by Kage Baker
The infant was left at No. 10 with the servants.
1826–1839: Little Lamb, Who Made Thee?
Robert Richardson had served with distinction in the 32nd Regiment of Foot, and had in fact had his left leg shot from under him at the battle of Waterloo. Invalided out of the Army, he had lived with a married sister while seeking employment. Having had some experience as a footman before joining the Army, and being possessed of an upright and dignified bearing not with standing his prosthetic limb, he was shortly hired as butler at No. 10 Albany Crescent. This proved satisfactory to all persons concerned.
He expressed no opinions on the irregular manner in which young Edward Fairfax (or Bell, as the infant was hastily dubbed, even though it was obvious there was no need to engage in any further charades for Mrs. Bell’s benefit) had entered the household. If he felt it was a shame that Mrs. Bell never so much as inquired after the little creature, or that Mrs. Melpomene Lodge seemed too sternly efficient, more like a sergeant herself than someone intended to care for a child, Richardson kept his reservations to himself.
The below-stairs servants were more forthcoming in their judgment. While no one felt Mrs. Bell could be blamed for going mad, her lack of affection for young Edward was roundly condemned, and it was felt that Mrs. Lodge was a cold-hearted bitch who had no business minding babies. Consequently on her days out the boy was brought downstairs and tended by Cook and the parlor maids, who showered him with affection.
He was such a fine big boy, after all! Not, perhaps, the prettiest baby Cook had ever seen; his eyes were a peculiar pale blue and a bit small. On the other hand, he was good-tempered, seldom cried even when teething (which occurred very early), and suffered no infantile rashes, colds, fevers or indeed any kind of illness whatsoever. He throve on the nasty mixture Mrs. Lodge fed him, compounded of scalded cow’s milk, catnip tea and certain arcane powders Mrs. Lodge did not deign to name for the rest of the staff.
In fact, Edward was more than healthy; he was remarkably intelligent. Violet, the between-stairs maid, discovered this when, at the age of eleven months, he suddenly recited back to her the entire text of “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep.” She squealed in excitement and tried him on “Ring Around the Roses” and “London Bridge Is Falling Down,” both of which he repeated note perfect. Violet ran and fetched Cook, who listened in disbelief and then ran and fetched Richardson. Edward was rewarded with bread and jam for his brilliance and roundly cosseted, though the below-stairs staff resolved thereafter to mind what they said around the child.
Edward’s infancy passed without other incident, largely unnoticed by his adoptive parents. Richardson wondered uncomfortably whether some male oughtn’t take a hand with the child, lest he warp under too much womanly influence. Signs that this might be the case were already evident, for young Edward had taken to carrying around a doll he referred to as his baby. He spent hours pretending to feed it with a spoon, or bathing it, or rocking it to sleep while he sang to it, or combing its hair. At last Richardson was moved to confront Mrs. Lodge, asking her whether she didn’t feel such play was unnatural for a boy.
Mrs. Lodge had looked at him in that chilly way she had—no more feeling than a waxwork statue, Richardson thought to himself—and then, to his surprise, she had agreed that he was perfectly correct. The doll was confiscated forthwith and thrown out. Edward had wept inconsolably. Richardson had then overheard Mrs. Lodge telling Edward that only weak and inferior children cried. She added that he had no right to complain, as he was nothing but a bastard, no matter how well-born, and he was lucky he wasn’t out in the street begging for his bread.
White with fury, Richardson had summoned Mrs. Lodge and sacked her forthwith. She had merely shrugged and decamped with her trunk, asking for no references, nor leaving any forwarding address. Her departure had provoked fresh tears in her former charge, as another piece of the only world he had ever known vanished. In vain Richardson offered his watch as a plaything. With slightly better success, he removed his prosthesis and showed Edward how it fastened to the stump of his knee. Edward then wished to know what had happened to the rest of Richardson’s leg, and so Richardson told him all about the battle of Waterloo. Edward listened with wide eyes.
A governess was hired after that and duly installed in the schoolroom, but as far as Edward was concerned Richardson was his true teacher. Richardson was consulted, at any hour of the night or day, on such diverse matters as whether Robinson Crusoe had been a real man, whether the ogre Bonaparte were really dead or just shamming, and whether the holes in Jesus’ hands and feet had healed over by now.
As the years rolled along, the questions tended to need answers more urgently: what, for example, was the best way to repair a hole in the plasterwork caused by a Guy Fawkes squib? How could one retrieve a tin sailboat from the bottom of the Hyde Park Serpentine? Was there any reason to be alarmed by the new and peculiar sensations experienced when inadvertently witnessing a maid in her nightdress?
Christmases came and went without so much as a card from Mr. and Mrs. Bell, who had taken to spending their winters in the south of France. Edward saved his pocket money to buy trinkets as presents for the staff, or laboriously made gifts of penwipers, or needle cases, or pasteboard boxes decorated with glued-on seashells. He took his Christmas dinner below stairs and his Twelfth Cake too, and Cook and Richardson between them always stage-managed it so that Edward never failed to get the slice with the sixpence.
But there was no concealing from the boy that other children had parents who saw them on a daily basis, rather than at intervals of four or five months. Mr. Bell did endeavor to bring the occasional present back for Edward, and generally exchanged a few polite words with him at the breakfast table, for which Edward was desperately grateful. Still, the passing years only served to emphasize his nature as a changeling: by the age of nine Edward was already as tall as Mr. Bell, resembling him in no way. One afternoon he came to Richardson and, hesitantly, asked to know what a bastard might be?
Having given a not altogether satisfactory answer, Richardson later lined up the household and demanded to know which of the servants had used the offending word where Master Edward could hear. One and all solemnly swore they had not. Cook then pointed out that they all knew Master Edward had an excellent memory, and only the other day had reminded her about the time she had burned the bottom out of the teakettle, which had happened when he had still been a tiny thing in long clothes.
Whether or not Master Edward remembered Mrs. Lodge, it was plain her words had had their effect upon him. As he neared his eleventh birthday the boy grew sullen and silent, more given to reckless escapades. Only Richardson’s stories of the War seemed to hold his full attention. He asked Richardson how old one must be to join the Army, and whether Richardson thought a very tall boy might pass for an older one.
Lammas Eve passed, and on Lammastide a knock came at the front door of No. 10.
Richardson opened the door to behold a sleek dark man with an enigmatic smile. He asked whether the Bells were at home and, on being informed that they were in Geneva, gave his name as Dr. Nennys and asked to speak with Master Edward.
Richardson declined to permit him entrance to the house. Dr. Nennys then produced authorization unquestionably signed by Mr. Bell, eleven years and two days previous, granting Dr. Nennys authorization in loco parentis in all matters pertaining to his ward, Edward Alton Fairfax. Dr. Nennys also produced letters of recommendation from certain gentlemen very highly placed in certain government ministries, all certifying as to his worthiness as an educator of youth. Still somewhat reluctant, Richardson allowed him into the front hall. Dr. Nennys strode boldly past him into the drawing room.
Master Edward was summoned. Richardson stood stiffly attendant.
“So this is the boy,” said Dr. Nennys, smiling as he rose to his feet. “What a splendid young man! I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last, Edward. I am Dr. William Fitzwalter Nennys, a great friend of your father.”
&n
bsp; He extended his hand to the boy, who took it wonderingly. “I’m happy to meet you, Dr. Nennys,” said Edward. Dr. Nennys shook his hand firmly and then stepped back, regarding Edward with a pleased expression.
“Yes; a remarkably fine boy. And only eleven? I’d have said you were fifteen at least. Extraordinary. A boy marked for greatness, I believe. You have the look of a hero about you, Edward.”
“I do, sir?” Edward stood perceptibly straighter.
“You do indeed. Now then, my boy! Your parents have arranged for you to attend school at my own establishment, Overton Hall, in Suffolk. Given the high regard I have for your father, I thought it best to come down and advise you personally.”
“Overton Hall, sir?” said Richardson. “I must inform you, sir, that my master attended Harrow, and when last consulted on the matter told me that he supposed Master Edward ought to be sent there too, sir.”
“He has reconsidered. Harrow is all very well in its way for common boys, I suppose, but it won’t do for young Edward,” said Dr. Nennys, with a dismissive wave. “Edward is a unique boy, a remarkable boy, and will do very well at Overton, I have no doubt. I look forward to personally tutoring him.”
Richardson, who had long believed the worst possible thing to do to a boy was treat him as though he were the Little Lord Jesus, said: “I’m sure Master Edward has never pretended to airs or thought he was better than other boys, sir.”
“Oh, really?” drawled Dr. Nennys. “Shall we set him a few maths problems? What is seventy times seventy, Edward?”
“Four thousand nine hundred, sir,” said Edward promptly.
“And what is five thousand and thirty-two times six hundred and sixty-three?”
“Three million, three hundred and thirty-six thousand, two hundred and sixteen, sir,” said Edward, with equal speed. Richardson turned to stare at him.
“Divided by four?”
“Eight hundred thirty-four thousand and fifty-four, sir.”
“Divided by three?”
“Two hundred seventy-eight thousand and eighteen, sir.”
“His answers are correct to the last figure,” said Dr. Nennys, with a triumphant look at Richardson. “Though you may work out the sum with a pencil if you wish, I believe my point is made.”
“Well, but he’s always been good at sums,” stammered Richardson.
“How many bunches of primroses appear in the wallpaper in this room, Edward?”
Edward glanced around the room once and replied, “Two thousand four hundred and seventeen, sir.” He looked at Richardson a little shamefacedly. “It’s only a trick, Richardson; you just count how many in a foot square—”
“But common boys wouldn’t think to,” said Dr. Nennys. “Overton’s the place for you, Edward, I haven’t the slightest doubt. Now, tell me a little about yourself! What are your aspirations, my boy?”
Richardson wondered if the boy knew what aspirations were, but Edward said: “I should like to be a soldier one day, sir.”
Dr. Nennys’s smile widened into a grin. His teeth were extraordinarily white. Richardson found it unsettling.
“A soldier! Of course. I could see that you were a brave boy; it is written in your face. We shall mold you into a perfect servant of the Crown, shall we?—and you shall defeat His Majesty’s enemies.”
“Oh, yes, sir, please!”
Master Edward, eyes very bright, was then dismissed, but Dr. Nennys lingered for short words with Richardson. Richardson was informed that Overton Hall had been the choice of Edward’s natural father, a gentleman of some importance, and Dr. Nennys trusted no further justification was necessary to a hired servant. The date on which the next term commenced was named, and a list of school supplies was presented, to which Richardson was expected to attend. Dr. Nennys took his leave.
On the appointed day, a coach bearing Richardson and Edward drew up before the Pinford Arms. Richardson caught Edward’s trunk as it was thrown down. Other boys could be seen milling around a van with the name OVERTON HALL prominently painted on its side. Richardson shook hands with Edward, told him to recollect his duty to God and the King, and pressed a half-crown of his own money on the boy. He was profoundly grateful no passengers got on for the return trip to London, and sat alone in the coach blinking away tears as far as Ipswich before he was able to master his emotions.
The boy wrote often from school, advising the household staff of his progress. He was happy and well, getting excellent marks, especially in maths; it was true, however, that he had twice been caned for fighting. He thought perhaps he might like to enter the Church, though he hastened to assure Richardson that this would not preclude his going into the Army because he could serve as a chaplain. Edward’s dutiful letters to Mr. and Mrs. Bell accumulated on the dining room table, unread, for his guardians were not expected to return from Geneva until Christmas.
In the event, they never did. Mr. Bell wrote to Richardson to inform him that they had changed their plans and were going on to Italy. A fortnight later Richardson received word that their boat had capsized during a sail on the Bay of Naples. Both husband and wife were missing, presumed drowned.
Dr. Nennys himself brought Edward, red eyed and miserable, home for the funeral. He sat beside Edward for the reading of the last will and testament of Septimus Bell, which, in the event of his death and that of his beloved wife, Dorothea, left all their worldly goods to one Sibley Bell, Mr. Bell’s cousin. This gentleman gladly took possession of No. 10 with all its furniture, retaining the services of the staff, but—feeling compunction, perhaps, that Edward had been left without a penny—assured the boy that he was welcome to return to No. 10 during the intervals between terms. His charity did not extend to paying Edward’s continued tuition, however.
Dr. Nennys merely smiled and said he thought it might be possible to make other arrangements.
Term followed term. Edward’s letters home to the servants improved in grammar and spelling, but grew briefer. Dr. Nennys was keeping him very busy with special tutoring; he was learning fencing, riding, and marksmanship. He had been told he had an extraordinary talent for calculus. Best of all, Edward had learned that his real father, a person of some consequence it seemed, was still alive! He was henceforth to be known as Edward Bell-Fairfax! Circumstances prevented Edward being acknowledged, but it was Edward’s intention to make his distant parent proud with a life of heroism.
And Dr. Nennys—who was, Edward explained, a font of wisdom, a nearly godlike mentor—had intimated on many occasions that Edward was destined for greatness. It didn’t matter that he was a bastard, after all. Shakespeare had written a play in which there was a character called Philip the Bastard, and he was a glorious hero and won a battle. Edward had had no messages from his august parent yet, but dared to hope that the great man might somehow contrive a discreet meeting with him.
Richardson read this aloud, smiling, and he and Cook exchanged relieved glances. The secret was out at last, and had done the boy no harm.
And then—
Edward came home for the summer holidays just after his fourteenth birthday, taller now than Richardson. He went on an outing with Richardson and Cook, spending a happy day at Gravesend. They returned to find Dr. Nennys waiting in the drawing room, his dark face impassive but his eyes glinting with suppressed anger.
Edward’s father had taken an active interest in the boy at last, it seemed. He had communicated his express wish that Edward be withdrawn from Overton and enlisted in the Navy as a midshipman.
Appalled silence followed this pronouncement. At last Edward asked whether he mightn’t go into the Army instead. On being informed that the arrangements had already been made and were irrevocable, Edward turned to Richardson and said that he was very sorry.
“Be so good as to leave us, Richardson, and close the doors,” Dr. Nennys snapped.
Richardson glared at him but said only, “Very good, sir.” He left the drawing room and drew the doors shut with a crash, after which he stood motionless
on the other side, endeavoring to hear the following conversation:
“But how could he do this?” Edward’s voice broke in a wail. “After all you told me about him—I thought he wanted—”
“Bell-Fairfax, I trust you will not blub like a child at the first adversity you encounter?”
“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I should think so. Now, listen to me. Your father has his own reasons for this decision, which neither I nor you may question. It may be that my reports of your extraordinary progress have persuaded him that you are ready now to begin the great work for which we have been preparing you. Your grasp of useful modern languages is excellent—we will pass over your abysmal Latin, which is unnecessary nowadays in any case—and you have begun to master your temper. What more can you learn at Overton?”
“It isn’t that,” said Edward, clearly struggling to speak calmly. “But I thought I might have displeased him, and I should be very sorry to.”
“Bell-Fairfax, I’m quite certain that is not the case; and even if it were . . . do you remember when you thrashed that vile bully Scargill?”
“Yes, sir.” Edward spoke in a small voice. “Is that it? Did he die after all?”
“No, no, my boy, and small loss if he had! Scargill will undoubtedly grow into the sort of vermin you will spend your life fighting. No. I spoke to you then of certain men, powerful men, who would have intervened to save you even if the young wretch had died of his injuries. Those men are watching you still. I may not tell you more at this time, but they are aware of your remarkable qualities, and they are determined you shall live to fulfill your noble destiny.
“Consider this temporary adversity a test of your resolve, a trial wherein you may prove yourself to those good men. You shall go forth into the greater school of the world!”
