by Simon Rumney
“Yes, Robert was upset by the other children at school.” As she said the words, Lady Pishiobury realized how pathetic the whole thing sounded and his temper when it came had not been entirely unexpected, but its ferocity took her completely by surprise.
“I believed my son to be dead or at best maimed! And you tell me that he is upset by other children on his first day at school!”
“Second day darling.” Lady Pishiobury wished she could take these pathetic words back.
“What the hell difference does that make? The point is I have been scared half out of my wits because the boy had a tiff, at his school no less.”
“A little more than a tiff my dear, he is very upset.”
Turning to leave Lord Pishiobury snapped, “I have important guests to attend to, I have no more time for this nonsense!”
Watching through his tears Robert was petrified, he had never seen his father so angry and it concerned him greatly. He had not meant to cause such trouble but the sudden company of other children left him feeling so completely and uncontrollably afraid. His instincts told him that everyone in the classroom intended to do him harm. Every time they had looked his way Robert felt their connivance and became gripped with intolerable terror. The truth was they were doing nothing of the kind. The children had all welcomed him but a strange lack of belief in himself manifested itself from the very moment he entered the playground on the morning of his first day.
Being cocooned on the estate with so much love had kept Robert on an even keel but as soon as he entered a less nurturing environment his fragile confidence crumbled. The inevitable confrontation with one of the more aggressive boys on the morning of his second day dropped him into what felt like a deep shaft of fear that he had no way of coping with.
Coming home should have revived him. However, Robert was now very shocked and saddened because his overreacting mind feared that the father, who was the major part of his juvenile stability, would probably leave home because of him and he found himself falling deeper into his exaggerated and illogical despair.
As he walked back to his guests Lord Pishiobury realized that he had completely blown things out of all proportion. He wondered why he had so completely lost his temper and concluded that it was because of the shock of believing that he had lost his only son. I must apologize to Emilia he thought as he walked, she will be terribly upset by my outburst.
If he had turned on his heels and walked back to Robert’s room to deliver the apology immediately Robert may have been able to arrest his decline. As it was, he lay sobbing in the absurd belief that he had destroyed his happy home. His view of the world had changed so completely in only two days and he now saw himself as the cause of all past and future problems.
Later that day Lord Pishiobury walked into his wife’s dressing room just as her handmaid placed a wonderful string of diamonds around her neck. “Please allow me to do that,” he said as he took the jewel encrusted adornment from the maid.
Lady Pishiobury accepted her husband’s apology as soon as he asked her forgiveness. The words came easily to her lips as the maid walked from the dressing room. She knew her husband was not a man who wished to cause his wife any angst. He had never enjoyed making anyone uncomfortable, unlike a number of their powerful guests who seemed to find pleasure in baiting defenseless people.
“What has caused this change in our son my dear?” he asked with concern in his voice.
Answering honestly she witnessed her husband’s anger for the second time in the same day. “Nanny tells me that the Head Mistress of the school, Miss Wagstaff, believes he has been maltreated.”
“She said what?” The words burst from him. Fair treatment of his son, his wife and his staff were his major source of pride. If a man had even mentioned in passing that he had poorly treated any of them he would have slapped his face and insisted upon a duel to the death.
Toughening Robert
During dinner Lord Pishiobury was not himself, he kept up with the polite conversation but he did not contribute any of his usually witty anecdotes. All of his guests noticed how somber his mood had become since their splendid morning with the muskets but were too polite to ask. They simply assumed that it was a private matter which had something to do with what his butler told him upon their return.
The food, as always, was superb. The grand dining room looked magnificent and Lord Pishiobury politely asked Pinker to thank all of the staff for their impressive efforts. At the conclusion of the dinner Lord Pishiobury’s butler escorted the male guests proudly to the withdrawing room for port and cigars. With its highly polished oak paneling, the room, in which no women were allowed, came alive on these occasions.
Pinker moved from guest to guest pouring port from a beautiful cut-glass decanter which had recently been crafted to order by William and George Penrose at their new glass works in Waterford. Placing the heavy Irish crystal on the sideboard, Pinker returned with a small humidor full of Cuban cigars and as each guest chose one he clipped the end and held a match as they drew in the wonderfully aromatic smoke.
All were splendidly dressed in white tie and black evening tails as they reclined in studded leather armchairs which surrounded the grand fireplace. Lord Pishiobury stood in his favorite position leaning on the mantel looking distractedly into an oil painting of a prize-winning bull which hung above the fireplace. It was the families first Aberdeen Angus and it had won one of his forefather’s many prizes. The picture had been in this room for as long as he could remember and it was somehow comforting to him. When he heard a question asked by one of his oldest friends Pishiobury realized how rude he was being by ignoring his guests. As he turned to acknowledge his friend, Pishiobury surveyed the cream of English society sitting in his drawing room and his mood mellowed slightly.
“Are you all right old chap?” The question was asked by the man sitting on the high leather-covered fender surrounding the fireplace.
“Yes I am fine thank you. I must apologize for being such poor company.” Lord Pishiobury liked his dear friend, William Bligh.
“You have seemed distracted since the shoot old boy. May I be so presumptuous as to ask what has been troubling you?”
The fact that William held no grudge towards him never ceased to amaze Pishiobury. Bligh had every reason to be angry because of the Tahiti debacle but he had never so much as raised the issue with him. Pishiobury still felt guilty about the failed expedition to collect breadfruit seedlings because he and the other Jamaican plantation owners had refused to fund it properly. They argued that the fruit would feed sailors as well as it would their slaves and this led the spiteful Admiralty to bloody mindedly provide a ridiculously small ship. The cramped conditions on the Bounty had combined with a number of other incidences to cause the now famous mutiny.
His poor friend Captain William Bligh was forced to sail a 21-foot jolly boat across an open ocean over a distance of almost four thousand miles in order to save the eighteen men who were unceremoniously kicked off his vessel with him.
Pushing the shameful episode from his mind Pishiobury answered William’s question by saying, “My son is experiencing some difficulty at school.”
“Is that all? My dear fellow I feared something disastrous had happened.”
“He is a fine boy but has an inexplicable trepidation about him.” Pishiobury dropped his guard. He was tempted to be evasive about Robert’s problems but of all people William had earned the right to be included.
“It may be that he has a soft life here at Pishiobury Park. He needs to be toughened up, send him back to school and gradually he will become familiar with others.” As Bligh finished his military style perspective Pishiobury’s friend Arthur Wellesley walked over holding a fine Havana and a full glass of the port. As he expelled a plume of smoke he said, “Excellent port, what?” Wellesley’s words served to break the concentration that absorbed Bligh and Pishiobury.
“Yes it is indeed excellent port. I have laid down a pipe with my shipper in L
ondon for Robert’s twenty-first birthday.” Lord Pishiobury was still proud of his boy.
“Good choice, what? I could not help over hearing you two talking about your boy, Pishiobury. Sounds like he needs a stint in the army, that would toughen him up, what? I am being sent to Egypt as Brigade Commander. He can come with me if you like, what, what?” Pausing for thought, Arthur added in a sinister tone, “He must become tough if he is to survive this coming war with France, you know? It’s going to drag on for years. You mark my words. In my opinion a little French general by the name of Bonaparte is about to have a great influence on Europe. Your boy will be required to do his bit over the coming years Pishiobury, what?”
“I understand your point but the boy is so delicate, it is as though he has an ingredient missing. Everything about him is perfect but when it comes to even the most minor confrontation he has no resilience.” Then as an afterthought, Pishiobury added, “Anyway old chap, he is a bit young for that don’t you think? He is only five years old.”
“You are correct of course. Five is too young but we have them as young as ten in some regiments you know. They beat the drums as we march into battle; it saves wasting a man who can fight and they don’t eat as much food, what?”
“Are they not terrified on the field of battle? Poor things.” The irony of being a slave owner while aspiring to be kind hearted was lost on Pishiobury and many of his class.
“They always keep marching forward just as they are told to. We lose so many of them because they are always in the frontlines where they can be heard by the soldiers. Boys are by far the easiest things to replace, what? The slums of England seem to churn them out in a nonstop stream, what, what?” All those close enough to hear, joined Wellesley in a good laugh.
Pishiobury gave a slight chuckle to be polite but found it hard to accept the image of poor little Robert walking to such a violent end.
“My recommendation is to send your boy to school and let time and experience mold his character.” Bligh’s words wiped the terrible image of battle from Pishiobury’s mind.
“I will give your advice some thought Sir but now let us talk of other issues, things are changing in Europe and we in this room will play a key role in shaping the future.”
As Pishiobury spoke these words William Pitt, Prime Minister of Great Britain looked across the room to his friend and added, “Your words are very profound, Pishiobury. I have just received news. The French have invaded Egypt.”
Miss Wagstaff
“Send him back to that school?” asked Emilia with deep despair in her voice. “How can you possibly suggest such a thing after yesterday’s events?” She and Pishiobury were standing on the front steps maintaining polite smiles for the benefit of their departing guests.
“I understand your concern my darling but what else are we to do? Robert cannot stay at Pishiobury Park for the rest of his life. He must mix with other people.” Even as he spoke Pishiobury hated to do this to his loving wife but, as he said, what else could he do? Attempting to make the situation clearer he added, “Both Arthur and William believe it is the only way to build his character.”
“Wellesley and Bligh are both rigid military disciplinarians — how can you listen to them in matters concerning Robert? Anyway Bligh can hardly call himself an expert in human behavior!”
“That is not fair, my love, as you know I hold myself responsible for what happened.”
“As I have said before, that is nonsense. You had absolutely nothing to do with how he treated his crew.”
“Yes but if I and the other plantation owners had paid for a bigger ship, tension would have been eased between the men on board.”
“If the bigger ship had hit a rock and sunk with all hands because of its deeper draught you would blamed yourself for that also. I know you too well, my dear you take on far too many worries for one man.”
“That is as may be but we are still faced with the problem of our son’s future.” Pishiobury was desperately attempting to change the subject because the mutiny on the Bounty was still a painful topic. “I suggest that you and I pay a visit to the school to ascertain exactly what has actually happened.”
Every fiber of Lady Pishiobury’s body fought against doing what her husband suggested because she was clinging to a negative image of the hated Miss Wagstaff. They had met her only once before sending Robert to school. She had seemed very nice but now Lady Pishiobury wanted her to be the problem. In her heart she knew Robert was deeply troubled but it felt less confronting to blame someone else.
Emilia refused to accept what she had observed in her son for many years because just like her husband she was hiding it deep inside. The problem now arose that by visiting the Head Mistress they would have no choice but to face it head on.
The following day Robert’s parents boarded their carriage and traveled the short distance to Spellbrook School where they sought an audience with the woman that neither of them wanted to like.
“Good morning Lord Pishiobury, Lady Pishiobury,” said Miss Wagstaff respectfully beckoning them to chairs in front of her desk. She was a product of the English class system — respect for one’s superiors was inbred.
“Good morning to you Miss Wagstaff. I believe you know why we have come here to see you,” said Lord Pishiobury, his tone more stiff than usual.
“The matter of your son’s behavior my Lord.”
When said like this Robert’s dilemma seemed to crystallize before them. No one had ever spoken of Robert’s behavior before and this meeting could do nothing but bring it into the open. “Err, well yes,” replied Lord Pishiobury with uncharacteristic hesitance. Trying to regain the upper hand he added, “We have come to ask you about your comments to Miss Parks yesterday?”
With the clear understanding that the man before her held absolute power over her life, Miss Wagstaff answered the delicate question even more respectfully, “I simply made the observation that Robert has similar characteristics to a child who has been maltreated.”
“That’s it! Those are the very words!” Lady Pishiobury was beside herself. “So you admit that you accused us of harming the boy? Do you realize the damage that you could do to our reputation if this were to become public knowledge?”
Now very worried the Head Mistress raised a gentle objection, “I did not intend to imply that Robert has been maltreated. I merely mentioned that he has similar characteristics to one who has. Now having met you and observing your staff I can see that Robert is nurtured in a very loving and caring environment. I am completely baffled as to how Robert could have developed his insecure behavior traits in such an obviously caring environment? As I said to your Nanny he is a charming bright young boy who appears to have absolutely no inner resilience.”
“What may I ask is inner resilience?” enquired Lord Pishiobury, using exactly the same indignant words as his Nanny the day before.
“I have observed it in many children over the years. They seem to be unusually susceptible to the opinions of others and, like Robert, they seem to lack any kind of self worth.”
The obviously compassionate educator was making complete sense and much to the surprise of both women, Lord Pishiobury responded with a complete changed of tack. Sitting back in his chair the irate tone left his voice and he seemed somehow relieved, “I cannot pretend any longer. I have observed this behavior in Robert myself over the years but how can you tell in just one day?”
Lady Pishiobury turned her head to look at her husband in disbelief. He was agreeing with the horrible woman on the other side of the desk who wore her hair in such an awful matronly bun.
Looking into his wife’s eyes and gently squeezing her hand, he added, “I am sorry my darling but I must speak the truth.” He hated the effect his words were having on his beloved Emilia but he had to say them or be untrue to himself and his son.
Feeling deeply sympathetic for the woman who remained so passionately in denial Miss Wagstaff explained. “After so many years of teaching I can usua
lly tell the personality of a child as soon as I meet them. It can sometimes takes a few weeks to look into their deepest self but Robert is so insecure for the want of a better word — I observed it immediately.”
“What can be done to repair the situation?” asked Lady Pishiobury, and it became the turn of his Lordship to look in surprise. By saying these words his wife had also acknowledged the existence of a problem that they had never dared to speak of before.
“Love,” is all Miss Wagstaff said in response, “he needs lots of love.”
“We love the boy more than life itself! We have been showering Robert with love from the very moment of his birth.” Lady Pishiobury was trying to maintain a semblance of anger but her temper was completely collapsing. Resigning herself to the truth for the first time in five years she gave in and listened courteously as her husband spoke:
“I believe something has been wrong from the very first moment of Robert’s life.”
Lord Pishiobury was amazed and relieved to hear his wife reply in a questioning tone, “You experienced those feelings also?”
This was the very first time that either parent had allowed themselves to think about the day five years before but their uncertainties became reality as he went on. “When Robert lay in his cot at the very moment of his birth I instinctively felt something was wrong. It was as though grave feelings of foreboding accompanied the boy. It made me sad but at the same time protective. I have never mentioned my concerns because I could not understand my feelings well enough to put them into words.”
Lady Pishiobury felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Her secret burden had been shared for the first time.
Miss Wagstaff had been completely forgotten by both of them until her discreet cough brought their attention back to her office. “I do not pretend to understand the experience of which you speak but the problem of young Robert’s future remains as our common concern.”