And Emma? He had not raised the subject of her indenture, still could not believe she was unaware that she was free to walk away from him whenever she chose. He could not help but wonder whether the whole idea of coming to England was not some plot on her part to facilitate her escape. Except that she did not need to escape.
He looked down at her, found her looking up at him. 'Happy?'
'Oh, yes, Mr. Haggard.'
'Does it get much colder than this?'
'Oh, yes, Mr. Haggard. Why, it's just October. Come January there will be snow everywhere. Especially in Derbyshire.'
'Then we must obtain some warmer clothing.' He wore a cloak, as did she, but only cotton underneath. But now even he began to feel some excitement as the last sail was brought in, and the Yarmouth Lass came alongside the quay, where a crowd of men, and even some women, were waiting.
There we are, Mr. Haggard,' Biddies said. 'Safe and sound.'
‘Indeed, Biddies, and I am grateful for it. Would my agent be here, do you suppose?’
'He is, sir. The tall gentleman in the tail coat. He'll be first aboard, you may lay to that.'
Haggard inspected Cummings. How odd, he thought, that I should have corresponded with this man for thirteen years, allowed him the investment of my capital, and yet now be seeing him for the first time? George Cummings was about fifty, he estimated, both tall and thin, with a large nose and a square chin. He wore dark brown, tail coat, waistcoat, breeches and even boots, and looked every inch a solid merchant. But he also wore a small wig, tied in a bow on the nape of his neck, Haggard observed as he raised his hat to the people on the poopdeck. 'John Haggard, I'll be bound.' he shouted, 'I'd have known you anywhere.'
He did not wait for the gangplank to be run out, but leapt over the bulwarks and came up the ladder, hand outstretched. Haggard squeezed the strong fingers, and felt reassured.
'It's good to be here, Mr. Cummings,"
'A safe voyage?"
'Aye. Not a hurricane in sight.'
'And this is Mistress Haggard? Faith, sir, I had no idea you had wed again."
Emma flushed.
"I have not wed again. Mr. Cummings,’ Haggard explained. 'This young lady is my housekeeper.' 'Housekeeper? Ah. And this . . .’
'My son, Roger. My daughter, Alice. My younger son, Charles.'
Cummings shook hands with Roger, patted the children on the head while he clearly endeavoured to collect his thoughts. 'And those blackamoors on the deck . . .'
'Are my domestic slaves.'
'Ah.' A frown flitted across Cummings' features, but disappeared quickly enough. 'I'll arrange transport for them. You'll want to get ashore, Mr. Haggard. I've a hotel rented for you , , .'
'Were for Derbyshire,' Haggard said. 'You did obtain that property ?'
'Oh, indeed, Mr. Haggard. Well, there was no sale in the beginning. It was necessary to buy up the mortgage and threaten to foreclose. And that cost a pretty penny. I doubt you'll see an adequate return."
'I am not concerned with a return on that outlay, Mr. Cummings. It is where I will live. And where I wish to commence living as soon as possible. Is it far?'
'Three days by coach, Mr. Haggard. And will you not like to see something of London Town?’
'Not if all of it stinks like the river.'
Cummings smiled, deprecatingly. 'Your hotel is well removed from the river, Mr. Haggard. And if you do not wish to look at London Town, be sure that London Town wishes to look at you. I will arrange transport to Derleth as soon as can be done, sir, I do promise you that. But you will need time to rest, and establish your gear ashore, and there's business to be attended to, oh, indeed, sir, you'll not be bored." He glanced at Emma, and his ready smile almost faded. 'No, indeed, sir."
‘Isn't it wonderful?' Emma cried, peering out of the window of her carriage. They had left the stench and the grime and the crowds of the docks behind, and after winding their way through narrow and unprepossessing streets had emerged into a broader thoroughfare, with a great park looming on their right, while the buildings to their left each seemed to be as large as Haggard Great House.
'Hyde Park, Miss Dearborn.' Cummings was seated opposite them, Roger beside him. 'Oh, 'tis a lovely spot. And the last of all sights for a great number. Over there is Tyburn Brook, and if you look through the trees you'll see the gallows.'
'Ugh,' Emma said, and leaned back in her seat.
Haggard gazed at the houses, at the great trees, at the ordered gardens. He was, after all, impressed, despite himself. Just as, although he would scarce admit it to himself, he had been impressed by the sheer size of the city, by the number of vessels loading or unloading in the Pool, by the hustle and bustle of the streets through which they had passed, the vast numbers of people, sufficient of them clearly poor and half starving, to be sure, but equally many of them prosperous and busy, by the endless shops and emporiums, by the eager street hawkers, from young girls selling flowers or shell fish to gnarled old men offering to perform any service from catching rats to sharpening knives. The place was alive, in a way Barbados had never been. And not a black face to be seen. He wondered what the slaves, following in another equipage, would think of it all, just as he wondered what they must be thinking at travelling in a coach.
He glanced at Emma; had she ever travelled in a coach and four before? But she was staring out of the other window, as the berlin left the road and rumbled through a pair of wrought iron gates before proceeding down a short, winding driveway, bordered with oaks, and coming to a halt before a mansion with a high portico and a display of great mullioned windows. Here there were yard boys and grooms waiting to take the horses' bridles, and footmen lined up to see to the baggage, the whole marshalled by a very dignified gentleman in a black tail coat. And everyone with a white face.
'We're to stay here?’ Emma whispered.
"Tis not very large, 1 agree,' Cummngs apologised. "But as it is only for a few days . . . will it suffice. Mr. Haggard?'
The door was swinging open and the steps were being unfolded, ‘I'm sure it will do very well," Haggard said, and stepped down.
'Good afternoon, sir,' said the dignified gentleman.
Haggard glanced at Cummings, unsure of his response.
'Hardy will be your butler, Mr. Haggard.'
'Ah,' Haggard said. 'And good afternoon to you, Hardy. But I have brought my own people.'
'For Derleth, sir. You may be sure it will take them some time to find their feet.'
Haggard supposed he was right. It would take some time for any of them to find their feet. He walked through the open door and stopped at the sight of the half dozen maids, all starched white aprons and caps, hastily bowing to their master. White girls, who in the West Indies would not lift a finger to help themselves. Marshalling them was an elderly woman in blue, every bit as dignified as Hardy.
'Mistress Broughton, Mr. Haggard,' Cummings explained. 'She will be your . . . ah, housekeeper.'
Haggard half turned, to look over his shoulder at Emma.
'The word has a different connotation, in England, sir,' Cummings whispered, somewhat urgently, for Mistress Broughton was frowning.
'My pleasure, Mistress Broughton,' Haggard said, and stared at the marble floor, the oak-panelled walls, the paintings, mainly of race horses and their riders; through the door to his right at a small withdrawing room, down the hall to another doorway, and up the curving stairway in front of him to the first floor gallery.
'I'm sure 'tis not so elegant as your own house, Mr. Haggard,' Mistress Broughton said. 'But we do our best. Ma'am.' She gave Emma a brief curtsey, at the same time glancing at Cummings in turn for information.
'Ah, yes,' Cummings said, suddenly very businesslike. 'You'll wish to inspect upstairs, Mr. Haggard, and decide upon bedrooms.'
Haggard nodded, and climbed the stairs, Mistress Broughton at his elbow, Emma and Cummings behind. 'Come along, children,' Emma said.
'My dear Mistress Haggard,' Mistress Broughton said. 'One
of the girls will see to them. Margery,' she commanded, 'show the children the garden.'
'Oh,' Emma said, ‘I'm not . . .' She bit her lip.
Mistress Broughton turned her frown on Cummings, who gazed at Haggard in a helpless fashion, and waggled his eyebrows.
Clearly it was time to take charge. 'Miss Dearborn is my companion,' Haggard said.
Mistress Broughton's mouth opened, and then shut again.
'But I am sure one of the girls can see to the children, at least until Amelia arrives, Emma,' Haggard said. 'Now, Mistress Broughton, you were to show me the bedchambers.'
'Of course, Mr. Haggard.' Mistress Broughton hurried in front of him, up another flight of stairs, along another gallery, and opened a pair of double doors. This is the master suite.'
Haggard stepped into a small withdrawing room, furnished with well-upholstered chairs and settees, in a generally rose pink motif, which also applied to the walls; beyond another pair of double doors led to the bedchamber itself, where the great tester as well as the hangings were once again in rose pink.
'The previous tenant was a lady,' Mistress Broughton explained. 'Through here, sir, you will find the privy and bath chamber . . .'
'Bath chamber?'
'Of course, sir, Her Grace insists upon them in all of her houses.'
Haggard stood in the smaller doorway, gazed at the large tin tub. 'Her Grace?'
The house is part of the property of the Duchess of Devonshire, sir. Now, then, sir, if this is suitable, we shall find a room for the, ah . . . the young lady.'
The young lady will share this room,' Haggard said.
Mistress Broughton again frowned. 'Oh, well, sir, I am afraid that Her Grace . .
'Have I, or have I not, paid rent for this building, Cummings?' Haggard demanded.
'Well, of course you have, Mr. Haggard. For one month.'
Therefore for one month, Mistress Broughton, the building belongs to me, saving only I do not attempt to burn it down or damage the furnishings. I have no intention of doing either of those things. For the rest, you will be pleased to humour me.'
Mistress Broughton's mouth opened and closed again. She looked at Cummings.
'Yes, well, a nursery. That is what we need,' Cummings decided. 'A room to use as a nursery. Close by. Come along young fellow, let us find you a nice room.' He grasped Roger's hand and hurried off.
Mistress Broughton remained standing in the centre of the floor for a few moments longer, then she also turned and left. Emma licked her lips. 'Mr. Haggard . . .' 'Would you have a room of your own?'
'By no means, sir. But I'd not antagonise the servants, either. Mistress Broughton now . . . she is very angry.'
'But she is a servant, Emma. I am really not going to be put out by her anger.'
Emma bit her lip, but thought better of whatever she had been going to say. Haggard threw back the curtains at the windows, looked down at the lawn and the rose garden, where Alice and Charlie were already running up and down in delight at having been let off the ship.
' 'This is actually a very pleasant place,' he said. 'Is Derleth Hall anything like it?'
'Well . . . it is a little older,' Emma said, cautiously.
'And larger?'
'Oh, yes, Mr. Haggard, much larger.'
'I look forward to seeing it.' He drew the drapes from around the bed, sat on it. 'Soft enough. Come here.' She crossed the floor, hesitantly. 'Are you happy to be here?' She sat beside him. 'Oh, yes, Mr. Haggard.' 'Then undress and love me.' 'But Mr. Haggard, the doors are open. 'We never closed any doors at Haggard's Penn.' 'Yes. But Mr. Haggard . . .'
'Come along, sweetheart. Don't change on me. Or we'll catch the next packet back to Bridgetown.' -
Emma stood up, took off her hat and cloak, turned at a soft sound. Someone had closed the outer door.
The dining table was no more than a quarter of the size of that at Haggard's, and their places had been set, one at each end. Hardy the butler took up his position by the doorway, the footmen brought in the consomme and the saddle of lamb, the pork chops and the apple tarts, the roasted venison and the mulled red wine.
'Are we supposed to eat all of this?' Haggard demanded.
'Only what you feel like, Mr. Haggard,' Emma explained. . 'And what will happen to the rest?'
‘It will go to the servants.'
Haggard drank some wine. Hardy had been scandalised when he had ordered supper for eight o'clock. The more normal hour, Mr. Haggard,' he had explained, "is ten.'
‘I had a light dinner,' Haggard told him. 'And Hardy, I like to eat when I am hungry.'
'Of course, sir,' Hardy had agreed, suppressing a sigh. No doubt he and Mistress Broughton had spent a profitable afternoon gossiping, but in any event they had had enough on their plate finding rooms for the slaves, and indeed in gazing at the black people with mingled distaste and alarm.
'Slaves, indeed,' Mistress Broughton had commented. 'We don't hold with such things in England, that we don't.'
While the Negroes had gazed around themselves in amazement, and huddled close to the great fire blazing in the pantry.
They'll get used to it,' Haggard said. 'As no doubt will I.' He raised his glass. 'A toast, my darling. To us. I can hardly believe we are here. And I will tell you this, it is a deal stranger than I had suspected.'
He was feeling pleasantly relaxed, after a long afternoon closeted with Cummings, who had been anxious to discuss the state of consols, the average price per ton of sugar, the details of the property transaction in Derbyshire, and the fitting out of Roger for attendance at Eton—he was due there in the New Year. There was far greater feeling of control over his money here in England than there had ever been in the West Indies. Now he just wanted to enjoy his evening. Emma had never looked more lovely, as she had never been more loving—there could be absolutely no doubt now that she had not realised her term of indenture was completed.
She wore her best gown and her pearls, because he had asked her to, as he had himself put on his black tail suit with the white pique waistcoat. 'For as we are here,' he said, 'we may as well see something of the place. Hardy, what can a man do with his evenings in London Town?'
'Well, sir . . .' Hardy stood stiffly to attention. 'An unattached gentleman might go to White's or Boodles.'
'What in the name of God are those?'
They are gentlemen's clubs, Mr. Haggard. But you would have to be a member.'
'And I am not yet one,' Haggard pointed out.
‘Indeed, sir. Not yet,' Hardy said, his tone suggesting he would be very surprised if Haggard ever achieved such eminence.
'Nor am I unattached,' Haggard pointed out.
'Indeed, sir. Well, of course, the season is over, and most of the gentlemen are away shooting, to be sure, with their ladies.'
'Shooting? There are wild beasts in England?'
'Birds, Mr. Haggard. Game birds. Pheasant and ah . . . partridge. But for those confined to town, sir, by the calls of business or political matters, well, there is the theatre.'
'Oh, Mr. Haggard,' Emma said. 'I have never been to a theatre.'
'Neither have I,' Haggard said. 'And I did not travel four thousand miles to be bored.'
'Well, sir,' Hardy ventured. There is always Almack's.'
'Which is?'
'Reception rooms, sir. But . . .' 'Yes?'
'Well, sir, you would have to be introduced. By another gentleman, you understand, or a lady.'
'What nonsense. I am John Haggard. Have my carriage prepared. Miss Dearborn and I will have a look at this place. Shall we not, Emma?’
That would be splendid, Mr. Haggard. I have heard of Almack's. It is the place to be seen.'
'And that can be no bad thing. Well, Hardy?'
Hardy raised his eyes in despair, if I may advise, Mr. Haggard . . .'
'Hardy, one of my rules is, never to take advice, and certainly not from my butler. Prepare the carriage.'
'Yes, sir, Mr. Haggard.' Hardy snapped his fingers, and
a footman sprang forward, ‘I had merely supposed Miss Dearborn might be tired,' he said, changing his tactics.
'Miss Dearborn has spent the past two months cooped up on board a small vessel, like myself, and is as anxious as I am for some exercise.'
Hardy looked scandalised. 'Of course, sir,' he said, and withdrew.
‘I can't dance,' Emma said. 'I don't know how.' 'I'll teach you,' Haggard said. 'And we'll let the nobs have a look at us.'
'Your card, sir?' requested the major-domo. He wore a green jacket decorated with gold braid and made a very splendid figure. Behind him were a dozen footmen, similarly dressed, with white wigs and highly polished leather shoes, knee breeches and white stockings. The lobby in which they stood was floored in marble on which their heels clicked disconcertingly, while the ceiling rose a good thirty feet above their heads; it served also as a ceiling for the first floor, which loomed above them behind marble balustrades, and was reached by a ceremonial staircase.
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