“Look!” she cried a moment later. One of her bunnies was standing up on his hind legs and rubbing his nose. “Isn’t he sweet?”
True to form, Thaddeus hadn’t picked up a single rabbit, or even bent over, though a baby had perched itself on top of his shining black boot.
“Your valet is not going to thank you,” Joan pointed out, nodding at his foot. “Rabbits poo all the time. Speaking of which . . .” She gently put the bunnies down and stood, giving her hips a wiggle that made tiny pellets fly into the air around her.
Thaddeus gently nudged the little rabbit from his boot. “Whenever you’re done cuddling dinner, I’ll meet you outside.” Without waiting for an answer, he ducked through the door and left the tent.
Joan crouched back down, running a finger over a bunny’s fluffy coat and admiring her pale pink ears. “He’s a mean man,” she told her. “Calling you dinner! He’s a stewed prune. A loon. A fopdoodle.”
The sound of a throat clearing made her glance up. Thaddeus was looking in the door. “The next tent features a truth-telling piglet. The show begins now.”
Joan got up, trying to feel bad that he’d heard her call him a “fopdoodle” and not succeeding.
This time he walked ahead of her, and when she reached the tent door, the man said, “Your uncle already paid for you, lad.”
Joan grinned at him and walked into a considerably larger tent set up with rows of chairs facing a stage, and a crowd waiting restlessly for the show. Thaddeus had seated himself at the front, so Joan chose a seat in the back. To her annoyance, he glanced around, saw where she was, and came to join her without a comment.
“What is a truth-telling piglet?” she asked.
“Didn’t you read the sign?”
She paused just long enough to suggest the silliness of his question, and said, very gently, “No.”
“Percy Piglet answers any and all questions with yes or no,” Thaddeus said, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the empty stage. “According to the man at the door, pigs are more intelligent than humans, and Percy Piglet is the smartest swine of them all.”
“What fun! I have questions!” Joan cried.
He glanced at her. “You can’t possibly be taking this seriously.”
“Did you ever, in your whole life, have fun?” Joan demanded. “Let yourself believe.”
“Of course I have fun,” he said, without hesitation.
“Outside of the nursery?” she prompted.
“Life, adult life, isn’t about make-believe,” he retorted. “It isn’t about feckless pleasure.”
“Then what is it about?”
In front of them, two men began having a loud discussion about the fact that pigs preferred ale to slop, which apparently proved their intelligence.
Thaddeus paused, taking her question seriously, rather to her surprise. “Caring for one’s family. Ensuring that England’s citizens are prosperous, healthy, and happy. Defending the country abroad, if need be. To sum it up: proving that inherited honors are deserved.” The challenge in his voice prickled down her spine.
“Well, I can’t run the country, I’m not a soldier, and I didn’t inherit any honors,” Joan said. “So I guess that means that I can simply enjoy myself. I have nothing to live up to, and no one to bully.” She gave him a beatific smile.
He made a low sound in his throat.
“Did I say ‘bully’?” she asked. “I meant ‘command.’”
Luckily, because his eyes had become even flintier than usual, a cheerful fellow in a rusty red coat bounded out from the curtained area of the tent. “Welcome, one and all! I am Mr. Numps, owner of the finest piglet in all the king’s lands. Prepare to meet the best pig in the fair, a sincere swine, a bold boar, an honest hog, an unspoiled pigling, the most perfect little suckling pig in the world: Percy Piglet!”
Joan began giggling, wishing that Viola was with them.
“He’ll answer any and all questions that you propose! As the most intelligent of his kind, he satisfies the ignorant and the innocent. The price of your admission introduced you to this fine swine, but I’ll need another tuppence before Percy will answer your particular question. Think of your queries while I fetch the authentic, brilliant Mr. Percy Piglet!”
Thaddeus muttered something, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest again.
Joan cast a glance at his biceps because why deny herself the pleasure? And then looked at the stage just in time to see Mr. Numps return from behind the curtain with an endearing piglet in his arms, still a little fuzzy, with large floppy ears and a sweet expression.
“Aww,” Joan whispered, elbowing Thaddeus. “You have to admit that Percy is adorable. Just look at his curly tail. He’s so pink!”
Thaddeus grunted and didn’t take his eyes off Mr. Numps, who was challenging the crowd to ask him questions.
He pointed to a cleric in the front row. “You’re wondering how Percy will give me these miraculous answers? With the help of God, who endowed this piglet with astounding talent. He answers with a squeal, Vicar. One squeal for yes and two for no. And since you’re a man of God, I won’t charge you for a question.”
Beside her, Thaddeus stiffened.
“What’s the matter?” Joan whispered.
“The squealing,” he growled. “He’ll be twisting that adorable tail, I’ll bet.”
But he didn’t. The cleric declined, but Numps accepted tuppence from a lady in the front, who asked whether her daughter would be married in the coming year or no.
Numps raised the piglet to his face, just as Joan had raised the bunny. “Well, Percy?” he asked. “Shall this fine woman’s daughter find herself wearing wedding gloves?”
Joan watched Percy’s curly tail, but Mr. Numps didn’t touch it at all. Percy gave a loud squeal.
“Yes, your daughter will be happy by this time next year,” Mr. Numps said, tucking Percy back against his chest and beaming at the audience. “Who has another question for my magnificent piglet? He’s never wrong, has never been proven wrong.”
Thaddeus leaned forward, arms on his knees. Joan glanced at him, wishing that Aunt Knowe was in the tent. They would be taking out pennies and planning their questions, but instead disapproval fairly radiated off Thaddeus.
“Of course it’s a hoax,” she whispered to him, “but a fun one!”
He turned his head slowly, and the words dried up in her mouth. “Do you know anything about pigs?”
She shook her head.
“They can’t answer questions, and they don’t squeal on command.” His tone was caustic.
“Perhaps Numps trained him to squeal,” she suggested. “Have you been to a circus and seen trained dogs? They’re frightfully clever.”
Mr. Numps had accepted another question, a more serious one, since a surly fellow in the back wanted to know whether his wife had played him false.
“Percy doesn’t care for that sort of question,” Numps said, “but even so, his answers are as true as Holy Writ and will put your mind at ease, one way or the other.”
Joan was pricklingly aware of the leashed strength and narrowed eyes of the man beside her.
“Come on, Percy,” Mr. Numps said, holding him up, “has this charming gentleman been done wrong by his lady wife?”
There was a second’s pause, and then Percy squealed loudly once and then again, and started vigorously kicking as well.
Mr. Numps wrestled with him. “I did tell you, Percy doesn’t care for indecent questions—”
He never finished the sentence because Thaddeus was out of his chair and in the front of the tent before Joan realized what was happening. He grabbed the piglet with one hand and smashed Mr. Numps in the jaw with the other.
Joan gasped. The tent filled with exclamations.
“Here, you!” Mr. Numps cried, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”
Thaddeus turned and held up the piglet so the audience could see. “For your entertainment,” he said scathingly, “this
animal has been pierced in the belly.”
Even Joan in the back could see three wounds with little trickles of blood.
“Ew!” the lady in the front cried.
“He’s my piglet,” Mr. Numps said shrilly. “I can treat him as I like. He’s mine, and that’s the law.”
“But he isn’t no truth-telling pig,” someone bellowed.
“Could have told you that,” the surly man in the back row snarled. “My wife left home two days ago, and she ain’t coming back.”
“I want my money back,” a stout matron declared, getting up and heading for the door.
“What right have you got to interrupt my show?” Mr. Numps barked at Thaddeus. “Here, you, give me back that pig. You might be a fine gentleman, but I know my rights.” He balled up his fists.
“You can sell me the piglet, or I can knock you down again,” Thaddeus said, looking unmoved. He tucked Percy under his left arm.
Joan ran to the front and said, “Give me the pig!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“So you can knock him down, obviously.”
Numps was reaching for Percy.
“I don’t need both hands for that,” Thaddeus said, as his right fist shot out and caught Numps under the chin. The man actually rose off his feet before he crashed into one side of the tent, making the entire edifice tremble.
Behind them, the remaining audience shrieked and scrambled for the door.
Thaddeus stepped forward and stared down at Numps. “How much do you want for the pig?”
“That a fine suckling piglet, that is,” the man said, rubbing his jaw and not moving a muscle to get up. “At least a crown, a low price only due to the good of my heart because it doesn’t take into account all the pennies you lost from me show. He was a good one, with a strong squeal.”
Thaddeus dropped a coin in the dust by Numps’s head, turned on his heel and walked out, the piglet tucked under his arm.
Joan ran after him. “What are you going to do with Percy?” she asked, somewhat breathless by the time she caught up with him. Thaddeus was marching back to the carriage, ignoring people trying to sell him everything from ballads to baby rattles.
“He’s a pig,” Thaddeus said, striding even faster, so she had to run again to keep up. “I shall hand him over to my swineherd.”
“His name is Percy,” Joan cried. “You saved him from being poked to death. You can’t turn him into pork dinner!”
“The animal was being tortured, not poked to death,” Thaddeus said. “Once he lost heart and refused to squeal, he would have been sent to the pork tent to be roasted as a suckling pig and made into luncheon. They would have killed him, not Numps.”
“You can’t give Percy to your swineherd!” Joan said, putting on a burst of speed so she came around in front of him and stopped, blocking his way. The piglet obviously felt safe and comfortable under Thaddeus’s arm. He was looking about inquisitively, his pink nose in the air.
Thaddeus looked down at her with an inscrutable expression, which she was beginning to find really irritating. “His name is Percy,” she said, catching her breath. “He’s a person, I mean, he’s got a name. I can take him back to Lindow. Viola used to have two cows—”
“I’ve been introduced to Daisy and Cleopatra,” he said.
“Of course you were, when you were courting Viola,” Joan said, feeling a little pang at the thought. “When Viola married, she took Daisy and Cleo to Devin’s country house, so Percy can live in their empty cowshed at the castle. Please, Thaddeus.”
“He’s not a pet. He’s an animal that should be treated with respect and kindness. Before being served for dinner.”
Her gaze locked with his, and she held out her arms for the piglet. “Please.”
“If I give him to you, you have to wear a different coat for the performance. One of my choosing.” It was a curt command, not a question.
“What?” Joan pushed away the unwelcome realization that she loved it when his voice dropped to that gravely tone. “What’s the matter with my coat?”
“It’s too short in the rear.”
“I needn’t worry about being à la mode,” Joan explained. “Most theater companies buy their costumes from the aristocracy. They wear coats that may have been sitting in someone’s attic since the Stuarts were on the throne. It’s all about the pretense, not the fashion of the moment. This coat belonged to my brother Alaric when he was a boy, so it’s at least twenty years old.”
He looked at her. “Do you want this pig?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll wear a different coat for Hamlet, one that covers your rear.”
“But this is perfect for a prince,” she objected. “The silver thread embroidery, you see?”
Silence.
Joan shrugged. “I’ll have to fish around in the attics and get dusty, but it will be worth it to save Percy.”
It looked as if Thaddeus rolled his eyes, but she must have been wrong. The oh-so-pompous viscount would never lower his countenance to make such an impolite gesture.
“I’ll bring the pig to your coachman,” he said, nodding toward the carriage.
“I’ll find Aunt Knowe meanwhile,” Joan said and then caught his eye. “No, I’ll come with you because the fair is dangerous,” she said with a sigh.
They walked in silence back to the coach. “Give this piglet some water,” Thaddeus instructed the coachman. “He’s had a difficult morning.”
“Yes, Your Lordship,” Mr. Bisquet replied.
“Bisquet, the piglet’s name is Percy,” Joan added. “He’s going to live in Cleo’s old cowshed and never be served for dinner, so be sure not to let him go free accidentally. He’s just a baby.”
“I see that,” Bisquet said, taking the piglet. “We can try giving him to a nursing sow, but I think he’ll have to be fed with an old glove.”
Percy made a soft grunting noise.
Joan scratched his forehead. “Be a good boy, Percy, and I’ll be back soon.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Thaddeus said next to her. “Try to look at least boyish, if not manly. Men don’t moon over baby swine.”
“How sad for your sex,” Joan said. She bent over and gave Percy a kiss on his forehead. “I suppose they don’t kiss them either. Be a good boy, Percy. You are going to love the nursery!”
“The nursery?” Thaddeus asked as they walked back into the fair. “Surely you don’t mean the castle nursery?”
“Of course I do. The children will adore him.”
“Couldn’t they visit him in the cowshed?”
“Well, yes, but we often bring animals to the nursery. Sometimes they spend the night. Viola has a pet crow, you know. He’s living in the nursery since she’s visiting. We also have two pet rats at the moment. Unusual pets are a tradition, ever since Willa—that’s my brother Alaric’s wife—lent us her skunk when I was fourteen, and we took care of her for three weeks.”
“By skunk, you refer to the animals from the Americas with a powerful odor?”
Joan nodded. “Willa adopted her as a baby.”
Thaddeus had probably never had any pets. Most people didn’t approve of skunks, rats, and crows as pets. Let alone pigs.
“I’m guessing that you won’t want to visit Carmela, the camel who comes from deepest, darkest Sahara?” Joan asked, changing the subject. “Her tent is down there at the end.”
“If you wish.” It was amazing how unenthusiastic he made that simple statement.
“You probably won’t enjoy her,” Joan admitted. “Carmela doesn’t have the best costume in the world. Her hump is perched on top of a saddle, and over the years, the fur has started molting. But we adored Carmela when we were small.”
She happened to glance at him just in time to see a smile quirk the corner of his mouth. “You smiled! You didn’t used to be so grim. I remember when you were courting Betsy, four years ago. You were cheerful, but now you seem to glower most of the time.”
&nbs
p; His jaw tightened. “I do not glower.”
“Perhaps not so that most people would notice,” she allowed. “But you don’t smile much, do you? What happened? Your mother and father are still alive . . . It’s not because you were disappointed in love, is it?”
Unaccountably, that idea made her gut squeeze. It would have been Betsy who broke his heart, if so. She had almost married him, as Joan remembered it.
Thankfully, Thaddeus laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh that sounded a bit rusty, but was still a laugh.
“I’m glad to hear you laugh,” she said, skipping a step before she remembered to stride, not walk. “I would hate to think that one of my sisters drove you into a melancholy, like Ophelia.”
“Finding a wife is a necessity, a pleasurable one. But the task would never put me into a melancholy.” His tone was matter-of-fact, without heat.
“I gather you believe that romantic love is fiction?”
“A fairy tale to please silly girls like Ophelia,” he confirmed. “In my experience, people use ‘love’ as an excuse for shameful behavior.”
Well, that summed up Joan’s parentage. She couldn’t think of anything to say in response.
“There you are, my darlings!” Aunt Knowe caroled, waving at them from a stall. “Come help me pick one of these hats.” She wore a wide-brimmed blue one, and she was holding two more.
The hat stall was one of the largest at the fair; it even had a tall glass in which buyers could view themselves. Otis was trying on a large hat encircled with unlikely purple peonies.
Joan reached for a rather darling bonnet with a bunch of roses, before she remembered, cleared her throat, and asked, “Do you have macaroni hats, my good man?”
The stall owner looked at her, his brow knitted, and Thaddeus said in his calm, deep voice, “My younger brother would like to see a hat with a feather.”
Flustered, the man bustled to the cart behind his stall and emerged with several. Joan took a black felt hat with a matching feather and stepped in front of the glass. The stall owner left for the other side of the stall, where the duchess was fingering a bonnet adorned with a plush rose over one ear.
Wilde Child EPB Page 7