Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (13 page)

I obeyed.

Mr John Fielding held the Spectacles up for me to inspect. “Black Lenses,” he said. He placed them down upon the Table. “They are of no practical Use. Did you wonder?”

“I did, Sir.”

“You thought: What Use are eye-Glasses to a blind Man? Make yourself comfortable; pour yourself a Glass of Claret.”

“Thank you, Mr Fielding.”

“So,” John Fielding said, slowly. “You are Tristan Hart.”

“I am, Sir.” I was beginning to feel distinctly ill at Ease.

“When Henry told me that he had invited you to stay, I thought he must have gone stark mad. I told him as much. His Position, as Magistrate, is extreamly taxing. He has a Wife and young Children whom he barely sees, and he is not well. I told him that he could not additionally be responsible for the Education of so troubled a young Man as you appear to be.”

“I have caused no Inconvenience!” I cried, suddenly afraid that the Path along which this Interview was leading was one which would return me to Berkshire.

“Yes; Henry also told me that. You have made a fair Impression
upon my Brother, Mr Hart. So we have reached an Agreement. From now on your Interest must lie with me. If you require anything, then it is to me you must apply; likewise, should you commit any Misdemeanour whilst you are here, it will be to me that you will answer for it.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. My Relief was such that it would have been audible to one even without John Fielding’s Powers of Perception. His Expression softened, and his Manner with it.

“Forgive me, Tristan,” he said. “I have no Desire to affright or oppress you. I have never had any Children of mine own. But I shall do my best by you
in loco parentis
. As long as you keep by the Rules of this Household, and of common Decency, I anticipate that we shall find our Association amicable.” He took a deep Draught of Wine. Had he not been blind, I would have sworn on Oath that he was regarding me with a Stare every bit as piercing as his Brother’s.

John Fielding, whether he desired it or not, had succeeded so perfectly in putting up my Guard that I dared not to approach him in any Matter whatsoever. For the whole Length of August and September I remained the most careful of house Guests. I made no Demands and sought to disturb the Rhythm of the Fielding House as little as possible. Rising every Daye at seven, I broke my Fast with the Family and then I spent Houres alone, exploring Mr Fielding’s Library, where I remained, for the large Part, until Dinner. He was plainly a wider Reader than I; upon his Shelves I found Works of Theology and Law which I had never before seen; even the Writings of those Free-thinkers who had seduced mine own Father. However, the Intimations that Mr Fielding had given of my Preferment within the Scientific Circle remained unfulfilled, and although I did not think them forgotten on Purpose, it annoyed
me that they had been forgot at all. On our Journey to London, he had suggested that it would be a desirable thing for me to visit the Anatomist William Hunter, whose Dissections and so forth were highly spoken of. I had been greatly excited by this Possibility; nothing, it seemed, would better further mine Education than the Opportunity of Study under this noted Man; but after that once no more Mention had been made of it. If I had been still permitted to tap Mr Fielding on the Issue I imagined that he would have corrected his Oversight at once; but I was now to deal directly with his Brother, and I would sooner have been thrown headlong into a bear Pit. I cursed My Self for not pressing the Matter when I had the Chance.

I had been frustrated in my dearest Wish, and as I could perceive no present Means of furthering it, I quickly became angry and rebellious. Having read my Way thro’ the Library, I began the Habit of taking regular afternoon Walks thro’ Covent Garden, in Company with the High Constable for Holborn, Mr Saunders Welch. Mr Welch had been, before he had been called to his present Profession, a Grocer, tho’ I could not easily imagine him as such. He was a Titan of a Man; twice as wide as he was tall, and blessed, I was told, with a right Hook that could have floored a stallion Mule. His Manner was quiet, his Mode of Speech compelling, his Judgement, as far as I could ascertain, without Prejudice. I supposed that he had been assigned to me partly for my Protection and partly in Case I should do as my Father had warned and become violent. Much as I respected Mr Welch, I deeply resented this.

Mine Interest in the Covent Garden lay, of course, within its Brothels: those painted Ladies who inclined their Heads toward me as I passed, and sometimes blew me Kisses. If I could not be about the Business of Dissection, I thought, I should at least perform one Experiment. I would attempt Coition with one of these sweet Whores, and determine whether I could derive any Pleasure from the Act. If I could, then perhaps I could restore my Soule to the Innocence of its Time with Margaret. Perhaps I could perswade My Self that mere animal Intimacy could be enough.

Ever since that Night when I had put mine accursed Hands on Viviane, I had almost ceased to experience carnal Lust in the usual
Manner. I could not become aroused by the Thoughts of a Woman’s Body, nor even of the Act itself; all that would suffice me was Pain; that foul Image of her Suffering that horrified and yet compelled me. More than once, longing for Release, I had attempted to turn the Desire inwards upon My Self; I had taken up my Cane and beat My Self as hard as I could stand across mine Arms and Thighs, but this achieved nothing. Bodily, I flinched from Pain; I hated it, as much as ever I had done; and yet some Flaw, some Insult, some Disease within my Passions caused me the Need to inflict it.

Mrs Haywood’s was one of the most famous of the Houses of Pleasure operating out of Covent Garden at that Time. The Building itself was imposing, with a colonnaded Grecian Frontage and carved Stonework that bathed in the pink Light from the many Lamps that burned within its Windows. Upon the Doorstep stood Mrs Haywood’s Bully, a heftily built Blackamoor who went by the Name of Daniel Bright. I liked him, altho’ he terrified most People; for all his frightening Appearance, I could discern in him an Intelligence superior to that found among the common Herd of Men. He was roughly half the Width of Saunders Welch, but several Inches taller; I had made no Estimation of the Power of his Punch. It was Bright’s Task to ensure that nothing disturbed the Peace and Tranquillity of the Establishment’s Patrons as they arrived and left. He was much disliked by Footpads and by Beggars, and was not very much more popular with the Constables. Bailiffs, universally, hated him.

Mrs Haywood herself aspired to Elegance. She had been the Mistress of a prominent Peer of the Realm some Yeares before, and in Consequence saw no Reason why she should not stile herself a Person of Fashion of the first Water. Somewhere in her forties, tho’ ’twas hard to tell her Age with any Surety, she wore burgundy
Silks, and a tall Wigg of dark chestnut Colouration that was composed almost intirely of Human Hair. Her Complexion, by contrast, was compleat Whitelead. She was taller than most Women, even without the Wigg, and cut an admirable Figure. I was not certain whether I liked her or not. She had a measuring Look when she regarded me, which I mistrusted, as if she thought that she should understand me better than I did. Saunders Welch, for his Part, liked her. He said she kept a tight Ship and gave little Trouble to the Law, altho’ he feared her to be deep in Debt.

Nevertheless, when I decided to proceed with mine Experiment, it was Mrs Haywood’s Brothel that I chose for my Laboratory. Mr Welch, who privately, I thought, considered me a Nuisance, was more than happy to leave me within the Portico under the Eye of Daniel Bright, and so I passed within, mine own King for the first Time in many Months.

I sate My Self upon a side Chair and waited for Mrs Haywood, who, it had been explained to me, would attend as soon as she was able. To pass the Time, I looked around the Hall. The classical Theme of the Outside had been continued and extended here, as if to perswade the Visitor that he had left his own Century and entered Rome. At each Corner stood a Statue of Venus, illuminated by a tall Candelabrum. The Floor was covered by a tiled Pattern of red and white Diamonds, about a central Mosaic depicting the Rape of the Sabine Women. Not any Rome, then, but Rome at its Height, the Rome of Octavius and Virgil, beautifull, sensual, potent. The Image did not arouse me. I crosst my Fingers and hoped.

I had not been waiting longer than three Minutes when Mrs Haywood emerged from a Chamber to my left and came forwards to catch both mine Hands in hers and buss me warmly upon the Cheek. I was so startled that I winced.

“You are very welcome, Sir,” she said. “Pray accompany me into my sitting Room, where we may talk in Comfort.”

I permitted her to lead me thro’ the Door into the Chamber beyond. The Light in here was low, despite that it was yet Daye. The Shutters were closed, the Curtains drawn, and red Coals smoaked in the ornate Fireplace. Two Roman-stiled Lamps stood in here, also; these were lit, and an intimate golden Circle spread about them. Near the Centre of this were positioned three hard backed Chairs and a small Table. Mrs Haywood did not remark on these, but led me to a long Sopha lying just without the Compass of the Light, and bade me sit beside her.

“Now, my dear Sir,” she said. “We shall get to know each Other a little, and then, if you are of such a Mind, I shall introduce you to some of my charming Girls and you may have your Choice of them.”

I understood that I ought to speak, but my Voice had deserted me. I merely nodded. Mrs Haywood smiled and presst mine Hand in a Manner that she must have meant to be reassuring. “You are quite safe here, Mr Hart,” she said. “My Business is with Pleasure, not with Law. Within these Walls you will find that you are free to pursue whatever Desire you incline toward. I like my Visitors to feel that they are utterly at home.” She tilted her Head, graciously, and smiled again.

“Indeed,” I said. “I have, I trust, no Desires that are unnatural.” I stoppt suddenly, then began anew. “I seek only a natural, healthy, country Girl—mine Appetites are intirely—healthy.” I stoppt again. I seemed determined to damn My Self, and ruin mine Experiment, with every Word that I let out of my Mouth.

“I have a full dozen such pretty Girls in my Care,” said Mrs Haywood. “None of them are Virgins, of course, but you need
not mind that. You are lodging at Mr Fielding’s House, are you not?”

“I have Money with me,” I said.

“There is no need to think about that yet; I know you will be good for the Sum. Do you wish to proceed?”

“What?” I said. “Oh—yes.”

Mrs Haywood clappt her Hands, and a very young Maidservant entered from another Room beyond bearing a silver Tray, upon which was a single crystal Glass three Quarters full and a small Plate of sugar Flowers. She was followed by three Girls of varying Proportions, all most winningly attired in country Caps and Dresses of light coloured Calico. They seated themselves upon the three hard backed Chairs, and without a Word or a Glance in my Direction took out their Workbaskets and began to Stitch.

I lifted the crystal Glass from the Maid’s Tray, and had half drained it before I had realised what I was doing.

Mrs Haywood, plainly sensing mine Anxiety, placed her cool Hand softly upon my heated Cheek, and with that same measuring Look that she had turned on me before, said: “Are you certain that this is really what you want, Mr Hart?”

“They are pretty Girls,” I said.

“Indeed, they are. And not one of them will disappoint.” She got to her Feet and crosst the Room to where the Girls were sitting, and placed her Hand upon the back of the nearest, who had blonde Hair in Curls under her little Cap, and Breasts that seemed upon the Point of bursting from her tight Bodice. “This is Juliette,” she said. “She possesses great Skill with her Mouth.”

Juliette looked up, ran her Tongue round her Teeth, and smiled; the vacant, calculated Smile of a Woman who cares nothing, neither one Way nor the other. I tried to imagine My Self lying with her,
and found the mere Act of Imagination beyond me. This pretty, natural young Whore had nothing, was nothing, that I could desire.

Perhaps, I thought, Margaret hath spoiled me, even before I laid mine Eye upon Viviane. She had, at least, wanted me, if only for a Time. The Recollection flashed upon me of our first Moment of Intimacy.

“Get on wi’ it then,” Margaret had said; and then, sitting up again as I franticklly had pondered how I was supposed to do that: “Oh, Mr Hart, you ent got the leastest Clue, ’ave you? Never mind. Come here, my Darling.”

Mrs Haywood narrowed her Eyes, and regarded me again. Then, without Warning, she clappt her Hands. “Leave us,” she said. The three Girls rose at once, as silently and obediently as they had come in, and departed.

“Why have you done that?” I cried.

“Mr Hart,” Mrs Haywood said, settling herself once more beside me on the Sopha. “I have no Wish to waste my Girls’ Time, or yours, or, least of all, mine own. Let us speak plainly. Is it your own Sex that you desire?”

“What! No! No. Would that—I wish—”

“You wish what? You may speak freely, Sir: indeed, you must. There is no one here who would judge you.”

Some small Alteration in her Voice, or in her Eyes, I knew not what, gave me the Courage to believe her. I cleared my Throat and took a deep Breath.

“I wish that it were Boys,” I said. I spoke slowly. “It is not. There is a Demon within me, Mrs Haywood. I have Desires, Longings, that no Man should have. Dreadful Longings.”

“Do you crave the Lash?”

“What?”

“How now, Sir,” she said. “You are not the only Gentleman to have such exotick Tastes. Why, I have among my Patrons an highly respected Member of the Privy Council who comes every Tuesdaye for a Whipping.”

“It is not that!” I exclaimed. “I have tried it— it doth nothing. The Evil is within mine Hands, and in my Head, and my—” Yet again I came to an abrupt Halt. This Time, however, it was not thro’ Fear of what I should say. As I spoke, mine Imagination was running wild upon an hundred things, too terrible to voice, and my Lusts had at once arisen, like a Volcano.