War (32 page)

The two men threaded their way back through the cellar and climbed the stairs to the first floor. “I wonder how Mr. Kenrick will fare,” remarked Proudlocks as they emerged into the breezeway.

“He said he may join Mr. Washington’s army, as well,” answered Jack Frake. “But first he must deal with the devil his uncle sent over here.”

“Mr. Hunt,” said Proudlocks. “Yes, of course. A veritable devil.”

“Mr. Hurry returned from errands in town earlier. At Safford’s he heard that the Governor has been made a gift of two companies of other devils. Sixty or so men from the Prince of Wales’s own regiment, from Florida. And a battalion of marines from the Indies has landed in Hampton.”

“Who told him that?”

“Mr. Safford. The postboy riding from Yorktown brought the news when he stopped at the tavern to pick up and leave mail.” Jack Frake stopped in his study to don his gorget and buckle on his sword. “Well,” he said to Proudlocks, “let’s not keep Jock and the men waiting.”

* * *

“
Hulton
?”

At Meum Hall that same morning, Hugh Kenrick was in his study, about to decide on what to pass an hour reading before he resumed his plantation chores: Thomas Gray’s
The Progress of Poesy
, or Gray’s
The Bard
, or the first volume of Smollet’s translation of Alain-René Lesage’s
Gil Blas de Santillane
. Those books and others had arrived from Philadelphia just before he journeyed to England the year before, as a partially filled order from his favorite bookshop in that city. Otis Talbot had recommended Lesage’s novel for its satiric humor, he remembered. He decided that he needed some humor as an antidote to his recent glumness, and was reaching for the first volume when Mandy, Mrs. Vere’s black housekeeping assistant, came in and announced a visitor.

“Who is it, Mandy?”

“He would not say, sir. He looks troubled and hungry and beggarish-like, but says he knows you.”

Hugh smiled in wonder. He was intrigued. “Well, please show him in.”

The servant returned with a man Hugh did not recognize for almost a full moment: Thomas Hulton, his valet and companion from his London
and Windridge Court years. Twenty years ago the man had been dismissed by Hugh’s uncle on a trumped-up charge of theft. Out of desperation, because he knew no other trade but that of valet, Hulton had enlisted in the army, and vanished into the maw of military administration. Hulton had written him one letter from an Isle of Wight marshalling camp, and then all contact with him had ceased.

“
Hulton??
” he repeated. He frowned and took a step closer to the man. Mandy gave the visitor a dubious look of suspicion, then curtsied and left the room.

Hulton, of course, had aged. White hair, unbarbered for some time, fell in a tangled, uncombed mass from his head to cover his ears, and white bristles on a lean face unshaven for days gave him the look of feral destitution. He wore a black frock coat two sizes too big for him, tattered hose, dirty buff breeches, and thin shoes a week away from disintegration. His cotton shirt needed either repeated laundering or discarding. A sword and a canteen hung from cross belts across his chest. He wore a knapsack around which was wound a rolled gray blanket. He stood at the door, battered tricorn in hand, slightly stooped, with the suggestion of a smile on quivering lips and a pleased but tired look in his eyes.

He nodded, and said, “Sergeant Thomas Hulton, milord, late of the Irregulars and Boston.” Then his eyes dropped to stare at the floor. “And a deserter.”

He looked up at Hugh, blinked once, then closed his eyes and fainted. Hugh caught him before he hit the floor.

An hour later, Hugh was bent over his former valet. Hulton lay in a bed in the guest room. Beecroft and Spears had helped Hugh carry him upstairs and undress him. His head rested on a pillow, and he was covered with a sheet. Hugh had pulled up a chair and sponged the man’s face with a cloth dampened in a washbowl. Hulton finally opened his eyes and saw his former master staring down at him worriedly. “Forgive me the bother, milord,” he said.

Hugh shook his head. “Hulton, when did you last eat?”

Hulton gave the question some thought. “I had an ear of corn in some field near a town called Port Tobacco across the river out there a few days ago. Before an overseer chased me out. I think.”

“You shall sup today, but in easy stages, for otherwise you will get sick. You will begin with a broth. My cook recommends it. She is preparing you a meal now.” Hugh paused. “Hulton, are you strong enough to talk? How
did you come here? And why? And how?”

Hulton smiled. “You are looking very prosperous, milord. Prosperous but not purse-proud. You look exactly how I always imagined you’d look, when you passed your majority.”

Hugh grinned. “I hope that’s a compliment, Hulton. And you look…as though you’ve seen the world. A world far beyond Windridge Court.”

“I have, milord. I became a man, and I commanded men. As private, corporal, and sergeant.” Hulton sighed. “I commanded men. And saw them die, and helped to bury them. And wrote their kin.” He smiled again. “And saw some victories. I was at Quebec, you know, when Wolfe bollixed the French.”

Hugh shook his head again. “I wouldn’t know, Hulton. Why did you not write, after that last letter?”

Hulton shrugged his shoulders. “I thought that if I was to become a man, I had to learn how to become one on my own mettle, without advice or guidance.” He frowned. “It’s the only true way, you know. Although I must confess that I had you as a kind of model. You were a man when you were a boy, and I’ll lay the man low who says you weren’t!”

Hugh patted the hand that lay inert at Hulton’s side in acknowledgement.

Hulton sighed. “Oh, milord! I have so much to tell you, and some sad news, too, and I don’t know where to begin!”

“You’ll begin when you’ve rested, and had some supper.”

Hulton shook his head. “No, milord! I came all this way to see you, and to give you some things. Let me tell you now, because I am beginning not to want to. You see, it’s your friend, Captain Tallmadge. I was in his Irregulars. ‘Orphans,’ he called us. But he died at Charlestown, and there was no one to see to his kit but me. He was a gentleman and a gentle soul, never mind his career, milord. He showed me many a kindness, and others in the company, too, though some of them didn’t deserve it. I was not at Charlestown, you see, a few of our company were ordered to guard duty at the billet where Howe and Burgoyne and Clinton were put. But when we were relieved at dusk we were ferried over to Charlestown to help collect the dead and wounded. It was terrible, more terrible than anything I’d ever seen before. It was dark, and we kept tripping over the bodies, and sometimes they made a noise…. ”

Hugh patted Hulton’s hand again. “I know about Roger, Hulton.”

“He was unhappy, being there. He’d done some important work for the
army, but wouldn’t tell me what. And I’d only been in Boston six months, direct from Ireland, but the 81st lost many men at sea coming over, and then so many to sickness and desertion once we arrived, that the regiment was broken on orders from the Adjunct, and what was left of us was formed with other cast-offs into the Irregulars. Just me and another sergeant to partisan them. Then Captain Tallmadge came, and was ordered to straighten us out. Which he did. He taught artillery, you know, at Woolwich. And we got to talking, and it came out that we both knew you. I think I saw him once before, when he was no taller than your knee, there in Danvers, but not since, because I spent the rest of my service at Windridge Court.”

Hugh ventured, “You must have been with your company at the Lexington and Concord affair.”

“Yes, milord, I was. And a sad day it was, too. You see, it troubled me to be fighting the people here, which I’d not done before. And it troubled Captain Tallmadge, too. After the last war, Colonel Beckwith’s 71st was broken, and I was transferred to another regiment in Ireland, and then I saw service at Gibraltar, and was finally taken in by the 81st. It’s been quite an adventure, milord.”

“Why have you deserted, Hulton?”

“Because after the Lexington and Concord affair, I couldn’t bring myself to fight the people here. Their grievances are good, you know. Captain Tallmadge had a way of putting it, and it made sense to me, that the lords and ministers there in London wanted to turn the colonies into a great Fleet prison, and appoint the most scurrilous caitiffs to run it, just so the lords and ministers could be assured their chocolate pots every morning and His Majesty his allowance from Parliament. His very words.” Hulton turned from staring into the distance to face Hugh. “And the day the Irregulars were to be rowed over to Charlestown, he came to me and gave me leave to see to his things, if anything happened to him. Officers usually ask other officers to do that, you know, before an action, but he asked me to. He described to me where you were to be found. And here I am.” The sergeant’s eyes roamed the room. “Where is my pack, milord?”

“In the corner there,” Hugh answered, nodding to the knapsack.

“His things are in it. And something of yours, milord.”

“Of mine?” asked Hugh, surprised. “What?”

“The book you loaned me, milord, the night we went to that tavern in London, where you met your special friends. Mr. Shakespeare’s
Histories
.
I’ve read it many times, and always meant to return it.”

It was too much for Hugh. With a deep sigh he rose abruptly to pace back and forth for a moment, his hands behind his back, eyes closed. The memory seemed to transport him back to that time, and to what he was then, to how he felt and how he proposed to spend the rest of his life. Then he stopped pacing, for he realized that he hadn’t changed, not in any fundamental sense. He wondered if it were possible to retain one’s youth, after a lifetime. But he stopped wondering, because he knew it was.

“Have I offended you, milord?” Hulton asked.

Hugh turned to him with a smile. “No, Hulton. You have not. You merely reminded me of one of the bright spots in my life. When you are up and about again, I shall relate to you my own adventures. There have been many, since we last spoke.”

There was a knock on the door. Hugh turned to open it. It was Fiona Chance, the cook, holding a tray with a carafe of port, some glasses and a bowl of steaming broth.

* * *

Hulton narrated to Hugh over dinner that afternoon — a light one for him, as a precaution, he would have a full supper in the evening — how he deserted, leaving his billet at night, making his way past British and American pickets outside of Dorchester Heights, and walking south for a month. As he went, he discarded as much of his uniform as he could, trading his red tunic especially for a homespun frock coat. What little money he had was spent on food in taverns and ordinaries; when the money was gone, he raided crops, or stopped at parsonages and relied on the good will of a minister for food. Except for going days without food, it was an uneventful journey.

Hugh ordered most of the clothes Hulton was wearing when he arrived at Meum Hall burned; they were filthy, crawling with lice, and decrepit. He asked Rupert Beecroft to loan the man a new suit of clothes, hose, and a new pair of shoes; the two men were about the same size. He gave Beecroft money and asked him to go into town to the tailor’s and purchase Hulton his own garb and shoes. He took Hulton down to the river and made him bathe before donning the clothes. Radulphus Spears trimmed Hulton’s hair and shaved him.

By suppertime, Hulton looked refreshed and presentable. “Are relations
between your father and the Earl still bad, milord?” he asked.

“They are worse.”

“Captain Tallmadge married your sister.”

“Yes. I attended their wedding.” Hugh paused. “I have written Alice about Roger.”

“I would have, but was not sure of her address.”

From the knapsack before supper, Hulton produced the volume of Shakespeare’s
Histories
, which Hugh told him to keep. Hulton also gave Hugh what things of Roger Tallmadge’s the sergeant had been able to stuff into the knapsack: a bundle of letters to Roger from Alice, her parents, and his own parents; a copy of the report to General Gage; writing materials and paper; shaving implements; miscellaneous items; and the tin gorget Hugh had given Roger, inscribed “A Paladin for Liberty.”

Hulton saw Hugh holding it in his hand. “Captain Tallmadge showed me that once, milord, and said it was a gift from you. It was what got him into a bad way with the army, wasn’t it?”

“No,” sighed Hugh. “It was a gesture of friendship that did that. An act of brotherhood. This was my token of gratitude.” He put the gorget down. “I will keep it, but send all the rest of his things on to Alice.” He glanced at Hulton again. “When you were sent over to collect the dead and wounded, Hulton, you didn’t perchance come upon him, did you?”

Hulton shook his head. “No, milord. All our fellows were buried in bunches in great holes there near Charlestown. One of our fellows who was with him and the Fusiliers saw him shot, near a rail fence. But I was sent to look after the south slope of that redoubt, where the marines fell by the dozen, and I never had the chance to look for him or go see where he died.” The former sergeant paused. “We worked all night and into the morning, before the sun came up again.”

“I see.” Hugh decided not to enquire further about Roger.

Over supper later, he said, “Hulton, you will not be able to return to England.”

“I know, milord.” The former sergeant looked resigned. “There was nothing to return to, except your good family.” Then he smiled. “I remember that you and your father wished to establish me in a tobacconist’s shop.”

“It is still possible — I’m certain my father would advance the funds — but you would need to move to a large town or city here. And now that there will be a war, we should wait until it is finished. The tobacco trade is
sure to be interrupted. All trade, in fact.”

“Is there news of Mr. Runcorn?” asked Hulton. “We were friends.”

“Mr. Runcorn married Bridgette, and Mr. Runcorn is now employed as the warden of Danvers. I have not met the family’s new major domo.” Hugh laughed. “And Mr. Curle continues to bow and scrape at Windridge Court. He is a perfect servant for my uncle.”