Feral Park (40 page)

Aubrey Waitwaithe was the first to appear for dinner. Anna found his early arrival to be most appropriate, as the idea for the meal had sprung from her early interest in him (which had latterly cooled in large measure), and although a guest of honour sometimes arrives late to a formal dinner, on occasion he will appear early so that he is there to receive the pre-prandial overtures of the other guests, though Mr. Waitwaithe was not a formal honoree but now merely one from whom Anna sought to obtain a key to her father’s private library cabinet (for that was her newly-minted purpose in having him). Still, it was not a difficult task to kindle agreeable feelings for him, even in his diminished status. “Look at him,” Anna thought to herself as Mr. Maxwell led him out and onto the terrace. “So thoughtful and polite, and he does not raise his voice to draw undue attention to himself (as will others who will come tonight and be brash), and there he is at this very moment complimenting even a lowly maid on her new shoes.”

In fact, Mr. Waitwaithe’s general good manners and commendable disposition were compromised only by his having been robbed of all of his clothes by someone who had broken into his room above the solicitor’s offices only hours before, and so it came to pass that he was required by circumstances to dress in breeches and stockings, which he had borrowed from his employer, and which bore such a strong resemblance to the uniform of the Feral Park footmen that he was subsequently handed an umbrella and a bonnet and a shawl to be put away by two guests who did not know him. Unfortunately for Anna, before she could ask him what she wished to ask him (and it was not an easy topic to bring up), other guests arrived and the opportunity was lost, at least for the time being.

After Mr. Maxwell had led Mr. Waitwaithe past the four card tables that had been put together with a damask cloth spread over them and appointed with flowers and candelabras and a none-too-obtrusive silver epergne with fruit, he asked his mistress if he might have a word with her in private. Excusing herself from Mr. Waitwaithe, she followed the Feral Park butler to a corner of the stone terrace and listened as he explained to her what James had told
him
, and that was that the legs supporting two of the tables were old and rickety and should be replaced. Anna asked if it was too late to replace them now and Mr. Maxwell said that he had been informed by James that it would take above an hour to make the correction and then restore the settings atop. “Then we cannot do it to-night,” said Anna, thinking aloud, “and I shall simply instruct the guests not to swing their legs at them thoughtlessly.”

This note to herself she then promptly forgot.

“Mr. Waitwaithe, I am so happy you have come,” said Anna, returning to her earliest guest and offering her hand, which was taken and shaken, though the breeched law clerk seemed at first inclined to kiss it and then apparently changed his mind, perhaps because he was not French. It was then that Mr. Waitwaithe spoke about the theft of all his clothes, after which Dr. Bosworthy appeared upon the terrace, to be followed shortly thereafter by Miss Drone and Miss Pints, and a chattering congregation quickly formed itself.

“How delightful to have us all out-of-doors on such a lovely, balmy evening!” exclaimed Aunt Drone to her niece. “There should be a full moon and a great many stars. Anna, you are a perfect genius to think of a new way to have a dinner party!”

“Yes, Aunt Samantha, Papa and I decided that since it promised to be such a beautiful night that we should gather alfresco here upon the terrace, rather than within the stuffy drawing-room, to have friendly intercourse, also beneath the stars, before sitting down. I hope that each of you will acquit the informality and lack of ceremony.”

“Acquit it? Oh, my dear, I commend it!” replied Miss Drone. “It is so much better than marching into dinner with pomp and pretense in some ridiculous prescribed order. Someone is always brought in out of place and feelings are inevitably injured, do you not agree, Dr. Bosworthy?”

“Indubitably,” said Dr. Bosworthy, who then asked, whilst cutting his eyes to Mr. Waitwaithe, why a footman was standing too close and listening to every thing that was being said.

“Because, silly man!” laughed Anna, “this is
not
a footman, but my guest, Mr. Waitwaithe, and do forgive me for delaying the introduction.” Now introductions were properly made between Mr. Waitwaithe and the others, followed by bows and curtseys and handshakes. “You see, Mr. Waitwaithe has had all of his clothes stolen, and circumstances require that he borrow what you now see him wearing from Mr. Scourby, his employer, who does not keep in step with haute ton.”

“Ah. Well, do not repine, Mr. Waitwaithe, for what are clothes, anyway?” asked Dr. Bosworthy philosophically, “but something to be put on and taken off each day in mindless repetition until we reach that inevitable and final state of bone and dust? However, I do have a theory as to the one who robbed you: it was perhaps one of the fugitives who this very week escaped from Newgate Prison. There are a dozen of them and they were last seen galloping southwest in the direction of Hampshire County.”

“Oh, my dear!” exclaimed Miss Drone, who drew close to Dr. Bosworthy and well-nigh took his arm. Miss Pints merely stood where she was and turned pale and then sat down in a nearby chair and began to fan herself with a book.

“Yes, I have read in the newspaper myself about the fugitives,” said Anna. “Each is guilty of a hanging offence and there is a code which governs them all. What was it that was told to me about the code? I am trying to recall.”

“It is, no doubt, the Bloody Code you are attempting to recollect,” replied Dr. Bosworthy, who now, without invitation, took Miss Drone’s arm and held it close to his side. She closed her eyes in that instant, and indicated her approval by swaying ever so slightly as if in a pre-swoon and then by placing a hand upon
his
hand. It was a bold gesture on Dr. Bosworthy’s part, and bold, as well, on Miss Drone’s side, but Anna was cheered to see each of them so comfortable in the presence of the other, and latched so cordially together.

“And what exactly
is
the Bloody Code?” asked Aunt Drone with a most solicitous look. “I have heard of it, but I do not know more than that men are hanged from the neck who meet its criminal requirements.”

“Women, too, my dear,” said Dr. Bosworthy.“And even children—especially the young snipes who pick the pockets. Odious it is. There are some crimes which all will agree should be punished with the utmost severity, such as murder and the haunting of the bedridden with manufactured ghost noises, but most of the offences which are designated by the Code are egregiously undeserving of the statutory consequence of execution!”

Upon hearing this, Miss Pints moved to another chair out of earshot and began to pull at her upper lip with nervous fingers.

“May we have an example, Dr. Bosworthy?” requested Mr. Waitwaithe, who seemed very interested in the criminal side of the law, although it was mostly civil cases that found their way to his employer’s door, disputes over property of inconsequential value and other legal trifles comprising the chief of them.

“I can offer up more examples than any of us have the time to discuss, but let me think of the specific crimes for which this current band of fugitives from justice are accused. Stealing from a shipwreck, I believe one lad was condemned for. I recall that he took some rope, and now another rope is to be wasted to even the score. Outrageous! Another was sentenced to death for lifting a handkerchief from a shop. Another cut down a sapling tree within an enclosure. A fourth spent over a month in the company of gipsies, for under current English law one may spend up to a month in their society but above a month will cause a man to hang for no logical reason that I can think of other than judicial lunacy. Still another fugitive was scheduled to hang for having unnatural congress with a neighbour’s cow and then with the neighbour himself through the backdoor. Another put spectacles upon the face of Jesus at a chapel in Southwark. The last I can think of pretended to be an army veteran and took a pension that was not his and now it is required that he strangle by the noose, for…” (with sarcasm,) “…is it not true that stealing a pension is equal to pre-arranged murder in this ding-dong country!”

“Then I take it, Dr. Bosworthy, that you acquit them all, even though the law has determined hanging to be the fitting punishment in each instance?” The question was put by Miss Drone, who was fixed to each of the doctor’s words, but still, it seemed, required a moment to compose herself after mention of unnatural congress through the backdoor. This offence gave each of the auditors pause, and Miss Pints, not even hearing it, was moved farther away simply by the disagreeable facial expressions of those attending the speaker. In her freshly gained chair, she watched the rabbits upon the lawn, a great many of them, in fact, having gathered to browse the blades and to cavort and gambol unmolested.

“Acquit them? My dear woman, I weep over the injustice! Each and every one of the crimes for which these men have been condemned to hang is unworthy of any thing beyond a slap upon the wrist, with the possible exception of the impersonation of a Chelsea pensioner, and here I would suggest a slap and a kick in the fundament and the return in full of the ill-gotten gain. But upon the whole these laws represent an enormous travesty of justice, and the paper upon which they are printed: malodorous bumfodder! The legal code of our venerable land has become a bleeding and pus-oozing fester upon the face of English jurisprudence. The original purpose of the Code as it was dreamt up by those legislative intellects of the last century was to save us all the expense of putting constables with clubs or pistols upon all of our streets through frightening the populace into a state of quivering and cowering law-abiding good behaviour of a sort which is not even to be found within a Franciscan monastery where good-hearted monks do good works even unto goats and ducks. It is ludicrous! And here they pride themselves over having saved a guinea or two by hanging as many as did those French lunatics guillotine during the Reign of Terror, thinking that this will keep the criminal element too cowed to break even the most insignificant statute, and then they turn themselves round, our Parliament of great penetration and understanding for what is best for Mother England, by taxing us until we are bleeding out of our ears for the privilege of vanquishing the Little French Corporal and standing upon his Gallic carcass and proclaiming for all the world to hear that Britannia rules not only the waves but every piece of turf that we are able to hold with our territorially-desirous fingers, and meanwhile there is great, empty-bellied hunger in the land and a terrible anguish over what the future will hold for our children, and little with which to engage ourselves as we move leaden-headed through each newly oppressive day other than cheap gin and wenching and attending the executions of our neighbours.”

After this lengthy and impassioned obloquy Anna did not know what to say, and her delicate stomach had begun to complain from the imagery presented. She was relieved to see that Mrs. Taptoe had come down and Gemma had come out and the former was shewing the latter the sketch of her son, which was drawn upon the letter she had earlier received from him. Anna excused herself from Dr. Bosworthy and Mr. Waitwaithe and her Aunt Drone and went to welcome her two most recently arrived guests.

“He is very handsome,” said Gemma, pointing to the paper. “Is he not, Anna?”

“Indeed, he is
quite
handsome.”

Mrs. Taptoe nodded and smiled. “I have shewn the picture to everyone at the Super House as well, and they all agree that he is a fine-looking young man, and I told each of them that the Feral Park mistress agrees, and Mr. Perry Alford, I should say, was the most interested of all.”

“What do you mean, Auntie?” asked Anna, with concern.

“I mean that he was acting strangely, child, and by-the-bye, there seemed to have been a harsh exchange of words between Mr. Alford and his brothers before I arrived, for each was panting and ruby-faced and Mr. Perry Alford asked even after I had said it, did Miss Peppercorn feel that my son Maurice was handsome, and I said, ‘Yes, I have just said that she does,’ and then he asked with a most unbecoming scowl if you did not think Maurice the
most
handsome man in the world, and I replied, ‘Oh, Mr. Alford, what sort of question is that?’ And he answered that it was the sort of question that one asked when a rival was erelong to arrive to steal the heart of one dearly loved, and then he began to weep, and I desperately appended that your falling in love with my son was an impossibility, for you were like brother and sister to one another, but he did not believe it and continued to weep and then began to beg his brothers for a spoonful of laudanum to settle his spirits and they consented with great reluctance and oh, my dear, it was a monstrous sad place—that Super House—and I had to quit it at that instant or else my own spirits would have been discomposed for the remainder of the evening.”

Anna did not know what to say. Indeed, it was a sad place, and would be even sadder when she went thither the next morning to censure Perry Alford in a way that would cut him most of all, as had been arranged.

Anna felt her own spirits begin to sink,but they were immediately buttressed by the arrival of Mr. Nevers and Mr. Groves, who emerged from the house in a comic quarrel over something to do with the look of a footman, and then took notice of Mr. Waitwaithe and especially of his muscular calves, and before Anna even had time to welcome them, her father appeared with Georgiana Younge upon his arm and now all were present and moving like magnetized iron shavings in the direction of the beautifully appointed improvised table, which promised an evening of good food and equally delicious conversation.