They Hanged My Saintly Billy (11 page)

One day in the August of
1845,
just before William went to work at the Infirmary, Mr Thos Weaver, the solicitor, had invited him to dine, and arranged that he should meet with Annie Brookes as if by accident. Although her annuity was the bait offered him, Annie possessed remarkable beauty, and the joy and surprise of meeting the man whom she had so long idolized made her eyes shine and her cheeks flush very engagingly. The young couple exchanged no more than a few words, but William expressed hopes of their further acquaintance; and Annie stammered that this would make her happy, and that her guardian, Mr Charles Dawson, was kindness itself, as Mr Weaver could testify. 'Perhaps you would care to call upon him?' she artlessly pleaded.

A day or two later, at dinner, Annie mentioned the meeting to Mr Dawson, in Dr Knight's presence. Mr Dawson saw at once that she had warm feelings for William Palmer, but said nothing until dinner ended and the ladies left the table. Then he asked Dr Knight who, being very deaf, had missed the conversation: 'Do you know anything of this William Palmer whom Annie says she met briefly at Tom Weaver's?'

'If he's the fellow whom I take him to be,' Dr Knight answered, 'Annie would do well not to renew her acquaintance. He studied with my cousin, Dr Tylecote, over at Haywood. Come, fill my glass, and you shall hear what Tylecote told me about him only last Wednesday . . .

' " I've just ridden to Rugeley," he said, " to dun old Mrs Palmer for a debt that the young rake her son has long owed one of my neighbours, Farmer Parker. A labourer's widow, do you see, was tossed by Farmer Parker's bull at Gayton, breaking one leg and a
couple of ribs. I'm her club doctor, but I happened to be in bed with a colic and couldn't attend her; so I sent young Palmer to summon Dr Masfen from the Stafford Infirmary, undertaking to pay his fee on the widow's behalf; and Palmer was to make up any medicines Masfen might prescribe. Masfen duly attended the widow, set the leg, saw that she was comfortable, and rode off, after giving Palmer instructions for certain medicines. Farmer Parker stood at the bedside, very solicitous, as to some extent responsible for the widow's injuries, his bull having attacked her on a public footpath. He asks Palmer: 'What's the amount of Masfen's fee?' Palmer says: 'Two guineas,' and Farmer Parker takes up a weighty canvas bag, puts his great paw in, scoops out a handful of gold and silver, and throws two guineas on the coverlet. Palmer eyes the bag thoughtfully and inquires: 'By the bye, can you change me a five-pound note?' 'Certainly,' answers Parker, who had not expected to get off so lightly as with two guineas. He hands Palmer five sovereigns new from the Mint. Palmer searches his pockets for the five-pound note, and looks alarmed; but suddenly his face clears and he says: 'Ah, now I remember! I was in such a hurry to ride over for Mr Masfen that, when changing my trowsers for these breeches, I left the note in a pocket. Well, it's of no consequence—I can send it along tonight by the boy who brings the medicine.' But he fails to do so.

' " A couple of months later," Dr Tylecote continued, "Farmer Parker demanded the money from me, threatening me with the law, and saying that he had three times written to Palmer for it, but got no reply. Knowing nothing about the matter, I summoned Palmer, who struck his forehead and exclaimed that the debt had clean escaped his memory, and that Farmer Parker had not reminded him of it, neither. 'But at the moment,' he said, 'my purse happens to be empty—I've just paid my tailor.' So I advised him to ride home before breakfast and borrow the money from his mother. 'I'll do that,' he said cheerfully. He rode to Rugeley right enough, but he never paid Farmer Parker those five pounds; for yesterday I accidentally met with Parker, who accused me, very rudely, of encouraging my assistant to cheat him. By then, however, Palmer had run away to Walsall with that red-headed girl, and I refused to take him back. So I went myself to call on Mrs Palmer at The Yard, and she settled the debt." '

Mr Dawson looked grave and said: 'I shall not mention this
matter to Annie until I have had a word with Tom Masters of The Talbot Arms Hotel at Rugeley; he'll know, if anyone, what character young Palmer bears in the neighbourhood. Old Tom can be counted upon for an honest report: he rides straight and never baulked at a gate. It may well be that negligence, rather than crooked dealing, accounts for that unpaid debt.'

'Get a second opinion, by all means,' Dr Knight hastened to say. 'I'm not one to blacken any man's character on hearsay evidence alone.'

Masters's revelations seem to
have been highly unfavourab
le.
When Mr Weaver one day pro
posed to take William Palmer
with him on a visit to Abbot's
Bromley, Mr Dawson
discouraged him. He said: 'My dear
fe
llow, you, your wife, your fam
i
ly, and your kin to the seventhdegree are most welcome in our
domain and, I hope, always will
be, even when I amgone; but pra
y
do not bring along that youn
g
reprobate—for I have daughters.'

Mr Weaver flushed, and wanted to know what he meant. Mr Dawson explained: ' From Tom Masters's account, your protege has seduced no fewer than four girls in the course of this last year. Even if the number has been exaggerated one hundred per centum, it yet remains considerable. Nor do I care to be asked, as was Farmer Parker of Gay ton: "Can you change a five-pound note?", for I should then be forced either to He and pretend that I had no such sum in the house, or else oblige and never see my money again.'

Mr Weaver flushed still more deeply.' Sir,' he said, 'I am deeply sensible of your kindness in giving me, and extending to my family in perpetuity, the freedom of Abbot's Bromley. Were it not for that, and our long friendship, I should at once report this conversation to young Palmer and advise him to bring an action for slander; because an action certainly .lies. As things are, I shall simply desire you to retract your words.'

Mr Dawson replied very quietly: ' Sir, you must forgive me if, while retracting my accusations against your protege, which I admit are based only on hearsay (however credible the source), I do not make amends by inviting you to introduce him into this household. I have daughters; and I also have a pretty ward for whose well-being I am respo
nsible to the Court of Chancery.

The two friends parted coolly. How Mr Weaver excused or explained this failure to young Palmer is not known, but he must have conveyed a broad hint of Mr Dawson's aversion to him.

At this period of his life, William Palmer had nothing in particular to occupy his attentions. He had quitted Dr Tylecote's employ, but not yet proceeded
to Stafford Infirmary; Jane Wid
nall had betrayed him; he lacked the funds demanded by betting or other diversions, and must rely for food, shelter, and pocket-money on his mother at The Yard. As was very natural, he decided to challenge fortune by secretly renewing his acquaintance with Annie Brookes. On the pretence of botanical study, he would lurk in the woods and fields near Abbot's Bromley, especially among the great oaks of Lord Bagot's park, keeping one eye open and one ear cocked for Annie's approach on her afternoon walk; but unless she came alone he would not disclose himself. These tactics succeeded pretty well. On the first occasion, Annie passed by the spot in Bagot's Park where he leant against an oak examining some ferns under a magnifying glass. She happened to be walking, arm-in-arm, with Miss Salt, daughter of Dr Salt, the Rugeley
surgeon; and, though she evidentl
y recognized young Palmer, did not call Miss Salt's attention to him, being averse from betraying her feelings. He therefore resumed his station in the Park at the same hour on the following day and presently, to his joy, saw Annie approaching alone, with careful glances in all directions, as if satisfying herself that she had not been observed. Now, Annie Brookes was an honest girl and therefore offered no pretence of surprise when she saw him waiting for her on a log; but stood still in the lane with a look of love and appeal that affected him strangely. He slipped his glass back into its case, flung down the ferns which he had been examining, and boldly advanced to take both her hands in his own.

They remained thus for perhaps a quarter of a minute; then he laughed, and so did she. Almost at once they began to talk merrily and naturally, though with lowered voices, like children hiding together in a hayloft or woodland
cavern. Annie recalled his gentl
e sympathy when she had sprained her ankle at Miss Bond's school; he declared that he had already fallen in love with her then.

Ye
t he attempted no vulgar fam
iliarities, and even held her in a sort of awe, this being the first well-bred young lady for whom he had ever felt any tenderness. They agreed to meet at the same spot, at the same hour, two days later; and this second meeting was so successful that she even invited him to kiss her, and nearly swooned with pleasure when he saluted her, very chastely, on the brow.

But the course of true love—for it certainly was true love on Annie's part, and almost certainly on his—never runs smooth. One of the Dawson girls soon suspected from Annie's manner that she was hugging a secret, and decided to spy on her from a safe distance when next she took an afternoon walk. Being an ill-natured creature, Miss Dawson ran home at full tilt, as soon as she had satisfied her curiosity, to fetch her father. She found him in the greenhouse, inspecting his tomatoes, which were a new and superior strain, with a strawberry flavour. (In Stafford, by the way, the appearance of tomatoes at table is still the subject for humorous comment, owing to their supposedly aphrodisiac qualities, and Mr Dawson's gardener always threw him arch glances when he inquired after the plants.) Learning that Annie lay at that moment locked in a passionate embrace with a young stranger, Mr Dawson hurried behind his daughter to the glade where this indecent event had been reported, but arrived too late to surprise them in any compromising posture. Quite the reverse: Annie and William sat at some distance from each other, he with his legs crossed, smoking a cigar; she, with no evident disarray of either dress or hair, intently poring at the structure of an unusual fern, through the magnifying glass that he had lent her. On Mr Dawson's appearance, Annie sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy: 'Oh, Papa,' she said, 'do come and look at this lovely sight —who ever would have thought that Nature would hide her marvels so closely as to demand a magnifying glass for their discovery!'

William also rose, but slowly, removed the cigar from his mouth and swept off his hat in gentlemanly style.

Mr Dawson ordered his tell-tale daughter home, and as soon as she was out of earshot, turned to Annie and said: 'Mother Nature is not, I think, the only female hereabouts that hides her secrets. Who is this young gentleman ? I don't think I have the honour of his acquaintance.'

'Why, Papa, it's Mr William Palmer,' she answered. 'He is training to be a surgeon. I met him first at Miss Bond's, when he dressed my sprained ankle, and more recently at Mr Weaver's
office
—Mr Weaver has only good to tell of him—and three weeks ago last Monday we met by accident in diese woods. Mr Palmer is a keen botanist, and so am I, as you must know from my collection of pressed flowers and ferns. We meet on our rambles, now and again, and sometimes he kindly lends me his glass.'

Mr Dawson was silent for a while, and then, choosing his words with great precision, 'Mr Palmer,' he said, 'Bagot's Park is not my property, and clearly you have as much right to enjoy its natural beauties as I have. But these beauties do not include my ward, Miss Brookes.'

By no means disconcerted, William bowed to Annie, and then answered, smiling: 'Well, Mr Dawson, she comes here often enough to be mistaken for a native. And it seems only right to count her among the natural beauties of Bagot's Park; that is to say, I should he
sitate, myself, to call her eith
er ugly or artificial.'

'Have done with your compliments, young Palmer,' cried Mr Dawson angrily. 'How dare you force your noxious company on this innocent girl without a word to me?'

Will appealed to Annie. 'Miss Brookes,' he asked, 'did I force my noxious company on you?'

'Oh, no, Mr Palmer, no!' she exclaimed in confusion. 'Indeed, quite the reverse. I saw you first, and came to thank you for your kindness at Miss Bond's; and then I became interested in the sights revealed by your magnifying glass and suggested that we should meet again to continue botanizing together.'

'That exculpates you, Annie,' said Mr Dawson as kindly as he could, 'but it does not exculpate Mr Palmer. He should have called at my house on the very morning after that first accidental meeting—if accidental it was—and asked my permission to botanize with you'—here all at once Mr Dawson grew portentously stern—'and, if there be such a word in the dictionary, to
amourize!
What answer have you to this, Mr Palmer?'

'I should certainly have called at your residence, Sir, had our mutual friend, Mr Weaver, not informed me that you discouraged such a visit.'

'Worse and worse! You knew my ill opinion of your manner of life, yet you made love to my ward?'

'With the greatest respect, Sir, this love was not a one-sided ardour, as I think Miss Brookes will have the truthfulness to confess.'

Mr Dawson cut short Annie's gasping assent. 'You take advantage of Miss Brooke's innocency,' he exclaimed, 'to force deceit upon her! I repeat, Mr Palmer, that she is my ward. The Court of Chancery holds me responsible for her moral welfare.'