Chapter 58: A Wedding at Wargrave Church
Jane descended from the coach, worn out in body and spirit. Of her companions, only Pullen was in similar straits: everyone else was loudly delighted to be at Wargrave again. Or rather, Jane supposed that William Francis and Thomas were delighted. They were noisy enough. Rambler grinned at everyone, and barked joyfully when Ash tried to wrestle with him, upsetting bandboxes and workbaskets alike. Ash had driven her nearly mad during the trip, asking every quarter hour, "Are we there yet?"
Moll had been nearly as bad, beaming like sunshine, looking eagerly out the window at every landmark that took them closer to Wargrave. The babies had needed changing at exactly the same time, and just as Jane finished suckling them. It was not exactly little Tom's fault, but Jane was not pleased that there was a yellowish-brown smear on her black silk petticoat. Pullen was not pleased at the prospect of trying to clean it. Such are the joys of motherhood, I suppose.
The road was frozen hard in places, and the carriage jolted violently where frost had heaved up ridges in the rutted lane. Jane began to wonder if she would be sick, and twice was on the point of stopping the carriage. When they reached the turn to Wargrave Cross, the carriage nearly broke an axle. Ash began screaming about needing to see Mama Borden and Robin and Susan right away. By the time Scoggins was reining in the team in front of the house, Jane was dizzy and nauseous, and not in a mood to be pleased with anything, and she was determined to say something to John about that part of the road at dinner.
Tavington was a little concerned at how pale and grim she looked. He hooked Rambler by his collar, thinking that she could do with one less in the party going upstairs. Rambler was delighted to be back home. He had behaved fairly well in London, but clearly did not think walks in the Square any substitute for proper adventures in the woods of Wargrave. When they left, Moll would surely see that he did not run off again. Rambler was not a city dog.
The servants turned out to meet them. Tom Young, grand in his butler's livery, bowed low, but his eyes and smile were for Moll. She was no longer grinning, and tears of happiness shone in her eyes. Jane hoped that while the children had their afternoon naps Moll could steal away for a little time with her betrothed. The wedding would be tomorrow, and Jane thought it would be a nice gesture to have a breakfast in the Great Hall, with a head table for the gentry, tables for the tenants and servants, and the cake that she had written to Mrs. Jeffreys about. It would have been easier to arrange in the summer—a celebration in the garden would have been lovely—but it was January, and any celebrations must be indoors by a roaring fire.
She was reassured that all the arrangements had been made and that tomorrow would be a happy day for all. With Mrs. Carter was her middle-aged niece Mrs. Smith, the one that would taking charge as housekeeper. She greeted Jane with special respect. Tavington was glad that Jane roused herself to the point of speaking sensibly and kindly to her, and ascertaining that there could be a collation laid out in the dining room for hungry travelers.
Turning to Tavington, Jane said, "I have so much to do. I hope you and Sir John will excuse me while I get the children settled." The nursery dinner was ready. Jane gave thanks for that. Reluctantly, Jane had decided that it would be for the best to move all the children upstairs to the regular nursery. She would have to go up there to suckle the babies, but it was just too inconvenient to keep Ash upstairs alone, and the move would have to be made eventually. Now was as good a time as any. She entered the nursery, smiling a little in spite of herself. It was such an attractive room. Ash liked it, obviously. He greeted Rose with ecstasy, and she seemed just as happy to see them.
"Are you feeling quite well?" Jane asked her.
"Much better now, ma'am. I was dreadful sick for a few days, but the spots are fading, and I had none on my face at all!"
"I am very happy to hear it. Did everyone else recover from the inoculations?"
"Polly is still abed, and Young Joe's eyes troubled him something fierce, but he's himself now."
"Good. Please feed the little ones. I am going to lie down in my bedchamber."
She left the room, leaving behind the chatter and happy noise of Moll and Rose and nursery dinnertime. Her own room had been aired and prepared, and Jane remembered how much she liked it, and the bright window overlooking a frosty lawn, so different from the view at Mortimer Square. Pullen had already taken possession of her little side room and rustled out to help Jane remove enough of her clothing to make a nap comfortable. Pullen made to draw the curtains, but Jane stopped her.
"Don't, Pullen. I don't need it to be dark. I may not sleep at all. I just want to lie down and rest. Perhaps you should as well."
"Thank you, ma'am. My head is splitting with the noise of three children and a dog."
When the last door was shut, a soothing silence pervaded the room. Only the light crackle of the fire thoughtfully lit for her benefit broke the quiet. Jane shut her eyes briefly, listening to the lack of noise. She detected the faint ticking of her little watch on the dressing table, the creaking of a board in the hall under a soft footstep, the faint whistle of the chilly wind past the mullioned window.
Good sounds. However inconvenient the walk up to the nursery, this blessed peace was a fair exchange. A maid knocked softly, and came in to tell her the gentlemen were having their cold meat in the dining room. Jane thanked her, and told her to say they must excuse her, as she did not feel like eating.
The door closed again, and Jane lay quietly, looking up at the ceiling, hoping her stomach would soon settle down. Am I with child? She did not think so. She had none of the other symptoms. While more children would be welcome—eventually—she had too much to do with three already in her nursery to wish to add to their number. No. This was simply the stress and noise of an unpleasant four hours in the carriage with three small children. While the distance between London and Wargrave was comparatively short, perhaps she had been unrealistic in her ideas of how often they could make the journey. Perhaps fewer and longer visits would be desirable. She shut her eyes and did not realize that she had fallen asleep until Pullen roused her at four o'clock.
Very sleepy and stupid, she struggled to clear her head. She must look into the wedding preparations. She must call for afternoon tea. She must have a look at the children soon. All her responsibilities weighed heavily upon her. She dressed, and stumbled downstairs to find tea waiting, and the Bordons with it.
"Ah! There she is!" John said, seeing her in the doorway. Everyone turned to acknowledge her.
Harriet came to her, hand out in welcome. "I received a letter from Deborah Porter," Harriet told her. "She has arrived at the school. There is a letter for you, too, so I will let you read the news for yourself." Jane saw that there was indeed a letter for her on a side table. "Go ahead," Harriet urged. "It will take but a moment." Jane broke the seal, and read the short note. The girl's hand was enormously round and easy to read.
January the twenty-third
Mrs Cooper's Academy for Young Ladies
Little Brockton
Dear Mrs Tavington,
I have arrived Safe at Mrs Cooper's Academy. It is a fine big house of stone and I have a bed in a room with three other girls. Miss Gilpin had the Cobbler take my mesure for Shoes. They are the best Shoes I have ever had. As soon as they were finished we got in the Coach and went to the School. Mrs Cooper calls it an Academy. Miss Gilpin says that is another Word for School. It is a fine word. It is a great Thing to be a Pupil at an Academy. I am aware of my good Fortune.
Miss Gilpin is a very good woman. Miss Fanny and Miss Belinda are very pretty agreeable girls. They helped me with my hair and showed me how to make book marks. The Reverend Mr Gilpin gave me a Bible that he wrote in for me and a Prayer Book. They said they knew I would be a good dutyful girl. I will try, anyways. The Vickarage is handsome and everyone was good to me. I try not to repine, for I know I am being given a good Oportunity to Improve myself. I shall not prove Unworthy of your Trust, I hope.
Thank you for my Cloathes. The Cloak is very warm. Even tho my gown is of Mourning Stuff, it is very comfortable. My Cloathes are good and no one here has better, tho some more colorful, of course. The Huswife Mrs Roiston gave me is useful. I could lend another Girl a Needle. Having more than one Needle made me feel Rich.
Mrs Cooper is so clever. But she is kind too. She says I must work on my Spelling and Grammar. I have never written letters before, so I will practice with you and I trust I shall Improve with Time. Spelling and Grammar are important branches of Study. She looked at my Sewing and praised my Buttonholes. My Buttonholes are the best for my age here. I thought you would like to know that. Tomorrow I shall learn to make French Knots. The instrument is in the parlor. After I settle in more Mrs Cooper will have Miss Dawkins give me lessons.
Thank you again for your Generousity to me. Thank all the People who gave me fine things. I found some Pensils for Drawing. I never Drew before but Lavinia who sleeps in the same room knows how to draw a Horse and she showed me. Everyone thinks my Chatlayn is Elegant. I like my little box. When I have Keep Sakes, I shall keep them there.
Your obedient Sarvant and grateful Freind,
Deborah Porter
Jane laughed ruefully. "The poor little thing! She's going to school not a moment too soon!"
Harriet smiled, but was less amused than Jane. "She's clever enough, but oh, so neglected! I understand that her mother was terribly busy with the little ones, but it is a shame she had so little time to teach Deborah. I believe the child will apply herself, and will improve greatly. It's an awful reminder of how bad it is to favor one child over another."
"I notice that you and your husband scrupulously spend time with both of your children. I see no sign that Susan is ignored in favor of Robin—though such things are common enough—nor that you ignore him to spoil her."
"How glad I am to hear it. One does one's best, but children are all so different, and each has different needs. Even treating them perfectly equally might not be for the best."
"You are at least conscious of these situations. Many would not care. My own father never cared tuppence for me—and even less than that after the birth of my brother."
The talk changed to the wedding tomorrow, and the breakfast to be given the servants. It was unconventional, to a degree, but Harriet agreed that Moll's position was unique, and that Jane would be happy in the long run that she had treated her so generously.
"Everyone likes a party."
Sir John was saying exactly the same thing to Bordon at that moment. The two groups overheard one another, and there was general laughter.
Tavington took the interruption to make his way to Jane's side. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes. I only needed a little rest—and now some tea with a piece of bread and butter. How good the bread is here!"
The Bordons left shortly after tea. Tavington disappeared into the library with John, and Jane went upstairs to the nursery. Her servants were gathered together talking over tomorrow's wedding with all those special hints and glances and little laughs that make such occasions even more exciting. Ash was playing with Rambler, and the babies were rolling and crawling on the nursery carpet. It was a scene of happy chaos.
Moll was telling the others of the handsome present of money Tom had received from Sir John.
"Ah, yes," considered Jane, with an air of mystery. "Wedding presents! What say you, Moll? Should we wait until tomorrow, or should you see them now?"
"Now!" cried Pullen. "I mean—I beg your pardon, ma'am. It's only that Moll may wish to—" she dropped her voice "---wear my gift."
"Shouldn't Young be here to receive them as well?"
Moll narrowed her eyes, and shook her head. "Don't think so. We had a good talk this afternoon and went over to the cottage. It's looking mighty fine. He's bringing his share and I'm bringing mine. I reckon my presents are things he'll like to see in our house."
"You could put them out on a table for the guests to see," Rose suggested. "Sometimes people do that."
"Don't want to seem to boast," said Moll. "I think the best thing is to have Young Joe cart my bits of things over to the cottage in the morning. He can pile it all up on the kitchen table, and I'll show it Tom when we're alone. That's what I'd like best."
"Then that is what we shall do," Jane agreed, happy to have it resolved. "Rose, call Ham Taylor to help you and bring up that long box in my bedchamber—the wooden one under the window. I also need the green bandbox, and the crate underneath."
"I'll help her, ma'am," Pullen offered, with smothered excitement. "I need to fetch something from my room!"
Moll and Jane were left, smiling and speculating on the nature of Pullen's gift.
"I shall miss having you in the house, Moll. You have no idea how much your presence has helped me since I came to England."
Moll shrugged. "I reckon we helped each other, Mrs. Tavington. I'd have been in a sorry state if I were still in South Carolina. With the army fixing to pull out and the rebels winning, I guess I'd have had a hard row to hoe. I'll never forget Royston and my little Charlie, but Tom's a good man—"
"—and a handsome one," Jane teased.
"The looks don't hurt, and that's a fact," Moll agreed calmly. "Reckon the baby'll be better looking for 'em. Like I say, he's a good man. We've got ourselves a good home. I hope you'll find time to come by and see what all Tom's done. I reckon I've done pretty well for myself. Sometimes I can't figger why Ma ever left, but maybe she weren't so lucky in her friends."
Rose and Pullen bustled back into the room, panting with exertion. A footman was loaded down with boxes and bags. He was dismissed with Jane's thanks, and giggles from all the rest of the women, and Moll was led to the rocking chair, as the place of honor, to receive her gifts.
"What's happenin', Sissah Jane?" Ash wondered.
"We're going to give Moll some presents now, Ash," Jane told him, "because she's getting married tomorrow. Remember? I told you that she's going to live in that pretty cottage nearby, but she'll come and spend the days with us when we're here."
"Can I give a pwesent, too?"
"You can carry some of the presents over to Moll, Ash. That would be a big help. Can you carry this? It's very heavy."
"I'm a big boy!" Ash gathered up a bundle in both arms, and carried it over to Moll, eyes shining. "This is for you, Moll!"
Moll pushed the paper aside and found the honeycomb quilt they had made together, in cheerful brown and blue floral chintz. It was a big quilt that would fit the biggest bed. Moll thanked them all for their contributions, and then Pullen gave a small bundle to Ash to carry to her.
"Well! That is about the fanciest thing I ever saw. I'll wear it tomorrow, sure enough!"
Pullen had embroidered a handsome stomacher to dress up Moll's best green gown. It would pin over the front of the bodice, and was a light green silk with a pattern of pink English roses executed in satin stitch. The stems of the roses formed a True Love knot and small pink rosebuds formed the border.
"Thank you kindly, Miss Pullen! That's mighty fine work!"
"Very lovely," Jane agreed. "A wonderful gift. Oh, Moll, open mine next! Here, Ash, I'll have to help you, because it's heavy."
Moll exclaimed over the brightly colored bone china, her work-roughened hands caressing the teapot with tenderness and pride. For once she had very little to say. "Well—well." She wiped her nose.
Rose had made her a lace-trimmed handkerchief of enormous size, which Moll gratefully added to her wedding regalia.
Three packages remained, and were well received: the pewter candlesticks and a box of wax candles, the ivory combs, and the large flat box that was opened and exclaimed over. Jane might think it an improper gift, but Moll was unabashedly grateful.
"Saved me months of work. I can't thank our sweet Letty enough—beg pardon, our Lady Fanshawe. This is right fine. Look at this pudding cap! Well! I can have me a dozen little 'uns and dress 'em all. You thank Lady Fanshawe for me, ma'am. I never saw such stuff! Fit for a queen!"
Personally, Jane doubted that Her Majesty had ever been as excited about the beauty of baby linen as this good frontierswoman. Moll was tearing up, and Jane put a hand on her arm, wondering what kind of baby linen little Charlie Royston had made shift with. She herself could not imagine, not even after her time in the backcountry, how hard the lives of the poor farmers were—nor how precious were their few luxuries. Occasionally Jane realized what a privileged and luxurious life she led. This was certainly one of those times.
"You're very dear to all of us Moll. You've been our loyal friend. Of course we want to remember you on this wonderful occasion. I think your idea about taking it all over to the cottage in the morning is a good one. Young Joe will need a hand cart to carry all this, of course."
"And there's the stuff I put together, ma'am," Moll told her eagerly, wiping her eyes. "I put that gold Lord Colchester give me to good use. Let me show you!"
In their short time in London, Moll had not been idle. She had made shirts for Tom, and sheets for their bed and their baby's cradle. She had bought good linen and some woolen blankets. There were wooden bowls and heavy crocks. There were long spoons and a copper kettle. Ironsides Cottage would be well outfitted.
"Bought me some powder and ball, too! Sir John said I could shoot all I wanted, within reason. I asked him what that meant, and he said I can't shoot more than I can eat. No selling off to outsiders, and I reckon that's fair enough!"
"And you'll have Rambler to help you," Jane pointed out. "When we leave, I'm sure he'll stay with you."
Ash listened to this last, eyes bulging. At the end, he burst out bawling. "Nooooo! Don't go away! Noooo!"
He was reassured that Moll was not going away, and that he would visit her in her new cottage on Thursday afternoon. He sobbed, peering between his small fingers with mistrust and fear.
"Everybody goes away!"
"No, Ash!" Jane said, trying to hold the angry little boy on her lap. "Moll will always be here. Sometimes we will go to London, and sometimes we will be here. Moll will stay here all the time, and keep the nursery nice for you."
"No!" He slid from Jane's lap and stamped his foot. "Moll, you stay here!"
"Can't do that, my little man. I'm getting married tomorrow! You just settle down and have—"
"Nooooo!" he screamed. "Not married! Nooooo!"
"Ashbury Charles!" Jane scolded. "You stop your roaring this minute or I'll swat your bottom! I mean it!"
He did not stop screaming that minute or for some time, and Jane did not swat him. He was quite hysterical, and clung to Moll tearfully, howling as if his heart would break. Moll had Rose put the presents away and go down to the kitchen; and Moll held Ash on her lap until he was tired of his tantrum.
At the appropriate moment, Rose reappeared, bearing a covered bowl of rice pudding dotted with plump raisins and swimming in cream. Ash gave a great sniff, and hid his eyes at first, but gradually became fairly interested in the pudding. A little bowl was ladled out for him and he stumped over to the child-sized table, and was soon eating hungrily.
The babies had been frightened by his noise and kicking. Jane laid them in their little cots, side by side, stroking their faces and humming to them until the storm had passed. As always, the minute one child had something to eat, the others were hungry as well. Tom was tied into his high chair and fed some of the pudding, which he evidently thought satisfactory. Even Will had a spoonful or two, though Jane feared it might be too rich for him. Then, of course, the babies wanted some milk as well, and were duly nursed and cuddled.
"You can see, Moll," Jane declared, "how much we still need you!"
"Don't you worry, ma'am. I'll be here during the day. Once these little rascals are fast asleep, though, I'll be off to Ironsides Cottage!"
Jane came down a little later, still humming. Tavington came out of the bedchamber, glad to see her in a good mood.
"What was that appalling noise upstairs? Ash again?"
"Yes, unfortunately. He finally took in that Moll might not be about all the time and begged her not to marry. She dealt with it very well, of course. I suppose I can understand it: he's been passed from one hand to another, and is frightened that we're only temporary, too. He'll settle down in time. He loves Rose, and he'll be happy when she comes back with us. It's too bad that he's so little. If he were even a year older it might be possible to reason with him. I promised him that we would visit Moll in her new cottage on Thursday."
"If he were older, he'd be due a whipping for all of these fits of temper," Tavington growled. "I daresay his mother spoiled him."
Jane did not think Ash was spoiled, but refrained from telling William that he did not know what he was talking about, when they had been getting so well otherwise. Instead, she answered, "Well, we do not spoil him. It does not spoil a child to love him. He will get over his tantrums when he find he does not get his way, and when he is sure that we mean to keep him!"
-----
Of all the weddings he had attended in the past year or two, Tavington thought Moll's much the nicest. Infinitely nicer than his own, certainly. He tried never to remember that day. There was nothing he could recall of it that was much to his credit. As he had with Letty, he gave the bride away today; but he gave Moll Royston's hand to stalwart Tom Young with a great deal more satisfaction than he had Letty's to that libertine Fanshawe.
Bordon read the service impressively, with all the dignity and good feeling that the sacrament of marriage called for. There was not a long face to be seen, nor a cynical smirk, nor a worried brow. A light snowfall dusted the hats and hoods of the congregation as they made their way to Wargrave Church. There was considerable talk about the handsome presents that the bridal couple had received. Apparently Young Joe Carter had transported Moll's belongings to the cottage early in the morning, and her "trousseau"-- if one could call her possessions that, was the admiration of the village.
His ladies had treated her generously. John had given Tom a good sum of money, and Tavington had felt it incumbent on him to show his gratitude for the faithful service of both of them. A watch for Tom Young and a beautifully chased powder flask for Moll were his contribution. He felt particularly happy that he would remain in contact with them. This was not goodbye, but merely a natural transition from one mode of life to another.
He wondered if anything would come of the King's sympathetic remarks in response to Moll's tribulations, or if all that talk was just—talk. There were rumors that a Commission would be established to pay reparations to dispossessed Loyalists. He himself would do his best to keep the matter before the public. Such a Commission might be years in the making, if it ever began hearings at all. Still, he could hope. Any remuneration would be a help to Moll. Then, too, there were Ash and Tom. If they were to receive even a fraction of the value of Rutledge's great estate—an estate that could be fairly well documented—it would be a very fine thing for them. Tavington pleased himself while the vows were exchanged, imagining how much the boys might realize. The next time Jane wrote that cousin of hers, she should ask to have a copy of her father's last will and testament sent to her. That would clearly establish their rights.
Bordon broke into his pleasant musings. "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"
"I do," Tavington declared, thinking this was all very agreeable.
He looked forward to the breakfast. With both gentry and countryfolk together in the Hall, it would be much like a Harvest Home supper—another Wargrave tradition too long in abeyance. October was the proper time for Harvest Homes, but Wargrave had been in confusion last October. How much had changed in only a few months!
Moll looked very well, he thought. He had never found her attractive as a woman, particularly: he had always preferred delicate women. Moll was a real Amazon, and it was easier for him to relate to her as he would another soldier than to a female fair. Today, however, she really looked quite handsome. The green gown became her, and she had a very pretty flowered stomacher to make it fine. She was wearing a heavy dark green cloak, lined with russet silk. The color made her blue eyes almost turquoise. Her complexion was fresh and rosy, and her figure was better than he had realized. She was not as good-looking a woman as Young was a man, but she was very well in her own way.
In the Tavington pew, Jane was glowing. Happiness always became her. She caught him looking at her and smiled radiantly. He imagined she was enjoying this wedding more than many another, herself.
The wedding was soon over, and the breakfast followed. There was no more drunkenness than Tavington would reasonably have expected. There was much merriment over the Bride's Pie, and the Wargrave dairymaid shrieked with joy when she found the glass ring in her own piece. There were toasts, and speeches in praise of the bride and groom. The food was hearty and good, and he noted some of it being secreted away under aprons to make a many a poor tenant's supper. No one would begrudge them today. There were quite a few children. There were the parish officers; there was George Somerville, the new steward; the owner of the little public house, The Green Knight; and at the end of their own table—
"Mr Strakes!" he said aloud, startled at the sight of the schoolmaster. "Look, John! It's Mr Strakes!"
He caught the man's eye, and gave a nod. Bordon had not told him that he had persuaded the man to return to Wargrave Cross. Time had not left him untouched, making Tavington keenly aware that he himself was no longer in his first youth. When Tavington had been a boy, Strakes had seemed a tall and terrible figure, thin and dark-haired, stern and even menacing when dealing with insolent young gentlemen. Of course, Strakes would have actually been rather young at the time. Now he must be in his fifties. The black hair was streaked with grey: the bony face was deeply lined. A permanent frown had etched itself along the sides of the schoolmaster's mouth. Today, at least, he seemed to be in a relenting mood, enjoying the feast, sitting near the Bordons.
Leaning over in his direction, Jane asked, "Who is that gentleman?"
"He was the village schoolmaster, Mr Strakes. Nay, he must be the schoolmaster again. A stern fellow, but quite the scholar. I'm glad he's back. John and I visited the school sometimes, and he was not inclined to indulge our idle folly. He did not go so far as to whip us, but he made me write out the First Declension twenty times. I don't hold it against him, though. He lent me a translation of Caesar for boys that I loved."
When he could do so without causing a stir, Tavington got up and greeted Strakes, who was deep in debate with Bordon about the exact route through Essex of the XI Hispana Legion during the revolt of the Iceni under Boadicea.
"Mr. Strakes, I am most happy at your return. You did not tell me, Bordon!"
"Did I not? Forgive me. I know I told Sir John. Yes. Mr. Strakes is undertaking the school again, and already has twenty pupils—boys and girls both."
"Colonel Tavington," the older man acknowledged him. "I heard of your exploits in America, and that you have married a very sensible and accomplished lady."
"Indeed I did. When we depart to farewell the bride and groom I should like very much to present you to her. She will be very happy about the school."
A wonderful cake was brought out. Tavington excused himself to Strakes and sat down again.
Moll put her hand to the knife, and laughed out loud, "'Tis like cutting through a mountain!"
Dense as it was, the cake was successfully cut into thick slices and passed to the tables. There was more wine, more cider, more mulled ale. Everyone was having a marvelous time—perhaps a little too marvelous. As soon as the cake was finished, Jane called Sir John to order. He gave a final toast, with that certain tone in his voice that signals a party's end. Reluctantly, the guests departed, some of them clutching at aprons and coat pockets to prevent meat pies and apples from dropping to the floor. A regular parade mobilized to escort Moll and Tom to their new home.
A group of boys had gathered up all the worn-out shoes and boots to be found in the village. With a shout of "Now!" Tom and Moll were pelted with them, and they raced to the cottage door, slamming it shut behind them, laughing. Whistles and very coarse catcalls encouraged them to be extremely happy in their married life.
Jane bit her lip, and gave Tavington a saucy glance. He smiled back, and offered her his arm. They joined the Bordons. Harriet caught Jane's eye, with a long-suffering look. Her husband and the schoolmaster were still talking about the tactics of Gaius Suetonius Paulinus.
"Jane, this is Mr. Strakes."
Jane's first impression was of looming height and thinness almost amounting to emaciation. Mr. Strakes did not smile, but the severity of his expression lightened, and he bowed very civilly.
"Your servant, Mrs. Tavington. I have heard nothing but good of you since my return to Wargrave Cross."
"You are too kind, sir. I am so happy about the school. What a lot of work it must be!"
John laughed. "Strakes is the man for it. Those little rascals have met their match!"
Strakes did not laugh. "I trust that I shall discharge my duties to your and my own satisfaction. I must say that it is very agreeable to return to such good company. Mr. Somerville is an honest man, and the Reverend Mr. Bordon a scholar of some accomplishment."
Bordon bowed his acknowledgement, smiling, and Strakes returned the courtesy with a bow of his own. He then made his farewells and stalked away, a solitary figure in black.
"He's quite brilliant," Bordon remarked, when Strakes was out of hearing. "How does such a man come to be the schoolmaster of a country village?"
Harriet answered, looking after Strakes thoughtfully. "I suppose he had no desire to be ordained, or no patron to offer a living. Really, one could imagine him as a Fellow at one of our universities. I will not say he is wasted here--for he was sorely needed--but one does wonder..."
"Lucky to get him!" laughed John. He had never wondered himself. Strakes was part of Wargrave--someone who had always been there, and should always be there. Tavington agreed, but his curiosity was piqued. He had never thought to ask. Perhaps Strakes was a younger son who could not afford a commission, or had no taste for the law. He had not seen the man in years, but now that he was here, he might take the time to know him better. It was a good thing for Bordon to have a decent companion, out here in the country.
Harriet and Bordon soon took their leave, and returned to the vicarage, Harriet leaning on her husband's arm, and the two whispering affectionately to one another. The Tavingtons walked back to the Hall in a happy silence.
Sir John smiled to himself, and then remarked in an undertone to his brother, "A wedding is a fine thing. I wish I could persuade Emily to have our wedding here at Wargrave, but I daresay she will want to be married from home."
"Most women do, John."
"Oh, well. I'm sure they have a nice little church there in Kent. The main thing is to be married, wherever it takes place. You've never told me about your own wedding."
Tavington felt himself grow red. "Uh—actually John, it was not a perfectly satisfactory event. We were in such a hurry—"
"The clergyman who married us was a drunken sot and very rude," Jane said concisely, rather enjoying her husband's embarrassment. "And it rained. But my sister and Captain Bordon were there, and then we had a breakfast at a very fine establishment in Charlestown—and I had never had a meal other than at a relation's table before, so it was an entirely novel experience for me."
"Really?" John was amazed. "You'd never dined at an inn? Not even when you were traveling?"
"I never traveled except a few miles upriver to a relative's estate. No. I was quite nervous about doing something so daring as consuming a meal at the Swan, but it was quite nice, really."
"I didn't know you had never been in a inn before, either," Tavington said, rather surprised.
"We didn't know one another at all well in those days, William. I think that now—" She stopped, distracted by the sight of rider galloping through the village, headed in their direction. "Do you know him?" Jane asked.
"No," said Tavington, "he may have a message from a neighbor, but at that speed it's likely he's an express rider."
John laughed at Jane's anxious expression. "Let us hope that this is once again Lady Fanshawe 'wanting to talk' to Mrs. Tavington!"
It was not. The young horseman called out, "Is one of you gentlemen Sir John Tavington? I have a letter for him!"
"I am John Tavington, lad."
The rider jumped down from the saddle, and handed the letter to John, who frowned and tore it open at once. He raised his brows briefly, and frowned more deeply.
"Bad news?" Tavington asked him.
"I don't know. Perhaps it is for the best. Our mother died in the night. Caro begs us to come home and plan the funeral."
Note: Queen Boadicea (more correctly Boudica) defeated a Roman army and destroyed Colchester, St. Albans, and London during her uprising in 60/61A.D. Colchester (Camulodunum) was a settlement for discharged Roman soldiers.
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Next—Lady Cecily's Testament