Smuggler's Moon
( Sir John Fielding - 8 )
Bruce Alexander
Bruce Alexander
Smuggler's Moon
ONE
In which Sir John receives a special assignment
It had been agreed that there was no need for Sir John Fielding to accompany Lady Fielding to the Post Coach House for her noon departure north to York. After all, he had his Bow Street court to convene at that same midday hour; and later in the day, he had an appointment to keep at the residence of the Lord Chief Justice. ”Something,” the magistrate had muttered to me, ”that will mean trouble for us, you may be sure of it.”
And so it was that Clarissa and I stood at the open door of the hackney coach as Sir John and his wife whispered their farewells and kissed in proper loving fashion. He then did accompany her to the hackney where we waited in attendance.
“I shall return, Jack,” said she, ”just as soon as Mama shows signs of a good recovery-or, on the other hand …” ”She will pull through, Kate, I’ve no doubt of it. Your mother is of hardy northern stock. No doubt she has a good ten years left in her.”
“I do hope you’re right,” said she with a sigh. ”We shall see.
With that, they kissed again. I pushed her portmanteau up to the driver. Sir John retreated unaided to the entrance of Number 4 Bow Street, as I gave Lady Fielding a hand up into the coach and followed her inside. Then were we underway. For the most part I remained silent as my mistress gave most of her attention to Clarissa, imparting to her directions, reminders, and all manner of encouragement for the days ahead. I came in for instruction only in the most general sort of way as we bounced along through the London streets.
She leveled a forefinger at me and said with great seriousness, ”Now, Jeremy, I shall ask you to offer Clarissa all the help that you can. I’ll not have reports of you two wrangling and fighting, shall I?”
“No, ma’am, certainly not.”
“I should hope not,” said she. ”Now, this will be a difficult time for all of us. Only if we remember to cooperate in all matters can we manage to pull through it. You do see that, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I certainly do.”
Once arrived at the Post Coach House, I hied off to purchase her ticket When I returned with it in hand, the coach to York had pulled up to its station, and Lady Fielding’s baggage was secured atop it. I handed the ticket to her as she looked about her anxiously.
“I had best claim my seat,” said she, ”else I shall find myself riding in the backward way. I must face front, or I shall grow sick, I know.” As she looked upon us, I saw tears glistening in her eyes. She dabbed at them with her kerchief. ”Do be good, children,” said she. ”And take good care of Jack, won’t you? See that he gets enough sleep-and you’ll help him dress, Jeremy? I can count on you?”
”Of course you can.”
“Then God bless you, both of you. Goodbye. I hate long farewells.”
With that, she turned and handed the ticket to the coachman, and he assisted her into its dark interior. Then did I step forward, and out of sight of Lady Fielding, I placed a shilling in his hand, as Sir John had instructed me.
“Your passenger is the dame of Sir John Fielding, magistrate of the Bow Street Court,” said I. ”He would greatly appreciate any courtesies or considerations that you may show her.” Then, most direct: ”What is your name, sir?”
Taken somewhat aback, the fellow could but blink in reply. But after a moment, he nodded and spoke his name. ”I am Henry Curtin,” said he.
“Very good, sir. I shall pass that on to Sir John. He does not forget those who offer him or his lady assistance.”
“You may be sure she will receive the best of care.”
“I’m sure she will, but …”
“Yes? But what?”
“But do not presume upon his generosity in matters before his court.”
“Oh, I would not think of it. And thank you, young sir.”
He tipped his hat to me, and I bowed in return. Taking Clarissa’s arm, I swept her from the coach yard. She, who had looked upon all that had passed with great interest, offered me a sly grin and a wink.
“So that is the way the world works, eh?” said she to me.
“Sir John thought it best,” said I.
“But did you not give that man license to commit murder-and a shilling to boot?”
“By no means!” said I, most indignant. ”Did you not hear me say that he was not to presume upon Sir John’s generosity?”
“Oh, I heard, but I wonder, did he understand the limits put upon him?”
“He had better, else he will be sorely disappointed.”
”Well then, what sort of preferment has he been offered?”
“Oh, how should I know? Chiefly misdemeanors, matters of sentencing, that sort of thing. Let us say, he comes before Sir John for public drunkenness, a common enough charge in Bow Street. He might then be sentenced leniently, perhaps have it suspended altogether.”
“What sort of justice is that?” She wailed it out so loud that all around us turned to stare.
I grasped her tighter at the elbow and moved her quickly through the crowd. And as we went, I whispered sharply to her.
“See here,” said I, ”you know and I know that Sir John is the most just of magistrates. He would handle it as it should be handled. Now, let us speak of it no more.”
“That-” She seemed about to offer an objection, yet she held it back: ”That suits me well, for Lady Kate has filled my head so full of instructions that I can scarce contain them all. If you will excuse my silence, I shall now attempt to review them all.”
Then did she go silent for a short space of time.
“Jeremy?”
“Yes? What is it?”
“You may release my arm now.”
“What? Oh yes, of course.” I did as she bade me.
“And if we might slow our pace a little?”
That we did, settling into a comfortable walk which would no doubt get us back to Bow Street in plenty of time to continue the day.
Truth be told, reader, Clarissa had caught me out. Sir John had told me to give to the coachman a shilling and ask him to look after Lady Fielding. Nothing more. It pained me at that moment to admit, if only to myself, that the rest-asking the coachman’s name, the vague statement that Sir John did not forget favors done him-all of that had been my invention. Even at the moment all was said, I thought I had perhaps gone a bit too far-hence my warning that the coachman was not to presume upon Sir John’s generosity. Why had I done so? Even now, near thirty years after the fact, I can but guess the reason: I was at that time (my age was seventeen in that year of 1772) impatient for my life to begin; and, wishing to get on with it, I was inclined upon occasion to give the impression that I was both better situated and more powerful than I was. In this case, I realized that I had overstepped myself, and yet I had not a notion of how things might be put right. Thus was I quite resentful of Clarissa for calling all this to my attention. Though we were often at odds, and I was in this instance quite annoyed at her, I was nevertheless forced to concede that, with the added duties that had fallen upon her with Lady Fielding’s departure, she was right to withdraw from our contentious conversation and concentrate upon all that must be done upon her return.
Lady Fielding had been absent from our home atop the court on only one previous occasion, and that was for a brief visit with her son, Tom Durham, then recently promoted from midshipman to lieutenant. She met him in Portsmouth, where he had been transferred to the Endurance, a ship of the line, ere it was ordered out to the Caribbean. She had been gone but five days, and at that time Annie was our cook and well able to keep things running
smoothly. Now Annie was gone, an apprentice in the acting company of Mr. David Garrick at the Drury Lane Theatre. Lady Fielding had since then been filling in as cook as best she could as we searched to find another like Annie (vain hope!). Now, with Lady Fielding gone, it was up to Clarissa to fill in-and she with little training in the culinary arts. Nor was she to neglect her regular duties at the Magdalene Home for Penitent Prostitutes.
Clarissa, then just fifteen, had taken a path into the Fielding household in a manner similar to my own. She was the daughter of a felon-or one who would surely have hanged as one-educated beyond her station and bright beyond her years. Yet Lady Fielding took pity upon her and saved her from the Lichfield poor house, or service in some aristocrat’s downstairs crew, by persuading Sir John to take her on that she might have a secretary to aid her in her work at the Magdalene Home.
As for myself, I, an orphan, did come before Sir John falsely accused of theft. That most just of magistrates saw through the perjured testimony that had brought me to him. He made me, after his fashion, a ward of the court and eventually took me into his household. Thereafter, I helped with the housework and soon found myself able to give him aid in his work as magistrate. And how, you may ask, could a mere lad of thirteen (which was then my age) be of help to one noted as a lawyer and as an enforcer of the laws? Why, by performing all those duties for him which he might have been capable of had he the faculty of sight. For yes, strange though it may seem, and amazing though it would have been to see, he had so distinguished himself as a magistrate that he had been knighted-even though he had been blinded many years before.
All the while, as we wended our way through the tight streets, Clarissa kept her mind upon the awful tests that lay ahead. That is to say, I was reasonably certain that it was thereupon she had concentrated her thoughts, for as I glanced over at her once or twice, she seemed to be repeating Lady Fielding’s instructions to her word for word, over and over again, almost as a litany, a prayer. But then, of a sudden, she did turn to me, stopped in the busy walkway, and confronted me.
“Jeremy,” said she, ”you will do the buying for me, will you not?”
“Why, certainly,” said I, ”if that is what you require. I did the buying for Lady Fielding, for Annie, and for Mrs. Gredge before them all. But perhaps you ought to accompany me-if not this day, then another-that you might see how the buying is done. I would introduce you to Mr. Tolliver, the butcher, and to some others. They can be very helpful.”
“Well …,” said she, in a manner a bit less certain than her usual, ”as you say, if not this day then another. I believe another would be better.”
Thus we came to Bow Street and sought entrance not into the courtroom, for Sir John’s voice could already be heard through the stout oaken door, loud and commanding.
“Come along upstairs,” said she to me. ”I’ll prepare a list for you.”
Returning from Covent Garden well over an hour later, I was fair loaded with all manner of comestible cargo — packages of carrots and turnips, a sack of potatoes, a loaf of bread, and last (though not in the order of importance), some good pieces of stew meat bought from Mr. Tolliver, our butcher. That last came with detailed instructions for preparation, which I was to pass on to Clarissa. And that I would have done had I not been hailed by Mr. Marsden, the clerk of the Bow Street Court, the moment I struggled through the door.
“Here, you, Jeremy! The magistrate wishes to see you most immediate.”
It had been my experience that when Mr. Marsden referred to Sir John by his position, it bode ill for me-and so it proved that day, as well. The moment I looked into the modest room at the end of the hall, which he referred to somewhat grandiosely as his ”chambers,” I was greeted by a blast that near singed the hair upon my head.
“Who is there? Is that you, Jeremy?”
“Yes, Sir John, I-”
“Where have you been, boy?”
It had also been my experience that when I was addressed as ”lad,” then all was well, but should I be called ”boy,” I was then to expect the worst.
”Why, only to the Garden, Sir John. I-”
“It is not a fit place to spend your time,” said he, interrupting again. ”There are too many of the young criminal element thereabouts. Your friend Bunkins, now that he is reformed, no longer lays about on the steps of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, as he once did. Why, praytell, should you go there, then?”
“To do the buying for supper-at Clarissa’s request.”
“What? Oh, I … I …” Taken off guard, he stammered for a moment as he sought to adjust himself. ”But did I not tell you that we were to meet with the Lord Chief Justice this very afternoon?”
“Yes sir, you said that it was bound to mean trouble. But you did not say at what hour on the clock we were to depart.”
“Well, never mind that. Did I not say the meeting was to take place in the afternoon?”
“Yes sir, but-”
“But me no but’s. Is it not now the afternoon?”
I sighed. ”Yes, Sir John.”
“Then let us be off.” He jumped up from the chair where he sat and, feeling about the top of the desk for his hat, he found it and planted it firmly upon his head.
“I must bring what I have bought to Clarissa,” said I, shifting the packages noisily in my arms.
“Well, yes, I suppose you must. I shall meet you at the door to the street.”
“Done,” said I and hastened back down the hall and up the stairs. Yet I found when I reached the top that I could not quite manage the door latch, so full were my hands. I kicked at the door, but it did not budge until, after a brief pause, Clarissa threw it open.
“Ah, Jeremy, just in time. I’ll need you to peel the potatoes.”
“Sorry,” said I, pushing past her, ”but I must accompany Sir John to his meeting with Lord Mansfield.”
I deposited the load in my arms upon the kitchen table, then made for the door.
“Must I do it all myself?” Clarissa wailed.
“Why not? Annie managed it so.”
“Well I know that I’ m not Annie. You needn’t remind me of my limitations.”
That I caught just as I started down the stairs.
“Don’t worry,” I called back to her. ”You’ve hours before dinnertime.”
By the time I reached the foot of the stairs and spied Sir John waiting by the door, it had occurred to me that I had not passed on to Clarissa the instructions given me by Mr. Tolliver on cooking the stew meat. There simply had not been time for that. Ah well, I assured myself. Lady Fielding had no doubt covered all that earlier. Besides, women knew all about such matters as cooking, didn’t they? It was second nature to them, was it not?
“You had best fetch us a hackney,” said he to me. ”I have the feeling that we are awaited.”
Sir John Fielding had often said to others within my hearing, ”If a man lacks one of his senses, then he must compensate by strengthening the other four.” Since he had lost his sight more than three decades before whilst in the Royal Navy, he had so strengthened his smell, touch, taste, and hearing that through them he could perform prodigies of ”seeing” with his blind eyes that astounded all but those who worked by his side each day. And if this were not sufficient, he seemed, during this same period of time, to have developed still another sense nearly as reliable, and even more impressive, than the other four. He would identify a visitor by his knock upon the door, a criminal by the tone of his voice, and who, among a silent dozen, had been discussing him only moments before he entered the room. Therefore, reader, I was inclined to take him quite seriously when he said that he had the feeling that we were awaited. And furthermore, I took it that his tetchiness regarding our departure had to do with his feeling that the meeting ahead was of greater importance than he had previously supposed. And so it proved to be.
As we bumped toward the residence of the Lord Chief Justice in Bloomsbury Square, it occurred to me that this might be the moment to raise t
his embarrassing matter of the implied promise of consideration made to Mr. Henry Curtin. Yet soon as it had entered my mind, I dismissed it: no, this was emphatically not the right moment. I recognized that, after all, I should have to confess to him what had been done and said, embarrassing though it be, but with him now in this odd state of upset, the matter could and should wait.
The hackney driver reined in the horses before the residence of William Murray, Earl of Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice. It was an imposing structure by any standard, the largest of any of the grand houses in the square. As I paid the driver, Sir John sought to find his bearings that he might reach the front door without assistance. Alas, he could not. He wandered, looking somewhat befuddled, awaiting my assistance.
By the time I caught him up, the door to the residence had opened, and there stood two men, obviously saying their goodbyes. One of them I recognized immediately as Lord Mansfield; the second I had never seen before. Both seemed to catch sight of Sir John at the same time; it was Lord Mansfield, however, who waved to him.
“Sir John!” he called out. ”How fortunate you’ve come!”
They were together in a moment’s time; Lord Mansfield introduced him to George Eccles, who had just been taking his leave. Mr. Eccles, it seemed, was Chief Customs Officer for eastern Kent. He explained that he would be unable to stay longer, much as he would like to, for he had, at the last moment, been given an appointment with the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
”And it’s either take it when it is offered or wait a week or a month for another bit of time to come open.”
“Never having had dealings direct with the Chancellor of the Exchequer,” said Sir John, ”I must take your word for it, but from what I have heard, Mr. Eccles, I can well imagine your difficulty.”
“Though I should like to stay on and explain the situation to you, I cannot. Yet in any practical way, it is of no matter, for Lord Mansfield here has all the details-at least all those which do pertain to the judiciary’s part of the problem.”
Smuggler's Moon sjf-8 Page 1