the Marquis's Memory 12

 

Chapter 12

 

 

Then Geoffrey’s eyes fell on Pip.

Geoffrey had not noticed the ladies, from the pulpit; in point of fact, he had not visually noticed anyone, having been struck with a severe case of stage fright, and having managed to get through the service on willpower alone, aided by Gaffer Keeble’s asides.  This, then, was the first time he had seen Pip properly accoutred as Philippa, and he felt his mouth fall open as he gazed on her delicate, winsome face framed with an aureole of auburn curls. And her slender figure hugged by the classical lines of her gown, a York wrap worn with a polonaise overgown in a green which matched her eyes.

“I… I… I…” he stuttered. “Y…y…you….M…Miss Seward!” he managed at last.

Pip achieved a curtsey of sorts.

“My lord!” she said. “You make an almost convincing vicar.”

“Someone had to,” said Geoffrey. “I was terrified.”

“Oh, that must be a bouncer, surely!” said Pip.

“I almost shot the cat and ran away,” said Geoffrey. “I would like to say that you inspired me, but that would be a bouncer, for I was so terrified, I did not see anyone, only a mass of faces. But had I known that you were there, I would have been inspired.”

“Perilously close to Spanish Coin,” said Pip.

“Yes, wasn’t it? I had no idea how lovely you were going to turn out, and I’m babbling,” said Geoffrey.

“I do scrub up quite nicely, though Effie says I am not to say that,” said Pip.

“I won’t tell her you said it then,” said Geoffrey.  “But, Pi…Philippa! I already fell in love with you before the emergence of beauty’s self from her chrysalis.”

“But it is nice to knock you for six as well,” said Pip, demurely.

“You really have,” said Geoffrey.

“Philippa! I told you not to use sporting terms!” said Effie, having overheard that last.

“Even when accurate?” asked Geoffrey.

“Oh, for goodness sake! You can’t expect me to turn the girl into a lady if you encourage her to use sporting terms.”

“Forgive me,” said Geoffrey. He winked, deliberately at Pip. “I had no idea what a good showing such a dark horse would make. I rather believe I have been knocked out for the count.”

“That doesn’t help,” said Effie. “Philippa, on no account repeat anything his lordship just said.”

Pip gave a little gurgle of mirth.

“He did it deliberately to tease you,” she said.

“So long as you are aware of that…,” said Effie.

“He has a very naughty sense of humour,” said Pip.

Geoffrey looked as if butter would not melt in his mouth.  Then, he pulled a rueful grimace.

“I have to go up to town on a grim sort of business, and I was trying not to think of it,” he said. “I need to take a doctor to examine my mother.”

“Good luck,” said Pip, soberly. “Drive carefully, and don’t let her rile you.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Geoffrey. “I tell you what, I won’t drive if she puts me in a temper, I will wait and calm down first. Because she will be out of my house one way or another.”

“What if she won’t go?” asked Effie.

“I’ll have the footmen carry her out and throw all her belongings out of the window,” said Geoffrey. “I am not having her trying to treat me as if I am four years old anymore, and forcing only unsuitable women at me.”

“Maybe she wants you for herself,” said Pip.

“Demme! Shades of Jocasta… now that would explain a lot… and I could tell a doctor that, in any case.”

 

oOoOo

 

It was a long few days without Geoffrey, but there was so much to learn; dancing, and beginning to learn fortepiano with Miss Gooding, who was strict, but kindly. Unlike poor Alethea, who played well enough but with as much feeling, said Miss Gooding, exasperated, as a stack of newspapers, Pip had a feel for it, and if she missed the odd note, as soon as permitted simple tunes, she put heart into what she played. She loved listening to Miss Gooding playing, and sneaked over to listen from the garden gate when Miss Gooding practised, with the window open for the hot weather.

Discovered, because Ragged Robin tipped her over the gate, with a little shriek, Pip stumblingly confessed to loving to listen to Miss Gooding play.

“My dear child! Why don’t you come in, to listen; I have no objection to increasing your education in musical appreciation. You are welcome to bring your embroidery, if you do not wish your hands to be idle.”

“I’m learning that, too, and I’m not very good at it.”

“Well, then, I will untangle you at need,” said Miss Gooding.

“You are so nice,” said Pip. “And to think everyone thinks you’re stuck up because you don’t see people much, and because your brother… forgot what I was going to say.”

Miss Gooding smiled, sadly.

“My brother is an academic, and he hates dealing with the common complaints of broken bones, broken heads, sewing up nasty cuts, whitlows and felons, cold-sores, chilblains and rheumatism. Or rather, he is convinced that certain kinds of whitlows and cold-sores are connected, but nobody wants to answer questions on it in order for him to find out. He is still trying to find a connecting animalcule in the fluids of each, but it eludes him.”

“It’s probably too small to see,” said Pip. “P’haps the marquis will build him a clinic so he can put all the people with the same illness in a ward and stop them infecting other people.”

“That would be ideal, but I’m not holding out much hope,” said Miss Gooding. “He did say he would find a doctor happy to take on common diseases. Then, if someone else lances felons, Thomas can study the pus, and look for his animacules, and prove that it’s an attack of them on the blood, having got into the body with something dirty.”

“I had a felon on my toe, once, when I got a thorn in it,” said Pip. “But I lanced it myself, with a knife dipped in whisky to kill off any evil miasmas.”

“The right choice if the wrong reason,” said Dr. Gooding coming in.

“Please, sir, is there any reason that what people speak of as miasmas isn’t flying animacules in the air?” said Pip.

“I… would not rule it out,” said Gooding. “I came to see why the music stopped.”

“I will ring for tea and biscuits,” said Miss Gooding.

 

oOoOo

 

It was surprisingly easy to find a physician with interest in alienation; Geoffrey went to the Bethlehem Hospital, also known as Bedlam. 

“What do you want of me, my lord?” asked Dr. Arkwright.

“I believe my mother is insane, and I want her to be quietly taken care of, in a private house, where she can’t interfere in my life, and can’t be hurt,” said Geoffrey.

“You’d better tell me about her,” said Arkwright.

“She was always possessive…” Geoffrey began. He spoke for a couple of hours.

“I’m amazed you are not half insane yourself,” said Arkwright.

“I’m not sure I’m not,” said Geoffrey. “But I’ve put up with it for two years since my father died, and I’m not going to put up with it anymore.”

“Ah, presumably your father mitigated matters?”

“Yes,” said Geoffrey.

“I think I can, in all good conscience give you the name and direction of a doctor who will certify her, and will bring nurses capable of enforcing her compliance.”

“Thank you,” said Geoffrey, letting out the breath he was hardly aware he had been holding. “I was afraid you would say that she is normal and I am sick to want my life back.”

“That you would even say that speaks to me of how much she tried to break you,” said Arkwright.

 

Geoffrey made arrangements. The doctor who would take his mother away had a number of properties which he maintained with one or more patients.

“I don’t want her with other mad people,” said Geoffrey. “I’ll pay to have her comfortably housed and under the impression that she is the lady of the house, with her own maid and dresser, if they will go with her, and impoverished ladies who need a position as her companions.”

“I can manage that, my lord. I have my eye on a nice little property, just outside of town in a village called Wembley. Nothing ever happens there.  Six bedrooms, enough for her consequence, a live-in graduate who is studying before going into medicine for himself, it’s a good experience, and four burly women as handlers.”

“I don’t want her hurt.

“That’s why they are burly; so they don’t have to hurt her if she needs a little persuasion.”

“I will make unexpected spot visits.”

“My people will have nothing to fear from your visits.”

“In that case, it seems ideal. I want her to have dignity.”

“That’s what you are paying for.”

 

Geoffrey wondered how many people were placed in private asylums like this who were merely inconvenient. He shuddered; he preferred not to find out.

He went back to the house in Grosvenor square, and had hardly got in through the door when his mother whirled downstairs.

“Geoffrey, you naughty boy! Where did you go? Where have you been? I have been beside myself with worry about you!  You missed your wedding ceremony, and your fiancée is devastated!”

“Winston,” said Geoffrey, to his butler, “How long has her ladyship had delusions about me being engaged?”

“Well, my lord, she booked St. George’s, Hanover Square for your wedding, but I understand the supposed bride did not turn up, either, as she did not consider herself betrothed to you.”

“I think, perhaps you should have Andrews and Poynter escort her ladyship to her room, and provide her with chamomile tea laced with a little laudanum, since she appears to be getting hysterical over her over-active imagination,” said Geoffrey.

“Geoffrey! Listen to me when I’m speaking to you!” commanded Lady Calver. “You used to be such a sweet little boy until your father started teaching you to rebel!”

“Madam, my father made me conscious of my responsibilities as his heir and successor,” said Geoffrey, who felt quite sick with this confrontation. “Your unnatural obsession with me will end now.  Go back to your rooms and do not make any more of a fool of yourself.”

“You’re not to big for me to put across my knee, Jeffy!” said Lady Calver.

“Madam, you are mistaken,” said Geoffrey. “I am the head of the household, and to attempt to assault me would be a matter of petty treason. I trust I make myself clear?”

“You will do what you are told, Geoffrey!” cried Lady Calver. “And you will tell me what you have been up to! What sort of little strumpet have you been seeing?”

“It would not be any of your business if I swived my way through all the chorus, actresses, and castrati of Covent Garden,” said Geoffrey. “However, I have not been seeing any strumpet of any dimensions, little or otherwise.” He considered. “Is it more reprehensible to see a little strumpet, or one of the dimensions of many an opera singer?  Some of them are vast strumpets, and the vibrato almost frightening when one considers any closer congress than from a box; would intimacy emulate an earthquake if accompanied by vocals from such magnificent lungs? And would a medium-sized strumpet be more appropriate, perhaps, under the circumstances? I shall have to consider, so that if I decide to go off with a strumpet, I know enough to order her by the yard.”

“Jeffy! What nonsense you talk!”

Geoffrey faked a yawn.

“When encountering nonsense, absolute farce seems the only counter. Leave me, mother; Andrews and Poynter will carry you if you do not,” he said with a voice like a whiplash.

His mother stared; and saw her late husband’s face in that of her son.

She turned.

“You have not heard the last of this,” she said.

“Really? How tedious,” said Geoffrey. “Perhaps I can take off my hat and coat, now, Winston,” he handed the same to his butler.

“Her ladyship sent a Bow Street Runner after you, my lord, and went after him,” said Winston.

“If it came to it, would you testify that she is… not normal?” asked Geoffrey.

“Willingly, my lord,” said Winston. “And I would, of course, do so for you, even if I didn’t believe she was crazy,”

“Yes, well, that’s not necessary,” said Geoffrey. “A doctor and some nurses will be collecting her ladyship to go to a quiet house in the country; will you discreetly find out whether any of her personal staff wish to accompany her, and if so, see that they, as well as she, are packed and ready. I will raise their wages by a fifth, but you need not mention that. I won’t have anyone join her for venal reasons, but they deserve a consideration for their sacrifice.”

“Quite so, my lord,” said Winston. “May I say, we of the staff are pleased that you feel able to act; none of us has known quite what to do, but a quiet confinement should suit all round.”

“You may see if there are any impoverished ladies of uncertain years needing somewhere to go, they need not be capable of intellectual conversation; my mother has eschewed that for years.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Winston.

“They’ll need to be able to play whist, but not too well,” said Geoffrey. 

 

It was a few days before Dr.  Fringford and his nurses arrived, very discreetly.

“I am seeing to having the house populated with shabby genteel, whist-playing ladies,” said Geoffrey. “Perhaps you can concoct some moderately foul tasting water with Epsom salts or rusty nails to emulate chalybeate waters, and persuade her that she is in a fashionable resort to take the waters; with a pump-room, and card rooms, and some gossip, I hope she may be happy enough.”

“Oh, I will have my young locum devise domestic problems for her to unravel, and make up stories to be gossiped about,” said Dr. Fringford. “I am hoping that within a year, she may even come to believe that it was all her own idea.”

“That would make her more comfortable,” sighed Geoffrey. “Though I am not sure I approve. I just want her imprisonment to be comfortable. She is my mother, after all.”

 

The removal of Lady Calver from Grosvenor Square was not accomplished without placing her forcibly under sedatives; and Geoffrey shuddered when she was brought downstairs, on a chair, and tied to it.

“I will visit you, mother,” he said. “But I cannot, and will not have you behaving like this.”

“All the world will see that you are out of control and wild!” murmured Lady Calver, who was crying.

“They will not, but do you know what?” said Geoffrey. “I fear it would only make me more attractive to women, as many women desire to tame a wicked rake.  I pray that you try to enjoy your stay as much as possible; I have authorised them to provide you with periodicals and novels, as well as the entertainments available.”

“You hate me!”’

“I don’t feel that much for you, mother,” said Geoffrey. “But I want to do my duty to the succession and marry, and that will be on my terms, and my terms only.”

She was removed from the house, and Geoffrey sat down on the bottom stair of the grand staircase, exhausted, relieved, and utterly drained.  Here, Winston found him, fast asleep, and slid a pillow under his head, and a comforter over him, and sat in a chair, watching, until his master should wake and want to go to bed in a more sensible place. The old man’s heart went out to his master, remembering how the young boy would escape the oppressive doting of his mother, and end up, sleeping in cupboards, alcoves, the attics, or below stairs where he was out of the way, and might remain undiscovered.