A Haddington Manifestation
Chapter 3
“You made it then?” He was kneeling down working on the handful of scraggily flowers that grew near his front gate, he often referred to them in misguided pride as his garden.
“Morning, George.” Smiled his brother as he leaned on the fence.
“Where’s Dickie?”
“Here.” Dickie, the third brother came waddling up to the fence eating a piece of pie he’d saved on the train journey from London.
“You walk from the station?” Asked George as he straightened up to take his pipe from the pocket of his old coat.
“Naw, naw, men of means don’t walk, do they Charlie? We just let the coach and four go, didn’t we?”
“Shut up, Dickie.” Said a relaxed Charlie on the fence.
“Same wit, I see.” Said George.
“’Fraid so, no improvement.”
“I’m never funny when I’m hungry.”
“You took the words out of me mouth, Dickie.” Said Charlie.
“And I usually get hungry when I haven’t had nothin’ to eat.”
George stood puffing on his pipe as he watched Dickie take another huge bite of his pie, making his cheeks swell out alarmingly.
“Let’s see that wall, George.” Said Charlie.
“Yeah, c’mon it’s around the back.”
“It’s still holding up, then?”
“It is, but I can’t see how, Gracie comes out every morning and barks at it a couple of times, I think it’s too scared to fall.” George led the way around the back of the house.
“A wall being scared.” Chuckled Dickie and he placed the last of his pie in his mouth.
“George!” The ground seemed to shake under their feet.
“What was that?” Gasped Dickie as he swallowed the food without chewing it.
“That was Gracie.” Said George.
“That wall showed good sense, George.” Said Dickie wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “She sounds different from the shrivelled up little thing at the wedding, you know, she was terrified of shadows on the wall.” He mimicked someone jumping back in fright.
“You must have attended the wrong wedding, lad, my Gracie isn’t afeared of anything or anyone, except her mother, but then everybody’s scared of her.”
“George!”
“I’m here, woman, out the back,” he called, “is it necessary for you to shatter every window in the village?”
“When are those two no-good brothers of yours coming, I’ve nearly finished this pot of tea, and I’ll not be making a second….” She came out of the house and stood with her hands on her hips.
“The no-goods are here.” Said George.
“I can see that. You both took your time.”
“Blame the train, missus.” Smiled Dickie.
She turned her head sharply to look at him with a cold face. “I’ll have to get in more food.” She said.
“Why?” Asked Dickie innocently.
“We got a store of supplies in yesterday.” Said George.
“We’ll need more.”
“Alright, alright, get your list, woman, I’ll go into the shops, the lads can help me.” With a grim look at the two brothers she went inside.
“I don’t feel much like going shopping.” Said Dickie a little glumly.
“The shops are just past ‘The Hanging Lord.’” Smiled George with a wink to Charlie.
“Is he still hanging?” Said Dickie rubbing his hands with glee.
“He is.”
“What’s he so happy about?” Snapped Gracie as she came back out of the house.
“Hanging….hanging….” Stuttered Dickie.
“They’re going to hang a Lord in the city.” Put in Charlie quickly.
“Yes, yes, that’s right.” Smiled Dickie as he continued to rub his hands.
“That’s typical of him,” she snapped, “to get pleasure out of the misfortunes of others.”
“I’m perv…..perv…..”
“Twisted.” Said George.
“So’s his brain.” Said Gracie coldly, Dickie raised his eyebrows in silent surprise. “Here.” She handed the list to George who stuffed it in his pocket. “I know what time it is,” she said as she walked back into the house, “I’ll expect you back in time for dinner.” She turned to face them grimly. “Sober.”
“You don’t have to worry about us, missus.” She looked at Dickie in silence then went into the house. “That woman is cruel,” he said, “sober did she say?”
“Can we see the wall, George?”
“This way, lads.”
“Charlie, what was that word I was trying to think of, perv…..perv……”
“Twisted.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Dickie stood for a second, shrugged his shoulders and followed his brothers.
“There she is.” George put his hands in his pockets and stood back to puff on his pipe.
“That is old.” Said Charlie as he knelt down and examined the crumbling mortar.
“Told you.”
“It’s a wonder it’s held up this long.” Said Dickie.
“It’s been here a long time, said George, “since before the house itself was built, its survived storms and tempests….”
With a sigh of tiredness Dickie put his hand flat against the wall and leaned on it, immediately his arm sank into it up to his shoulder.
“It is old.” Smiled Dickie weakly.
“Mind the dog.” Said George calmly.
“Dog, what dog?” Asked Dickie.
“On the other side of the wall.”
“Dog!” Dickie pulled his arm out and took a fair part of the wall with him. “What are you doing with a vicious dog, George?”
“He’s not vicious, he’s old, seeing a great fist come bashing through a wall could prove bad for his heart.”
“I hate dogs,” said Dickie as he approached the hole in the wall angrily, “I especially hate old dogs.” He was just about to put his head through the hole when there came thunderous barking and growling on the other side of the wall. “I better not look in, I don’t want to frighten the poor old thing.”
“Wise man.” Smiled Charlie as he slapped Dickie on the shoulder.
“C’mon lads, let’s not keep that Lord hanging, I bet his tongue’s hanging out to his toes.” Said George.
“If his isn’t, mine is.” Said Dickie.
“You heard what I said, George.” Called his wife from the house, “you be home for dinner.”
“I heard you, Gracie. Leave your bags there; no one will touch ‘em.” He sighed as he led them through the gate, “I tell you, Charlie, don’t ever be foolish enough to get married.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, George, I am married, and you were best man at the wedding.”
“Was I? Oh, it must be Dickie here, he’s not married.”
“If I’m not there’s some demented old hag wondering the streets of London claiming I am.”
“That’s funny, I was sure one of us was not married.” He said half to himself.
“Maybe it’s you.” Smiled Dickie.
“Would you tell Gracie that?” Asked George hopefully.
“It’s not you, George.” Dickie went closer to Charlie, “to think he was regarded as the smart one of the family, what would that make us?” He laughed, Charlie looked at him with a frown. “What are you thinking, Charlie, tell me, what are you thinking?”
George was chuckling as they walked down the road toward the high street.
“This will do, Rogers, stop here, we’ll walk the rest of the way.”
The carriage halted on a road that went on down an incline into the village spread out at their feet.
They climbed out and stood looking out across the village as the carriage clattered on its way.
“You English,” smiled Cloud, “you call it a village, it’s the size of a town.”
“Convention, my dear fellow.” Said Haddington as he strode off.
“It’s always referred to as t
he village, to separate it from London which is referred to as the city or town.”
“It’s been the site of a village for over a thousand years,” said Clarence, “Roman legions used it as a resting place.”
“Say, now that’s history.” Said Cloud impressed.
“It certainly is.”
“You own some of it, don’t you, Clem?”
“Lord Haddington owns all of it.” Said Clarence.
“Even the church?” Asked Lee.
“No, not the church, nor the land, that was a gift one of my ancestor’s made a long time ago to the church.”
“To please a king.” Said Clarence.
“Stuff and nonsense.”
“Stuff and what?”Asked Cloud.
“My ancestors knew their responsibilities and obligations and took them seriously.”
“And gave a small section of swamp to the church and got a parcel of good grazing land from a grateful monarch.” Said Clarence.
“You’ve gotten that from books.”
“Of course.”
“You should read my late uncle’s history of the area.”
“I have, notoriously inaccurate.” Smiled Clarence.
“Nothing on the good Lord’s earth will open a closed mind.” Muttered Haddington.
“I agree.”
Haddington stopped and stared off into the distance. “Two-Refs, come here,” Lee stepped beside him and the old man put his hand on his shoulder and pointed into the middle distance. “See that clump of trees just on the horizon?”
“Yes.”
“The border of my estate is just beyond that, all the land you can see around you belongs to my estate.”
“Good Moses.” Said Cloud, “you must be a Texan.”
“You can see, Two-Refs,” said Haddington seriously, “the estate is very extensive, the man who fills my shoes will carry a heavy burden with great responsibilities.”
“Yes.”
“It’s not something to be entered into lightly, it does carry a great deal of money, he will need strength, determination, compassion….” He hesitated, “and youth.”
“He sure will.” Agreed Lee.
“Not forgetting intelligence.” Said Clarence.
“Bah, intelligence,” Haddington strode off, “not one Haddington has ever had intelligence, if the Haddington’s had had intelligence we’d be the Royal Family today.”
“How’s that?” Asked Cloud.
“They picked the wrong side.” Said Haddington.
“When?”
“Every time there was a side to pick.”
“If you own all this, Clem, they can’t have been too far wrong.”
“Never mistake low, animal cunning for intelligence. The Haddingtons may have been mistaken in their choice of sides but they always managed to land on their feet.”
All the way into the village Clarence and Haddington kept up a running fight on the history of the family.
“What are they talking about?” Asked Lee.
“I don’t know, but ain’t history something?”
Dickie saw the barrow across the road and while he walked over to it to buy some fruit, George and Charlie went on toward the hoisted Lord.
He picked out a few pieces of fruit while the owner leaned against the barrow with his arms folded on his chest.
After stuffing his pockets he asked how much he owed.
“Thrupence.”
“Thrupence?”
“Thrupence, mate.”
“Look mate, I just want some fruit, not your barrow.”
“Give me the money or put the stuff back, I ain’t twistin’ your arm, am I?”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He put an apple in his mouth and began to search his pockets for the money.
“No.” The owner stood up, his face flushed, his eyes bulging as he looked over Dickie’s shoulder.
“What’s ub wid you?” Asked Dickie between his apple.
“Out of me way.” He brushed past him to grab the handles of the barrow.
“Do you want your money or don’t you?”
“It’s on me, mate, Lord Clumsy’s coming.” He pushed the barrow with all his might, a wheel passed over Dickie’s foot.
“Ohhhhh,” he danced about the road on one foot, then stood shaking a fist at the quickly moving figure, “Lord Ruddy Clumsy isn’t coming, mate, he’s just been.” He reached down to touch his toes gingerly through his boot. He was picking the pieces of fruit up from the ground where they had fallen from his pocket and from the barrow.
“Disgusting.” Came the voice of Clarence.
“We have beggars in the village now.” Came the voice of Haddington.
“You fellow.” Clarence stood over Dickie.
“Who are you calling…..”
“Here.” Clarence gave him a coin.
“Thank ye, sir,” Dickie raised his hat and lowered his head as he looked down at the coin.
“Even your beggars look well off.” Said Cloud as he looked back to see the chubby figure return to his fruit gathering.
“Of course.”
They went off up the road in the same direction Charlie and George had gone. Dickie was munching on a banana in the middle of the road when a cart came galloping toward him, he just stepped aside in time as it flew past, but it hit a bump that knocked over a milk can in the back and showered him with milk.
“Gawd.” He muttered.
“Lord Clumsy.” Called the driver as he flew off as if that were sufficient answer.
“Really? I just met his brother!” Called Dickie as he limped on his foot and wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat.
“Out of me way!” Dickie turned to see a man running toward him carrying a large tray stacked with cheeses.
“Lord Clumsy?” He asked as the figure flashed past him.
“If he gets near these, I’ll lose the lot.”
“Ruddy place is overrun with ruddy Lord Clumsys.” Said Dickie as he watched the runner and continued to eat his banana.
The runner stepped on the skin, the tray went flying into the sky, Dickie watched it with open mouth as it shot up and then came roaring down.
“I must meet this Lord Clumsy.” He thought to himself as the tray and cheeses came down on his head.
It was a bedraggled figure that stumbled into the pub some time later, sporting a bump on top of his head.
George finished draining his glass and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then caught sight of the mess staring at him.
“Hello, is Lord Clumsy in the village?”
“I think you’ll both find a lot to interest you today,” Haddington was saying, “Saturday is market day for the whole district, the High Street will be alive from one end to the other with barrows and carts, little sideshow theatres. There’s entertainment for every taste.” They turned a corner from a small street onto a larger one. “The noise can sometimes be rather frightful.I….I….” Haddington came to a sudden halt.
“We’re used to noise, ain’t we, Two-Refs?” Lee nodded. They all stood looking up a long, wide, empty street, there was one small dog far down near the end busily sniffing at the ground. The raucous call of a crow high overhead was the only sound.
“What street is this?” Asked Cloud.
“This, gentlemen, is the high street.” Said Clarence.
“Are we the first to arrive?” Asked Cloud.
“It is Saturday, Clarence?”
“I believe so, Your Lordship.”
“Where are they?”
“They could be at church.”
“This Godless bunch of thieves and cut-throats?”
“Sounds like Chicago.” Said Cloud to Lee.
“It might be a religious day, patron saint of barrows or something, they could all be up there getting their barrows blessed.”
“If it were patron saint of useless oafs they’d have reason to be up there.” Snapped Haddington grumpily as he strode down the empty street.
r /> Dickie squeezed his arm through the crush at the counter, his hand closed around a glass and with great effort he managed to get it through, he was about to take a drink when he realised the sleeve of his coat was gone.
“Someone lose a hat?” Called the inn-keeper from behind the bar above the din.
When Dickie first came into the pub there had been a handful of quietly drinking figures, now it was filled to the rafters with people, noise and smoke. He reached up to a gas lamp above his head to raise himself a little while he balanced on the edge of a chair occupied by Charlie.
“Inn-keeper,” he called, “I’ve lost a sleeve, if one turns up.”
The inn-keeper reached down and came up with a handful of sleeves. “Which one’s yours, sir?”
“Never mind.” He grimaced as he lowered himself to the ground, he was about to take a sip of his drink when he realised Charlie and George were both missing a sleeve.
“Lord Ruddy Clumsy’s comin’ this way.” Called a hysterical voice from the door. There was a stunned silence.
“Out the back, lads.” Called the inn-keeper. There was an instant flight as every soul made for the back at the same time. Dickie found himself moving along in the crush without his feet touching the ground, his full glass of beer pinned to his chest.
“Lads, lads,” he said with a worried look at the glass, but he sighed with relief as he found himself out in the sunshine able to move his arms again. He raised the glass to his lips and was about to drink when a couple of fellows panicked and rushed out bumping into him and the beer spilled down the front of his coat. He stood at the back door to the inn as the inn-keeper slammed it in his face.
“Come on, Dickie.” Called George.
“I’d like to meet this ruddy Lord Clumsy.”
“What, and be the victim of some nasty accidents?”
“It’d make it legal wouldn’t it?” He muttered angrily as he followed his brothers.
“Good morning, Mr Shingle.”
“Good morning, Your Lordship, Mr Clarence.”
The four came in to sit down at one of the tables.
“These two gentlemen are visitors from America, Mr Lee and Mr Cloud.
“How do you do, gentlemen?”
“This is Mr Shingle, the proprietor of this establishment.”
Clarence sat down in the chair that had recently been vacated by Charlie, he caught sight of Shingle hurriedly clearing away a pile of sleeves, and gave him a knowing look. “Been a quiet morning has it, Shingle?”
“Yes, Mr Clarence, a very quiet morning. The usual for yourself and his Lordship?”
“Yes, please.”
“And the two Yanks….I mean the Americans?”
“Just beer.” Said Cloud and held up two fingers, “I’ll say this for you Englishmen, your beer is unbeatable.” He said it with a straight face.
‘Liar.’ Thought Lee.
‘Damn liar.’ Thought Clarence.
‘The man’s a diplomat.’ Thought Haddington, ‘lies with a straight face.’
“Why is this place called ‘The Hanging Lord?’” Asked Lee of Haddington.
“It commemorates the fate of one of my ancestors during the English Civil War.”
“Something like that.” Smiled Clarence.
“Come along, my dear fellow, you’re not going to tell me you agree with that dribble passed out by that old woman Rutherford?”
“He is considered our most outstanding contemporary historian.”
“Bah!” Haddington grabbed his drink just as the inn-keeper came across the room to place the drinks on the table.
“He’s held to be the greatest authority on the history of this area.”
”Only by Mrs Rutherford, and himself, of course. The Conceited ass.”
“Conceit doesn’t necessarily mean inaccurate, Your Lordship.”
“Bah, the man has an axe to grind.”
“What axe?”
“How should I know, I don’t know the fellow at all.”
“Then how do you know he’s got an axe to grind?”
“You see, gentlemen,” said Haddington to Lee and Cloud. “Do you see the dangers of taking an ordinary, likeable chap and filling him with legal mumbo-jumbo?”
“You’ve not answered my question, Your Lordship?”
“All I wanted to know was why the place was called ‘The Hanging Lord.’”Said Lee.
“Alright, I’ll tell you.” Said Clarence, “according to Rutherford, who researched the whole thing thoroughly, one of Lord Haddington’s ancestors helped the Royalist side during the English Civil War so the Roundheads took it into their heads to punish him…..”
“Bah!” Snorted Haddington. “He’s completely wrong there from the start.”
“I’m certain that that is what he wrote.”
“If he wrote that he’s wrong. My ancestor offered aid to the Roundheads and it was the Royalists who decided to punish him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Said Haddington smugly.
“But your ancestor did help the Royalist side?”
“At the beginning of the war….”
“Oh, I see.”
“…….and in the second month….”
“The second month?”
“…and just before the war ended.”
“So he supported either side at some time?” Asked Lee.
“He was a very democratic fellow.” Said Haddington.
“Yes.” Said Clarence.
“As a matter of fact the Roundheads were going to hang him, but the Royalists retook the village and saved him.” Haddington scratched his head, “or was it the Royalists who were going to hang him and the Roundheads retook the village and saved him?”
“So the poor fellow got caught by one side or the other and strung up?” Cloud shook his head sadly.
“Not quite.” Said Clarence.
“Who did string him up?”
“The villagers.”
“The villagers? Which side were they on?”
“Actually they were neutral.”
“I’m not sure I get you, Clarence.”
“According to Rutherford the Roundheads took the village and were about to hang the fellow for treason, quite a crowd of villagers had gathered to watch when there was a surprise attack outside the village of Royalist troops and the Roundheads decided to forget it, the villagers decided they’d finish it for them.”
“That seems rough, why did they do that?”
“It seems the fellow had destroyed half the village?”
“That ain’t surprising in the middle of a war.” Said Cloud.
“This happened before the combatants came anywhere near the place.”
“Scurrilous nonsense.” Muttered Haddington.
“How did he manage that?” Asked Lee.
“It’s a bit of a mystery no one has ever quite settled.” Said Clarence with a straight face.
“So he was hung by his own village people?” Said Cloud shaking his head.
“Not quite.”
“What happened?”
“When they put him on his horse under the tree, they neglected to take away his sword and his musket.”
“You mean he fought his way free?”
“Not exactly, when they grabbed the rope and lifted him from the saddle and he dangled above them, the sword and the musket fell from his belt on their heads along with his boots and his trousers. They dropped him back into the saddle and he rode away as quickly as he could.” Clarence took a sip of his drink. “They called this place ‘The Hanging Lord’ to commemorate the event and as a reminder to the Lord if ever he should return to the village, needless to say, he never did.”
“Rubbish.”
“This is according to Augustus Rutherford.”
“There are many who dispute his conclusions.” Said Haddington.
“Who disputes them?” Asked Clarence.
“Many people.”
“What people?”
/> “Hundreds of people.”
“Who, for instance?”
“Me, for instance.”
“Oh,” Clarence took another sip of his drink, “you do have a point there.”
“A damn fine point if you ask me.” Haddington thumped the wall with a closed fist. “You’ll back me up, won’t you, Shingle?”
“Hmm….” He tugged at his ear lobe. “I’m sorry, Your Lordship, I don’t read much.”
“Nonsense.” He thumped the wall again, then with a frown looked around the room, “by the way, Shingle, where are all the villagers?”
“Hmmm….” He was at his ear lobe again.
“I expect they’re at church.” Said Clarence helpfully.
“Yes, Mr Clarence, that’s where they are, at church.”
“Why?”
“Hmm…. they …..hmm…”
“Probably because it’s the day the church celebrates the patron saint of barrows.” Said Clarence.
“That’s it, Mr Clarence, patron saint of barrows.”
“Probably getting their barrows blessed.”
“They are, Mr Clarence, all of ‘em.”
“That’s what you said, Clarence, wasn’t it? How did you know?” Asked Haddington.
“I like to keep up on these things.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before we came into the place?”
“I thought Cloud and Lee would like to see the place, you have far more important things on your mind then to be bothering about minor things like this.”
“I suppose I’ll have to go up to see them.” Sighed Haddington.
“No…” Stuttered Shingle. “I really wouldn’t bother, Your Lordship.”
“Nonsense, imagine how disappointed they’d be if they heard I’d paid a visit to the village and they had missed seeing me, their children would cry themselves to sleep at night. I’ll not have that on my conscience, I would not be able to live with myself.”
“I wouldn’t go up there, Your Lordship.” Said an alarmed Shingle.
“Why not?”
“Hmmm…..because….because…..”
“Because of the vicar.” Said Clarence.
“The vicar? Will he be there?”
“That’s right, the vicar.” Smiled Shingle.
“Yes, I imagine the vicar will be there, he’s promised to tell the life story of the saint.” Smiled Clarence.
“What, the whole life story?”
“From depraved childhood to gory end.”
“If the vicar could make it sound as interesting as that I’d go to hear it.” Said Haddington.
“Last year he spoke for an hour, didn’t he Shingle?”
“More, Mr Clarence, an hour and a half.”
“An hour?” Haddington twisted his face in displeasure, “you’d think he’d have been drowned out by the snores.”
“I’m rather looking forward to it.” Said Clarence draining his glass.
“You’ll be going alone.”
“But the children, Your Lordship?” Asked Clarence with an innocent face.
“Hang the children,” he thumped the wall, “I have no intention of becoming patron saint of the insane. Come along, gentlemen, we’ll return to the house.” He got to his feet followed by Lee and Cloud, when they reached the door he turned around, “where’s Clarence?” They looked back to see Clarence thrown to one side of his chair, his head on his chest. “Disgusting.” Dickie’s tugging and Haddington’s thumping had put the gas bracket above Clarence’s head close to falling, which it finally did.
As Lee and Cloud came back to help him to his feet there was no evidence of it.
“I’m sorry, Your Lordship,” he was rubbing his head he had no idea what had hit him, “that drink must have gone to my head.”
“It’s a disgusting sight, a man who cannot hold his drink.” Said Haddington haughtily as he strode out the front door.
They followed him the length of the deserted, silent street, past closed shops and empty houses and into the side street, up ahead they could see the carriage waiting.
“My watch.” Said Cloud suddenly as he patted his pockets, “I must have left it back at the inn.”
“I’ll get it, Smoke.” Lee strode back down the street.
“No, wait.” Called Clarence as he ran after him. “I’ll get it.”
‘It’s no trouble.”
“I’ll get it.”
They reached the corner and stood in the main street Lee’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The street was packed with people and stalls and barrows. He looked at Clarence who put a finger to his lips.
“I’ve got it, Two-Refs, I put it in the wrong pocket.” Called Cloud.
“I hope you won’t tell his Lordship, it would hurt his feelings.” Said Clarence.
“You know, Mr Clarence, there’s a lot of the boxer in you.” They went back to join Cloud and Haddington.
Dickie decided to return to the house for a change of clothes, and perhaps to empty that bottle of beer in his bag before it went flat, and that piece of cake put there by his wife, and the bag of biscuits. By the time he’d reached the corner, his lips were raised in a smile and his steps were jaunty with expectation.
He came upon a barrow piled high with fresh fish, a testy old man sat on one of the handles fanning himself and mopping his brow.
“Are they fresh, mate?” Asked Dickie as he walked over to finger a couple of them, he thought they would go well for dinner.
“’course they’re bleedin’ fresh, some of ‘em ain’t even sure if they’re dead.”
“Well, they’d be slow then.” Dickie wasn’t too keen on some of them, he glanced over at the sweating man, “I didn’t think it was that hot.”
“Bleedin’ Lord Clumsy.”
“Ah, say no more, brother.”
“Runnin’ up and down the street like lunatics we were, bleedin’ Lords, can’t see why we bother.”
“Take my word for it, mate, it’s worth it.” Said Dickie.
“Is it?” Dickie nodded. “You met him?”
“Two encounters, two scars.”
“Go on.”
“It’s true, the man is vicious, springs out at you, tears the sleeve from your coat…..”
“Gawd blimey.”
“Nearly had me arm the last time.”
“I hope he keeps away from me.” Said the old man. Dickie put his finger to his mouth and held it in the air. “What’re you doin’?”
“Testing.”
“For what?”
“For him.” The old man looked at him in wonder.
“Is he around here?”
“Who?”
“Lord Clumsy.”
“You said these fish were fresh?”
“Couldn’t be fresher.”
“Oh, well, I’ll just pass them over for the time being, good day to you, sir.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing at all”
“Well, is Lord Clumsy near here, or ain’t he?”
“I don’t know, you see, my finger needs fish for nourishment, if I were to have a couple of fish under me arm, it might be working again.”
“Oh.” He tapped his head with his finger. “I ain’t daft.”
“Oh, yes?”
“You’re going home for your dinner, then you’ll come back and let me know?” He smiled to show a row of uneven teeth.
“I was only trying to spare you bad news.”
“What bad news?”
“You don’t really want to know.” He was walking away.
“Hey, mate?”
“What?”
“Come here.” Dickie came walking back. “Do you think your finger would like this?” He held up a soggy specimen.
“Even my toe wouldn’t like that, what is it anyway, a rag?”
“Quite a joker, eh?”
“You called me back, mate.”
“You tell me the news and I’ll let you have the pick of me barrow.”
“
Not much of a pick. No, I think I’ll…….”
“Look at ‘em, these are good fish, the best of their kind.”
“I don’t know, its bribery ain’t it, my finger does have its standards you know.”
“Bribery? That’s daft, this is a present, ain’t it, a present from one gent to another.”
“Well…..”
“Go on, be a sport.”
“Alright, I’ll take your present.” Dickie picked two fish off the barrow and stood with them under his arms. “I’ll be off, then.”
“Hey, what about your finger?”
“It’s in the best of health, kind of you to ask.”
“Cheat! Thief!”
“Shh.” Dickie came back.
“Taking advantage of a poor old man.”
“What poor old man?” Dickie looked about him.
“That finger is a fake.”
“Hey, hey, it’s never been wrong in its life.”
“You said you’d tell me the news. Is Lord Clumsy near here?”
“No.”
“That ain’t bad news.”
“The bad news is that he will be near here.”
“When?”
“My finger can tell where he is, it can’t tell the future.” Dickie was just about to walk away, “so you ain’t daft, eh?” He muttered under his breath, when a carriage clattered up.
“Hold, Rogers!” Came the voice of Haddington and the carriage pulled up.
“Give me back my fish.” Demanded the old man.
“You gave them to me as a present.”
“Come along, lads, the fish in this area are noted for their flavour.” Said Haddington as he stepped out of the carriage followed by Clarence, Lee and Cloud. “You’re not in church, my man?” Asked Haddington of the old man.
“Do I look like I’m in church?”
“You’re not having your barrow blessed?”
“You better tell your keeper to get you back to your cage mate.”
“The locals are also noted for their humour.” Said Haddington with a grimace to Lee and Cloud. “Where did you get these fish, from my streams I’ll wager, probably a poacher.”
“I caught these, mate, I ain’t no bleedin’ poacher.”
“Mind your language, sir.” Said Clarence.
“It’s alright for him to call me a poacher then?”
“Do you know who you’re speaking to?”
“I don’t care if he’s the Prince of Wales.”
“This is Lord Haddington.”
“Blimey, it’s himself, Lord bleedin’ Clumsy, I ain’t seein’ so good lately.” The old man flushed, “hey, mate,” he called to Dickie, “you want to give that finger away, it’s gone off.”
“Like your fish.” Replied Dickie.
“Cheat! Cheat!”
“The finger said he’d be back.” Said Dickie innocently.
“What is the fellow babbling about?” Asked Haddington.
“I’ll just be off, “Dickie gave a little bow, “good morning, gentlemen.”
“No, you don’t mate.” He was around the barrow in an instant struggling with Dickie.
“Me presents, you gave them to me.”
“Clarence, for God’s sake separate them before they kill each other.” Ordered Haddington.
“Very well, Your Lordship.” He was just passing Haddington, who was leaning on the barrow when it threatened to topple over, Haddington slipped forward and put his foot out, in time to trip Clarence who fell to the ground.
The old man stepped back and fell over Clarence, Haddington straightened up and slipped again on the handle of the barrow, it fell dangerously to one side, hung in the air for a second, and then fell over, knocking Dickie to the ground and covering the three men with a great pile of fish.
Lee and Cloud came to their assistance and dragged the old man, Dickie and Clarence free.
“Spoilt, you spoilt the lot of ‘em,” the old man was beside himself, “me barrow, you wrecked me barrow.”
“That’ll teach you not to have it blessed.” Said Haddington haughtily.
“It’s not that bad.” Said Cloud who was brushing the fish off as he put them back on the barrow that had been straightened by Lee.
“Who’d eat spoilt fish, eh, who?”
“Clarence, pay the fellow, stop his whimpering.”
“Very well, Your Lordship.” A dazed Clarence came to an amicable agreement with the old man.
“What about me?” Asked Dickie, “you’ve ruined me clothes.”
“Are you a member of some new Eastern religion sir, that demands you wear one sleeve?” Demanded Haddington.
“It’s that damn beggar.” Said Clarence, “and drunk as well.” He said as he caught a whiff of him.
“He’s a cheat as well.” Said the old man as he reached down to pick up a rock and throw it in the direction of Dickie, who quietly took to his heels.
Haddington laughed so much he had to lean against the barrow and upset it again, so that it went over to empty it’s load. Dickie stopped halfway up the street and took two fish out of his coat pockets and did a little jig of triumph, this had Lee and Cloud laughing, finally holding his sides Cloud asked.
“Where’s Clarence?”
There was a relaxed enjoyable lunch with Sir Rupert and Cloud keeping everybody entertained. Clarence wandered off to tidy up some business with Haddington. Sir Rupert fell asleep in the corner, Lee was amused to hear that even his snoring sounded repetitious.
Lady Marlebone steered the ‘young people’, Cynthia and Winterhaiming, out into the garden where they could be alone.
“Talking about one’s self can be so tiresome.” He said as he walked out into the trees with the young woman on his arm. For the next two hours he told her his life story, Cynthia had a good idea why the word ‘tiresome’ kept creeping to his lips.
Lady Marlebone joined Cloud and Lee to sit on garden chairs at the back of the house where she could keep her watchful eye on the young ones and still have a lively conversation with Cloud, uncouth but likeable was her opinion of him. Lee slept with his hat pulled low over his face, and his long legs stretched out before him with his ankles crossed.
When she had first sat down with Cloud, Lady Marlebone had been pleasantly self-satisfied, absolutely certain all was going well, she was even mentally tallying up the invitation list for the wedding. Now it was different.
When Cloud got up to excuse himself, he was actually going to look for Gilmore to see about liquid refreshment, it was an agitated Lady Marlebone he left behind. A shocked Lady Marlebone. It just couldn’t be so, she decided firmly as she glanced over at the sleeping form, it was a cool day, but she was fanning herself frantically as her mind raced. She faced quite a dilemma.
She could not believe this brash, bumptious American could possibly be related to one of the finest, most distinguished families in the empire.
It was obvious who young Winterhaiming was, he walked like the grandson of a Lord, he held himself erect with the carriage of the gentry. He spoke with the timbre and authority of the gentry. Dear God, he even looked like his Lordship. If it were not so why had his Lordship invited him here for the weekend?
Lee snorted in his sleep and she looked over at him. A common pugilist, with the best blood of England flowing through his veins. Utterly impossible, it was utterly impossible, Cloud was a demented fool, of course he was.
Lady Marlebone made a snap decision there and then. There was no doubt in her mind as she got up still fanning herself, she hesitated to glance down at Lee, just the same, she thought, just the same.
“I do not wish to discuss it further, Clarence.” Said Haddington with determination as he sat behind his desk.
“Your Lordship will have to face it eventually.”
“Not today, not here and now.”
“This is a foolish attitude.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“You can’t keep these fellows hanging arou
nd indefinitely.”
“Why not? It’s my house they can stay as long as they may wish to, or as long as I want them to.”
“Winterhaimng must return to London on Monday.”
“There’s nothing stopping him.”
“You can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what, Clarence, what on earth are you talking about?”
“You’re considering Lee to be your long lost grandson.”
“Nonsense.”
“Then why keep him here?”
“The fellow amuses me, so does his manager, is it a crime that I should be amused? Heaven knows I need it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with amusement….”
“That is a relief.” Snapped Haddington.
“But if you go further than amusement you’ll be making the most monumental error. You must not let sentiment blind you, Your Lordship.”
“Do stop fussing like an old woman, Clarence, it has nothing to do with sentiment.”
“Winterhaiming has put forward the best proof that I’ve ever seen.”
“He put forward no more than Two-Refs.”
“Some cheap locket and a piece of hair?”
“Mr Tiresome only had a locket.”
“There is a certain similarity of appearance.”
“Bah.”
“Also a similarity in characteristics between yourself and the young man has not escaped me.” Clarence rubbed the top of his head.
“I’ve never fallen asleep with my eyes open in my life.”
“That was not what I was referring to.”
“You babble, man, do you realise that?”
“Your Lordship, since Lee and Cloud appeared we have not been able to have one serious discussion on this matter.”
“I would hardly call nonsensical babbling a serious discussion.”
“Are you aware that, if you let them, these two gentlemen will steal everything you own?”
“I might say the same of young Winterhaiming.”
“You know that’s not so.”
“I do not wish to discuss it any further, Clarence, at least not until you can speak without babbling.”
“Your Lordship,” said Clarence angrily as he stormed toward the door, “you are becoming a doddering old fool.” He slammed the door as he left.
Haddington poured himself a drink, took up his cigar from the ashtray to walk over and stand under the portrait of his daughter.
“I know.”
“Dear Mr Clarence.” Lady Marlebone met a silently fuming Clarence in the hallway. “I’ve just heard the most amazing story.”
‘What story would that be?”
“Mr Cloud thinks that Mr Lee is Lord Haddington’s grandson, of course I didn’t seriously entertain the thought for one second.”
“The world is riddled with demented people with all kinds of delusions.”
“Exactly what I thought myself.”
“Do pardon me, madam, I am quite busy.”
“It is just an illusion, I mean, this Lee fellow is just not English, is he?”
“Please pardon me.” He brushed past her quickly.
“I’m sure his Lordship feels the same.” She stopped and waited for Clarence to reply. “Mr Clarence, does his Lordship feel the same?”
Clarence stopped and looked back. “That, madam, is something his Lordship will have to answer for himself.” He spun on his heels and strode off.
“How strange, how very strange.” She thought to herself, then as the words sank in she felt rising panic. “Oh, dear me, dear me, I must get my poor daughter away from that worthless scamp.” She was racing down the hall when she stopped herself and stood tapping her chin with her fan. She would have to be very careful, she would have to take each step after due consideration. “Oh, dear, what would Sir Joseph do?” She thought glumly, “what would Sir Joseph do?” If she only knew so that she could do the opposite and know she’d be right.
“But, mother……”
“Why are you so argumentative, why has God cursed me with such an argumentative daughter?”
“I’m not arguing, I’m doing exactly what you told me to do.”
“Do you want to break your poor father’s heart? Have we treated you so shabbily that you want to wreak a cruel vengeance on your aged parents?” Lady Marlebone was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.
“Mother….. “ She began, her voice tinged with exasperation.
“You won’t be satisfied will you, not until you’ve seen your dear father in the poorhouse.”
“Mother, what is it you want me to do?”
“You wilful, wilful girl.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Ignoring poor Mr Lee, wasting all your time with that scoundrel.”
“The American? Mother, are you serious?”
“Why has God cursed me with such a wilful, selfish daughter?”
“Alright, alright,” the young woman got to her feet and straightened her dress, “it hasn’t been easy, mother, but I think I understand what you’re trying to say. I’m to divert my attention to Mr Lee.” She went to the door.
“Cynthia.” Said her mother, she stood at the open door. “Not ….. all of your attention.” Cynthia nodded and walked from the room. “Whatever will become of her when I’m gone?” Sighed Lady Marlebone and dabbed her eyes.
It made no difference to Cynthia, she found both men repellent, she smiled to herself as she thought of the struggle her mother must have undergone to even consider the American.
“It’s a very dangerous sign, when a pretty, young woman smiles so delightfully to herself, some handsome young man is obviously in danger of losing his bachelor freedom.”
She looked up to see Lord Haddington.
“What makes you think it’s a handsome young man, Your Lordship,” she curtsied slightly, “perhaps it’s a distinguished peer of the realm.”
“Capital, my dear, capital,” he took her hand and kissed it, “may I offer you my arm?” She took it as he led her down the hall to the large dining room where dinner awaited them. As they strolled along with Haddington merrily chattering away, she looked up with a slight smile at the corners of her lips, she was rather fond of the old gentleman.
Still chatting away he held a chair out for her and after she had taken her place he sat down in the seat beside her. Lee and Cloud came in, in answer to the dinner gong and without thinking Lee sat in the first chair he saw, it happened to be the one beside Cynthia who was listening intently to everything Haddington was saying.
Sir Rupert came in with Lady Marlebone on his arm, he was repeating the same sentence for the sixth time as he held a chair out for her and then took a seat himself. Clarence and Winterhaiming were the last to enter.
Lady Marlebone was beaming with pleasure as she glanced over at her clever daughter who had planned the seating arrangements so beautifully.
“And what do you think, Mr Lee?” Asked Cynthia suddenly turning to look at him.
“Huh?” He came out of a trance, he was quite hungry so his thoughts had been on food. “About what, miss?”
“Lord Haddington was saying that the Queen should not abdicate.”
“Well, I don’t rightly know….”
“There are misguided people, you know, who are seriously suggesting such a thing.” Said Haddington.
“Its poppycock,” said Sir Rupert, “it’s all poppycock, how can any thinking man say such a thing, poppycock, it’s just poppycock.”
“Alright, Rupert, it’s poppycock.” Said Haddington.
“What is?”
“Never mind.” Said Haddington impatiently.
“She’s not a young woman.” Said Clarence.
“Nonsense, Her Majesty makes up for her lack of youth with her wonderful constitution, her health is perfect and she is in complete control of her faculties.” Said Haddington.
“In America we don’t have that problem.” Said Cloud.
“You have a different President, don’t yo
u, what is it, every six months?” Said a bored Winterhaiming.
“Good Lord, Winterhaiming,” said Haddington, “I thought you’d spent your youth in America, you seem abysmally ignorant of its system.”
“Only my first few years, Your Lordship, I’ve spent most of my life here in England, I had my education in England, thank God. I do go back there occasionally to see Mama and Papa, my adopted parents, of course.”
“Didn’t you have any experience of the American form of Government?”Asked Haddington in surprise.
“Politics is such a tiresome subject, Papa is a Republican and has tried to interest me in joining them, but I do think a gentleman should never soil his hands in such a dirty business.”
“Our Prime Minister will find those sentiments interesting.” Said Clarence.
“Naturally, I was referring to American politics.”
“Old Tiresome is quite right,” said Cloud, “back home you gotta be tough, it’s a rough and tumble business.”
“Your President is a Democrat isn’t he?” Asked Clarence.
“Ah…..yeah, I think he is, ain’t he Two-Refs?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“He’s a Republican.” Said Winterhaiming smugly.
“You mean he changed his politics?” Asked an alarmed Cloud.
“No, Mr Cloud, he did not change his politics.”
“Mr Cloud is such a wit.” Smiled Cynthia to Lee, who returned the smile.
Winterhaiming caught the smile, being human, he was subject to the perverse nature of the human. He had found the attentions of the young woman tiresome, obvious and painfully embarrassing, now that her attention was focused elsewhere he felt a slight feeling that he realised to his amazement was jealousy.
“How tiresome,” he mumbled, “how very tiresome.”
Lady Marlebone could not smile any wider if she had wanted to. Her quick eye had caught Cynthia and Lee and also Winterhaiming’s reaction. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. Her brilliant daughter could not put a foot wrong.
After dinner, the gentlemen had cigars and some wine, during which Cloud filled his usual role of entertainer, then they joined the ladies and all settled down for a steady night of bridge.
To Clarence’s surprise Haddington joined in as a partner with Cynthia and kept up a sparkling, smart game. He was up against Lady Marlebone and Lee.
Sir Rupert was in a corner of the room getting boxing lessons from Cloud, while Clarence and Winterhaiming, the latter with a bored expression and his eyes wide open, looked on.
The night passed quickly and it was near midnight when Haddington finally decided it was time to retire.
“You mean like this,” Sir Rupert was puffing heavily, he hadn’t been getting lessons all night, only for the last fifteen minutes, “like this, Smokey, you say, like this?” He was throwing punches in every direction.
“You got it, boy, that’s it, you got it, go on, again, in the breadbasket, that’s it.”
“How tiresome.” Said Winterhaiming shuffling the cards as he partnered Lee. Lady Marlebone had grown weary some time earlier and retired to a comfortable corner chair, with Winterhaiming taking her place.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” said Haddington as he got to his feet. “My obligations force me to retire early.”
“Obligations, Clem?” Asked Cloud.
“I have to go to church in the morning.”
“That’s taking your obligations seriously.” Smiled Cloud.
“Naturally, I am extending an invitation for all of you to join me.”
“That’s real kind of you, Clem, but this poor old body would collapse in shock if I disturbed it on a Sunday morning.”
“Nonsense, Smokey, old boy,” smiled Sir Rupert still puffing, “our vicar will keep you enthralled every moment with his sermon.”
“No, Rupert, it’s an enthrallment I’m gonna have to pass up, nice of you to offer, just the same.”
“If my guests fail to attend church, they forfeit the right to any food for forty-eight hours.” Said Haddington with a straight face.
“Stop arguing, Two-Refs,” said Cloud, “we’d be ungentlemanly if we refused our host’s kind offer.” Lee just nodded silently as he went on with his game.
“Don’t concentrate, there’s a good chap.” Said a bored Winterhaiming.
“I am concentrating, look, I just put these down.”
“I’m aware of that, perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but the game is finished.”
“Oh, who won?”
“We did.” Smiled Cynthia looking up at Lord Haddington.
“It’s time we old people retired.” Said Haddington. “Come along Clarence, inform Lady Marlebone, will you? Come along Rupert.”
“Nonsense, Clemmie, once I get my second wind,” he sat down heavily, “I fully intend to have another round under Smokey’s expert guidance.”As soon as he’d said that he dropped his head on his chest and fell asleep.
Haddington woke him up and dragged him off to his room. Clarence helped Lady Marlebone from the chair where she had been sleeping and they too left.
Cloud came over to take up the fourth hand.
As Clarence was coming back from escorting Lady Marlebone to her room he encountered Gilmore carrying a tray with a full bottle of whisky.
“Where are you going with that?”
“It’s for his Lordship, sir, he orders it every night, he finds it helps him sleep.”
“I’m not surprised it does.”
“Yes, sir.” Gilmore went on his way and Clarence made his way to his room.
He crept up very quietly, he picked up one of Robert’s leafy arms and peeked around the trunk of Angus. A small, black shape was tearing away with scratching sounds.
“Devil.” He said softly, but the devil heard him and looked in his direction, so that two yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. “Well may you plead for mercy.” Said Garth to the silent shape. “Look at his skin, look what you’ve done to it?” He raised the branch high over his head to bring it down, but the shape was gone, scurrying off towards another tree.
With a whoop of glee Garth came rushing after it, he smiled when he saw it run to the foot of Albert.
The roots of the tree were thick and quite high, so that the creature had trapped itself. Garth advanced on it slowly with a diabolical smile on his face. The little creature stood with its head held high, its feet planted firmly, staunchly it prepared to meet its enemy.
“You’ll not be bothering my lads again, devil,” Garth raised his branch, “stop screaming lads,” he called to the trees around him, “I’ll get this devil once and for all and your poor feet will never have to suffer again. I know, I know you’ve all suffered by having the flesh torn from your bodies, but not anymore, now just hold your tongues.”
He was chuckling cruelly to himself as he came closer and closer, the branch raised over his head. Suddenly there was a crack high above and a branch came toppling down onto Garth.
“What the…” A second branch came down. “You clumsy fool, Albert,” a third branch covered him, and he watched the shape fly past him. “You’re letting it get away, you damn fool.” A fourth branch finally stunned him.
The black shape flew for its life to escape. The lights from the house attracted its attention and with one bound it jumped into an open window.
“Don’t you ever,” Garth slammed a branch down on the hapless Albert, “ever, interfere with your father when he’s trying to protect you,” again he slammed the branch down, and again. “You crazy fool.”
He threw the branch away and stormed off, he was passing under another tree when he heard a snap above his head.
“Just you dare, Rupert…..” He began but was knocked senseless by a daring Rupert.
He had been reading in bed when he thought he heard someone, so he had come out to investigate. Now Clarence stood at the open door to Haddington’s room with a frown. There was no sign of Haddington and there was no sign of the bottle of whisky
.
He walked to the open window to look out, did he catch sight of someone in the light from one of the lower windows, someone among the trees with an axe?
He sighed and made his way down stairs, Cloud, Lee, Winterhaiming and Cynthia were still playing cards.
“Mr Lee, Mr Cloud. May I speak to you both?” Said Clarence from the door. They exchanged looks, excused themselves and followed him out into the hall.
“I may have need of your assistance, gentlemen.”
“Now the last time you said that,” said Cloud, “Clem was indisposed.”
“I fear he may be indisposed again.” Clarence led them to the back of the house and out onto the grass.
“I see him.” Said Lee and ran toward the trees, he grabbed a shape and began to drag it back to the waiting Cloud and Clarence.
Winterhaiming and Cynthia joined them and they all stood in silence watching Lee with his struggling prisoner drawing nearer.
“I say, am I missing something?” Came the calm voice of Lord Haddington from behind them, they all turned to see him standing there calmly smoking a pipe.
Clarence and Cloud turned to look back in surprise to see Lee just coming into the light struggling with Garth.
“You can let him go, Mr Lee.” Ordered Clarence. Lee did so, then came walking up to Haddington.
“You’re alright?” He asked.
“Of course, why shouldn’t I be?”
Garth struck out blindly in the darkness with his branch and took to his heels.
“Mr Clarence thought you might….might….”
“I might what?”
“Nothing.”
“Come inside, it’s quite cold.” Ordered Haddington as he stepped aside to let them precede him. “I simply felt like a quiet pipe and Clarence turns the house upside down. By the way,” said Haddington with a frown. “Where is Clarence?”
He awoke with the sun streaming through the window and stretched luxuriously until his foot came into contact with something on the end of the bed. He sat up with a start.
“What the….?” A small black bundle of fur lay sleeping and snoring. An eye opened sleepily and watched him without moving its head.
Meanwhile, Clarence was making his way down the stairs, holding a very sore head, with bleary eyes.
“Who in his right mind would get up so early?” Came the voice of Winterhaiming coming down the stairs to join him.
“The Haddingtons have always been pillars of the church, it’s a responsibility that goes with the estate.” Clarence looked at him levelly.
“I have no argument with that, old man, it’s this unearthly hour I find difficult to tolerate.”
“Yes.” Said Clarence glumly still nursing his head as he led the way into the dining room.
The two ladies sat cheerfully drinking tea while Cloud was on his feet demonstrating another boxing tournament as Lee looked on laughing.
The two late-comers helped themselves from the food spread out on the sideboard and then joined the others at the table, Gilmore appeared with a servant carrying a fresh pot of tea.
“Good morning, everybody.” Said Haddington as he came sweeping into the room, everyone looked up in greeting, Clarence was just raising a fork to his mouth and stopped in mid-air. “This is our new guest, Miss Blackie.” He indicated the cat nestled in his arms, wide yellow eyes looked at them calmly, a small black head turned to look at another servant carrying a plate of sausages. Miss Blackie wasn’t all black, her chin, throat and underside were a clean white.
“She’s beautiful,” smiled Cynthia as she got to her feet and wiped her mouth with a serviette to run over with her hands held out, “may I carry her, Your Lordship?”
“That is up to Miss Blackie.” Without a moment’s hesitation she jumped into Cynthia’s arms. “Women are such fickle creatures.” He sighed as he went to his seat.
“Where did you get her from?” Asked Cynthia.
“Oh, she’s not mine; apparently she’s taken it into her head that she’d like to spend a few days here.” Gilmore came in. “Oh, Gilmore, a bowl of milk and a sausage for our guest.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.” Said an impassive Gilmore with a quick glance in Miss Blackie’s direction.
With a bound she jumped from Cynthia’s arms and leapt into a seat next to old Haddington who smiled with pleasure and reached across to pat her. She purred softly.
Gilmore came in with a bowl of milk and a sausage cut up on a plate.
“Here kitty, here kitty.” He put them on the floor and Miss Blackie jumped down and after sticking her backside in the air to stretch her front legs out to their limit, she sidled over to the milk but turned her nose up at the sausage. With a white little mouth from the milk she returned to her seat.
“I think you’ll find our vicar very interesting.” Said Haddington to Cloud. “A bit long winded, one of the fire and brimstone type, but an excellent fellow provided he keeps off the subject of religion.”
“He’s ex-navy.” Said Clarence.
“That’s right, he was in the Royal Navy.”
“It sounds very tiresome.”
“How do you keep a vicar from talking about religion?” Asked Lee.
“With this particular vicar it’s very easy,” smiled Haddington, “he has one over-riding passion, I’m sure he won’t mind me putting it that way.”
“What passion is that?” Asked Cloud.
“Boxing.”
“A boxing vicar.”
“He has a rather droll sense of humour,” said Haddington, “I once heard him say as he walked away from a funeral ‘I either box ‘em or box their ears,’ which is exactly right.” Laughed the old Lord.
“His sermons do tend to be lengthy.” Said Clarence.
“Yes, they do, but he never repeats himself.”
“….. haven’t you got a tongue, eh? Well…….”
“Which in many cases is a virtue.” Haddington muttered as he took a sip of his tea.
“….come along, my dear fellow, open your mouth, use your tongue, a tongue, do you know what that is, here, look at mine…..”
“Gilmore!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Sir Rupert is talking to a suit of armour again.”
“I don’t believe so, sir, the servants are cleaning up and they took the suits of armour to the back of the house.”
“Well, what the devil is he talking to now?”
“They did place some full length paintings there temporarily.”
“Paintings of what?”
“Your grandfather, sir.”
“Oh, my God.” Sighed Haddington. “Please go and assist the paintings, Gilmore, before Sir Rupert has them curling up at his constant repetition.”
“…….a tongue, sir, we all have one…….”
“Yes, sir.” Gilmore went on his errand of mercy.
* * * * *