Chapter 13
Wickes ran to the head of the stairs, swallowed hard at the inferno at its base, and swathed himself in the blanket. Then he straddled the banister, and slid down, hands in front of him to catch on the decorative newel at the bottom, rather than risking his manhood on it. He slid right through the flames too fast for them to touch him, then he vaulted off to the side, and plied the wet blanket to start beating out the flames.
Edwin found the ladies, a grumpy Tommy, and the servants up, and led them through smoke to descend by the servants’ stair. Jeb and Sgt Hamilton had already gone down, and met Ram Gopal.
Ram Gopal took charge, finding blankets, and directing them to the pump in the kitchen sink, where he also shut the door, to stop the draft.
Edwin sent the ladies to go through the vestibule and into the boudoir; it would be easy to light a fire there, as the chimney was already warm, and if need be, there was a French window into the kitchen garden, if the house caught solidly ablaze. They had come down well-wrapped in blankets and quilts, which Elinor had seen to, and Tommy curled up on the floor and went back to sleep.
“If we can keep it from reaching the roof beams, we’ll likely save the house,” said Edwin, grimly. “But any stair well acts like a chimney, and the stairs caught afire readily. But for Wickes, I doubt we’d have much chance of saving this wing.”
“Thank Mrs. Hymes and her assiduous polishing of the stair rail,” said Wickes.
oOoOo
Esther was buoyant. She was almost ready to sing out loud in joy, but for the thought that such would be vulgar. It would not have stopped Clara or Angela; but Esther, being closer to being bourgeois, was more aware of what might not be acceptable.
Of course, setting fire to houses was not acceptable, but as far as Esther knew, nobody had seen her do it, and that was what counted.
She waited until they were approaching Chelmsford, and passed a large vail to Ezra.
“You don’t have to, miss, it’s no trouble,” said Ezra.
“Oh, well, you will want something to be going on with, and to stay at an inn in Chelmsford while you look for another job,” said Esther.
“What do you mean, miss?” asked Ezra, puzzled.
“Well, I should think the house has burned down by now. I lit a fire on the stairs before coming out,” said Esther. “That will stop them forcing me to do what they want.”
“But miss! There are other young ladies, and the servants, and that little boy, as well as his lordship,” said Ezra.
A cold lump settled in Esther’s stomach.
“His... his lordship?”
“Ar, Lord Aldermede; who was Mr. Annesley until his uncle died,” said Ezra. “You’d best get out; I need to get back to see if I can help.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Esther.
“It’s his lordship’s pardon and that of his guests you’ll need to beg,” said Ezra, with asperity. “Out you get; I ain’t drivin’ a common felon like you no further an’ if you don’t get out, I’ll use my whip, see?”
“You can’t do that! I’m a lady!”
“You’re a common felon, whass committed arson,” said Ezra, who was really upset, though a part of this might have been fear of being taken as an accomplice. “I won’t swing for you, no I won’t!”
It was born upon Esther that he was serious, and she stepped down from the carriage. Ezra jogged on to a track off the road to turn his team, and cracked the whip overhead to make his team run.
He threw her valise at her, but kept the quilt.
Esther had a few qualms; a lord’s death might be investigated more carefully than that of some mongrel, though she thought it a disgrace that a man of colour should be a lord. Still, she might have made more effort, if she had known; it was too bad of him to hide such a thing, and it was his own fault if he burned up.
And with an old wooden house like that, it would have all burned up, so it was Ezra’s word against hers, and she might say that she accepted a lift when he had wanted to leave in a hurry, and of course, a lady would be believed; she could put the blame on Ezra. She smiled, secure in her own mind that she was not going to be in trouble. And at least Chelmsford was not far, now, to walk.
oOoOo
Ezra got back as the other hands were turning out to help fight the fire, and threw blankets over the horses for now to join in.
It did not take long with outdoor staff re-wetting blankets and making a bucket gang to have the fire completely out. The stairs were burned, but were solid enough to be useable.
Edwin knocked on the boudoir door.
“You ladies and your maids can go back to bed; all is safe,” he said. “Tommy looks comfortable enough; I’ll send Will in to sit with him.”
“Thank you,” said Clara. “Another couple of hours’ sleep will not go amiss.”
Three hours later, the company was having breakfast when a coach drew up. Edwin glanced out.
“It’s the Bishop of Chelmsford[1],” he said. “Well, let us see whether he is ready to listen to me about the vicar.”
There was a pounding on the door.
Hymes answered it, and was able to announce his grace as the bishop, with the vicar behind him, barged in.
“Ha! Caught you with your paphians! You slandered the Reverend Beckett to stop him denouncing you...”
“How dare you defame my affianced wife, her friend, lately the daughter of the vicarage until thrown out of doors without care for where she might go by that fellow Beckett?” roared Edwin. “And do you call my aunt, Mrs. Elinor Clitheroe, a Paphian as well? You have a confounded impudence! You, sirrah, will apologise or I will have the law on you for defamation! Hymes, send me ostlers to throw out these turbulent priests!”
“Oh has it come to this, that you introduce your bastards into the household?” demanded Beckett, pointing at Tommy.
“You have no manners calling bad names to an orphan!” said Tommy, shrilly. “If Papa was alive, he’d knock you down, and I expect my nearly-brother here will do so for him!”
“I will,” said Edwin, advancing on Beckett. “You throw out a young girl to starve, you literally starve the rectory goat, and now you slander a little boy by questioning his parents, and in doing so question the parentage of my bride, his sister? I will have you know that there is nothing underhanded in the marriage of Clarissa and Thomas Snowe of Ringshall, and you do not have relatively impoverished orphans to deal with, but me, Viscount Aldermede, who can afford to take you to law and see you unfrocked and imprisoned for your defamation, which is a direct attack upon any issue I might have with my wife, and hence with the succession!”
“I... I’m sorry!” squeaked Beckett. “I did not know! I saw a child, and assumed...”
“You assumed! To assume, sirrah, makes an ass out of u and me,” said Edwin. “And you are an ass; you bray like one with as much understanding. I suppose you are the root of the infamous calumny levelled at my guests?”
The bishop also rounded on Beckett.
“You lied! You said a pack of women had been brought in, in two carriages!”
“They were! Tom Roper saw them!” said Beckett.
“Let me get this straight,” said Edwin, with a deadly calm which made Beckett shudder, and even unnerved the bishop. “The two carriages containing my aunt, three house guests – one of whom has departed – and their maids and their duenna in the second carriage, has been made in whose imagination into a pack of... women who should not even be mentioned in front of ladies? Did you take the word of some countryman who has never seen ladies with maids before, or did you make it up in your own dirty, prurient, aberrant, and disgusting little mind, because you are prejudiced against men of colour, regardless that my mother was a princess in her own country and took a step down to marry a mere brother of a viscount?”
“I... I thought....” said Beckett.
“You thought? I think that’s a lie,” said Edwin. “I think you have very little capacity to think. You certainly never thought when you turned Miss Cubitt out into the cold of winter because it was ‘inappropriate’ to share the vicarage with an unmarried man; a man of God would have stayed in the village ale-house until a suitable place had been found for a young lady left destitute, and a man of any moral scruples would have contacted the Bishop to ask if any ladies of his acquaintance needed a companion, to give her a suitable place when bereaved by the loss of both her parents. But no doubt if she had been violated whilst she sought somewhere to go, you would have smugly said that it was her own fault? You disgust me. And this is why I want him out!” he added, turning sharply to the bishop.
“Beckett! You have lied to me and let me down!” said the bishop. “And you will be out by New Year! I will look for someone more suitable...”
“Don’t bother,” said Edwin.
“But... but my lord! You must have a vicar...”
“And the living is in my gift and I gift it to the Reverend Archibald Payne, a friend of mine from Oxford. I will be writing to him, and he can stay with me until that fellow is out,” said Edwin. “And if he is not out on the last day of December, my servants will come and throw him out, bag and baggage, and let him cope with being so rudely ejected!”
“Er, quite,” said the bishop. “A... a belated congratulations to you on your elevation, my lord, and on your impending nuptials. Come, Beckett, I want to speak to you in private.”
They left; and two stable hands with pitchforks ushered them out.
“That was masterly,” said Clara.
“Well done, my dear boy, I could not have done better,” said Elinor.
“If I were not betrothed to Jeb, I could hug you for putting down that awful Beckett!” said Angela.
“Abiit, evasit and I forgot the rest!” gloated Tommy.
“Abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit,” said Edwin. “Or, in English for those with less Latin, he has gone, shabbed off, retreated and been romped.”
“It didn’t translate it like that in my book,” said Tommy.
“No, but that’s what’s called a ‘free translation’ when you translate the spirit of what is meant, not the cold hard precision of the words,” said Edwin.
“So, Timao Danaos et dona ferentes...” said Tommy “If you did it in free translation?”
“Those sneaky Greeks give nothing without some nasty trick to it,” said Edwin.
“I wish you were teaching me Latin, not Reverent Hunnicutt,” said Tommy.
“Well, if your sister will accept my humble hand in marriage, I’m sure I can find some time for it,” said Edwin. “We’ll find you a decent tutor too, and Ram Gopal will teach you to shoot and use a sword.”
“You had not actually proposed, my lord,” said Clara.
“Had I not? My apologies, Miss Snowe. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”
“Willingly,” said Clara. “If I had had any reservations stemming from your high-handed assumption, even though I understand why you made such assumptions in front of that idiotic Bishop, your handling of Tommy shows me that one day you will be a most excellent father.”
“I hope, in the meantime, to show you that I can be a most excellent husband.”
“I will make you work at it.”
“Of course.”
“While the young people bill and coo, Mrs. Clitheroe, is there any hope that I might court a mettlesome lady like yourself?” said Wickes. “I have little to lay before you; mustering out as a lieutenant will not be much, but I offer my wit, charm, and my ability to turn my hand to most things.”
“You may spend some time convincing me; I’ve enough to keep us both handsomely, and I let Edwin invest for me as well,” said Elinor. “And if any of it is ill-gotten gains from my second husband’s career on the High Toby, I never asked.”
“And I’d be a fool to do so,” said Wickes.
“I’ll arrange three special licences,” said Edwin. “When the Bishop has cooled down and is amenable to the sweet song of money for the same, rather than the raucous tones of slander.”
Christmas was celebrated happily in Gothic House, with two weddings; Elinor wanted to be courted a bit longer, but Lieutenant Wickes mustered out anyway, hoping for a job with the viscount if his suit failed. His sergeant came with him, and Mrs. Partridge agreed to be Mrs. Harrison, and move into Gothic House to help Mrs. Hymes. Esther’s Lizzie became a general parlourmaid, and counted herself lucky; and Edwin took the deposition of Ezra, and of Jeb who had seen Esther light the fire, and wrote to Dr. Mortimer that as he had the evidence to have Esther hanged, he considered that it would be as well if she was never permitted to marry, and he would say nothing – unless her parents or anyone else close to her died suddenly, or there were any more fires.
Esther found herself expected to do more about the house to keep her busy, and was not permitted to have anything to do with mixing medicines. Dr. Mortimer was definitely frightened by the viscount’s revelations.
Archie Payne officiated at the weddings, and Jeb took his bride home to help him run his prosperous little farm. They took Faith, the goat, and Will with them, as well as Jenny, and lived happily ever after. Edwin hired a tutor for Tommy, and found a young man who had a young brother in his care, so Tommy had a companion. Their discovery of other secret passages left Clara and Edwin declaring that they would go grey before their time, and in due course, sundry nieces and nephews were shown passages by Tommy. Tommy, of course, had the room over the porch. His best friend had the room above it.
Epilogue
It was amazing how many people in the ton whose views normally found persons of colour to be distasteful were much more ready to be ecumenical when the said person of colour was extremely wealthy and used his social position and wealth with the finesse that Angelo wielded a rapier in his fencing school. Clara was positively lionised by people she met on the town. She and Edwin, however, preferred a quiet life, and loved spending time in Gothic House, once it had a sufficiency of servants to keep it as it should be kept.
Their son was born here less than a year after the wedding, and was christened Giles Thomas Annesley, after Edwin’s father and after Tommy. He was not named Vijay, as Edwin had informed many people he would be when he thought their nosiness was impudent. Clara gave Edwin two daughters and another son, who were named Sarah Angela, Clarissa Geeta, and Victor Vijay, because Clara thought it was a shame not to retain the Indian tradition and honour Edwin’s mother and her father.
Angela thrived as a farmer’s wife. There were a sufficiency of hands that she not be required to do too much heavy work, and most years she helped with the harvest. The first year, she was very obviously pregnant, and not carrying it well, and birthed a small, red-haired daughter who was christened in a hurry Angelica Clara. Angelica proved to have a will to live and fiery spirit to match her hair, and in time fell into many scrapes with her four brothers who followed, who grew up to be strong, able men, with varying shades of gingery hair, and ambitions to help their father increase his holdings. The Curtis children and the Annesley children grew up spending much time together and were as close as if they were related.
Elinor married Thomas Wickes, and they adopted the daughter of an officer Wickes knew who had been killed in the line of duty, and her huge mongrel hound.
end of the first of three for the Christmas book, the crazy Christmas caper coming up next
[1] There was no Bishop of Chelmsford then, so he is a fictional character and may be bent, folded, stapled and mutilated at my whim.
