Farnham's Freehold

  Word came a couple of hours later that Joe expected Hugh. He knew his way, having been to Joe’s guest rooms to help teach bridge to Chosen, so he went up alone.

  Joe greeted him enthusiastically. “Come in, Hugh! Find a seat. No protocol, nobody here but us chickens. Wait till you hear what I’ve done. Boy, have I been busy! One shop ready to go as a pilot plant before Their Charity finished the wangling for the protection, all on the Q.T. But so organized that we were in production the day protection was granted. Not bad terms, either. Their Mercy takes half, Their Charity hangs onto half and floats the financing, and out of Their Charity’s half I’m cut in for ten percent and manage the company. Of course as we branch out and into other lines—the whole thing is called ‘Inspired Games’ and the charter is written to cover almost any fun you can have out of bed—as we branch out, I’ll need help and that’s a problem; I’m scared old Ponse is going to want to put some of his dull-witted relatives in. Hope not, there’s no place for nepotism when you’re trying to hold down costs. Probably best to train servants for it—cheaper in the long run, with the right sort. How about you, Hugh? Do you think you could swing the management of a factory? It’s a big job; I’ve got a hundred and seven people working already.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ve employed three times that many and never missed a payroll—and I once bossed two thousand skilled trades in the Seabees. But, Joe, I came up here with something on my mind.”

  “Uh, all right, spill it. Then I want to show you the plans.”

  “Joe, you know about Duke?”

  “What about Duke?”

  “Tempered. Didn’t you know?”

  “Oh. Yes, I knew. Happened just about as I left. He’s not hurt, is he? Complications?”

  “‘Hurt?’ Joe, he was tempered. You act as if he had merely had a tooth pulled. You knew? Did you try to stop it?”

  “No.”

  “In the name of God, why not?”

  “Let me finish, can’t you? I don’t recall that you tried to stop it, either.”

  “I never had the chance. I never knew.”

  “Neither did I. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep jumping down my throat. I learned about it after it happened.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I thought you meant you just stood by and let it happen.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Don’t know what I could have done if I had known. Maybe asked Ponse to call you in first, I suppose. Wouldn’t have done any good, so I guess we were both better off not having to fret about it. Maybe all for the best. Now about our plans—If you’ll look at this schematic layout, you’ll see—”

  “Joe!”

  “Huh?”

  “Can’t you see that I’m in no shape to talk about playing-card factories? Duke is my son.”

  Joe folded up his plans. “I’m sorry, Hugh. Let’s talk, if it will make you feel better. Get it off your chest—I suppose you do feel bad about it. Looking at it from one angle.”

  Joe listened, Hugh talked. Presently Joe shook his head. “Hugh, I can set your mind at rest on one point. Duke never did see the Lord Protector. So your advice to Duke—good advice, I think—could not have had anything to do with his being tempered.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’d feel like cutting my throat if I knew it was my fault.”

  “It’s not, so quit fretting.”

  “I’ll try. Joe, whatever possessed Ponse to do it? He knew how we felt about it, from that time it almost happened through a misunderstanding. So why would he? I thought he was my friend.”

  Joe looked embarrassed. “You really want to know?”

  “I’ve got to know.”

  “Well…you’re bound to find out. Grace did it.”

  “What? Joe, you must be mistaken. Sure, Grace has her faults. But she wouldn’t have that done—to her own son.”

  “Well, no, not exactly. I doubt if she knew what it was until after it was done. But just the same, she set it off. She’s been wheedling Ponse almost from the day we got here that she wanted her Dukie with her. She was lonesome. ‘Ponsie, I’m lonesome. Ponsie, you’re being mean to Gracie. Ponsie, I’m going to tickle you until you say Yes. Ponsie, why won’t you?’—all in that baby whine she uses. Hugh, I guess you didn’t see much of it—”

  “None of it.”

  “I would have wrung her neck. Ponse just ignored her, except when she tickled him. Then he would laugh and they would roll on the floor and he would tell her to shut up, and make her sit quiet for a while. Treated her just like one of the cats. Honest, I don’t think he ever—I mean, it doesn’t seem likely, from what I saw, that he was interested in her as a—”

  “And I’m not interested. Didn’t anybody tell Grace what it would entail, for her to have her son with her?”

  “Hugh, I don’t think so. It would never occur to Ponse that explanation was required…and certainly I never discussed it with her. She doesn’t like me, I take up too much of her Ponsie’s time.” Joe wrinkled his nose. “So I doubt if she knew. Of course she should have figured it out; anybody else would have. But, excuse me, since she’s your wife, but I’m not sure she’s bright enough.”

  “And hopped up on Happiness, too—every time I caught sight of her. No, she’s not bright. But she’s not my wife, either. Barbara is my wife.”

  “Well…legally speaking, a servant can’t have a wife.”

  “I wasn’t speaking legally, I was speaking the truth. But even though Grace is no longer my wife, I’m somewhat comforted to know that she probably didn’t know what it would cost Duke.”

  Joe looked thoughtful. “Hugh, I don’t think she did…but I don’t think she really cares, either…and I’m not sure that you can properly say that it cost Duke anything.”

  “You might explain. Perhaps I’m dense.”

  “Well, if Grace minds that Duke has been tempered, she doesn’t show it. She’s pleased as punch. And he doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “You’ve seen them? Since?”

  “Oh, yes. I had breakfast with Their Charity yesterday morning. They were there.”

  “I thought Ponse was away?”

  “He was back and now he’s gone out to the West Coast. Business. We’re really tearing into it. He was here only a couple of days. But he had this birthday present for Grace. Duke, I mean. Yes, I know it wasn’t her birthday, and anyhow birthdays aren’t anything nowadays; it’s nameday that counts. But she told Ponse she was about to have a birthday and kept wheedling him—and you know Ponse, indulgent with animals and kids. So he set it up as a surprise for her. The minute he was back, he made a present of Duke to her. Shucks, they’ve even got a room off Ponse’s private quarters; neither of them sleeps belowstairs, they live up here.”

  “Okay, I don’t care where they sleep. You were telling me how Grace felt about it. And Duke.”

  “Oh, yes. Can’t say just when she found out what had been done to Duke, all I can say is that she is so happy about it all that she was even cordial with me—telling me what a dear Ponsie was to arrange it and doesn’t Dukie look just grand? In his new clothes? Stuff like that. She’s got him dressed in the fancy livery the servants wear up here, not a robe like that you’re wearing. She’s even put jewelry on him. Ponse doesn’t mind. He’s an outright gift, a servant’s servant. I don’t think he does a lick of work, he’s just her pet. And she loves it that way.”

  “But how about Duke?”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you, Hugh; Duke hasn’t lost by it. He’s snug as a bug in a rug and he knows it. He was almost patronizing to me. You might have thought that I was the one wearing livery. With Grace in solid with the big boss and with her wound around his finger, Duke thinks he’s got it made. Well, he has, Hugh. And I didn’t mind his manner; I could see he was hopped on this tranquilizer you servants use.”

  “You call it ‘got it made’ when a man is grabbed and drugged and tempered and then kept drugged so that he doesn’t care? Joe, I’m shocked.”

  “Cer
tainly I call it that! Hugh, put your prejudices aside and look at it rationally. Duke is happy. If you don’t believe it, let me take you in there and you talk to him. Talk to both of them. See for yourself.”

  “No, I don’t think I could stomach it. I’ll concede that Duke is happy. I’m well aware that if you feed a man enough of that Happiness drug, he’ll be happy as a lark even if you cut off his arms and legs and then start on his head. But you can be that sort of ‘happy’ on morphine. Or heroin. Or opium. That doesn’t make it a good thing. It’s a tragedy.”

  “Oh, don’t be melodramatic, Hugh. These things are all relative. Duke was certain to be tempered eventually. It’s not lawful for a servant as big as he is to be kept for stud, I’m sure you know that. So what difference does it make whether it’s done last week, or next year, or when Ponse dies? The only difference is that he is happy in a life of luxury, instead of hard manual labor in a mine, or a rice swamp, or such. He doesn’t know anything useful, he could never hope to rise very high. High for a servant, I mean.”

  “Joe, do you know what you sound like? Like some white-supremacy apologist telling how well off the darkies used to be, a-sittin’ outside their cabins, a-strummin’ their banjoes, and singin’ spirituals.”

  Joe blinked. “I could resent that.”

  Hugh Farnham was angry and feeling reckless. “Go ahead and resent it! I can’t stop you. You’re a Chosen, I’m a servant. Can I fetch your white sheet for you, Massah? What time does the Klan meet?”

  “Shut up!”

  Hugh Farnham shut up. Joe went on quietly, “I won’t bandy words with you. I suppose it does look that way to you. If so, do you expect me to weep? The shoe is on the other foot, that’s all—and high time. I used to be a servant, now I’m a respected businessman—with a good chance of becoming a nephew by marriage of some noble family. Do you think I would swap back, even if I could? For Duke? Not for anybody, I’m no hypocrite. I was a servant, now you are one. What are you beefing about?”

  “Joe, you were a decently treated employee. You were not a slave.”

  The younger man’s eyes suddenly became opaque and his features took on an ebony hardness Hugh had never seen in him before. “Hugh,” he said softly, “have you ever made a bus trip through Alabama? As a ‘nigger’?”

  “No.”

  “Then shut up. You don’t know what you are talking about.” He went on, “The subject is closed and now we’ll talk business. I want you to see what I’ve done and am planning to do. This games notion is the best idea I ever had.”

  Hugh did not argue whose idea it had been; he listened while the young man went on with eager enthusiasm. At last Joe put down his pen and sat back. “What do you think of it? Any suggestions? You made some useful suggestions when I proposed it to Ponse—keep on being useful and there will be a good place in it for you.”

  Hugh hesitated. It seemed to him that Joe’s plans were too ambitious for a market that was only a potential and a demand that had yet to be created. But all he said was, “It might be worth while to package with each deck, no extra charge, a rule book.”

  “Oh, no, we’ll sell those separately. Make money on them.”

  “I didn’t mean a complete Hoyle. Just a pamphlet with some of the simpler games. Cribbage. A couple of solitaire games. One or two others. Do that and the customers start enjoying them at once. It should lead to more sales.”

  “Hmm—I’ll think about it.” Joe folded up his papers, set them aside. “Hugh, you got so shirty a while ago that I didn’t tell you one thing I have in mind.”

  “Yes?”

  “Ponse is a grand old man, but he isn’t going to live forever. I plan to have my own affairs separate from his by then so that I’ll be financially independent. Trade around interests somehow, untangle it. I don’t need to tell you that I’m not anxious to have Mrika as my boss—and I didn’t tell you, so don’t repeat it. But I’ll manage it, I’m looking out for number one.” He grinned. “And when Mrika is Lord Protector I won’t be here. I’ll have a household of my own, a modest one—and I’ll need servants. Guess whom I plan to adopt when I staff it.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Not you—although you may very well be a business servant to me, if it turns out you really can manage a job. No, I had in mind adopting Grace and Duke.”

  “Huh?”

  “Surprised? Mrika won’t want them, that’s certain. He despises Grace because of her influence over his uncle, and it’s a sure thing he’s not going to like Duke any better. Neither of them is trained and it shouldn’t be expensive to adopt them if I don’t appear too eager. But they would be useful to me. For one thing, since they speak English, I’d be able to talk to them in a language nobody else knows, and that could be an advantage, especially when other servants are around. But best of all—Well, the food here is good but sometimes I get a longing for some plain old American cooking, and Grace is a good cook when she wants to be. So I’ll make her a cook. Duke can’t cook but he can learn to wait on table and answer the door and such. Houseboy, in other words. How about that?”

  Hugh said slowly, “Joe, you don’t want them because Grace can cook.”

  Joe grinned unashamedly. “No, not entirely. I think Duke would look real good as my houseboy. And Grace as my cook. Tit for tat. Oh, I’ll treat them decently, Hugh, don’t you worry. They work hard and behave themselves and they won’t get tingled. However, I don’t doubt but what it will take a few tingles before they get the idea.” He twitched his quirt. “And I won’t say I won’t enjoy teaching them. I owe them a little. Three years, Hugh. Three years of Grace’s endless demands, never satisfied with anything—and three years of being treated with patronizing contempt by Duke whenever he was around.”

  Hugh said nothing. Joe said, “Well? What do you think of my plan?”

  “I thought better of you, Joe. I thought you were a gentleman. It seems I was wrong.”

  “So?” Joe barely twitched his quirt. “Boy, we excuse you. All.”

  18

  Hugh came away from Joe’s rooms feeling utterly discouraged. He knew that he had been foolish—no, criminally careless!—in letting Joe get his goat. He needed Joe. Until he had Barbara and the twins safely hidden in the mountains, he needed every possible source of favor. Joe, Memtok, Ponse, anyone he could find—and probably Joe most of all. Joe was a Chosen, Joe could go anywhere, tell him things he didn’t know, give him things he could not steal. He had even considered, as a last resort, asking Joe to help them to escape.

  Not now! Idiot! Utter fool! To risk Barbara and the boys just because you can’t hold your bloody temper.

  It seemed to him that things were as bad as they could get—and part of it his own folly.

  He did not stand around moping; he looked up Memtok. It had become more urgent than ever to set up some way to communicate with Barbara secretly—and that meant that he had to talk to her—and that meant at least one bridge game in the Lord Protector’s lounge and a snatch of talk even if he had to talk English in front of Ponse. He had to force matters.

  Hugh found the Chief Domestic leaving his office. “Cousin Memtok, could you spare me a word?”

  Memtok’s habitual frown barely relaxed. “Certainly, cousin. But walk along with me, will you? Trouble, trouble, trouble—you would think that a department head could run his department without someone to wipe his nose, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong. The freezer flunky complains to the leading butcher and he complains to the chef, and it’s a maintenance matter, and you would think that Gnou would take it up directly with engineering and between them they would settle it. Oh, no! They both come to me with their troubles. You know something about construction, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Hugh admitted, “but I’m not up-to-date in the subject. It has been some years.” (About two thousand, my friend! But we won’t speak of that.)

  “Construction is construction. Come along, give me the benefit of your advice.”

  (And find out that I’m
faking. Chum, I’ll double-talk you to death.) “Certainly. If this humble one’s opinion is worth anything.”

  “Damned chill room. It’s been a headache every summer. I’m glad we’ll be back in the Palace soon.”

  “Has the date been set? May one ask?”

  “One may. A week from tomorrow. So it’s time to think about packing up your department and being ready to move.”

  Hugh tried to keep his face calm and his voice steady. “So soon?”

  “Why are you looking worried? A few files, some office equipment. Have you any idea how many thousands of items I have on inventory? And how much gets stolen, or lost, or damaged simply because you can’t trust any of these fools? Uncle!”

  “It must be terribly wearing,” agreed Hugh. “But that brings to mind something. I petitioned you to let me know when Their Charity was next in residence. I learned from the young Chosen, Joseph, that Their Charity returned a day or two ago and is now gone again.”

  “Are you criticizing?”

  “Uncle forbid! I was just asking.”

  “It is true that Their Charity was physically present for a short time. But he was not officially in residence. Not in the best of health, it seemed to me—Uncle protect him.”

  “Uncle protect him well!” Hugh answered sincerely. “Under the circumstances naturally you did not ask him to grant me an audience. But could I ask of you the small favor, next time—”

  “We’ll talk later. Let’s see what these two helpless ones have to offer.” Head Chef Gnou and the Chief Engineer met them at the entrance to Gnou’s domain, they went on through the kitchen, through the butcher shop, and into the cold room. But they lingered in the butcher shop, Memtok impatient, while parka-like garments were fetched, the Chief Domestic having refused the ones offered on the legitimate grounds that they were soiled.