La Rove de Fortune - The Wheel of Fortune
For ill, or for good, La Rove de Fortune will always signify a dramatic change of circumstance or fortune.
The livery from John's previous employment still doesn't fit him, but he has not thought to find himself new clothing. Apart, that is, from an old black coat won in a card game. He had searched the party frantically, trying to find the short gentleman who had performed magic, only to find the man had raced off in his carriage without a word of farewell. Some madness, surely, had seized Childermass for when he heard the man was gone, he simply walked out after him - the mysterious book [1] still in hand. He has travelled a great deal of Yorkshire in search of the elusive magician he glimpsed at Raven Hall. He finds his answers in Whitby. You can find a lot of things in Whitby.
'Do you know anything of a Mr. Gilbert Norrell?'
John asks this question in every town he passes until it falls from his tongue as naturally as swollen fruit from a tree. He asks it so often he has stopped expecting a response. So when, John enquires in damp, low-ceilinged pub and receives a disgusted snort in response, he is so shocked that he merely repeats the question.
'Do you know anything of a Mr. Gilbert Norrell?'
'Oh I know of him, for sure. Though I wish I bloody didn't.' As if this is the end of the conversation, the man turns back to his flagon of ale and upends the vessel in the manner of those who wish to drown sorrows. Childermass, frustrated, regards the man as he drinks. His hair is cut short, like a working man's, but his speech carries no strong accent, his hands are remarkably pale and smooth and he sits with unintentional good posture. A servant, then. Most likely a footman or valet [2], and a bitter one at that - what ill could this Norrell have done to the man? John's mind comes alive with imaginings of enchantments and curses straight the magical stories of his childhood.
'He has harmed you in some way?' Childermass asks, but the man only snorts derisively.
'Harmed? Mr. Norrell couldn't harm a week-old kitten. 'Cept perhaps by boring it to death, or moaning at it till the poor thing topped itself.' John is momentarily wrong-footed. This description does not fit his idea of a great, practical magician. Then he has to laugh - of course, the one real magician he has come across and the man's a whining bore - typical.
'No lad, whatever your interest in , I'd advise you to drop it. I wish someone had told me the same thing - the pay's good, mind, but he's so bloody particular, especially about his sodding books, that you'll get nothing but grief. Wish I'd quit sooner than I did.' So the servant has left his post, an idea billows in John's mind like wind catching the sails of a ship.
'Thank you for your advice, but I've a mind to ignore it. What position did you hold in Mr. Norrell's household? Do you think the job will still be going free?' The man shakes his head in amused disbelief but describes his duties as steward [3] and gives Childermass directions to 's residence. The ex-servant finishes his ale and stands to leave.
'Think well, lad, before you make your choice.'
It is only once John is alone that the importance of this choice becomes apparent. He could, should, go back to Staithes and try to trace his mother. And there he would return to his old occupation, where no man was his master and he lived by keeping his wits sharp. Or. Or he could follow this thread and pull at it till it unravels. Pull at it till he finds magic, Faerie, the King. But to get close to Norrell he must bow and scrape and live a servant's life.
Having a master and obeying orders grates harshly on him. But John Childermass laughs at everything, even his own pride. Perhaps he will pull the thread, perhaps. He wavers.
...
Newly inked cards in his pocket, John Childermass approaches the grey face of Hurtfew Abbey. He stops at the door and pulls one from his coat. The Wheel of Fortune. Again and again he has pulled this card, through the cold tramp from Whitby to the house. A change of place, a change of occupation, a change of luck. Either good or ill, the card does not say. But as his loud knock is answered by a timid servant, he cannot hold back a smile. John Childermass spins his own wheel, and it turns in his favour.
'I'm here to speak with Gilbert Norrell. Tell him it's about a book from Raven Hall.'
[1] That book was, in fact, Ormskirk's Revelations of Thirty-Six Worlds. The same copy which remained in Childermass' possession even after he left Hurtfew Abbey for the last time. The magic Norrell was attempting to perform was the summoning spell Strange used later with much success. But the spell had failed to summon the Raven King, as Norrell had wished - perhaps it brought him John Childermass instead.
[2] Menservants of the upper levels were generally selected for their height, good looks and fine bearing. It was taken as a given that such men would wear wigs, and thus keep their hair short. A footman without a wig was like having a drawing room without a carpet - it was not respectable.
[3] In larger houses, stewards were employed to oversee the staff and the running of the household. They ranked higher in position that either butler or housekeeper. The size of Mr. Norrell's staff did not particularly warrant hiring such a person, but his anti-social tendencies made a steward absolutely vital.
