Feral Park (33 page)

“But you are
not
happy. It is quite plain. Is there something else that troubles you? Please do not say it is the marriage, for I believe that a marriage without love is still a better thing for you than being forced to sell your womb upon the street.”

“Aye, that is true, Miss Peppercorn,” replied Lucy Epping, drying her moistened eyes with the handkerchief Anna offered her. “No, no. It is only this business with the tavern and what they are to do with it.”

“Which you cannot yet say.But I shall help you,Mrs.Epping.Understanding as I now do where Mr. Quarrels’ interest most odiously lies, I should say that the venture which he and the other three men will be putting together is a monkey parlour. Yes, indeed, Mrs. Epping—a monkey parlour—that is my informed guess—right here in the centre of our very own Payton Parish.”

“Oh, my dear Lord, Miss Peppercorn, you have got it exactly right. So you must know more about this development than even Mr. Epping.”

“I know nothing, Mrs. Epping, except of the disreputable and iniquitous character of Quarrels and the fact that he has apparently grown tired of traveling to London to see the monkey-girls dance and, secondly, that he no doubt has come to see great profit in such a venture and wishes to take a healthy quarter-earning for himself. And it must be of additional benefit to Quarrels and his partners that amongst them is a man who serves as both constable and interim magistrate for the parish, and for this reason none of the owners will see any unfortunate legal consequences come from their business endeavor, for the constable will surely protect all four and perhaps be paid a little extra for the service.”

“But Miss Peppercorn, is the thing even illegal? Mr. Epping has said that Parliament has passed no act against it. There have been some who have tried to outlaw it, he says, but the Prince-Regent has always held sway, for Georgethe-Libertine himself delights in a trip now and then to the M.P. and would not think of seeing the entertainment curtailed.”

“Surely there is something Judge Skinner can do to stop it here. When does he hold his assize in Berryknell?”

“I believe it is not until Michaelmas.”

“Then we shall have a very simian summer,” sighed Anna. Careful not to betray that which she knew about the Misses Henshawe, she added, “The only consolation is that those residents of our parish who were being conveyed to London to dance there may dance
here
now much closer to their homes.”

“A very small consolation indeed. I did not know, by-the-bye, that there
were
girls here who were being transported to London for that revolting purpose.”

“It is what I have heard,” said Anna cryptically. “Now dry your tears. We shall think hard upon what to do. Do you know if the arrangement was put to paper?”

“I know not if there is paper proof of the partnership, but my husband heard them all say an oath to seal the agreement. It was sworn to with hands placed upon a small stone cut from the Westminster Bridge, which the constable says was taken by himself when he was a boy because he had heard that it was good luck to do so. The constable explained that he and his brother were orphans who wished to leave their birthplace of London-town to go to Portsmouth and enlist as sailors in the king’s navy, but the lucky stone held them in Payton Parish, instead, where they worked as stableboys at the Inn. Later one brother was able to buy the Three Horse for himself and the other became our parish’s constable and chief magistrate, following the death of Justice Maclean.”

“I am not clear, though, Lucy, as to why
Sir Thomas
should seek a stake in the venture. Did he say any thing that Mr. Epping may have overheard which would explain it?”

“Aye. Sir Thomas wishes to have a room built within the inn which will resemble a dungeon and in which all manner of terrible things may be done one to another for a price, many of the monkey dancers to be paid an extra shilling or two to either take or administer punishment within this room, it being the patron himself who decides which should be the role that most delights his loins.”

“I suppose that having heard all this, Mr. Epping has expressed no desire whatsoever to ever attend the place.”

“I have asked him not to, but curiosity may get the best of him. What is the matter with men that they should permit themselves to sink so easily to such levels of moral diminishment, Miss Peppercorn? I sold myself to men most deplorably for a very short time in Winchester, but it was only because had I not, I would have been put into a madwoman’s cell at Stornaway—or simply reposed myself upon the gravel and expired from starvation. Mr. Epping and all the other men of the parish with comfortable incomes and comfortable and secure lives, have no need of participating in such depravities. And yet they do. I forgive those who seek to have their buttocks paddled by the ferule if it will expunge the childhood demons from their heads, but only those with extenuating cause. However, there is simply no good purpose behind a man’s wish to see a monkey dancer or seek congress with a woman’s moist parts upon the street. It is wanton urging alone which compels them. From whence comes such an urging, Miss Peppercorn? This I should very much like to know.”

Anna thought of her own father, who had enjoyed commerce with a woman who was not his wife, but there were circumstances that may have excused him on this account, for was not his own wife’s womb closed to him and did he not love Julia Dray with all his heart for the whole of three weeks? Yet there were other things about her father’s urgings that troubled Anna. Why did he keep the anatomical books? What was the reason for it, short of titillation? Indeed, was there ever such a thing as a pure and honourable motive when it came to matters of sexuality with men? Did Perry Alford sincerely wish from Anna merely pleasant conversational rapport and witty society and a chivalrous kiss upon the hand, or was all of it merely a duplicitous prelude—an odious means to a gratifyingly feral and animalistic end? She thought of Tripp thinking of her—thinking very unsavoury thoughts, wanting things from Anna that she had never given to a man and must not until she be married. Why was his mind so fixed? Why were
all
men’s minds so fixed in this way?

And now came the most horrible thought of all. As she had stood, wet with rain, and pressed tightly against Tripp in Tatter Wood and sipping from the sweet elixir of his kisses, was the kiss the end, or was it merely a means for
her
? The end being the very thing which
men
sought! Within Anna’s thoughts now flashed the image of herself lying upon a litter of twigs and leaves upon the forest floor, and of Tripp writhing upon her. Then Perry. Then even Aubrey Waitwaithe (with a quill pen in one hand and a ledger book in the other). Each of these men covering her, in the same spot, naked and moving rhythmically upon and inside her. Anna shuddered. Because the union was
agreeable
to her! In her deepest, private thoughts she fully sought it. She was therefore no better than all men! She had urgings her very self! She was not pure. Was
any
woman pure? Was any
human
pure? Was all of humanity feral and iniquitous? Horrors! Sublime joy! But horrors, nonetheless!

“I do not know where the need comes from, Mrs. Epping, but it should be our job to see that the urgings of no one should annihilate the comfort and sense of dignity and self-worth of another. To that end, my dear Mrs. Epping, the monkey parlour is a bad thing and must be stopt.”

“It must. It simply must!” cried Lucy Epping, whose face now had proper colour to it, and who now managed a smile, though it was a glimmer of one. With gentle warmth Mrs. Epping added, “By-the-bye, you should not continue on to Turnington Lodge alone, Miss Peppercorn. Pray, do not.”

“But I simply must go to the dwarf cottage and without further delay. Do not even think of accompanying me, Mrs. Epping, for this crutch has become a serviceable companion and you are needed at home to embrace your husband and to tell him how much you love him in spite of his largest fault, which is no fault of his own volition: that he was born a human. Go now and I shall go, too. And is it not a beautiful day for a walk?”

Anna was off and feeling better about things now. She saw clearly that humans are fallible creatures not by their own devices but by that which makes them human, and that the worst of the wrong lay in those who would exploit human weakness for selfish and nefarious gain. She would confirm her supposition with Dr. Bosworthy before she believed it entirely, but she was very close to the point of full subscription. As she applied herself to ascending to the brow of an especially opposing hill, and then cautiously descending the steepness of its other side, Anna thought that she should become a philosopher and perhaps teach others the important things she was poised to learn about human nature.

Standing before her now was the wood, its beautifully-limbed verdure set against a flocking of bright, white clouds, each of which floated like Miss Pints’ meringue upon a blue pool of morning sky. As she hobbled nearer its outskirts, she remembered that Tatter Wood represented the halfway point in her trip to Mrs. Taptoe’s cottage. In spite of her interview with Lucy Epping, there was still a goodly portion of forenoon left to be spent.. Best of all, there were no gipsy children nearby to teaze her and disrupt her pleasant journey.

Then, as if through magical incantation, there
were
.

It was a larger tribe than usual—perhaps as many as twenty—and as Anna attempted to move quickly past them, they encircled her in almost a ring-round-the-rosy configuration, the speed and single-mindedness to the circumscription frightening her to the point of immobility. Within a moment the children had begun to crowd her in a most threatening manner, each pair of eyes fixed upon her. Perhaps one of their mammas or papas was in need of a crutch. But she would not give it up—she
could
not—for how then would she walk? How would she get to Mrs. Taptoe’s house (or return to Feral Park, for she was now equally removed from both places) without having to crawl like a penitent monk upon her hands and knees? How dreadfully difficult
that
would be! And the briers! Was it also the knapsack that interested them? It was quite smart in style as knapsacks go, and once opened, the little mischief-makers would find several boiled eggs to gobble down and a small jar of marmalade (a gift for Mrs. Taptoe) to be partaken of as well, along with some rose-scented wash balls and a pair of netted mittens to be given to Umbrous Elizabeth as appeasing gifts.

Finding her voice, which had been temporarily stilled by fear, she cried, “Away! Away!” and then, “Depart this very instant, every one of you, or I shall swing this crutch and knock you all down like skittles!”

Anna did not know if the children understood her. The faces of some seemed to receive her meaning, for a few of the youngest ones took a wary and accommodating step backwards. But others within the large group merely advanced a countervailing step
toward
her, with both mischief
and
menace marking their young, begrimed faces. Anna would feel badly if she had to strike even a single one of them, but they did not seem to leave her a choice in the matter, and so, following the delivery of a second admonition which was equally ignored by the more aggressive of the tribe, she began, as indeed she had promised, to swing the crutch wide and freely about. Within an instant and to Anna’s great disappointment, it became a game to the children to try to fasten the wooden appliance with their little hands as it flew past. Now Anna found herself in the centre of a circle of grasping, reaching hands, all attempting to take hold of the crutch. In no time at all, a young boy was struck upon the shoulder; yet he hardly flinched from the blow. A young girl was hit as well. She yelped a little in the manner of a kicked pup, but did not retreat.

It was a very small hand that secured the first grip and held it fast. Then another little hand found its own purchase and then another and another, and now it was impossible for the crutch to continue to work Anna’s fending will. She had no choice but to surrender it to the children, who began immediately to tussle over it—that is, the ones who were not still in pursuit of
her
, grabbing and clawing at the knapsack, diminutive fingers bunching the fabric of her frock. Anna had waited long enough to seek assistance for herself and so she felt no qualms about screaming as loudly as she was able so that perhaps someone hearing her cry might take it upon themselves to come to her rescue.

Some of the children, frightened by Anna’s full-throated suppliance to parties unknown, covered their tiny ears and scurried away. But most of the gipsy children did not remove, and continued to fight amongst themselves in a welter of flying and sawing limbs for singular possession of the crutch, or continued most frightfully of all to paw at her and touch her, to pull at her sack, and to tear at her clothing. “Where will this end?” Anna thought to herself, her eyes open wide with terror. “Will they not be satisfied until I am one great moaning, bleeding contusion and they have picked me clean?”

Again she pealed her appeal: “HELP! HELP ME I PRAY! I AM BEING ATTACKED BY MARAUDING GIPSY CHILDREN!”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than her rescuers appeared from within the woods. At first, Anna thought that the two men running toward her were but grown gipsy men, who were not coming to help
her
but only to assist the little ones in their thievery and molestation. “I should be left totally naked when this is all finished—just as naked, in fact, as the two men who now approach.”

“Off with you!” shouted one of the two unclothed men who had suddenly emerged from within their sylvan covert.