’re a-doin’ of?” he enquired belligerently. “Looking to abduct a virgin to cure some loathesome disease, eh, finking vat a poor girl ain’t got no protection? Well, you lubberly jack-nasty-face, you can belay vat, acoss you’re scuppered if you takes on a jack tar!”

Being a declared sailor was again to Tom’s benefit. Orpington was seized by enthusiastic stable hands.

“Get a magistrate!” suggested Sally.

“Lucy! Lucy, what are you doing?” demanded Orpington.

“I dunno who this ‘Lucy’ is, but my name’s Sarah Harris,” said Sally. “Or Sally f’r everyday use. People like you orta be put away.”

Orpington peered at her more closely.

“You ain’t a lady!” he declared. “Where’s Lucy Frith? Are you her maid?”

“There ain’t no Lucy, you sneaksby doddering rake,” said Sally.  “I ain’t maid to nobody.”

“Then why are you with Peter Franklin?” asked Orpington.

“’Oo?” said Tom. “Tom Porter, I am, able seaman.”

“I appear to have made a mistake,” gasped Orpington.

“Yerse, an’ you’ll tell the magistrate about it,” said Tom.

“I... let me make amends,” said Orpington. “My wallet....”

Tom and Sally exchanged a look.

“It’ll cost you,” said Sally. “Beings as how you had your foul, diseased hands on me.”

“I am not diseased!” squealed Orpington.

“Well, what for would you seize an innocent maid if you wasn’t after debauching her for the cure?” demanded Sally.

“I... I mistook you for my bride!” cried Orpington, it being no less than the truth.

“A likely story,” said Tom. “What man could fail to recognise his bride?”

“Well, perhaps ten shillings....”

Tom and Sally both laughed.

“You’re having a joke, squire,” said Sally. “A man who drops enough blunt for a special licence isn’t going to buy himself off getting the wrong girl for less than it costs.”

“And then the inconvenience, the fright occasioned to the said innocent girl, taking away her good name... I don’t reckon you’d be paying less than a couple of ponies in fine, when we get you to the magistrate, and gaol time too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Fifty quid then,” said Orpington, who really did not want to go before a magistrate.

Sally and Tom were happy; and as Tom shared around some of the largesse to the ostlers who had come to their aid, so were they. The forty-five pounds left added to their store meant that they were almost half-way to buying an inn.

There was no point staying on the road as they had been caught up with, so they stayed overnight, and set off back to their own abode, feeling very virtuous.

 

oOoOo

 

Frith came into Leicester to learn that a black man saved several lives from a runaway horse, and did not have the decency to get himself killed by said runaway horse.  Nobody could say where he had gone, but wherever it was, he had gone there.

Frith ground his teeth, and gave up for the day.

 

alternative bride 16

 a bit on the drag, but I was writing on what should be the penultimate chapter.

Chapter 16

 

Gerard sat up in bed in the grey predawn light, in sudden concern, hearing stealthy footsteps. He bit back an oath as he knuckled his eyes automatically, and found the skin still tender.

The footsteps went past the door and creaked down the stairs, and Gerard laughed at himself. He had managed to frighten himself with the early rising of the landlord to be available to man the inn.

He turned over and turned his efforts into waking Jane in a way she would appreciate. Jane  mewed in startled pleasure, and responded happily.

“I thought we weren’t going to be noisy in an inn?” she said, later.

“Well, I heard movement, so I figured that if everyone else was up, and so was I, in a manner of speaking....”

“You are a bad man.”

“Yes.”

“Oh!  Well, as there is plainly no hope for such a recidivist as yourself, perhaps we should....”

“I thought you’d never ask, wife!”

 

The young couple got up and went down for breakfast, which was quickly forthcoming and substantial. There was a local newspaper to go with breakfast.

“Well!” said Gerard. “You will never guess what Frith has done!”

“Probably not; pray enlighten me,” said Jane, buttering toast in fingers to dip into her coddled egg.

“He has advertised that his daughter has been abducted using the wiles of African magic by a... black man. He is less complimentary.”

“Well! Of all the nerve, to advertise her, as if she were a lost dog!” said Jane, indignantly. “Wiles of African magic, really? He thinks the public so gullible?”

“Perhaps his own prejudice is so great that he cannot understand what makes his daughter cleave to a man who is so much the paradigm of all he despises,” said Gerard.

“But magic?” said Jane.

“Perhaps he thinks it easier to convince people of than the scientific mesmerism,” said Gerard.

“Sadly, I wonder if you might be right,” sighed Jane. “After all, people do flock to gypsies reading palms, and wasn’t there a case in the ‘Morning Post’ where some idiot was persuaded that the love of money was what was causing their illness, and were told to bury their life savings beneath a particular tree. And my goodness, what a surprise, when they came go dig it up, it was gone! It is truly amazing how credulous people can be, so my first reaction is perhaps wrong. Oh, Gerard! What if Tom and Sally are set upon by those who want to burn him as a witch?”

“By Jove! What a worrying thought. One can only hope that in going by Coventry, they are out of the area in which Frith put advertisements.

 

oOoOo

 

Tom and Sally, rising for breakfast and faced with an unfriendly crowd were a little nonplussed, and Tom put up his fists.

“Nobody tells a British tar who he might have as his lass,” he said. “And in the name of Lord Nelson, you take yourselves off, or answer to the contrary.”

The mix of the unlovely tones of Canvey Island, in the heart of Essex, Tom’s place of origin, and his vaguely remembered naval legal language made the crowd waver.

“If you’re a jack tar, you can sing ‘Hearts of Oak,” said one of the would-be witch burners.

Tom obliged with alacrity, and got up on the table to dance a hornpipe, which had his former tormentors thumping the table in rhythm, and throwing coins for the entertainment. Far from being hanged or burned, in Tom’s case, and taken into custody, in Sally’s case, Tom and Sally cleared another guinea, as some of the largesse was the greater for being given in feelings of guilt.  It might not help them be decoys, but Tom had noticed one man with a halter, and the mood had been ugly.

“African magic? What a pile of crap,” opined Tom, who had acquired a copy of the paper to see what had set people against him.

“Oooh, Tom, you was brave and clever,” said Sally, who had been terrified.

 

oOoOo

 

Mr. Frith was congratulating himself on a clever plan. Not only would people want a reward, they would be outraged by the idea, and would doubtless beat on the Franklin boy.  The idea that a mob might lynch or burn a witch had not entered his thoughts.

“If the boy dies, that might be seen as incitement,” warned Mr. Orpington.

“Nonsense,” said Frith.

They had stayed over at Woburn, seeking clues, and rose early to move on to Newport Pagnell.

Here there was news of not one, but two couples who fitted the description.

“Oh, doubtless that is incorrect,” said Orpington.  “These yokels are stupid.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Much as I would like to stay here, we had better get a move on,” said Gerard. “We have to be ahead for fifteen days to allow that young couple their occupancy rights to an ordinary licence.”

“No, we have to be on the road seven and a half days, in order to keep Frith from getting back within fifteen days to declare a just cause and impediment of not meaning that Mr. Franklin,” said Jane. “It would count, too. But if he isn’t there in time, it won’t because it will be too late.”

“I suppose he could ask an anullment.”

“I suspect he would find it easier to disown Lucy,” said Jane, dryly.

“You are probably correct,” said Gerard. “Ah, well, onward!”

Northampton was a short drive of a little over half an hour.

“Ask for directions,” said Gerard. “Check if we are on the right road for Leicester, to make sure we are going a different way to Tom and Sally.”

Jane did so, and made sure several people had a chance to see them.  Once through Northampton, Gerard picked up the pace, as the horses were fresh, and stopped for a late nuncheon in Lamport’s ‘Swan Inn.’ This was a fine, three-storey brick building, of no great antiquity, but the food was worth stopping for.  A private parlour was readily to be had, but not before Jane had spotted that the bluff, slightly vulgar-appearing man who gave them a sharp look had a notebook sticking out of his pocket, with the letters ‘Occ’ visible.

“Gerard, I think the man with the yellow birds-eye scarf is a Bow Street Runner,” she said. “His occurrence book is visible.”

“Maybe he should be warned,” said Gerard, leaving her in the private parlour and returning to the public bar.

The Bow Street officer looked at him.

“Hiding your face?” he asked.

“Protecting it,” said Gerard. “I suppose I can take this off in here, because I’m not out to bamboozle the law, only to play a may game with an unpleasant fellow.”

“You speak in riddles, squire; and what makes you think I’m the law?”

“My wife spotted your occurrence book,” said Gerard. “And that might mean life or death to you if you’re not wishful for someone to, er, bubble your lay, as I think the cant goes.” He took off the mask.

The man glanced down, and pushed his notebook out of sight.

“Much obliged to you, and your sharp-eyed lady,” he said. “Nasty scarring; how did you come by it?”

“Footpad; he fired close enough for the flash to burn me, I think it may have been double-shotted as well.  I’m hoping the powder-burns will fade with time; I’m vain.”

The runner peered closely.

“Ar, them’s powder burns right enough, not burns from molten metal,” he said. “Abe Langcostard at your service.”

“Molten metal?” said Gerard. “Coining?”

“You’re fast; or involved,” said Langcostard.

Gerard laughed.

“Why would I need to be involved in coining? I’ve an income of more than fifteen thousand. It would be small beer to me.”

Langcostard regarded him.

“Well, your clothes agree with that,” he said. “Watch any change you get, though; I ain’t sayin’ the publican is involved, and I’m pretty sure he ain’t, seeings as he sent for us, but there’s bad money comes through here. You’d be more likely to see it than the locals, being half-crowns.”

Gerard scratched his head, and accepted a heavy wet from the barkeeper.

“You know what I think? If you will listen to the theory of an amateur.”

“I’ll listen to any thoughts, squire.”

“It seems to me that someone got careless, dropping some coins here, or they’re testing the water, so to speak.  If I was passing bad money, I’d be giving it in change to all the gentlemen who will flock to Quorndon, Market Harborough, and other centres of the Hunt, who might not worry about change of sixpence here or there, but would take a half-crown.  And I’d be looking for a smithy with a saddlemaker associated, as the places they’d be most likely to spend their blunt. Even an obliging travelling smithy.”

“Much obliged to you, Mr....?”

“Wintergreen. Viscount, as it happens, but my bride and I are leading an irate father a merry dance. The groom is a friend of mine, and the bride’s father took against him.”

“Oho! And a blacked face, to the casual glance. Not using wiley African magic, then?”

“No, and I hope the young seaman and his girl who set out through Coventry haven’t had any trouble, for he’s the genuine article in so far as race is concerned.”

“I can’t really condone a runnaway marriage, you know, me lord.”

“Oh, the lass had permission until her father discovered that her bridegroom was the son of a Jamaican wife of colour,” said Gerard.

“Well, I can see it wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes, but there ain’t no real difference,” said Langcostard.

“Why don’t you join us for a meal, Langcostard? I wager you’ve a story or two that would entertain my Jane.”

“Well, if you’re paying, my lord, I don’t mind if I do,” said Langcostard. “Their full spreads being above my touch.”

The full spread was, indeed, impressive, and what Gerard called ‘proper’ Melton Mowbray pies, with a layer of pork, a layer of chicken, and a layer of stuffing as well as plenty of jelly.

“This is the way our housekeeper in the Leicestershire house makes them,” he said, happily. “I know it’s not traditional but I like them this way.”

“You can like them any way you please, and I will order it so,” said Jane.

Star, too, was happy, with a plate full of dog’s meat, and another bone, which he later buried behind Gerard’s cushion in the curricle.

Mr. Langcostard dredged up a few stories suitable to be told in the presence of ladies, and the horses had a good rest, as the young couple remained at the inn half an hour longer than they had intended, and left with the remains of the large pie to fortify them on their way, wrapped tenderly by the innkeeper’s wife in waxed paper, and a couple of slices slipped to the gratified Mr. Langcostard, who was anticipating a long night watching a person of interest.

 

“Sunset’s about half six, should be light in the sky an hour after that,” said Gerard, eyeing the sky. “I make it half after two;  it’s ten miles to Market Harboro’ but if we pushed on for Leicester, we could do it in three hours, with the horses well rested, four at the outside if we rest them half way.”

“If you feel you can drive that long,” said Jane.

“I’m getting better every day,” said Gerard. “And that pie was sublime.”

 

oOoOo

 

Frith and Orpington had conflicting news in Northampton, hearing that one couple were taking the Coventry Road, and one heading due north from Northampton.

“We’d better split,” said Orpington. “I will take the Coventry road, for they must head west at some point to get to Gretna.”

“Very well, I will continue on the main road,” said Frith. “I still think it’s some sort of confusion. The roads will meet again at a little place called Manchester, and if going by Coventry, they’ll have to take the last bit before the roads meet by a lesser road, anyway.”

“I’ll see you in Manchester, then, unless I’ve caught up with them before then; I have my special licence,” said Orpington.

 

The men parted, and Frith pressed on.  He had been only an hour or two behind Gerard and Jane when he started off, but Gerard had better horses, and was a better driver. He was quite capable of overtaking a haywain, of which they had met several, Jane tossing largesse to any who moved to the left to give him room. Gerard stood to see further before committing himself, and only moved forward when it was clear.  Seeing this, several carters had signalled in time-honoured way to pass them, and had received a larger vail for their trouble.

Frith was impatient, but he was not stupid enough to overtake when he was not sure what was coming the other way; and did not thank those who signalled him to overtake. Unlike Gerard, whose health was drunk, Frith had bad cess wished on him. He also found himself sufficiently held up that he took a room in Market Harborough with gratitude for having reached somewhere moderately civilised at last.

His only thought was that it was most inconvenient of the peasantry to be making hay when he needed to be fast, with the spuriously smug expectation that his quarry was equally held up. Jane and Gerard had noticed the relatively poor quality of the hay, from what had been a bad year for all crops.

 

oOoOo

 

“Are we likely to run into any coiners, Gerard?” asked Jane, when they were tenderly ensconced in the ‘Welland Inn’ on the whimsical, if vague, recollection on Gerard’s part of the tales of Wayland the Smith, an old demi-god, from Norse or Saxon legend, with relation to his thoughts on coiners.

“Very unlikely, I should say,” said Gerard, cheerfully.  “But if we do, I am sure it will please Mr. Langcostard. I hope he enjoys his pie as much as I enjoyed you feeding me slices whilst I drove.”

“And Star enjoyed everything you dropped,” said Jane, cheerfully. “And we managed to eat dinner too; we shall get fat.”

“Not a bit of it,” said Gerard. “We’re in need of the energy with being on the road all day.”

“It’s a good excuse,” said Jane, gravely. “And you need to keep your strength up to make your wife happy at night.”

“Ah, a most excellent reason,” said Gerard.