the marquis's memory 20

 

Chapter 20

 

Pip had no difficulty finding a couple of bottles of porter, and some pies in the cellars, which she stashed in the passage, before making her way cautiously up the hidden stair to James’s room. She opened the panel with care, but he had not dared return. She rifled through his belongings, and found a cautious, but revealing, letter to Lady Calver.

My lady,

I have established myself in the neighbourhood, and I am able to assure you that the only unattached females of any pretensions to gentility are either past their last prayer, or children. I can find no evidence of any gypsy charmer; himself seems to be occupying himself in pretending to be a bucolic squire. He is undoubtedly quite unsuited for the role to which you tried so hard to raise him. I will do my utmost to rectify the situation.

J

J might stand for ‘Jeffy’ if she were in the mood to want it so; or James for his real name, and James thought himself clever to have so signed himself. He had, however, forgotten to send the letter down to be taken to the post, and Pip pocketed it. She also found a commonplace book in which James had recorded some of Geoffrey’s mannerisms. There were observations about Lady Calver as well, and Pip took the whole book down, and stowed with the viands.

She went into the bar, cautiously, to find Pigeon.

It was unfortunate that the person she found was Jeb Moyse, the man she had known as ‘Da.’ Pip gasped as the man plainly recognised her.

“Someone has flash duds,” leered the man through rotten teeth. “What did you have to do for such fine clothes, service the gentry-mollies?”

“Who the devil are you, fellow, and what do you want with me?” demanded Pip, haughtily.

It made Jeb Moyse pause, and Pip slipped from his grasp on her coat to dodge round the bar, and into the snug, where she found Pigeon, cleaning tables.

“Mister Pigeon!” she called.

“Pip? Wass yew doin’ of back here?” asked Pigeon. “Goo’blarst! And the markiss missing, too!”

“Mister Pigeon, I’m Philippa, in disguise, and I have rescued the marquis from that lying fellow, but I’m scared to run into him,” said Pip.

“Miss Philippa? And there was me thinkin’ yew was Master Pip,” said Pigeon. “Our’ll see tu lettin’ Miss Congreve know; is the markiss hurt?”

“Yes, but I think good vittles and a night’s sleep will do him the world of good,” said Pip. “And I’m nursing him. I left money for food and porter,” she added. “What’s been happening here? That horrid man, James, tied him up and planned to torture him, he wants to kill him and take his place.”

“He ain’t a good enough actor,” scoffed Pigeon. “I’ll see Mr. Endicott knows too; I’ll send Noah-Nelson.  Mr. Endicott went arter them ow villyun, when he grabbed Miss Effie as a hostage; her’s bruised but not bad hurt,” he reassured Pip as she put her hand to her mouth in shock.

“Oh, thank you,” said Pip. If Effie could be reassured, she would scold later for Pip taking on nursing Geoffrey herself, but that was later. And she did not want to cause Effie distress for not knowing what had become of her. “Oh, please, there’s Moyse, and I can’t get into the cellar.”

“Yew leave that feller tu me,” said Pigeon, going through to find Moyse.  “Wass I said about findin’ yor darty face in moi inn? Git out,” he said, manhandling Moyse out of the door.  Pip thankfully slid down the ladder into the cellar, and down the passage with her booty.

 

 

Pigeon decided to take the news of Miss and the Marquis being well himself to Miss Congreve, and paused to take off his apron, and put on a jacket of a startling plum colour which he also wore to church.

He knocked on the door and was shown in by Mrs. Murfitt, where he discovered Effie being driven almost to distraction by the nursing ministrations of Miss Alethea, who had found a shawl for Effie’s feet on the day bed, and was fussing with a pillow behind her, and demanding to know if she wanted a nice cup of tea, or some chocolate.

Pigeon pulled off his hat and half twisted it between his hands.

“Reckon I got some good news, Miss Congreve,” he said.

“Oh? What sort of news?  Did someone find Philippa when she was thrown off the back of that fellow’s curricle? Is she badly hurt? Do they know she’s a lady? She is so careless about dressing sometimes, and without a bonnet, and falling off a curricle, they may think her some kind of hoyden….” Effie was in a total panic.

“There, now, miss, she ain’t hurt at all,” said Pigeon. “Well, nobbut a few bruises, reckon. Her come intu the Running Buck.”

“Oh! Is Jinny taking care of her? I shall have to collect her, Mrs. Murfitt will have to come with me… or is she too overset in the nerves? I can send Betty to be with her….”

“Miss came and went; seemingly she rescued the markiss from bein’ tortured an’ she’s nursin’ un,” said Pigeon, who was sufficiently capable at taking several orders at once, that Effie in full flow did not put him off in the slightest. “Reckon her have the markiss stashed somewhere safe, him bein’ hurt, and she said to say she were foine, an’ so would he be with food an’ drink, an’ a good noight’s sleep,” he said.

“But she should not be alone with him! It is a compromising situation! Where is she? Oh, what a silly girl she is, I should be with her to give her countenance!” cried Effie. “Tell me where she is, and I shall go to her!”

“Well, miss, I couldn’t rightly say,” said Pigeon, scratching the stubble on his chin. “O’course she moight be a’most anywhere, her bein’ knowin’ of where them ow’ smugglers du stash their goods, but I couldn’t say where that moight be, fer not knowin’ ut,” said Pigeon. “Oodn’t want tu know neither; thass best not to know the secrets o’ the Gintlemen O’ the Coast.”

Effie stared.

“You mean, you let her go without finding out where she was going?” she demanded.

“Weren’t none o’ moi business,” said Pigeon. “See, she might be in them ow’ passages they du say run under the Priory, or she moight be with some fisher folk as oon’t say nuthin’ tu nobody, or she might be in a secret room somewhere loike some o’ these yere cottages are s’posed tu hev. I do-ant know, an’ I do-ant want tu know.”

“I see,” said Effie. “Well, thank you for bearing the message; will you go on to tell Mr. Endicott, please?”

“Reckon I cin du that,” said Pigeon, equably.

He left Effie torn between relief that her charge was alive and well, and panic that she was ruining herself socially, and finally assimilating the word ‘torture’ and wondering what was going on.

 

“Well, now, Pigeon, normally you are the one serving drinks to me, in your house; it isn’t often the boot is on the other foot,” said Simon. “You look big with news.”

“That girl, Miss Philippa, seems she’s also Mr. Pip,” said Pigeon.

“Old news to me, old man,” said Simon. “I’ve always known that.”

“Ar? Well, fancy that,” said Pigeon. “Anywise, her rescued the markiss; seemingly he was bein’ tortured by that villyun, wass Miss Philippa called ‘James’ an’ she’s stashed the markiss to heal him up, bein’ frit tu come intu the village in case he still be here,” said Pigeon.

“James? Are you sure of that name?” asked Simon, sharply.

“Ar, thass wot she say,” said Pigeon, nodding his head.

“Well, I’m damned! I thought that beard was a fake,” said Simon. “Looked more like a merkin than a beard, too, if you ask me. So, Matthew Marks is really James James. And the marquis is alive, but damaged?”

“Ar, miss said some vittles an’ a good noight’s sleep ood set him up jes’ foine,” said Pigeon.

“Any idea where they are?” asked Simon.

Pigeon hesitated.

“Reckon she took him to her sty,” he opined. “Yew can’t git in dew yew do-ant know the secret, an’ I do-ant know the secret.”

“That’s the mound, in the meadow, isn’t it?” said Simon. “I might go over there, and call out.”

“Well, yew do as your council sees fit, but I didn’t say she wuz, oonly that she moight be,” said Pigeon.

“I’ll let her think I guessed on my own,” said Simon.

Pigeon nodded, and went about his business.

 

oOoOo

 

Simon approached the innocuous looking mound.

“Geoffrey! Pip!” he called.  “I’m guessing you are there – I’d like to talk about James.”

Geoffrey’s voice answered after a brief pause.

“Go to the hedge behind the mound; you’ll work out the gate. Pip will give you a hand after that.”

Simon did as he was told, and nodded at the ingeniously hidden gate. He discovered a wet-haired Pip ready to show him through the gorse bush.

“Ingeniously hidden,” said Simon.

“Just promise not to show Effie unless it’s an emergency,” said Pip.  “I come here to escape her at times – oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s a darling, and I love her,” as Simon pokered up, “But you are her beau and you see a different side of her to the one which treats me as if I am still about ten years old. She does it to Alethea too, though not quite as much. I know she feels the responsibility of making a silk purse from a sow’s ear very deeply, and wants to do well by Geoffrey as she’s paid to make me a lady, but I think I absorbed a lot from Mama, except I’m more a gentleman than a lady at times, and I feel a need to escape.”

“Geoffrey would understand that very well,” said Simon. “I can see why the two of you are drawn to each other, though dear Effie’s slightly heavy mothering is nothing like the suffocating possessiveness of Lady Calver.”

“She really is insane,” said Pip. “Now, welcome to my domain.” She led him into the sty proper.

“Why, it’s quite homely!” said Simon, in surprise, having braced himself for a hovel.

“My housewifely skills,” said Pip. “Utensil in the corner behind the curtain. Excuse us; we were eating, and I did not bring enough to share.”

“No, indeed,” said Simon. “Please, don’t mind me; I am sure Geoffrey will be readier to discuss things when he has eaten.”

“I shall,” said Geoffrey. “Jinny Pigeon makes excellent pies.”

Simon waited politely for his friend and Pip to finish eating, raising an eyebrow over how they seemed to be feeding each other. Then he opened.

“Pigeon was adamant that you said the vicar is really James?” he asked.

“Yes, and what’s more, I brought a letter he was writing to Lady Calver, and his commonplace book, where he notes Geoffrey’s mannerisms. Only something I noticed, because he’s copying what he looks at, he’s mirroring them, not copying them. You know how Geoffrey scratches behind his right ear with his right hand, when he’s thinking?” she said.

“I do?” said Geoffrey. “I have a little scar there, from some childish mishap.”

“Yes, I’ve noted it,” said Simon.

“Well, in James’s notes, it says to scratch behind left ear,” said Pip. “He’s thinking of it as if using a mirror – and probably did use a mirror, and got confused.”

“You’re right; it seems more natural to mirror poses when copying them,” said Simon. “He’s a big success in the servants’ halls for his impressions, but now you mention it, he does that mirroring a lot. Opens a snuff box one handed, like Geoffrey, but with his right hand, not his left, and shuts it, and does that pointing thing with it curled in all but the forefinger that Geoffrey does when emphasising a point.”

“My goodness!” said Geoffrey. “I had no idea I had so many mannerisms.”

“That, if you pardon the pun, doesn’t scratch the surface,” said Simon. “However, if he’d got them right, I suspect he might have fooled a lot of people, he’s the right age and height, and you’ve been out of London long enough that a slight difference would not be enough to worry people.”

“I am quite chilled,” said Geoffrey. He leafed through the commonplace book, and shuddered, passing it to Simon. “You keep that; I don’t want to read about what he did with my mother,” he added. “The letter is very suggestive. We need to swear out a complaint; you’ll have to take a letter from me to Bow Street, which I will write at the Priory in the morning. I fear my handwriting might be a little shaky, right now, which could only add confusion to the narrative. But Sluggy! If I appear to come to the Priory before breakfast time, you be on your guard. Indeed, be on your guard anyway. And alert Noah-Nelson, Danny, and Tiberius, and maybe borrow a couple of good fighters as well. We don’t know if he has help.”

“What, ‘furriners’ from two or three miles away?” asked Simon, with a smile.

“Don’t laugh, Simon,” said Geoffrey, seriously. “If he has recruited from another village, nobody here will know about it, and feelings of rivalry can run hot between villages, on account of such terrible things as someone breaking their leg in a football match between the two in the reign of Good Queen Bess, and blaming it on the other side. In those days, the pitch was between two villages, and everyone joined in.”

“Barbaric,” said Simon.

“Well, yes,” said Geoffrey. “That’s why the crown kept trying to ban it.”

“I didn’t know you took that much interest in history,” said Simon.

“I take an interest in sport,” said Geoffrey. “I’m not devoid of knowledge about history, either, I’ll have you know; I’m not the brainless Corinthian. And it’s in those fields James could not keep up. He couldn’t box to save his life, he doesn’t like horses, and he can’t discuss things like reform of things like climbing boys or other things that, or agriculture. He wouldn’t know a prize sow from a hog-roast.”

“But all he has to do is to be a society darling, and avoid serious conversation,” said Simon. “If he succeeded, but he won’t. We know, now.”

“But he must surely know by now that his plans have gone awry,” said Pip. “Mr. Endicott chased him out of town, picking up Effie, he may have friends where he hid.”  She had already told Geoffrey about the kidnap of Effie; then she gasped. “Mr. Endicott, had he turned onto the Ipswich road before he threw Effie out?”

“No, he was still on the track into the Haddingtons,” said Simon.

“Why, then, suppose he turned left, not right?” asked Pip.

“Why would he do that? The road is a dead end, Shotley Point,” said Simon.

“But Mr. Endicott! It’s where he had taken Geoffrey!” said Pip. “I rode behind his curricle all the way, and by the way, I don’t want to be a tiger, it’s too uncomfortable. And I dropped off when he slowed, and he tied up Geoffrey, and hit him a few times, but he was too deeply unconscious, so he went away. Suppose he went to collect Geoffrey, and found him gone? He knows there’s an irritated marquis at large who knows or who can guess his reasoning.”

“And he must be aware someone helped me, as you had to cut me down,” said Geoffrey. “He has only a couple of things to link Matthew Marks with James James; so if he has any sense, he will sneak back to the Running Buck to retrieve his letter and his commonplace book.  Only he will find them missing. At this point, if I was him, I’d flee the country. What he will do, I cannot guess.”

“He’ll probably question everyone at Shotley, to find out who rescued you,” said Simon. “He’s a cocky little bastard – oh, pardon my French, Miss Philippa.”

“I’m not bothered,” said Pip. “I don’t know if I was seen or not; it took me a good hour to both release him, and drag him and the boat down to low water. At least there’s more footing at Shotley, not that damned quicksand we have here.”

“If you were seen, and I think it likely, he knows by now,” said Simon. “So, he knows you are a danger to him.”

“But as you say, he is self-assured, and self-absorbed,” said Geoffrey. “I think he might assume me dead, or I would have been sending out the hue and cry. Which I would have done, had I been sure it was safe for Pip to be abroad.”

“In other words, assume he may try something, and be careful,” said Simon. “In his shoes, I’d just let myself into the Priory, and go to bed, and get up as if nothing was wrong, growling at people who asked where I had been.”

“You’re a cool hand,” said Geoffrey. “But I don’t think even James is that full of sangfroid. Just… be careful.”

 

 

A/N to the person who complained about the nursery name 'Jeffy' for Geoffrey; now you see where it worked to James's advantage. I hope you got over your despite for it.