They left the key in the lock. The blue moon of August lit their way through the woods to the village. Since it was Saturday night, the inn was still serving supper, which they ate as heartily as oarsmen after a race. They registered under their own names.
“We don’t mind sharing a room,” Maurice said to the innkeeper.
She hesitated slightly as she wrote in the ledger. “Oh.” She looked up at Maurice. “Don’t I know you from Penge, sir,” she said, “the cricket match?”
“That’s right,” Alec answered, “we played for the park—together.”
“He captained,” Maurice added. “Our best bat.”
Upstairs, they made love and dozed. On opening a drowsy eye, Alec was met with a sight that provoked a conflict of lust and tenderness: his sleeping lover’s rump, smooth and shapely in the moonlight, dimpled, pale, and muscular. It looked luscious. He succumbed to temptation and gave it a bite—a sweet little bite for sure, but enough to cause Maurice to yelp. A pillow fight ensued, which elicited pounding on the wall from the next room and a cry: “That’s enough in there!”
They covered their mouths to keep from laughing out loud. Alec wagged a forefinger at Maurice and whispered, “Bad doggy.”
Maurice hung his head. He giggled: “Woof.” He lifted Alec back onto the bed, where they enjoyed each other again, quietly now, and then slept for nine hours in the deepest contentment, hearts at rest in each other at last.
Thus began their life together as outlaws.
12
Under the law they were criminals; outside it, merely young lovers. For them to live by the law would mean—what, separation? Marriage to others? Furtive meetings? No, the law was unjust. To subject themselves to it would make them complicit with its tyranny. So they would live outside it. But how?
Alec’s possessions, even his clothes, were on their way to Argentina: a reminder to Fred, if he needed reminding, of his little brother’s fecklessness. As for his parents, they must surely be baffled, angry as well, but at least not in a panic. His second wire yesterday had been sent to their home; they would have read it when they returned from Southampton: DON’T YOU WORRY I’M FINE. DECIDED TO STAY. EXPLAIN TOMORROW.
Tomorrow was now today, Sunday, so Maurice was reprieved from reporting to his office. He phoned his mother and told her that he’d been unexpectedly called out of town on business late yesterday afternoon and stayed the night; he apologized for having missed supper; he’d come home later. The day’s first task would be to make peace with the Scudders, whom Maurice had met yesterday at the ship. That meeting complicated matters because if, as the lovers contrived, Alec was staying in England to work for him, why would Maurice have gone to Southampton to see him off?
Such questions they discussed on the train, where they decided they would neither lie outright nor say any more than was necessary. Alec would speak with his parents first; Maurice would wait outside the cottage till the groundwork was laid. This scheme was promptly dashed when they met the Scudders in the lane on their way home from the late morning service at St. Osmund’s.
“My Licky!” Aderyn cried out on seeing them, and rushed to embrace her son. Alec was ready for her tears, but Maurice was moved by them, because tears had been forbidden in his house. He’d shed more in his love for Alec than since his earliest childhood. Over tea in her parlor, Mrs. Scudder apprised them of the villagers’ shock when she told them after church of Alec’s disappearance. “And none more upset than young Vanny Blunt,” she said. “By nature he’s most placid, yet he smote his palm with his fist and muttered such language under his breath as I’d rather not understood.”
Maurice spoke up, “Well, you see, Mrs. Scudder, Mr. Scudder”—nodding respectfully to each—“it did come about so very quickly, this change of heart. Alec had turned down my offer. He’d said he intended to go through with his plans to emigrate.”
“That’s right,” Alec said. “I told Mr. Hall thanks kindly, but our family’s respectable tradespeople and I’d my fill of servitude, and a job waitin’ abroad for me same as he’s got in London.”
“Not that I’d, um, I mean, I hope I’d made it clear I wasn’t seeking to hire a servant—”
“I’d not even have listened, that been the case.”
Elwood said, “What’s this work you’ve proposed for him, sir?”
“Yes, sorry—got ahead of myself, didn’t I? I’m planning to buy forest land.”
“Indeed!” said Aderyn. “How very lovely…”
Maurice rewarded her sentiment with his most ravishing smile, at which she blushed.
“Ah, and whereabouts have you in mind?” the father asked.
“Bit north—not too far. Nottingham, I hope, depending on what’s available.”
“Why, that’s just round the corner, these days,” the mother said, and then to her son, “You can come home for dinner on Sundays.”
“Ma, the man’s not yet purchased a sapling, and you’re already reelin’ me in for meals?”
Maurice went on, “I thought we’d raise game … to supply hotels and restaurants,” improvising details to develop this plan for himself as well as his audience, “and perhaps harvest a little timber as well. New buildings are going up on every corner in London, so the market’s quite good for construction materials.”
“Interesting,” Elwood said.
“Da, Mr. Hall wants me to manage the woodland’s game,” Alec joined in.
The parents’ eyes widened: “Manage…,” they said together.
“Exactly,” Maurice went on. “When we met at Penge, Alec and I, when I was visiting there, he guided us guests shooting. His work was first-rate, I can tell you. Knowledgeable, courteous—he made a very favorable impression—”
“As he always does, Mr. Hall,” said Aderyn, growing more pleased with this stranger at his every word.
“I thought, ‘That’s my man.’ Granted, he’s young, but still, he’s got—what is it now, three years’ experience?”
“Goin’ on four,” Alec said.
“He can grow with the business. So I was delighted when I learned last evening that he’d changed his mind and was accepting my offer.”
“I’d only just wired him when I wired you,” Alec explained.
Now Maurice felt obliged to explain, “Yesterday afternoon, since I’d not yet seen his message, I came to the ship to assure him I bore no hard feelings—about his choice, the earlier one I mean, turning me down—and to wish him good luck abroad.”
“Like a true gentleman,” said Aderyn, bestowing her supreme compliment.
“Tell me, son,” Elwood said, “what caused you to change your mind out of the blue?”
“What does it matter?” the mother said. “He’s here with us.”
“Please let Alec speak for himself, my dear.”
“Well, Da, it was thinkin’ about it, when I had time to myself, that changed my mind…” Knowing his plausibility was at stake, Alec chose words that would appeal to his father. “How often’s a man offered such an opportunity, in his own backyard, so to speak? To build on a skill he’s already learned, the way you advised me…”
His father nodded.
“The Argentine will always be there. If it don’t work out with this enterprise here, then I might go abroad next year, as I’m sure Mr. Hall would understand…”
Maurice nodded.
“… but to turn down this chance without even tryin’, it seemed foolish to me. You can see for yourself the gentleman’s sincere in his intentions, willin’ to come talk with my family today. Besides, he’s offerin’ better wages than they’re payin’ clerks overseas.”
With word of more money, the senior’s eyes brightened. “Well, it does my heart good to hear you finally talkin’ some sense, for I had my doubts you possessed any at all, watchin’ that ship sail off yesterday. But now what about Freddy? Did you give your brother no thought? He was furious, rightly so.”
“Fred’s always furious,” Aderyn said.
&nb
sp; “Sir, if I might,” Maurice interceded. “That’s understandable, very—young Mr. Scudder’s annoyance, I mean. I’ve offered to advance Alec the money to repay his brother the price of his passage. We can do that much at least.”
“Most considerate of you, sir,” said the mother; then to her husband, “It’s clear Mr. Hall holds our Alexander in high regard, as he deserves. I couldn’t be happier. At last I can say how terribly sad I was feeling—”
“Now, Aderyn—”
“I’m allowed to say to my son—since he’s chosen to stay of his own free will—that leaving for halfway around the world was no source of joy to his mother. Losing them both at once! I was heartsick. We’re getting no younger, Elwood. Whenever would we see them? Oh for heaven’s sake, shoot me at sunrise if I’m such a traitor.”
So far, the conversation was covering ground Alec and Maurice had prepared together. Then Aderyn said, “And won’t it be good to have one of the boys in the cottage again?”
“What’s that, Ma—?”
“Where else would you stay but here in your home till things are settled in Nottingham? You said yourself the land’s not yet been procured.”
The lovers exchanged an uneasy glance.
“Have I said something wrong?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Scudder, no, of course not … Only … I’ve asked Alec to start right away—”
“Tomorrow,” Alec said.
“So soon?”
“Yes, he’s agreed to stay in town—”
“What, in London! All by himself?”
“Ma…,” Alec protested.
“Near our office,” Maurice said, “while we get things off the ground—at my expense, of course. Believe me, I’ll be keeping him busy. Likely we’ll be working some nights and he may need to travel with me. I hope to teach him a bit about business in advance of starting up. But when it comes to the forest, he’ll be the teacher.”
“I see…,” she said with little conviction.
Side by side again on the train, the lovers pressed their thighs together. Maurice let out a long breath of relief and rested his head on the back of the seat. “Got any gin in that satchel of yours?”
Alec likewise leaned his head back and faced Maurice. When they locked eyes in public this way, they found the intimacy especially sweet—secret, transgressive. “She was flirtin’ with you,” Alec said, “shamelessly, right there in front of her husband, eyelashes aflutter and all.”
“Of course she was. Didn’t I rescue her darlin’ from them dragons that dwell over the sea? I enjoyed the attention. Mrs. Scudder’s quite pretty—I can see it runs in the family.”
“Hmmph.”
“She loves you,” Maurice said with sudden tenderness, “they both do, as I do. You don’t know how much you’re loved.” Then he leaned closer to whisper: “Licky…”
They checked back into the hotel in Bloomsbury where they’d stayed last Tuesday. Now for the day’s second order of business: Maurice’s mother. “I’m going to need a few hours,” he said to Alec.
“Is that all? I figured you’d stay the night.”
“Why? There’s no place I want to sleep tonight, or any night, except in your arms. I’ll ask no one’s permission, only yours. Nothing keeps us apart anymore, not the Church or the law, much less your family or mine.”
Love had breathed clarity into Maurice along with mettle, qualities Alec admired. This confidence was no magic of birth, he discerned, but rather acquired by education, going to school with those who would become society’s leaders. Alec decided he must acquire some himself. “Ought I come with you? I could wait somewhere.”
“Thanks, but I’ll do better by myself. It’s my own private snake pit, you’ve no idea. Mother’s friends with Mrs. Durham, the elder…”
“Wha—! Your mum and Clive’s?”
“That’s right. And my sisters know his.”
“Who, Pippa? That’s married to damned Archie London?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Well, for fuck’s sake…”
While Maurice set off for the suburbs, Alec explored the blocks around the hotel. The scene was disappointingly quiet. Sunday afternoon, last weekend of August, everyone gone to the country or seashore: shops closed, of course, pubs closed or restricted in hours. The lovers had agreed that Maurice would have tea and supper with his family, so Alec should find something to eat on his own. He decided to do so soon, before places shut for the night. On the corner of Morwell Street he passed a pub whose name he recognized, one Simcox had mentioned: OPEN TILL 19:00.
Inside was smoky and friendly enough, even respectable: when the glass doors (discreetly frosted) of the snug-room swung open, he could see ladies within, sipping from little steins. He asked for the ploughman’s lunch, along with a pint of porter. A few sips put him in a reflective mood. This upheaval of his plans, of his life … could it be possible, in less than two weeks? Each day some drastic about-face. And now? The Normannia was already hundreds of miles at sea, breasting the waves of the mid-Atlantic, guided by sextant and stars. Yet instead of boldly confronting the winds of his fate, he sat munching pickles and cheese in a pub in Bloomsbury. And even more worthy of marvel was the scene at his parents’ cottage this morning, no less than a capsizing of England’s ironclad social order. Mr. Maurice Christopher Hall II, drinking tea not from china but from thick earthenware, fired by the potter of Osmington, at a table covered with calico, in sight of that warped and rickety spinet, once Grandmother’s treasured emblem of respectability in Cardiff; Maurice, with his flawless manners and looks and speech, striving to win the approval of the village butcher and his wife. You don’t know how much you’re loved … He guessed not, not if Maurice was willing to squirm for him. He smiled at the thought, shaking his head in disbelief. “Maurice,” he said to himself, but aloud.
“What’s that?” said a man with his back to Alec, who was chatting with others, among them a sportive fellow in leather trousers and a helmet with the goggles pushed back. As the man turned to face him, two pairs of eyes widened. It was Simcox, who opened his mouth in amazement: “Scudder—?”
Alec swallowed his mouthful of porter. “Hullo. What brings you to town?”
“Me? You were the one going off to the Pampas for a cowboy.”
“Yeah, well, changed my mind—last minute, it came about.”
“So we heard.”
“How’s that?”
“This morning, the vicar.”
“Wha, Borenius—?”
“He was asking round after the service. He’d gone to Southampton yesterday, he told us, to see you off and give you a letter about getting confirmed overseas. He met your family there at the ship. They’d no idea where you might be, only that you’d gone on an errand that morning. He said your poor mam was quite rattled. He was inquiring if we servants knew anything.”
Alec gulped more porter. “They’re fine now, my folks—happy about me stayin’, in fact.” Simcox was enjoying having caught him off guard. “You see, I got an offer, last-minute, much to my liking.”
“That so?”
“A new enterprise, involves game-keepin’, with a bit of forestry; pays better than I’d make overseas. Offices right here in town.” Alec, eager to change the topic, nodded toward Mr. Sportive. “Friend of yours?”
“Known him for years.”
“And that’s his Alldays by the lamppost out front?”
“He was racing this morning.”
“Nice bike.”
“Ought to be, what he paid for it, and don’t start him talking—he’s fanatical about the damn thing.”
So of course Alec started the fellow talking. They stepped outside to admire his motorcycle, and thus Alec managed to slip away without disclosing more of his business to Simcox.
Later, under the covers, the lovers exchanged accounts. Maurice’s leave-taking had proved easier than anticipated. It seemed he’d grown less important in his household since his grandfather’s death, thanks to the shelter
ing wings of the old man’s money. Aside from bequests, Mr. Grace had divided his considerable capital (and its future income) between Maurice’s Aunt Ida, the unmarried daughter who had cared for him, and his favorite grandchild, Maurice’s youngest sister, Ada. Auntie had closed Grandfather’s house to move in with her widowed sister, so Mrs. Hall now had a companion and confidante and relied less on her son. As for Ada, who was quite lovely, her inheritance had made her an even more attractive catch. She was engaged to Maurice’s schoolmate William Chapman.
Ada, along with the older and much cleverer Kitty, had recently begun to betray a long-standing resentment of their big brother’s quasi-paternal authority. Ada had yet to forgive him—she never would—for making her believe that her girlish attraction to Clive Durham had been one-sided, indeed off-putting, and that she had undermined the squire’s friendship with Maurice. (In fact, Clive—along with his mother, after she learned of the girl’s wealth—had encouraged her.) As for Kitty, she still carried a grudge for Maurice’s refusal, a couple of years ago, of funds for tuition at the nearby school of domestic economy—no matter that he’d later reversed his decision and paid. More immediately, though, since Auntie had moved in (and since neither would consider the attic), the sisters were sharing a bedroom. With Maurice out of the house, they would appropriate his room, and each could reclaim her privacy. Kitty offered to pack his things.
“Mother protested politely,” Maurice said, “and Auntie needed assurance that she could still call on me to speak with the servants…”
“Do let me take care of that for dear Auntie,” said Alec.
“By all means. But the girls … they didn’t even pretend to hide their delight at my leaving.”
They laughed at Alec’s story of meeting Simcox at the pub: “Picture him flyin’ round London on the back of his fancy-boy’s motorbike—‘Careful, dearest! Mah boutonniere!’” He also acknowledged uneasily that their hotel, like the pub, was someplace he’d heard the valet name at Penge.
Maurice winced: “Oh … wish you’d said. We might have found another.”
Alec Page 11
