Wolves

by W. A. Hoffman

  The Marquis began to laugh.

  Theodore again looked as if he might pound his head on the desk. “This is why we worry about the estate,” he said calmly. “But we know you well, and the matter has already been discussed by Striker and the Bard. They do not feel they should return to Île de la Tortue with the Magdalene, however.”

  I smiled. “I am honored indeed that anyone put thought into it at all.”

  “We will have to send someone who might recognize the animal,” Gaston said quite seriously.

  I sighed as I considered the complications—but truly, it was a thing I felt I should do. “I know it is a fool’s errand.”

  “Oui, but unfortunately, as you are the one who killed a priest, you are not the one we can send,” Theodore said with a truly bland mien as he considered his papers.

  The Marquis, Gaston, and I could not hold our laughter at bay. We howled such that Rachel poked her head into the study with curiosity.

  “The fat horse,” Theodore told her and she shook her head in disapproval and walked away.

  Theodore relented and shook his head with a smile. “Now that you are here and all is well, we will arrange something. Some ship will have to go and make arrangements and the like for your business on Jamaica, anyway.

  “We have two horses there as well,” I noted, belatedly recalling Diablo and Francis.

  Theodore sighed and smiled. “I have already listed them among assets to be retrieved.”

  Gaston and I grinned.

  “Now, as we were discussing…” Theodore said, “Beyond the horses, there are those people who might not be included in your household, or possibly the Strikers’, who presumably must be cared for: namely, Pete and Mademoiselle Vines. God preserve them as well.”

  “Do you truly feel they might marry?” the Marquis asked. “We had thought Mademoiselle Vines—or the Comtesse Montren—would be established in some suitable place in Christendom with a comfortable fortune; but after your tales from last night…”

  I chuckled. “My hope is that Pete will join our household and do for us what Jenkins did for my father and Whyse does for the king: manage matters requiring discretion and… underhandedness—when necessary; and safeguarding all we hold precious. I can think of no one I could trust more for such a duty. I only pray he can join us and do such a thing.”

  They nodded solemnly.

  “And the Mademoiselle?” the Marquis asked: still apparently incredulous she might be anything other than what he had seen her to be.

  “I would assume she will stay by her husband,” I said. “And thus be part of the household as well.” I thought of Chris and his—or her—abilities and smiled. “Actually, I think she is ideally suited to performing the same duties. I would dearly like her to hear Whyse’s briefings on matters of politics. She is trained to the intrigues of court.” The more I thought on it, the more I realized how devastating a pair of opponents she and Pete could be.

  Gaston apparently thought the same; he was grinning widely. “No one will be able to get the better of us.”

  “I think not,” Theodore said, “and if you are correct, we will not have the added expense of another noble household.”

  There was a knock on the door, and a maid informed us Mister Winger had arrived. Gaston and I somewhat reluctantly excused ourselves and went to try on our first sets of the new clothes. They came complete with new, high boots I found surprisingly comfortable, and plumed hats I found amazingly gaudy. The clothes, of course, fit beautifully; and with the heavy wigs of ringlets framing our faces and flowing to the middles of our backs—each matching the actual color of our hair—we looked to be completely different men.

  “You truly do not have men to dress you?” Mister Winger asked as we regarded one another and our reflections with curiosity. He had been accompanied by two youths who had made much of straightening pleats and adjusting ruffles and wigs.

  “Truly, we do not,” I assured him.

  “Would you allow me to do the honor of sending some potential servants to you, then?” Winger asked.

  “How many valets do you feel we will require?” I asked. “We share a room and all things, and it is not as if we cannot often assist one another.”

  One of his young assistants frowned and abruptly looked away with a rosy flush.

  Mister Winger either was not surprised or did not choose to acknowledge my implication. “One experienced man should be able to maintain both your wardrobes, then; as long as he would not be needed to draw baths and maintain the hearth and the other chamber duties.”

  “Nay, we should have other servants to do that,” I said with a frown and a shrug.

  “Then I will send you Mister Wickham. He has been with me for several years. His eyes are not what they once were for sewing at all hours of the night, but he knows the business of making a man and his attire look very good indeed.”

  I decided to be blunt. “Will he object to working for two sodomites? I will not spend my days around someone with pursed lips and a frowning disposition.”

  Mister Winger smiled genially. “My Lord, Mister Wickham is a sodomite—as am I. Truly, what other man would care so very much how men appear?” he asked breezily.

  His boys were now grinning with embarrassment.

  I chuckled. “Forgive me for being so blunt, then,” I said.

  He smiled. “Actually, it is something of a relief to be able to speak of it at all.”

  “I understand. We are used to living in a place where it is not so shocking; and it is a thing… Well, if we cannot be accepted here as we are, we will return from whence we came.”

  He smiled. “That, my lord, I truly envy you.” He frowned a little. “Am I to understand that many of the men in this household…”

  “Aye,” I said. “Though there are some who will live with us who are not.” Another thing occurred to me. “And we will need clothes—possibly not so grand as necessary for court—but appropriate clothing nonetheless, for many of them.”

  “Of course, I am at your disposal,” Winger said.

  “And… You would not perhaps be able to suggest a dressmaker for our wives, would you?”

  “So it is true that you are both married?” he asked.

  “Aye, but…” I sighed.

  “They are as much a couple as we, so it seemed convenient,” Gaston said.

  Mister Winger’s eyebrows crawled into the bangs of carefully coiffed wig. “Oh my, well, in that case, I know a seamstress who would be delighted to serve them. She is working for another household now, but I am sure she can easily be lured away for the promise of a position where she need not be so very discreet with whom she entertains…”

  “Ah,” I said. “As long as she is not so very attractive or ambitious as to cause dissension amongst the wives…”

  He laughed with delight. “Oh my, nay, I feel that is not the case. But truly, my lords, if you let it be known that you welcome those like us, you can have a house full of agreeable servants, believe me.”

  “Then let that be known, as we seem to have had to dismiss many of my father’s people,” I said. “And we will have a larger residence soon—here in the city or close by, if all goes well—with quite the household.”

  “Then my lords, I will do what I can to see that you are well served,” he said.

  We ushered him and his still-grinning boys out the door and went in search of Rachel. We found her in the dining hall with Theodore and Liam. She was examining the silverware in the sideboard. The men were drinking tea. They all exclaimed happily at our appearance, claiming we looked to be changed men.

  I stifled my annoyance and quickly explained my conversation with Mister Winger.

  Rachel appeared greatly relieved. “That will make it a thousand times easier.”

  “Well, that will be good,” Liam said. “If we get enough here of our persuasion, I might find someone of interest.”

  There had been a thing about Liam nagging quietly at my thoughts since we first
saw him here. Now that I was no longer distressed over events, I listened to it—or rather, him. “Liam, your English is now as fine as your French.”

  Theodore and Rachel laughed.

  Liam grimaced. “Blame Rucker. You should hear Bones.” He brightened. “Oh, and speaking of other arrangements you might have interest in: Hannah and Bones.”

  “Nay!” I said with amusement.

  “Oh aye,” Rachel said with glee. “Now that she is a free woman, she has decided she is free to seek a marriage.”

  “And she chose Bones?” I asked.

  They nodded and chuckled.

  “He wasn’t going to argue with her,” Liam said. “He’s quite taken with her now that he sees he has a chance to actually be with a woman. He told me that he didn’t pursue women before because they seemed to be too much trouble; but Hannah reminds him of his mother somewhat…” He shrugged at that, as if it were a thing he found uncomfortable, “And she’s the first woman to actually pay him heed.”

  “That is wonderful,” Gaston said. “We will all be a large happy family.”

  I was recalling other things Liam had said, other than his swearing off women. “Liam, I know you do not wish to be a servant…”

  He shook his head quickly. “No more than you wish to be a lord.” He grinned. “But here we are. I’ll do whatever we need me to do.”

  I sighed with relief. “Good. As for that… I would have you manage the household; but when Pete finally arrives, I would have him perform Jenkins’ duties—if he is willing.”

  “Thank the Gods,” Liam said quickly. “That is not a thing I wish…” He stopped at the look of surprise on my face.

  “Did you know Mister Rucker graduated from Trinity College?” Theodore asked.

  I turned to frown at him. “And what does that have to do with the Gods?”

  Liam chuckled. “Well… We learned he was trained to be an English priest when we all sat about discussing religious matters while sailing to Rotterdam.”

  Theodore was trying hard to suppress his amusement. At my frown he said, “I still consider myself to be a member of the Church of England.”

  “And I am still Catholic,” the Marquis said from the doorway.

  “And you are Jewish,” I said to Rachel before turning to Liam with an arched brow.

  He shrugged. “Well, several of us are of the opinion that your Gods have never disappointed us. They surely protect you.”

  “In light of our lack of religious homogeny,” Theodore said, “we thought it fortunate we had a man such as Rucker among us who could pretend to minister to our spiritual needs in an orthodox fashion. Seeing how things are now progressing, it is possible we could have Rucker become ordained, and then he could become the pastor for the parish on whatever estate we choose to live on.”

  I was delighted, and Gaston and I exchanged happy smiles. “And here you were making dour pronouncements about my need to belong to the Church of England,” I chided Theodore with amusement.

  “You will need to attend formal ceremonies on occasion, and tithe, and in all ways pretend to be a man of faith—of that religion,” he said firmly.

  “Aye, but our children can be instructed in traditional spiritual matters by the same seditionist who taught me.”

  “I shudder to think of that, but aye, that is what will likely occur,” Theodore said. He sighed. “I will likely have a daughter who wishes to conduct business and study law.”

  “Does that truly trouble you?” I asked.

  “Only in that she will not be able to, and thus might be unhappy,” he said.

  “The Gods move in mysterious ways,” I said. “Who knows what the future will hold?”

  “Maybe she can serve the family as you do,” Gaston said. “With no one outside the wiser.”

  “I would see that,” Rachel said quietly.

  Her husband smiled at her. “I think I would, too.” He sighed and looked back to me. “We will be an island of… rebellion.”

  “Freedom,” I said. “Right under the noses of the dragons.”

  “Dragons?” Liam asked.

  “King and Churches,” I said.

  “Ah, I suppose we are ever in their shadows,” Theodore said with a furrowed brow. “I will be happy if we are not between their teeth.”

  I would be happy if we did not need to skulk about in those shadows to live as we wished.

  Whyse arrived soon after, to hear more of our adventures. He assessed our new boots and clothes with pleasure. “You look your station now, my lords.”

  “Well, we would not want anyone to think we are common pirates when we meet the king,” I said.

  The Earl grinned. “Nay, of course not; and speaking of that, what are you doing this eve?”

  I took a steadying breath. “Meeting the king?”

  His grin widened. “There is a birthday fete for a close friend of the king. It will be an informal occasion.”

  “All the better,” I said sincerely. I surely did not feel prepared for the rigors of a formal audience with a monarch. I looked to Gaston and found him pale. I smiled reassuringly and decided to change the subject.

  “Before that, however…” I began.

  “I have little to do this afternoon but to allow you to further regale me with your adventures,” Whyse said with a flourished bow.

  “And I will be delighted to oblige, but first, there is a thing I would ask you,” I said, wondering what else he was so keen on learning: though our meeting yesterday had been curtailed, I felt I had been quite thorough in my tale telling.

  “I live to oblige,” Whyse replied in kind.

  “You would not happen to be aware of any residences for sale, would you?” I asked, and earned my matelot’s relieved sigh. “Something just outside London, within an easy ride of Parliament and wherever the king is inclined to hold Court throughout the year.”

  “Is there something wrong with this house or your estates?” Whyse asked.

  “This one is too small. We wish for the children to live with us.”

  “In the name of God, why?” he exclaimed. “Is this some new colonial custom?”

  “Perhaps,” I said with a thin smile. “It is more that we are stubborn and eccentric.”

  He laughed. “Oh do tell…” He frowned with thought. “I know of several properties—all in town. But wait… Aye, I believe I know of an estate—up the river. Would you like to take the time to see it now? We can speak of other matters as we drive.”

  “Aye, I am very interested,” I said.

  Gaston appeared ecstactic.

  We collected the Marquis and Theodore and boarded Whyse’s carriage.

  “It is less than an hour from town up the river,” he told us as we pulled out. “It is on the river, so one can travel to London by boat or carriage—or horseback.”

  “And it is for sale?” I asked.

  He smiled slyly. “Aye and nay, it is now the king’s to grant or sell. It is a small titled estate. Its former lord died without an heir; and those distant members of the family who might step forward to claim it were not in Our Majesty’s good graces. So it has sat vacant for over a year now. I have only seen it the once, so I will not attempt to extol its virtues or expound upon its vices.”

  Our conversation shifted to talk of privateering and adventures at sea; and to my surprise, I realized Whyse did not wish to interrogate me on matters of Morgan or the Spanish, but to hear tales of things he perhaps no longer dreamed of doing. Thus the short journey passed quickly and pleasantly as we followed the winding of the Thames upriver to the west and south, until we were in the countryside of peaceful hamlets, farms, and estates. When we at last rode through a large gate, I assessed the distance we had come, and thought it would be a pleasant daily ride as long as the weather was not inclement.

  And then I saw the house and grounds and decided I would happily ride twice as far every day if it would be bring me home to such a place. The manor itself was designed by some madman trying to re
create the structures of ancient Rome. There seemed to be columns and colonnades everywhere; and overall, there was a low openness to the structure. Though two stories tall, it was not a forbidding manse towering over its surroundings, but a flowing expanse that seemed wedded to a garden the like of which was now the fashion for the palaces of France, Italy, and Austria. Whoever had owned this home had been quite keen to follow trends from the Continent.

  “I believe there are actually several houses; and a chapel; and, of course, the stable; as well as a glass-walled house for growing flowers in the winter, and many other garden buildings—oh, and a boathouse and small wharf,” Whyse said as we disembarked and began to wander about.

  He sent one of his men to find the caretaker as we walked into the gardens. It being early summer, they were a glorious riot of color and aroma. We followed one of the colonnaded and trellised paths toward a fountain we could only hear. At last we turned a corner, and there She was: Venus, in exquisitely-sculpted marble, presiding over a court of cherubs amidst the splash of water within a columned circle that was more temple than garden retreat. Her smile was knowing.

  “We want it,” Gaston told Whyse. “Whatever it costs.”

  “We haven’t seen the interior, yet,” Theodore said.

  “We will either make do with whatever we find there, or change it to suit our needs,” I said.

  Whyse chuckled. “Then ask the king.”

  His man returned with the caretaker and the gardener. Whyse, Theodore, and the Marquis went to see the interior. Gaston and I remained standing in the presence of Venus.

  “The Gods have brought us home,” my man said.

  I wished to believe it: just as I wished to have absolute faith in the beneficence of the Gods and be done with my fear that the cost the Dragon would exact would be more than I could bear.

  The interior of the house also proved to contain everything we might desire. With every room I imagined children playing, Agnes drawing, Rucker teaching, Liam and Bones playing cards, Theodore working, and Pete prowling about; until it seemed we already lived here, and the chambers were only empty because everyone was busy elsewhere.

  On the ride back to London, I paid little attention to Whyse and the Marquis discussing the latest news from France. I was discussing a great deal with my Horse. How much were we willing to bend in the name of happiness for our loved ones? By the time we reached the town house, I had determined what lines I could not cross in my heart or soul to appease even a dragon. I had also determined that there was more ground I was willing to give away than I had originally thought.