the scholar's sweetheart 2

 

Chapter 2

 

Cornelius walked home across the fields, diverting his path towards an angry voice. He came upon one of the gypsies, beating an ass with an overladen cart.

“Look here, Woodlock, you won’t do that on the marquis’s land for he’s as likely to beat you harder,” said Cornelius, hoping he remembered the name of the man he had heard addressed, who had been near Shuri when he delivered his message.

Woodlock scowled.

“What’s it to you?”

“Apart from being his lordship’s man and bound to enforce his – very few – rules? I’m a man who wonders which is the bigger ass, the one with the cart attached, or the one who hasn’t noticed that the wheel is so wedged in mud that the poor beast couldn’t move it if you beat it until you both died of old age. And donkeys live a very long time,” said Cornelius. “Now, you let me help you, and I won’t mention this to Evelyn, unless I see or hear of you doing the same again.”

Woodlock scowled.

“I don’t like you,” he said.

“Was there any reason beyond me exercising sarcasm at your expense?” said Cornelius.

“Huh, well, if a man sees a man being a right dinlow, he’s got a right to make game of it,” said Woodlock, looking at the mud in deep thought. “If I lift the wheel, you draw that dratted beast forward until it’s on the dry; you look like a puff of wind would blow you away.”

“There’s more to me than appears, but I’m content with that,” said Cornelius. He went to the head of the ass. The beating did not appear to have been as harsh as he first thought; there were scars on the tongue of the cart as though Woodlock had been using the noise to scare the animal rather than hitting it directly. Cornelius nodded to himself, and clicked his tongue as Woodlock lifted the wheel. The ass trotted forward cheerfully.

“Thanks,” growled Woodlock. “I don’t like you because Shuri looked on you with admiration, and blushed. I was hoping to court her, and we don’t need some blasted aristo swiving her and leaving her with another cuckoo. Not but that the marquis hasn’t treated her right, but it’s not right.”

“I want to court her too, Woodlock,” said Cornelius. “If she’ll have me, I’d marry her. On that basis, can we be civil to each other, acknowledge that her choice counts, and swear to let her interests be uppermost?”

Woodlock hesitated.

“What is it you swell coves say? May the best man win? I’m her folk. You could probably give her more, but it ain’t just about that.”

“No; if life was about things, more, er, swell coves would be happy, and most of them ain’t, not by a long chalk,” said Cornelius. “Life’s about the intangibles.”

“You and your jaw-crack words,” jeered Woodlock. “Like her little bastard. Mind, he’s a man.”

“So am I if you’re itching for a fight,” said Cornelius. “I already spoiled the set of my coat and ripped it under the arm in laying my brother out for miscalling Shuri, so I’m not about to box shy. I can stand up to Evelyn with gaiety.”

Woodlock was a big man, and in fact boxed local champions at fairs to earn money.

“You’ve got bottom,” he said, in approval.  “My hand on an agreement to leave it to Shuri, and not to play dirty tricks on each other; and to stand together against any other bugger with less honest intent.”

He spat on his palm and held out his hand, and Cornelius did the same, and they shook hands.

They walked back to the gypsy field in some level of comradeship.

Shuri eyed them in surprise.

“I didn’t know you knew Mr. Reckitt, Woodlock,” she said.

“We know each other now,” said Woodlock. “We have an understanding. He ain’t bad for a swell cove, it’s all kushti.”

“I should learn the language of the... Roma, you call yourselves? If you will teach me,” said Cornelius.

“We don’t teach outsiders,” said Woodlock.

“Am I an outsider? Totally?” asked Cornelius.

Woodlock spat.

“You are at the moment,” he said.

“Well, I am your advocate, so perhaps you’ll be my translator if I need to help someone who uses the language more.”

“Like many women do,” said Shuri. “That seems fair, doesn’t it, Woodlock?”

“Aye, I suppose so,” said Woodlock. “We’ll work together, and keep our pact. Any more? Well, the future comes, whatever, and with it comes such fortune as it brings, good or bad.”

“You’re a philosopher,” said Cornelius.

“Some of us have to be,” said Woodlock.

 

oOoOo

 

“Evelyn, a moment?” said Cornelius, when Evelyn, Marquis Finchbury came in from inspecting his tenants’ cottages.

“Certainly, Corny, any problems?” Evelyn ushered his man into the study.

“No, the gypsy tribe are happy with the facilities, though I was wondering if we might do more so they have the option to overwinter,” said Cornelius. “I... to be honest, I was wondering if you’d object, if I were to court Shuri.”

“Good G-d!” said Evelyn. “As in court with the intent to marry?”

“Well, yes,” said Cornelius. “I’m of age; and my father does not object, so long as she settles with me, and I don’t go off to become a gypsy.”

“You’ve spoken to the reverend already?”

“It came up in conversation,” Cornelius flushed. “Eusebius was there, telling father he had seen me in a field with a gypsy wench, looking lustful.”

“Your brother is a pest,” said Evelyn. “And no, I’ve no objection to you marrying Shuri, so long as she agrees. She’s a few years older than you are.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s clever, too,” said Cornelius.

“Literate, as well,” said Evelyn, “and taught Jasper to read and write before he got to school. She taught herself. She’d probably be happy to have the odd novel to read rather than flowers. Do not buy her any article of clothing; nor any jewellery unless you are certain of her accepting your suit. She may have suitors. And to buy a gypsy woman clothing or jewellery implies that she is a kept woman under your protection, as much as it would to do so for a woman of our own estate, or randomly for any woman, if not a dependant of yours.”

“Woodlock and I have agreed to respect each other’s courtship of her and put her choice and feelings first,” said Cornelius.

“You have been busy,” said Evelyn.

“Well, I also laid Eusebius out for disparaging her, and he will be staying with Papa to try to regain his moral compass; Papa is not happy with his insinuations.”

“Dear me! Well, into each life some rain must fall, and if we must put up with Eusebius, I shall resist the temptation to give him a scandal to sniff out which is no such thing.”

Cornelius laughed.

“Oh, I don’t know, it might be good for him,” he said. “Letting him know that beings with female names are dancing for you and wondering whether to have them clothed or not, and they are all trained dogs...”

Evelyn gave a crack of laughter.

“You spend too much time with Jasper,” he sniggered. “Mind, it’s a thought!”

 

oOoOo

 

The turnout on Sunday was good, the gypsy tribe a colourful addition to the congregation, and the singing enthusiastic and tuneful.

The Reverend Reckitt produced a sermon about living in harmony with one’s fellow man, and managed to reference both going the extra mile, and the Good Samaritan, without managing to sound either forced or fatuous.

Woodlock shook his hand heartily after the service.

“Good sermon, Rector,” he boomed. “Reminded us that not all georgios – settled folk – are bad news, some of them are amongst the righteous. A good lesson.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” said Reckitt, who had intended his homily for the settled folk of his parishioners. Cornelius laughed, and slapped Woodlock on the shoulder.

“Very adroit!” he said. “Should make people think as much as the sermon itself.”

“Oh, you did get what I was about, did you, pretty boy? At least you can smile; that brother of yours looks as if his face would crack if he even tried.”

“I did, you big ape,” said Cornelius. “Woodlock, are you up for a laugh?”

“I might be,” said Woodlock, cautiously. “What had you in mind?”

“I want to prank my austere, sanctimonious, and unpleasant brother royally,” said Cornelius. “I want to hire some dancing dogs – all females, and named accordingly – to dance for the amusement of the marquis and family, but let my brother overhear arrangements for female names to dance, and the discussion of whether or not they should wear any clothes.”

Woodlock sniggered.

“I can arrange that,” he said.

“How much do you want up front?” asked Cornelius.

“Oh, I’ll call in a favour or two, so long as the hat goes round for the owner when they do dance,” said Woodlock. “I’ll do it as an act of goodwill to you and because, and this is the greater reason, the idea of taking a rise out of that Friday-faced dinlow mush with someone else ready to take the blame for it, is too much to pass up.”

Cornelius laughed.

“Well, that I can well believe,” he said.

 

oOoOo

 

“What sort of books do you think Shuri would like?” Cornelius asked Imogen. “You’re a woman, so I thought you might know.”

“I loaned her ‘Sense and Sensibility,’ by ‘A Lady’ and she enjoyed it; you might get her ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ by the same author,” said Imogen. “The novels by Mrs. Ratcliffe are always agreeable as well.”

“Thank you,” said Cornelius. “I will ask if she has read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and would care to pass an opinion, to see if she has done so.”

“A good idea. Have you read it?”

“Yes, actually, I have. I enjoy social satires.”

“Good, as well not to pretend knowledge when you have none.”

“No, I’m not that much of a clunch. I have a copy, actually; I’ll take that and ask if she would like to read it. That’s less forward than buying her a copy.”

“Good idea,” agreed Imogen.

 

Cornelius went in search of Shuri, and found her trying to break up a fight between two men. Cornelius wordlessly went for a bucket of water, and handed it to Shuri. She threw it over the combatants.

“Thank you. And thank you for not intervening.”

“You have to establish your leadership; I’m not stupid,” said Cornelius.

Shuri berated the men in a mixture of English and their own language. One tried to argue, and she raised a sculpted eyebrow and tapped her foot.

He squirmed.  She said something harsh, and he dropped his eyes.

“And if you don’t stop fighting over her, I’ll send Merily to the hall as a servant, and like as not she’ll find a better beau there amongst the servants; she’s better than either of you,” said Shuri. “Mr. Reckitt here could arrange it.”

“I could, and I could arrange for her to be protected from a pair of ill-tempered curs who have no manliness to fall to fighting rather than letting her  choose,” said Cornelius.

“Who are you to call us Rom ‘curs?’” said the argumentative one.

“I’m not calling the Rom ‘curs;’ I’m calling you two ‘curs.’ Because your behaviour suggests it.”

“Aye, I agree,” said Woodlock, appearing suddenly. “Mr. Reckitt is a man of honour.”

“Cornelius, my friend. To you, I am Cornelius,” said Cornelius.

“Hah, yes, my brother. My pral,” said Woodlock.

Shuri gasped, and opened her fine eyes wide; the other two men were taken aback.

There was muttering, but they went away in separate directions.

“Always those two are trouble,” sighed Shuri.

“I would beat them for you,” said Woodlock.

“And if you do, I will lose my leadership,” said Shuri. “I plan to make this tribe respectable in this neighbourhood, known as able to hire out for seasonal work, honest, and capable of living with our neighbours. What they steal in Salisbury is none of my business, but we will earn the trust of the villages around here. We need a place to rest at times, and we have the good will of Evelyn here, and his lady, which is even more remarkable. We need to take advantage of that.”

“I hear you,” said Woodlock. “And if you marry a giorgio and settle down?”

Shuri’s eyes widened again, and flicked involuntarily to Cornelius.

“If I loved a man who offered marriage, and so settled, you would be chief, Woodlock, in my absence. If I choose your suit, our chieftainship will be joint.”

Woodlock inclined his head.

“A great woman has to be certain before choosing any husband,” said Cornelius.

“And is that what you offer?” asked Shuri.

“I hope to do so if we draw close together, beyond the initial admiration I feel,” said Cornelius, quietly. “But there is no call to rush into anything.”

“I need to choose before winter; if I choose Woodlock, I would feel embarrassed at staying on.”

“I will not permit my feelings to impact on your tribe; if you choose Woodlock, I will ask Jasper to be your go-between,” said Cornelius.

“He speaks well,” said Woodlock. “What have you brought for my chieftess?”

“I thought you might like to borrow a book to read in spare moments,” said Cornelius. “If, that is, you have not read it? It is called ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by the same author as a book Imogen says you have read, ‘Sense and Sensibility.’”

“I would be delighted to borrow it, thank you,” said Shuri. “I looked at a copy in a lending library in Salisbury, and the first line, ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.’ It intrigued me.”

“Then I hope you enjoy the rest of it,” said Cornelius. “I felt it was better than ‘Sense and Sensibility,’ myself.”

“I look forward to discussing it,” said Shuri.

“May I read it as well?” asked Woodlock. “I read... well enough, anyway.”

“Certainly,” said Cornelius. “I can see some pleasant evenings together discussing it. It is a story which excites discussion over poor decisions, and how pride and prejudice prevent the course of love. The characters are lively, and lovingly drawn, even the ones you want to strangle.”

“I am glad you are human enough to want to strangle people at times,” said Woodlock, grinning.

“Oh, I’m very human,” said Cornelius. “And this is why we are pranking my brother, so I don’t strangle him.”

Woodlock laughed.

“It’s in hand,” he said. “Three spaniels, so girls with red, curly hair, sisters, the fellow I know, he had them off a gamekeeper, their mother was covered by a half-breed spaniel-terrier, and it don’t show, but they can’t be bred off of they say. Doesn’t make much sense to me, if an animal can do its job, what does the breed matter?”

“Well, I’d agree there, and so would Evelyn, but some breeds do things better than others, because they’ve been bred to it for centuries. He’s looking to get couple of boarhound pups, for himself and Jasper, as protection mostly, and because he likes big dogs.”

Woodlock laughed.

“Well, that I can share with him,” he said. “Big dogs eat a lot though. But then, he can afford to feed them, now he’s married the heiress. Looking forward to the fete tomorrow?”

“I’d look forward to it more if I wasn’t organising much of it,” said Cornelius, cheerfully.