An Appetite for Violets (13 page)

‘
FINEST AMBERGRIS,
’ he read, but he already knew what those mottled lumps were. The high briny sweetness made him feel queasy. Back home that aroma had been one of the happiest parts of his life, the familiar backdrop to the sacred boathouse. Yet so much had happened since. That smell: it was like poison in the air, a stinking fume of death.

‘We go now,’ he called sharply to Biddy. When she hurried over to ask him what the matter was, he pointed at the bowl.

‘Oh, fresh ambergris, that is a rarity.’ She dipped her head to sniff it, her eyelids closed. ‘Please Mr Loveday, just a few minutes more.’

‘That why my village destroy,’ he mumbled, tugging her arm. ‘We go.’ Then at last he was out in the cold air, breathing hard to shift the clinging scent from his head.

‘Come on now,’ he called out, ignoring Biddy’s disappointment. ‘Not allowed be late. They catch us, we punished.’

XV

The Kitchen, Devereaux Court

Being Advent, December 1772
Biddy Leigh, her journal

All Nations

A gross composition of all the different spirits sold in a dram-shop, collected in a vessel into which the drainings of the bottles and quartern pots are emptied.

One night someone was clattering about in the kitchen, so I lit a candle and came out of my sleeping quarters. It was that Mr Kitt, a handsome young fellow he was, so much that when he’d questioned me in the dining room I’d got in a right fluster. Now he was rummaging in the rotten baskets beside Meeks’s greasy chair.

‘Sir, you wanting summat?’

He looked up with a start.

‘Ah, it’s you, Biddy. Where does Meeks keep his liquor?’

I opened the iron doors of the range where Meeks hid the half-empty bottles kept for his own enjoyment. The young gentleman was looking at me hard, just as he had done when I first saw him. Lord, I wished I’d had time to dress my hair and put on more than my shift, which barely covered my modesty. When I’d found him a glass, he told me to get myself one, too.

‘Oh, nowt for me, sir.’

‘Come on, Biddy,’ he pleaded, ‘I’ve had a hellish night. Lost all my coin at the gaming table. Take a drink with me, won’t you?’

His tempting worked on me, but first I went to fetch a shawl and wrapped it about my person. When I came back he’d poured me a full bumper, and motioned me to sit at the table across from him.

‘It can’t be pleasant for you, Biddy, down here with Meeks.’

I wondered if he were mocking me, but he looked at me quite friendly-like.

‘That’s true enough, sir.’

‘To a change of fortune,’ he said smartly, raising his glass, and I raised mine too.

‘So,’ he asked, after emptying his, ‘you are off on this excursion to Italy with my sister. Surely that must be quite an improvement in your fortune?’

I knew he must think me a country numkin, so I said, ‘I think, sir, that however grand a body’s fortune, it might always be improved.’ He took a long measuring look at me. ‘I’ll toast that.’

He drained and refilled his glass. ‘Did you know, my sister and I have spent many an hour in this kitchen? This house has been refashioned now, but when we first came here our nursery was as cold as the grave and no more cheerful. Carinna was but four years old, and I an infant. It was a fearful place.’

In the light of the candle his eyes were quite liquid and most agreeably fine. And his confiding manner gave me the curious notion he wanted to win my trust. ‘Our uncle was scarcely a man of melting heart, even then. I’m sure you servants must talk of him. I swear never to be like him.’ He uttered these last words so fiercely that I thought what a boy he was in spirit, much younger than me and Carinna. He had a habit of making these small trials of manliness that I thought a little sad and sweet. ‘One night the rout was so loud that Carinna and I crept down and peeped through those same stair posts in our nightgowns. Down here sat a great gathering of servants supping my uncle’s leavings from a pot of All Nations, singing and toasting before the fire. So you must picture me and little Carinna, eating plum cake and drinking our first heady bumpers with fingers that could barely hold a glass.’ He laughed softly at the memory.

I nodded my head, quite taken by his mannerly, honeyed voice.

‘It was here I learned the great games of chance with the best of teachers – Catch-dolt, Tick-tack, Hazard
.
We even danced for them when the table was cleared, two little creatures jigging to a penny whistle. When I bowed and Carinna curtseyed the roaring near raised the roof.’

He paused and stroked the rough-hewn table, as if he might conjure those little ghosts. Then he opened a second bottle and poured himself more, while I took only an inch. It didn’t take long for the liquor to loose his tongue again as he stared into the darkness.

‘We were brought here from our family’s estate in Ireland. Carinna just remembers Ormond, a perfect thousand acres with a fine stone house. She used to talk of it, how grand it was. It is famous hunting country. It’s where I was born and where I swear I’ll take my last breath. Now my uncle, damn him, has set tenants on it. But I’ll get it back.’

He fell silent, staring into the fire.

I asked, ‘How’s that, sir?’

He looked up quickly. ‘Oh, fortunes pass from hand to hand every day. My luck at the tables will turn. And when it does, we’ll have Ormond again.’

He drooped again and stared into his glass. Suddenly, from nowhere it seemed, he asked, ‘Have you found out yet, why my sister is leaving England?’ He peered through his falling hair then combed it back with white-knuckled fingers.

I shook my head. ‘Sir, she don’t confide in me.’

‘You would tell me if you knew?’ He smiled uncertainly.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but do you truly not know why your sister is heading for Italy?’

He grimaced, bemused. ‘Perhaps to escape from her husband?’

‘But he is laid up sick in Ireland. She has no need to travel, sir.’

He gave a little nod, then bit his lower lip. ‘I thought you servants knew everything.’

‘It seems not, sir.’

‘But you do have the means. To listen at doors. And to search her things.’

I didn’t move an inch.

‘Biddy,’ he said most earnestly. ‘Would it be such a sin to take a little peek? To put my mind at ease?’

‘What makes you think I’d do such a thing?’

‘Don’t you like me a little?’ He patted my hand and then left his own lying upon it. ‘I feel we are well met. I like you. My sister has done well to find you.’

Then he fell into another silence. I sat there quite flummoxed, his hand still on mine. I was flattered all right, but thinking of the danger, too.

‘It is cold,’ he said blankly, stifling a shiver as if remembering some disaster anew.

‘I’ll stoke the fire for you, sir.’

I rose and found the poker, and the flare of orange warmth roused him. He stood up and slipped an arm loosely about my shoulders. I stiffened with alarm. He tried to pull me closer, closing his eyes and whispering in my ear.

‘Would you help me, Biddy?’

I pulled back away from him, bumping against the table. He grabbed at me from behind as I wriggled away, feeling his arm brush my jiggling breasts.

‘No, sir. No!’ He was as frisky as a young colt. But I was strong, and elbowed him hard in his guts. He doubled over. With another yank I was free.

‘Don’t be such a tease,’ he gasped. ‘I thought you liked me.’

I turned to face him, my shift all askew. ‘I liked you better when you did not maul me.’

‘Oh Biddy, do be kind. No one will punish you.’ He reached for my hand. ‘I swear I’ll not harm you.’

‘Aye, and I’m Queen Dick,’ I snapped, backing into the shadows. I was faster than him, and in three steps had reached the dark doorway of my quarters. He stumbled after me, but in an instant I had the door bolted fast. As I listened to his hammerings, I couldn’t help but laugh to think of him, lordly Kitt Tyrone, coming chasing after me.

XVI

Devereaux Court, London

The Correspondence of Mr Humphrey Pars
17th December 1772

PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE

Devereaux Court

London

17th December 1772

Mr Ozias Pars

Marsh Cottage

Saltford

My dear Ozias,

Doubtless you will be surprised to find me still languishing in the capital. I assure you the delay is not of my making. My so-called mistress continues to dally and fritter away my master’s fortune on this Frenchified lace or that fur muff – and she is not ashamed to charge bills at five, ten or even twenty guineas for such fripperies.

My lodgings suit me very ill. My chamber is large but thick with dust, my bed is damp, and the chimney smokes from lack of attention. Mr Quentin Tyrone may be rich, but he is a queer unwholesome creature and I avoid his company. He employs an overseer to tend his business (the importation of eastern stuffs, inherited from his late father) and spends his nights at nanny houses and those oriental hummums where I believe a bath is but a small part of the transaction. He is a rotund, bald specimen, much given to embroidered caps and a stained sort of morning gown in the Chinese style. There is something soft about his manners that a proper man can only abhor. As to the other member of the household, her brother is a shiftless youth with a hangdog expression and high taste in gold coats.

Of London itself, the crowds and uproar are most incredible and the coal smoke so thick that one’s outpourings of phlegm are quite sooty black. To attend the theatre is to place oneself in a tumult ten times worse than Chester Fair. Oranges are sold at sixpence (each!) and these are used as missiles from one part of the theatre to the next. As to the foppish appearance of the playgoers – like the boy Tyrone, the young men outdo the ladies in glitter and musk. Why, even I was asked at the barbers if I would have my hair frowzled in hot irons!

Having assiduously avoided the rest of the household by taking my dinner at a respectable chop house (for the fare at Devereaux Court is worse than any Northern poorhouse) I believed I should have no new information to give you on this harlot and her schemes. However, being one day somewhat weary after walking out all morning, I chose to take my tea by the fire in the salon, believing the house to be otherwise deserted. After a rogue of a servant had served me weak tea (without even a slice of bread and butter) I settled down in my chair to draw up a memorandum of my next day’s visits.

Not long afterwards, I heard voices belonging to Lady Carinna and her uncle from the next room. I shall endeavour to set down verbatim the conversation I had the liberty to overhear:

‘But Carinna, are you dealing fair?’ said the uncle in his low-bred wheeze. ‘If you travel anywhere it should be to your husband’s side.’

‘I will not go to him. I told you, he refuses to see me.’

‘What then is the lure of Italy? Meeting a lover, eh? If so, you must be devilish careful.’

To which the niece replied in a weary and sarcastic voice, ‘For goodness’ sake Uncle, is that all you think of? And I know to be careful.’

‘Then why go?’

‘I am unwell, Uncle. Have I not suffered enough in performing this pantomime to finally earn my reward? As if you care! You promised me once that as a married, titled woman I might live freely. And that is what I intend to do.’

‘This sickness of yours,’ he said slowly. ‘You ain’t breeding, eh?’

‘How I wish I was.’

‘Because if you were—’

‘I know. All would be settled.’

‘You did swear to me, the marriage was consummated?’

‘I told you, didn’t I? It is not an event I wish to revisit.’

The old rogue chuckled. This was met by silence, then her heavy sigh.

‘The truth is, Sir Geoffrey and I cannot bear sight of each other. And Uncle dear,’ she said in a most pleading manner, ‘I have followed what you said, to the letter. Whenever have I asked for a favour?’

‘I am not easy when matters get tangled. You and your husband parted on ill terms. What if he recovers and makes enquiries?’

‘Tell him I am abroad for my health.’ She sighed in exasperation. ‘I do not think he will even enquire. I save his face. He can write to me at the villa if he chooses.’

‘Yes, the villa. If you said you needed a season in Rome or at Spa I could comprehend it. But it’s a fearfully quiet place.’

‘How pleasant that sounds. So, do you have the key?’

‘No, it is Carlo who keeps the key. You must call on him to collect it.’