by Adrien Leduc
The young woman glared at him. "Yes. I can give you your bath, Caroline," she muttered, rising to her feet. "Let me go and fetch some towels."
It was much later that evening, while Ernest was fixing a cup of tea for himself and planning to turn in, that he heard something. It sounded like laughter and it was coming from the corridor. Setting aside the kettle, he wiped his hands on his trousers and made his way towards the kitchen door. He pushed it open. The corridor was empty. Dark. Quiet. But then, just as he began to question his sanity, he heard it again. Laughter. And giggling. Then voices. There was a man. And a woman. Had Lord and Lady Hutchinson come home early? Was it Peter and Linda?
Peter, you promised me...
Curious, the butler advanced cautiously towards the parlour room door - the only plausible source of the sounds he was hearing. A soft and pale light was visible through the white, embroidered curtains that hung over the windows of the door. Putting his ear to the door, Ernest held his breath and listened closely.
The male voice clearly belonged to Philip, and the female voice...Catherine?
Inching forwards, he reached for the door handle. Did he dare open it?
The sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Then, laughter.
What is going on in there?
Ernest knocked and the laughter ceased immediately.
"Did you hear something?" he heard Philip ask.
"No. Why?" replied his female companion. It was most definitely Catherine.
Philip and Catherine doing God knows what in the parlour...
"That sound, it sounded like - "
Ernest eased the door open and stepped into the parlour.
"Ernest! What in blazes - "
"Master Hutchinson," the butler answered politely as though he were simply saying "good morning."
"What in blazes are you playing at?" he demanded, his voice shrill and high-pitched, as he tried to cover himself with the blanket that Catherine was holding on to in order to hide her nakedness.
"I might ask you the same thing, Master Hutchinson. Catherine."
"It is none of your business what we are doing, old man," Catherine said, giggling as she pressed a bottle of some brownish liquid to her lips and took a swig.
"It seems I've missed a party."
Philip shook his head. "No. It's nothing like that."
The young man got to his feet and began to dress. "Pray, tell me. When did my mother say to pick them up from the Ball?"
"No later than ten," Ernest answered, a small smile tugging at this mouth.
"And what time is it now?"
"Half past, Master Hutchinson."
"No! It can't be! No! Father's going to kill me! You whore!" he yelled, turning towards Catherine. "Get up! Get up! Get dressed. And clean this mess up!"
Ernest looked down at the mess he was referring to. Empty liquor bottles, dessert wrappers, the remnants of Peter's smoked ham.
"Wha - "
"I said, clean it up! And get dressed!"
"But, but - "
"I don't care if he's here," Philip seethed, grabbing Catherine by the hair and forcing her to her feet.
Ernest turned away quickly as her nakedness was fully revealed.
"Ow! You're hurting me! You beast! You coward! Hurting a woman!"
"Enough! Get dressed and clean this mess up. I want this all gone when I get back with mother and the rest and you, in your room. Are we understood?"
"Yes," the young maid whined, scratching at Philip's hand until he released her.
"Master Hutchinson - " Ernest began.
"Shut up, old man. You could have warned me what time it was an hour ago."
The butler sighed. "I suppose I could have, yes."
Secretly he'd wanted this to happen. Although now that it was actually happening...and poor Catherine. Crying and red-faced. Naked and pathetic looking. Liquor bottles strewn all around...
Philip let out a groan of frustration and slammed a hand against the wall. "Ernest, clean this mess up. I'm going to fetch mother and father. There's not to be a word about what happened this evening."
"Of course, Master Hutchinson," said Ernest gently, anxiously eyeing Catherine who was still dabbing at her tears, her face pointed at the floor.
"Perhaps, Master Hutchinson, it would be best if I went and got Lord and Lady Hutchinson - and Peter - as you look to be in a right state and I wouldn't want Lord Hutchinson to think you'd been drinking."
The butler looked at Philip, waiting for his response. The young man glared at him and looked as though he was about to unleash a volley of curse words, but he stopped himself, and breathed in deeply.
"I suppose you're right, Ernest. After all, if father catches sees me like this, he'll have me thrown out into the street."
Philip looked next at Catherine. "You and I will stay here and clean up this mess."
The young woman sniffed. "Alright..."
Philip sighed heavily. "Good. Ernest. Get dressed and be on your way. They'll no doubt be waiting and mother is going to be in a foul mood. We'll say that we pre-arranged to have you pick them up. That I was out - at a church function - and that you fell asleep and awoke later than you should have."
Ernest nodded. He couldn't refuse a request from his employer. It was against the Caldwell code.
Oh, mother, why ever did you make me swear to such an unbending set of rules...
"Catherine. You will clean this up. I will be outside and enter just as father and mother are arriving back. You two will back my story. If not, I'll find a way to get my revenge. Now go. There's work to be done," he finished, giving them a commanding stare.
Both butler and maid nodded simultaneously, both too in shock at the sudden change of circumstance. Though arguably, Ernest was the more shocked of the pair. For Philip had been a dithering drunk not minutes ago. And now, he was a crafty conspirator, willing to sacrifice the employment of a faithful butler in order to save his skin.
Oh, that I weren't a Caldwell and didn't have to abide by the code...
It came as little surprise to Ernest the following morning to learn that Catherine was "sick in bed". Lady Hutchinson was still snapping at him for being late to get them from the Ball the night before even though, as the reader well knows, it was only to cover for Philip that he'd offered to go. That and the fact that Philip's drunken behaviour would surely have gotten them all killed or embarassed them all in public.
Clearing the breakfast table, he tried to ignore the tension in the air - the sort of tension you could cut with a knife - but it was unavoidable.
"And why didn't you tell me earlier of this engagement at the church, my boy?" Lord Hutchinson pressed his son as he sipped the last dregs of his tea.
"Because, father, as I already said, it was a sudden prayer session for Mrs. Northcott. Goodness knows, I would have avoided it if I could. All those tears and what not. It wasn't a night on the town, you know."
"Hmmm, yes. So you say anyway."
"Oh, James," Lady Hutchinson interjected. "Believe your son for once."
"Laura, I don't believe him. Not for a minute."
"And why not father?" Philip demanded hotly. "What have I done for you to continue to bear such a grudge against me?"
"Well, I'm not quite sure at this point. But I will find out."
At this remark, Philip cast Ernest a cautionary glance.
"Now then, seeing as breakfast is through and the company has turned rather stale, I must retire to my study," Lord Hutchinson continued. "There's a fair bit of work to do yet on the upcoming bill to abolish the seigneurial system. Thank goodness Lafontaine isn't a patriote like the rest of his brethren."
"Yes, dear. It's all very interesting," said Lady Hutchinson dryly as she smoothed out the crumpled napkin beside her. "Politics."
"It's what pays for this house, darling," the parliamentarian replied, rising from the table. "Ernest, if you could bring a pot of tea to my study. And perhaps a new ink well."
"Of course,
Sir."
"I shall meet you there in a few minutes."
Ten minutes later, pot of tea in one hand and ink well in the other, the butler rapped at the door of Lord Hutchinson's study.
"Ernest? Is that you?"
"Aye. 'Tis, Sir."
"Well, don't just stand there. Come in."
Ernest used his shoulder to open the sturdy oak door and then carried the teapot and the ink well to Lord Hutchinson's desk.
"Right there will do."
Ernest nodded and set the items down in the empty space in front of him.
"Now then. What can you tell me of last night?"
"Sir?"
Lord Hutchinson poured himself a cup of tea and sat back in his chair.
"Ernest. You're a smart man. You know what goes on within these walls - better than anyone. Tell me. What really happened here last night while the rest of us were at the Ball? Where did Philip go? Did he go to the tavern?"
"I...er...I don't know, Sir. He said he was going to church to - "
"Oh, bollocks. That boy only sets foot in church to get a look at the ladies. He's no more interested in Jesus than the Romans were. Pray, as my humble and loyal servant, where did my son go last night and what did he get up to?"
"Well, Sir, I..."
"Ernest. Please. Don't waste my time," said Lord Hutchinson, stirring a spoonful sugar into his tea. "Where was Philip last night? Why couldn't he pick us up from the Ball?"
Ernest sighed and sat down. "Have I ever told you about the Caldwell Code, Sir?"
"The Caldwell Code?"
"Yes. It's a Code that my great-grandfather began. My maternal great-grandfather. You see, I never knew my father. I was raised by my mother. She was a Caldwell. Anyway, my mother was a servant, as you know, to Lady Hutchinson's elder brother."
"Correct."
"And my mother comes from a long line of servants. In fact my great-great-grandfather was a servant to William Cavendish, Duke of Devonshire, for a time. Thus we Caldwell's pride ourselves in being faithful and loyal servants."
"Go on."
"Faithful and loyal servants that would never, under any circumstance, betray our employers."
"So, what you are trying to say is that, according to the rules of the Caldwell Code - which you inherited from your mother - as a Caldwell, and as a servant, you are not at liberty to betray Philip's trust because he is your employer or master or what have you. Is that about the gist of it?"
Ernest gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, Sir. I could not have explained it more concisely myself."
Lord Hutchinson picked up his tea, took a sip, and sat back in his chair. The pair sat in silence for a minute and then Lord Hutchinson set his tea cup on the desk and spoke.
"While I find it honourable that you adhere to a code as would a physician or a parliamentarian like myself, it irks me that you would not permit yourself to tell me, the head of this house and the head of this family. Do I not have some sort of seniority over my son?"
"You know, Sir, I believe you do," said Ernest slowly, pensively. "And that is such a simple solution that I am rather embarassed I did not think of it myself. But yes, you are absolutely right. As Philip's father, and as head of this house and the Hutchinson family to whom I have pledged the utmost loyalty, your authority trumps his and thus I am free to tell you what Philip got up to last night."
Lord Hutchinson cleared his throat and gave an approving, yet stern, nod. "Very well then. Where was Philip last night? And more importantly, what was he doing?"
"Well, as you may have suspected, he was drinking Sir."
"Drinking?"
"Yes. I am afraid so."
"He was drinking...tea? Water? Liquor?"
"Liquor, Sir."
Lord Hutchinson's expression grew dark. "Oh?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Did he have just one drink? Or did he drink like a fish?"
"He drank like a fish, Sir. When I found him, he was clearly intoxicated."
The greying parliamentarian took up his tea once again and sipped it. But then, suddenly, and without warning, he hurled it across the room so that is smashed against the bookcase and exploded into a dozen pieces.
Slightly shaken, Ernest rose from his chair to clean up the mess.
"Sit!"
Ernest obeyed Lord Hutchinson's command and sat down once more.
"My son went to the tavern then?"
Ernest sighed. "I wish he had, Sir."
"You mean to say that he drank here? In my house?"
"I'm afraid so, Sir."
"That imbecile! That cretin! That vile little..."
Ernest said nothing while Lord Hutchinson continued to curse out his son.
"And where were you during all this?" he said, pausing from his tirade. "Where were you while he was drinking? Could you not have stopped him?"
"Well...I..."
"You could have, but you chose not to. Because you wanted to let him suffer the consequences of his behaviour?"
Ernest looked at the floor and then at Lord Hutchinson who seemed to have the ability to peer into his very soul.
"Yes."
The parliamentarian closed his eyes and nodded grimly.
"Are you angry with me, Sir?"
Lord Hutchinson opened his eyes and looked squarely at Ernest.
"Not at all. In fact, I should be thanking you. You can't keep a man from engaging in the vices that he chooses. Whoring, drinking, gambling - one cannot protect a man from himself. My son is a man, well a boy still really, but a man who loves the drink. And I fear that will always be the case."
Ernest listened intently, respectfully.
"And as much as it pains me to throw my own son out into the street, it is time he learns to walk among men. To live in the real world. Away from his mother's breast. I thought he'd done so in going toToronto. I must confess, I was rather proud of him even though Mr. Burke - you remember Mr. Burke, don't you?"
"The lawyer?"
"Yes. Even though Mr. Burke told me he's running a very amateur operation and only has three men in his employ. It made me proud nonetheless."
"Well, Sir, any father would be proud of such an accomplishment."
"Please, Ernest, don't patronize me with your flattery. The boy is an imbecile. A good for nothing drunk that will never amount to anything so long as he has a warm bed and food to come home to. No, he needs to be thrown to the wolves. Taught about the real world. Learn that real men work for their livelihoods. And the only way he'll learn these things is if I disown him."
"You can't be serious, Sir."
"Aye, Ernest. I am."
"But, I mean, strike him from your inheritance? Are you sure?"
"As sure as a man dealing with such circumstances can be. I don't want my hard earned money lining the pockets of every thieving bartender and barmaid in Kingston."
Ernest pursed his lips and nodded, but said nothing.
"But," he added, as he finished his tea and turned in his chair to look out the window, "I suppose that might be a bit rash. I am a moderate man, after all. Perhaps all my son needs is a few years of the hard life - and then he'll appreciate what a good thing he has here."
"I think that would be the more prudent path, Sir," said Ernest gently. "If I may say so."
The parliamentarian nodded. "Aye. You can say so, Ernest. You have an intelligent mind for a butler. Too intelligent at times," he added with a chuckle.
Ernest smiled obligingly. "Well, an intelligent employer requires an intelligent servant, Sir."
"I suppose."
The butler nodded and rose to his feet. "Is there anything else you would like before I go and clean up the breakfast table?"
"Well, yes actually. I'm no betting man, as you know, but if I had to wager, I would say that my son and that new servant girl - Catherine is it?"
"Yes, Catherine."
"Right. If I had to wager, I would say that my son and this Catherine girl were drinking together last night."
"And you
would become a wealthy man with such a wager, Sir."
Lord Hutchinson nodded grimly. "Well, then, I have no choice but to sack the poor girl."
As difficult as it was to do, Ernest forced himself to hide his delight. "Are you sure, Sir?"
"Of course, I'm sure!" Lord Hutchinson snapped. "Don't question my judgement. A servant girl who takes such liberties in her employer's house demonstrates a lack of moral fibre. Drinking on the job? Getting so drunk that she's bed-ridden the following day? It's an outrage and I'll have nothing of the sort in my house."
"Well, if that is your will, Sir, then so be it."
"'Tis my will, Ernest Caldwell. Now go and tend to your duties. You're becoming too plucky for a servant."
Ernest wasn't sure whether he was speaking in jest or whether he actually meant it. Either way, he wasn't going to question it. After all, he'd gotten what he'd wanted.
"Of course, Sir. I shall see you for lunch."
"Bring my lunch here. I've much work to do."
"Certainly, Sir."
- 8 -
With Philip and Catherine gone, the Hutchinson house felt much calmer. Lord Hutchinson was noticeably more cheerful and Lady Hutchinson, though she had more work to do with no maid on the premises, spent less time bothering Ernest and Peter with her criticisms and idle chit-chat.
Miss Clarissa Foster came around to visit several times in the weeks following the Easter Ball. Helena had left baby Grace in her care and the young heiress was as proud a mother as any could be.
Additionally, Miss Foster had made Lady Hutchinson godmother. As the latest cause celebre in Kingston, it was socially advantageous to be affiliated with the young heiress and Lady Hutchinson enjoyed a great deal of praise from the ladies at church as a result of her newfound generosity towards Miss Foster.
"Winston can't stand the crying, but thankfully Linda gets up to feed him when he's hungry and change him and what not," she explained, one afternoon in early May as she and Lady Hutchinson were having tea.
"Oh, isn't that just a lovely arrangement," Lady Hutchinson said, smiling sweetly. Ernest noticed that she'd taken an almost motherly attachment to the younger woman and he was happy that things had turned out so well. With the exception, of course, that Helena had disappeared and not been heard from since.
"And aren't you just the most precious, little angel," she cooed, pushing her face towards that of baby Grace's as the infant suckled on a wooden pacifier. "How she's grown since last month...isn't it amazing?"
