Havoc`s Sword

by Dewey Lambdin

  "By the by," Sir Hugo gushed onward, "that gentlemen's Lodgings I proposed, with Sir Malcolm Shockley's eager backing once I had laid out the Particulars and Advantages to him, is now open. We obtained a rather fine 1st Rate residence, only slightly gone to seed. Upon your safe return (pray God) to England, you will be in awe.

  "It sits on the corner of Wigmore St. and Duke St., just off and convenient to Oxford Baker Sts., thus easy to find, with dependable carriage service, and convenient to Govt., Finance, etc. It takes the entire corner, in point of fact, quite a palazzo, now set up for fifty with all the desired Amenities; common room, reading room, dining, etc. I myself, lacking my Panton St. house, would be tempted to engage a set of rooms, and, needless to say, should you and Caroline not have Reconciled by your return from foreign Service, you will be assured of a most lavish roof over your head, all at a tidy discount for kin, ho!"

  "Notice he don't offer t'put me up under his own roof, catlin'?" Lewrie softly scoffed. "Nor free, either, the old miser."

  He interpreted Toulon's blink and ear-flick to mean "ain't it a miserable shame."

  Unfortunately, his father had had little progress to report when it came to making Caroline see sense. She was not going to pursue any Bill of Divorcement; quite rightly they had both surmised that it would be too expensive a proposition, with too much public shame attached… and too much enforced contact with her old, spurned beau, Harry Embleton, who, as her Member of Commons, would have to present the Bill in London. At least Caroline had sense enough to avoid that otter-faced fool!

  There had been, by last report, no further "dear friend" notes sent her, for the simple reason, Sir Hugo concluded, that he was at sea, beyond the reach of that anonymous gossip's spiteful ken, and all his previous peccadilloes had been revealed. Supposedly.

  "You are, I trust," his father had snidely penned, "if not keeping your breeches buttoned, at least possessed of enough Caution to not flaunt any of your Venereal doings in Publick, hmm?"

  "As if you ever did," Lewrie grumbled. "Swear t'Christ, did he get to Heaven, he'd tip Saint Peter the wink, and ask where the whores kept! Ha… knew it, the old rogue."

  For there had followed an entire paragraph touting the advantages of "balancing one's humours" with the whores, and never squiring one out in the daytime, or to any function where one's peers in Society might remark you-hardly the thing for an English gentleman, married or no, much less a Serving Officer, etc., and etc.

  "Taught his granny t'suck eggs, too, most-like," Lewrie groaned some more. He'd heard that particular lecture at least once a month, since he'd pinched the bottom of his first pubescent scullery maid at thirteen. "Never admit paternity, were there fifty before you," Lewrie sing-songed under his breath, "never lose yer head over any coy slice o' mutton… think o' yer family's good name. Oh. Right. We never had one." He snickered, reaching for his mug of cool tea.

  His father's letter was discontinuous, at that, for he'd left the worst news, and three matters of the most import, 'til the last. First was the matter of young Miss Sophie de Maubeuge, his ward. She had fled Anglesgreen for London, and was now living with his father, serving as mistress (in the innocent sense, his father quickly assured him!) of his new town house!

  "Caroline has gotten it into her head, and clings to the Opinion despite all Protestations to the contrary, that you and poor wee Sophie were at one time, she cannot settle upon which, intimate!" Sir Hugo informed him. "Aboard that French frigate you sailed out of Toulon, in Lisbon before you packed her off to England, in some stolen moments during your two short shore leaves since this war began, it don't signify to her. Either, or all, feature in her Accusations, depending upon the day of the week, and, had I not known Caroline's sweet Nature before, I would be forced upon an initial Acquaintance now to be convinced she was Tetched! Level-headedness and her usual kind Demeanour quite fly her, once she gets on the Topic. Needless to say, it all created such an impossible Situation for poor Sophie, such glares and frowns, such harsh and quibblesome Speech, finding so much fault with even the simplest domestic tasks, that Matters came to a Head several weeks ago. There were shouts, Accusations made, Refutations offered yet dismissed, to the point that Sophie packed, summoned a coach, and turned up on my doorstoop un-announced, reduced to Tears and Whimpers, and I could not deny her Shelter, as I am certain you will understand. So suddenly denied any Freedom in Anglesgreen, so isolated to the farm as she was, Sophie has at last recovered her cheerful Equanimity, and now quite relishes going about the City with me."

  "Now that must cramp his style!" Lewrie cynically hooted.

  "Daughters," his father had marvelled, "in Sophie's case, granddaughter, after a fashion. Somehow I feel that due to my wastrel ways (none of which I truly regret, mind) I might have missed something in Life by not being Engaged in Children's raisings, for young women are quite delightful Creatures to watch blossom. I have always felt Avuncular or Grand-Fatherly anent Sophie's development, for so she calls me Grand-Pere, but, one might almost deem my feelings Paternal, now, when closely engaged with her Welfare, in protecting her from the harshest Aspects of Life… or rake-hells such as me, in younger guise. Rest assured that Sophie only attends the most uplifting and chaste Amusements and Events, with me (of all people!) her guard. Church, Theatre, Concerts, and Galleries, only the tasteful raree shows, dines only with respectable Society, etc. And, do we attend a Ball, Rout, or Drum, her dance partners must pass my Muster, first- and she is home and snug in her chambers at a reasonable Hour. No matter this places upon me a hellish restraint, I feel it is my Duty, in your stead, to…"

  "Knew he'd complain a tad, anyway," Lewrie chuckled, imagining how corseted the old whore-monger must be, all for appearance's sake, and for Sophie's future "respectable" marriage prospects. "And he's not touchin' me up for a contribution t'help dress and feed her."

  The second grimmer matter concerned his boys, Sewallis and Hugh nigh-imprisoned at their bleakly strict boarding school in Guildford. Despite how involved his father'd been with his new house, his arrangements for his country estate, and gentlemen's club, he had tried to keep in touch with the lads, but had gotten no responses to his letters. When down to Anglesgreen, he had called upon Caroline to enquire how they kept… and had not liked the answers.

  The few letters that Caroline had gotten had been vague, filled with what sounded, to his suspicious ears, like rote phrases dictated by the headmaster and headmistress or their few employed instructors. This had occurred shortly before Sophie had "eloped," so Lewrie could understand, in retrospect, that the tensions had already been treacle-thick, which had not improved Caroline's acceptance of his worries; as if any questions he had concerning their welfare was a criticism of Caroline's decision to board them away at an austere public school, or a suggestion that she did not fret over them as a Proper Mother ought!

  Sir Hugo had, though, received Caroline's grumpy permission to call upon them on his way back to London, so…

  "Imagine it, dear Alan. Up pops I, in full regimental fig, in the grandest equipage going, liveried coachee, postillion 'catch-fart,' and my trusty orderly, Trilochan Singh, in the Grand Parade uniform of our old 19th Native Infantry, silks, sash, tulwar, and turban" his father had described. We caused the most Devilish stir in the Populace as we clattered in and drew rein. Yet when I requested of the headmaster and his wife (a stout and termagant Batter-Booby) to see the lads, I was flatly Refused! Gaudy as we were, one would expect they'd have fallen on me like famished vultures, with an eye towards a lavish donation, and an annual Patronage, but no, not even that! They did not attempt Flattery, did not offer to dine me in or shew off the grounds, and, in point of fact, rather peremptorily wished me off the premises before they summoned a magistrate!

  "Oh yes, says I? Indeed, say they. The school maintains a rigid rota from which the students are not to be taken. And what of their free time? I ask. They pray! I was rather brusquely told. What? your sire demanded, are they never allowed off the grounds to a swee
t shop? Only under escort by instructors or proctors, says the grim wretch who rules that foul dungeon. A nastier place I never clapped eyes on, and I've seen Hindoo toilets, thankee very much!

  "Determining that they were too Righteous to bribe, I cautioned them that I'd return before they could say 'knife,' with your, and my, solicitors, the Chief Justice to my old friend and patron the Lord-Lieutenant of Surrey, and a troop of Yeoman Cavalry, with whom to tear their Pile down round their ears, and clap them in Gaol under suspicion of Abuse of their wards, and it would be King's Bench for the both of them! I further threatened to coach back to Anglesgreen and fetch their Mother, and did they refuse her, I'd whistle up the troopers, and formal Justice bedamned," his father crowed in a "copper-plate" hand.

  "And didn't Caroline look the place over first?" Lewrie griped as he got to his feet to fume and pace, deposing Toulon from his lap as if shedding a robe. "Damn my eyes, what was she thinkin'?"

  "A gloomier tale never you've heard, Alan," his father went on. "They are, of course, being beaten. Were we not, all, caned in our own school days, and are now the better for it? Corporal punishment breaks intractably wild wills, and Civilises, but I fear that their treatment goes beyond the Instructive, or Necessary. Punishment is doled out for the slightest Infractions; for standing idle, for too much exuberance during their rare idle play hour, for the tiniest error in recitation, for chatting too loudly or happily at mealtimes! All this from adults, mind. What Sewallis and Hugh whisperingly told me passes twixt Elder Boys and their fags is quite another thing, quite exceeding the normal Abuse a New Boy should expect at his first school.

  "My son, I strongly suspect that Torture, premeditated, brutal, and fiendish Cruelties are planned and executed nightly," his sire accused. And where are the Instructors, the Governess or Headmaster when such occurs, I ask you? The Academy is not so large, I fear, that they might lightly send down any or all Malefactors; indeed may dread ^suiting the moneyed parents of such little Monsters, or lose so many of the students that their so-called School becomes unprofitable. They already accept those deemed too difficult or thick-headed, the Dregs from other schools, the Dissolute, Incorrigible or High-Flown…"

  " 'Tis a wonder I wasn't sent there, then," Lewrie muttered, dashing a hand cross his furrowed brow.

  "Even more hellish, Alan, were your sons' tremulous Intimations that such Tortures and Cruelties are dealt out to those averse to submission to late-night Buggery by the older boys…" Sir Hugo wrote.

  "Goddammit!" Lewrie yelped, hot to fly home that instant with a sword in hand, and deal out some "Jesus and the Moneychangers" justice on one and all! "My lads, oh my poor lads. What's Caroline put you into?"

  "I coached back to Anglesgreen, instanter, once the lads' brief two hours of Liberty were done, and I was forced to deliver them back into that cess-pool of Corruption," his father wrote, "not without the severest warning to Headmaster Headmistress that, were my suspicions borne out, I would have the Law on them, and that Sewallis and Hugh are to be free to write whom they please, when they please, and write what they please. Had I the Authority, I would have snatched them out from that place at once, but, alas, in your absence that is up to Caroline. She was quite Perturbed by my sad relation of the boys' Condition. I fully expect her to do the Snatching. I also spoke with the Vicar at St. George's, cautioning him not to recommend that School to parents of local parish lads, and what the Devil was he thinking when he suggested it to Caroline? Are not Sewallis and Hugh mannerly and quick-witted students, in no need of such strict Chastisements to 'improve' their Wits or Behaviours? I left the old Gooseberry quaking in his slippers, let me tell you, in dread he was sponsoring Buggery. Passing through Guildford once more, I did call upon the Chief Justice and laid my suspicions with him, as well, so we may soon see the end of this so-called 'strict Christian' Academy, once an Enquiry has been begun.

  "You must do your part, Alan, and quickly," his father stressed. "Write Caroline, urging her to remove the lads at once, and suggest I choose a better, this time, standing Stead for you whilst overseas on King's Business. Offer to pay fees, which I will cover, for I suspect I am more in the way of Money than you at sudden need. I did offer to stand for their Schooling, Hugh's entry into a good Regiment, and little Charlotte's Finishing, after all, do you not recall? Thence, write also to your solicitor, Mr. Matthew Mountjoy, in London, urging him to draw up a Writ on your behalf naming me as your Voice concerning the boys, strictly limited to the choice of school, and their support in lieu of your presence, of course, so Caroline can have no legitimate Objections to such an arrangement."

  Yes, by God, he would, soon as he finished reading the rest of his father's letter.

  "… matter which has grieved you since sailing, son," Sir Hugo continued, "is your lack of news from Sewallis and Hugh. Be sure that you stipulate to Mountjoy that the boys must write me, as well as their Mother, concerning their Progress and their Welfare, since I will be partially in loco parentis. In this way, the lads will be able to write Letters to you, addressed to me, and you will be able to direct your Correspondence to them, using my Panton St. address as a Subterfuge, ho!"

  That opportunity, to circumvent his wife's spite and hear from his boys once more, was almost cheering enough to mollify his earlier anger at how they had, and might have been, abused!

  Even more wondrous, his father further suggested that Caroline was now vulnerable. His final point was that too many things bore down upon her, her fear and shame that she had unwittingly exposed her sons to pain and bestiality, that she hadn't been a Good Mother! Even more vexing had been her wrathful split with Sophie (her unallayed suspicions notwithstanding!), and… her elderly mother Charlotte's health was failing.

  It all made, Sir Hugo slyly hinted, the perfect opportunity for him to write her, no matter that Caroline had said she'd burn anything that came with his name on it, unread.

  "There is no better time for a Wife to appreciate a Husband than when crushed by Adversity," his father coyly nudged, "when the Weaker Sex, all at sixes and sevens, find need to lean upon her Stalwart Man with his innate inner Strength, and in the face of shared Adversities, 'form square' shoulder to shoulder in wholehearted Mutual Defence of their Children and their Welfare.

  "No matter how slender a Reed that husband be (and I think we both know how Irresolute and Inconstant we Willoughby/Lewrie men turn out to be, God help our trusting Womenfolk) it is their Nature to look to Men for aid. Dispirited as Caroline is this moment, do you intend a Reconciliation someday with your good wife, then strike whilst the iron is hot, using your utmost Subtlety! Nothing too abrupt or promising at first, mind. Cajole her, with no Recriminations for her Foolishness, with no sudden Vows or Wishes for Renewal. But then I very much doubt that you are in need of advice when it comes to cossetting the Fairer Sex, ho!"

  "Oh yes, I do!" Lewrie bewilderedly confessed to his empty great-cabins, and his nettled cat. "Ev'ry man does. And did ye ever have any advice, why the Devil didn't ye share it when I needed it?"

  He plumped down in his desk chair once more, exhausted by fear and anger, by outrage. How to pen that letter to Caroline, posing stern and capable, and "reliable and trustworthy," he couldn't even begin to conjure. It would be implausible to beg her forgiveness… and much too soon to do so, too. He could not chide her for a brainless chit for being gulled by the vicar's advice, either.

  And when you came right down to it, did he wish to reconcile?

  Hmmm…

  He had to give that one a long think, turning his chair to face Caroline's portrait hanging in the dining-coach; done back when she was a newlywed in the Bahamas in '85 or '86. Dewy fresh and pretty, with her features unlined, but for the natural merry folds below her eyes; long, silken light brown hair worn long and missish under a wide-brim straw bonnet…

  T'wasn't all looks, or beauty, though… And damn being a sailorman! He was gone for a year or two, sometimes an entire three years commission, and people and things never were the same
as they were when he left. Children sprouted taller, into the most amazing creatures, totally alien to who they'd been before, as strange to him as feathered savages in the Great South Seas. Wives…

  Had be been a landsman, even a tenant squire with even a modicum of ability to work a farm (or appear as if he even tried!) he knew things would have been different between them. There would have been no shock of rencontre, at the changes. They would not have mellowed apart, too "set in their ways" for coping with life as independent agents, but would have slowly, gradually adapted to each other, so that such changes never came as a security-shaking shock of recognition. They would have aged… together!

  And, most importantly, living cheek-to-jowl with a goodly wife, standing "watch and watch" with a woman so sweet and intelligent, and compatible as Caroline, it was good chances he'd never have strayed.

  Well, perhaps now and again, but 'twould've been rare. Really.

  Lewrie was certain that Caroline was still more than enough for him as a mate; hadn't he deemed her perfect marriage material once he and she had re-met in England in '84, long before they'd wed? Before that anonymous scribbler had exposed his overseas doings, hadn't they proved their mutually pleasing compatibility after each separation and re-adjusted to each other, caught up? So happy and light-hearted, so easily sociable and teasing, so much of the same mind… wasn't she the same spriteiy but serious, level-headed but adoring girl he'd wed?

  Reconcile? Aye, he did wish it!

  Could he shed Theoni Connor, though, and their bastard son? Almost completely, yes, though he did owe her an obligation. But, was a complete break called for, then so be it. Theoni was well-off in her own right, with no need of his financial support, or wish to bruit her boy Alan James Connor in genteel society as a bastard.