the marquis's memory 6

 

Chapter 6

 

Effie walked into the inn.

“What’s wrong with Pip?” she asked.

“I gave him ‘the talk,’” said Geoffrey. “Miss Congreve, may I present my friend, Simon Endicott, and Officer Suggs, of Bow Street, looking for a straying Marquis. He hasn’t found one.”

“Oh?” said Effie, who seemed a little distracted.

Simon had stood up when she came in, of course, and he kissed her hand.

“Enchanted,” he said.

“I… delighted to meet you,” said Effie. “But I am concerned about Pip. He went running down the lane, and Sarey went with him, and I wondered why he was upset. When you say, ‘the talk,’ what did you mean?”

“We’d been explaining the iniquities of Philip-Paul Seward, and he was concerned that, since the mutilation visited on him by an unfortunate epileptic girl, it would affect his get, the sins being visited onto the children for generations, you know the text.”

“I thought that was French Pox?” said Effie.

“Yes, but Pip had got hold of some very odd ideas,” said Geoffrey.  “So, I explained the birds and the bees to him, and he got a bit shocked. I thought some time to himself would help him come to terms with himself. I assume he’s gone off to his pigsty.”

“Yes, it’s somewhere down near the shore, though I defy anyone to find it if they don’t know where it is,” said Effie. “So, what is a marquis doing, straying?”

“Running away from a mother who tried to betroth him without his consent, and who wants to interfere in every aspect of his life, as she always has done, when his father didn’t put a stop to it,” said Geoffrey.  “A lad who sees the harsh realities of Eton as an escape is not very usual; but when this hypothetical marquis’s father was told by the child ‘I don’t want to be at school, I want to go home to mama’ when he was actually sitting on her lap, the father recognised that there was a level of persuasion and leverage going on which was unhealthy. Several holidays spent on hunting trips and riding holidays established a good relationship with his father, and broke the control of the mother. She never forgave either for that, and there were no siblings in the offing.”

“I’ve seen a mother using that sort of control to teach her offspring to steal for her,” volunteered Suggs.

“It doesn’t surprise me,” said Geoffrey. “Mr. Suggs is going to discuss a decent luncheon, go visit Philip-Paul Seward, decide it is too late to move on, and take a room for the night, writing a report to the dowager, which can be dispatched in the morning and may just miss the morning mail into the city from Erwarton. Meanwhile,  Simon is going to run into Ipswich for me, and see about getting me a yacht, on which I will take up residence, as I understand there is a pier at the beach for fishing smacks and smugglers?”

“I know nothing of smugglers,” said Effie, demurely. “But I am sure I can find Mr. Endicott someone to row him across the estuary to prevent a long drive round.”

“Excellent,” said Geoffrey. “I am hoping that Pip will be back tonight, but I know he is used to taking care of himself.”

“Yes, I believe he is very self-sufficient,” said Effie. “I did not know that Mr. Seward had suffered any mutilation, only that he is supposed to be a wicked man whose vices caused him to be less dangerous.”

“Well, I am not about to discuss that with a lady,” said Geoffrey. “Most improper! But in essence, your intelligence is correct in that regard.”

 

oOoOo

 

Geoffrey took himself for a walk, accompanying Simon to the staithe at the end of Sow’s Lane, as the locals dubbed the lane on which he had come to grief, as Suggs went to visit Seward.

The lane was old, and sunken into the landscape, edged with honeysuckle and wild roses, which scented the air delightfully.  It opened up onto a small cove, the lane carrying on down a rickety-looking pier, which was actually sturdier than it looked, and which ran well out into the estuary, to reach deep enough water for a shallow-drafted boat even at low tide.

“No beaching to unload, then?” asked Simon, of his guide and rower.

“Quicksands,” was the laconic reply of Noah-Nelson Keeble, one of the Gaffer’s sons. The Gaffer’s wife had been with child when her husband was taken up by the press, and she have felt her son should be given a name which reflected the best of the sea.

Sarey, the sow, was enjoying herself in a wallow she had made, filled with rather muddy water as the tide had receded.  Geoffrey sat on the bank of low rivercliff above the sandy cove, and listened to the song of the larks, too high in the sky to be visible, enjoying the eggshell-blue sky, the creaking, buzzing song of grasshoppers, the mixed smells of flowers and herbs, and the warmth of the sun.

Had he known it, as he took off his coat, to fold as a pillow to lay for a while on the meadow, he was observed from the mound he had barely noticed, just before the tilled land beyond the foreshore. The walk had been more tiring than Geoffrey had expected, and he dozed, as the skiff into which Simon had got, pulled away from the staithe to cross the river.

 

oOoOo

 

Ned Suggs was not looking forward to visiting Philip-Paul Seward, but duty was duty.

He rode up to the door, hitched Hercules to the decorative pineapple at the bottom of the marble steps up to the door, marched up, and rang the bell.

It was opened by a butler.

“Good afternoon, my man,” said Suggs. “I’m from Bow Street to see your master.”

“Gawd!” said the butler. “It won’t be ‘im no more, not since ‘is dick was bit orf.”

“You misunderstand, my man,” said Suggs, pleased to get the man on the back foot. “I’m here about his cousin.”

“I’ll go and tell him; please wait here,” said the butler, shaken.

Shortly thereafter, Suggs was collected by the butler, and shown into a rococo salon with more gilding and putti than he had previously seen outside a brothel.

The man awaiting him had ginger hair, and a florid complexion, owing more, Suggs suspected, to an excess of brandy, than to natural causes.

“What is it about Calver?” rasped Seward. Suggs thought it was meant to be a peremptory bark, but the voice was also damaged by drink. “Has he stuck his spoon in the wall? If he has, I think I’m the marquis, and a lot of good it will do me now.”

“The marquis is missing, and there was some suggestion that he may have come in this direction; on a familial visit, maybe?”

“Well, he ain’t come here. Last time I saw him was when I sold him some prads because I  needed the blunt to… well, that’s none of your business. I haven’t seen him; don’t want to see him. We ain’t close kin, and I don’t care if he’s alive or dead.”

“Thank you, sir; I had to ask,” said Suggs. “I’ll go and see if he’s headed for his seat.”

“He can go to hell for all I care,” said Seward.

If he had thought to shock Suggs, he was disappointed; Suggs had no illusions about family feeling, and was well aware that as well as being almost ten years older than the marquis, Seward came from a cadet branch whose connection might be sufficient to make him the heir, but was sufficiently distant that ‘cousin’ was stretching things. Suggs duly made his way back to the Running Buck, where he wrote a report, and handed it to Pigeon, commenting that there was no big hurry.

He did not, however, specify that he did not want anything hurried, and was unaware that Pigeon, not wanting to be on the wrong side of Bow Street, adjured the boy to ride as far as he had to, to catch a mail coach. The letter would be with Lady Calver the next day.

Suggs, however, was in blissful ignorance of this, and joined Geoffrey and the Gaffer, for a meal.

“Now, Oi dare swear moi Noah-Nelson’s already spoke to Mr. Endicott,” said the Gaffer. “But dew your lordjeffersonship pleases, Noah’s married, with a son an’ daughter, wass old enough for the boy to help man a ship, an’ the girl to help her ma as a serving wench an’ cook, and the lad they adopted, wass blacker ʼn yer hat, wass Noah-Nelson took off of a man wass was beatin’ on him, acoss Noah-Nelson don’t hold with slavery.”

“Nor do I,” said Geoffrey. “Nor do the courts; I’ve heard of several cases where a man was ruled free for having been brought to England. Noah-Nelson did quite right.”

“Ar, well, Tiberius thinks the world o’ him, so I hev a black grandson in him as well as Danny an’ Hetty. Not that Hetty’s a grandson, she’s a granddaughter, and named for her ma, wass known as Hennie.”

“They sound a delightful family,” said Geoffrey. “Am I to suppose Noah-Nelson wants to sail with me?”

Gaffer gave a speaking sniff.

“Toolin’ about in a foine yacht, like as not mostly in the estuary, no Atlantic gales, no hard work fishing; gawd help un, he’d jump at ut.”

“Well, then, we are both the gainers for the proposition,” said Geoffrey. “I imagine it will be some time before I get my yacht.”

“Ar, there du hev tu be a ship wass suitable, an’ for sale,” said the Gaffer. “Noah-Nelson hev salt water in his blood, so reckon he’ll foind someat wass even more to yor needs nor what yew knows your needs du be.”

“I almost followed that,” murmured Geoffrey.

“Ar, well, yew hev some idea that you wants a boat wass big enough to live on comfortable-loike, but not too big for a small crew, but thass anything from a Norfolk wherry through a London barge, up to a small lugger,” said the Gaffer. “Now, Oi reckon a lugger’d do yew better, and Noah-Nelson agree with me; bein’s as how a wherry or a London barge du be coastal traders. But when tis blurry war is done an’ finished, yew’ll want to pop over to France an’ du your own smugglin’ semi-legal loike, account o’ being on yor own account an’ loikely tu damn the eyes of any preventative for wass comin’ hoom to yor own cellar, or on the gown o’ any lady wass with you.”

“You make it sound almost virtuous,” said Geoffrey, amused.

“Well, thass a load o’ owd squit dew a man carn’t buy stuff for hisself wherever he go,” said Gaffer.

 

Geoffrey took himself to lie down, still worrying about Pip, but having drifted off to sleep was much relieved to see Pip when he woke up. Pip had brought up some wine, and poured a glass for Geoffrey.

“Sorted things out in your own mind, brat?” asked Geoffrey.

Pip frowned.

“I think so,” he said. “I’m going to need to talk to you about things some time, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“There’s no hurry,” said Geoffrey. “Are you happy with the arrangement of using the curtains?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” said Pip. “Do you promise you’ll take care of me, though? Whatever?”

“Yes, of course,” said Geoffrey. “Why should I not?”

“Oh! If I don’t shape up the way you hope,” said Pip, evasively.

“I’m sure you’ll be whatever you want to be,” said Geoffrey.

“You are kind,” said Pip, hugging Geoffrey.

“No, I’m not, not really,” said Geoffrey. “But I took a shine to you, and it isn’t fair that you should be treated as you are.”

“I shink if pa had a daughter, he’d sell her body,” said Pip.

“I fear you may be right,” said Geoffrey.

“Huh, he’d have sold me to Seward to do with as he chose, if he thought of it,” said Pip.

“Well, I’ve never met your da, but what I’ve heard doesn’t say that’s far-fetched,” said Geoffrey. “I’m amazed you turned out such a decent kiddie.”

“My mother had strong morals. But my grandfather was the curate, and he was adamant that she must have a husband if she was with child, despite it not being her fault. He was a hard man and he made her marry the first man who would be willing to take her.  I asked Miss Effie once I knew da wasn’t my da, and she recalls the curate. She was just a child then, and she eavesdropped.”

“You must be older than I thought, then,” said Geoffrey, frowning.

“You will look after me, though?” asked Pip.

“I promised I would,” said Geoffrey. “I won’t go back on that. A man needs a father-figure even when he’s of age, and I still miss my father.”

“I… it’s all very confusing,” said Pip.  “My mother died when I was ten, da hit her too hard, and… and I just carried on the way she showed me. She had warned me about some things, but… oh, dear, I am making a bumblebroth of this.”

“Not to worry,” said Geoffrey. “I’m not going anywhere; take the time you need to tell me anything you want to tell me.  I am furious, but with Seward, and with your fool grandfather. He, being a gentleman, had the social clout to make Seward pay compensation for despoiling a lady, but there are these self-righteous hypocrites who always blame the woman. I’m not going to rant about it, don’t worry,” he smiled. “That’s why part of the talk is about making sure the woman you are with wants to do it and enjoys doing it – which is why I fled a marriage arranged by my mother because one can scarcely expect a good marriage with a stranger, and especially the sort of girl my mother likes, who is pudding-hearted, pudding-headed, vapid, and cowed.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Pip.

“It isn’t,” said Geoffrey. “I want to find someone who will be my friend as well as my lover and helpmate. It’s probably more to ask for than I can expect, but I’m a couple of years shy of thirty, and healthy, and I want the right woman to marry, not just someone who can provide a body to bear children.” He gave a rueful laugh. “And you don’t need to be burdened with my problems.”

“But I want to help,” said Pip. “You have given me a new life.”

“Well, it does help, to talk,” said Geoffrey.  “Now, did you want to tell me any of your problems?”

“I… yes,” said Pip. “But I’m not sure they are problems. I think they are just differences I did not understand until you explained things.  Mama always told me to be a good boy, and I have tried. But… oh, this is hard. You… you thought I might be undersized…?”

“It struck me as a reason for embarrassment.”

“I’ve never had a sticky-out thing to pee with, or dangling things,” said Pip. “But I do have a slit behind where I pee, which bleeds once a month, and I’ve also got fatty lumps on my chest. I... I think I might be a girl.”