The scholar's sweetheart 3

 Happy Easter, all!

 

Chapter 3

 

The day of the fete to celebrate the new marchioness was, fortuitously, fine, with fluffy cumulous clouds drifting across the sky like a loose flock of rather aimless sheep. Cornelius said so to Shuri, when he ran into her on the fete field, outside the big marquee full of food.

She laughed.

“So long as no big black cloud like a wolf is chasing them,” she said.

“Alas, I can shepherd the crowds of people, but I have no control over the heavens,” said Cornelius. “It’s why we got a big marquee. Well, two big marquees, the other one is for dancing in if need be. We haven’t put that up, though, because it seems silly whilst the weather is behaving, and it’s the food that’s vulnerable. Am I babbling?”

“A little, though it’s more an outpouring of your thought processes. Cakes disintegrate in sudden downpours, people don’t.”

“Yes, that was more or less what I meant. Sorry to be long-winded.”

“Mr. Reckitt, stop a moment, breathe deeply, enjoy the sun, and then look around you. You will see much better what still needs to be done, what has been done badly, and what is undone. And so long as there is plenty of food and ale, so the happy couple can be toasted until the toast-makers are comatose, music, dancing, and the people get to see their marquis and marchioness in all their finery, it will go well. I’m sure you have stable staff told off to detain people for whom the party is going too well, in the wrong way, and a loose box in which to decant them until they sober up.”

“By Jove, that’s a good idea; I never thought of a loose box, but it’s a capital thought,” said Cornelius, and hustled off to tell the stable hands to put all drunks in the spare loose box.

Shuri laughed. He was very young; was he too young? She was six-and-twenty, and he could be no more than one-and-twenty, five years her junior. Jasper liked him, which was in his favour; Jasper also liked Woodlock. If she was to marry, it would have to be in the next few years before her looks diminished. Woodlock, she knew well. He was reliable, dependable, and had comforted her when her father had beaten her. On the other hand, she had known him all her life, and he was in some ways more like a brother to her. He had stood aloof when she had been with child, and had been as close to being a father-figure to Jasper as any, though Evelyn had not skimped his duty to his son. She would never have chosen to be marchioness, even if her birth had been deemed suitable, but she would not marry a man Evelyn did not like. And she knew he liked Cornelius Reckitt. And that young man was a very able young man who was not taken aback to have to organise a gypsy tribe on the marquis’s lands any more than to organise a fete for the village folk. His slight uncertainty was minimal, and quickly assuaged.  Certainly Mr. Reckitt may be a scholar, but he was also capable, and a capable and decisive man was the sort which pleased Shuri, so long as that decisiveness did not involve misogyny and freedom with the fists to enforce his decisions. And he had proven that he could think his way out of being criticised, and do so in a good-humoured way.

And he was good-looking, his blond hair curling just enough to give him the look of a displaced putto, having fallen off a grave stone and looking for a way to repair any damage.

His brother, on the other hand, sleeked his hair down, and though more conventional than his tousled younger brother lacked the attraction of good nature and a humorous countenance, having a permanent downturn to his mouth and hardness to the eyes. He could pass easily as Cornelius Reckitt’s father, for the lines he had. He was scowling at her at the moment, and Shuri resisted the urge to put out a tongue or moon at him. It would rebound badly on Cornelius. She smiled brightly at him, and moved on.

 

Eusebius was not enjoying himself. His father had spoken sharply to him about his interference and sanctimony, and Eusebius felt sore, and put upon unfairly. His life was, after all, a model of rectitude, Cornelius’ filthy insinuations notwithstanding. He conveniently forgot that Cornelius praised him for fighting any desire to stray from the straight and narrow, and besides, it wasn’t the choir boys, loathsome little brats as they were, like all children, it was their house master, with his delectable long eyelashes and dark hair and visage which moved him. Indeed the  man looked not unlike Evelyn, Lord Finchbury, who had always tempted and flirted with Eusebius, in the opinion of Eusebius, and shunned a man who might have given him more than any woman might. That big blonde cow of a woman he had married might have money, but Finchbury would still soon tire of the moral rectitude of a manufacturer’s daughter, even if she did have Brandon connexions.

Evelyn would have laid him out for the description of his angel, but Evelyn was not privy to Eusebius’ deepest thoughts.  The oldest Reckitt son was comforting himself in the refreshment marquee. Not stealing food, of course, but fortifying himself for the ordeal of a public day, and the gloomy thoughts that Evelyn was married.

It was in considering how soon Evelyn would become bored which lead Eusebius to prick up his ears at the youthful tones of Jasper, roped in on a splendid joke by Cornelius, and speaking of just exactly what Eusebius had suspected.

“Corny! Come quick; the girls have arrived, all of them redheads, sisters. They’re called Diana, Minerva, and Venus, and the fellow with them wants to know if they are to dance with or without clothes on.”

It was true! It was understandable that Evelyn must marry money, but to turn his back on one who would have nurtured him for dancing girls! The girl must be more bovine than he had realised, if dancing girls were to be brought in so soon. Eusebius almost groaned, and suppressed it, listening for the voice of his betraying little brother.

“I think without clothes,” said Cornelius. “More natural, and less to get in the way.”

Shameless! Thought Eusebius.

“I’ve put him in the back kitchen; will Papa have them dance in the ballroom?” asked Jasper, who was enjoying himself hugely.

“Not so loud, Jasper,” admonished Cornelius. “No, I think they are better to dance in the Tudor barn, and we must not keep them waiting too long. I’ll collect Evelyn and the others wanting to watch, perhaps we can start in half an hour? Then your father will be ready for his appearance for the public.”

“I’ll go and sort it all out,” said Jasper, galloping away.

 

Eusebius was both shocked and elated. Here was his opportunity to show up the fickle and morally depraved fellow the marquis was, even involving his young baseborn son in his iniquities! And Eusebius’ own brother, Cornelius, debauched, and willing to debauch; what a sad irony that was!

He would collect his father, and some of the local notables to catch them in flagrante delicto.

 

 

Had Eusebius not been in such a hurry to find witnesses to the downfall of Evelyn and Cornelius – he cared less about Jasper, whom he thought of no account – he might have seen that the boy gathered up his stepmother and half-sister as well as his father.

“Whoa, what is this, Jasper?” laughed Imogen.

“It’s a surprise, the surprise Jasper told me about,” said Phebe, accompanied as always by her large, woolly dog, Moppy.

“I am not sure we have time for surprises, old man...” said Evelyn.

Jasper met his eyes.

“Make time, Papa. Phebe will enjoy it, and some of us will enjoy the side effects.”

“What are you up to, you young hellion?” asked Imogen.

Jasper took ‘young hellion’ as a compliment, and beamed at her.

“Helping Corny stop his brother being so rude about him, and Shuri, and you, Mama, Phebe and me,” said Jasper.

“Is that egregious little tick saying things behind our backs that he dare not say in front of us?” demanded Imogen, furiously.

“Yes, Ma, but never mind that, just come along. It’ll be hilarious,” said Jasper.

 

 

oOoOo

 

“Eusebius, you are not making sense,” said the Reverend Reckitt. “I think you must have misheard.”

“I did not mishear! That child is shrill enough to go right through the head,” said Eusebius, crossly.

“Jasper has a lovely treble voice, not shrill at all, I am surprised that as a choirmaster you have not noticed,” said Reckitt.

“It sounded shrill to me,” said Eusebius, grumpily. “And his voice is hardly germane to what he said!”

“You said it was shrill and that you did not mishear,” said his father. “I should not have named you after a saint who was beautiful in body and spirit; you frown enough to make yourself ugly, and you have a dirty mind.  And you have let yourself get porky, too,” he added. Eusebius flushed. Eating was a substitute for letting more deadly sins than greed out of the box.

“I heard him clearly,” he said. “Three sisters, Diana, Minerva, and Venus, stage names of course of that sort of woman. Red hair, dancing, and Cornelius said they should dance without clothes.”

Reverend Reckitt shook his head.

“No, Eusebius, I cannot believe that of Cornelius. Wild he might be in some ways, but not in that way.”

“I will show you! Yes, and the bishop too, as he has come!”

The older man sighed, and shook his head.

“Eusebius, if by some strange stroke of fate you are correct, then do you really want to shame your little brother in front of the bishop? Cornelius is not a young man to be gladly drawn into the toils of sin. And if you are wrong, as I suspect you are...”

“You do not see his iniquity, because he is your favourite!” cried Eusebius.

“Funny; he always said that you were my favourite. I tried always not to have favourites, but God help me, I have perhaps spoiled you in favouring you more,” said the rector.

“Well, I shall tell the bishop, and see what he thinks!” said Eusebius. “And Sir Humphrey of Little Trimmington!”

“On your own head be it,” sighed the rector, who had tried.

Eusebius put his views to the bishop and the local squire, gesticulating wildly.

Sir Humphrey might look reluctant, but the bishop went along willingly enough; and the Reverend Reckitt followed at the rear, ready to smooth ruffled feathers when his oldest son irritated the marquis and his lady again.

 

oOoOo

 

Phebe was giggling at the way the three spaniels danced to the flute played by their master.

“Moppy, you don’t have to dance like that,” she whispered to her own dog.

“She’d look like a dancing bear, and would attract the wrong sort of attention,” said Jasper. “But they are clever and neat.”

“I am not sure why we are watching dancing dogs,” said Evelyn.

“You’re expected to vail them well,” said Cornelius. “We borrowed them on that understanding.”

“I still don’t....” Evelyn started.

And then the door of the barn crashed open.

“In here, your grace, Papa, Sir Humphrey, and see that monster lead my brother into debauchery with his dancing whores!” cried Eusebius, ushering the others in first. “Naked Paphians, disporting in lewd toils....”

“Eusebius, have you been at the Eucharist wine?” asked the bishop.

Eusebius goggled.

Evelyn leaped up, furious.

“How dare you use words like that in front of my wife and daughter!” he yelled.

For the second time in a couple of days, Eusebius went down.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Imogen, coldly. “Young Jasper has arranged a treat for his sister, and wanted us to come too; and you burst in here with that nasty little man, who is plainly drunk or mad, spouting nonsense.”

“I told him he would regret dragging the bishop and Sir Humphrey into it,” sighed the Reverend Reckitt.  “My lord, my lady, I fear that my son is overcome by nervous prostration. I hoped a repairing lease in the family home would help, but he appears to become inflamed for some reason by yourself, and by my youngest son.”

The bishop looked down at the groaning figure of Eusebius Reckitt with disfavour.

“Certainly he is too unwell to have charge of training the choir any longer,” he said, coldly. “He may as well stay with you for the moment, Augustus, and then perhaps a quiet parish... Scapa Flow, perhaps, where he may keep in practise, teaching the seals to sing.”

Eusebius looked at Cornelius.

“You did this,” he said. His tones were filled with hate.

“Well, yes,” said Cornelius. “A little harmless amusement for the children. And if you chose to read anything else into it, a rebuke, my sanctimonious brother, for your filthy mind, and your ever-present choice to put the worst of constructions on everything. Learn, and you will be a better man, and a better clergyman, and then I will be able to meet you with forgiveness in my heart.”

“You! I do not need forgiving, I have done nothing wrong! And I will never forgive you! Never!”

“Then I weep for the brother I once had,” said Cornelius. “Papa, would you like to meet Diana, Minerva, and Venus? Their owner was going to drown them, because they were sired irregularly by a mongrel, and Rinki here bargained for them, and they pay their way dancing.”

“Yes, and you are quite right, it is a travesty to dress a dog up,” said Augustus Reckitt. “Lovely dogs, in beautiful condition.”

“Ar, well, Woodlock ‘ouldn’t put trade my way else,” said Rinki. “Why, thank you, milord, sir, ma’am.”

“Work the fair as well by all means,” said Evelyn.

“Well, thank ‘ee kindly,” said Rinki.

“Come, Eusebius; back to the rectory,” said the rector. “I fear that Cornelius has made May game of you, by letting you overhear what he wanted you to hear, and a harmless prank it is, for it depended on your actions to be activated. Had you taken my advice, there would have been nothing to say.”

“Harmless? He has got me dismissed and sent to the far end of the realm where they eat fish and worship Odin still!” cried Eusebius.

“Then your ministry will be of use,” said his father. “And no, Cornelius did not lose you your job. You did it for yourself. And for shame, the way you spoke in front of her ladyship and Miss Phebe!”  He cuffed his son around the back of the head, and hustled him off.