Haggard

by Christopher Nicole

'But I want it clearly understood that Miss Dearborn is no serving girl, and no criminal either, in my eyes.'

  'Oh, dear,' said Mr. Litteridge.

  'Once that fact is accepted, well, then, I should think I will get on famously with everyone in Derleth. And I think we had best start being social, don't you? I'd like you and Mrs. Litteridge . . . there is a Mistress Litteridge?'

  'Oh, indeed,' the parson agreed, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

  'Well, I'd like you to come to supper on Monday night. I shall have MacGuinness as well, and we can all have a chat about the future of Derleth.'

  'Oh, dear,' Litteridge said. 'Oh, dear, dear me. I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Haggard.'

  'Why not? Ah, you have some church function. Then Tuesday will do."

  'Not Tuesday, Mr. Haggard. The fact is . . .'

  'You won't sit down to supper with Miss Dearborn.'

  'Why, sir, I personally . . . well, sir, the fact is, Mrs. Litteridge is a Cobham. Oh. distant cousin to be sure, but none the less . . .'

  'The decision is yours, of course,' Haggard said, keeping his temper under control with an effort; this man was one of his electors. 'I assume you have no objection to my bringing Miss Dearborn to church with me?'

  'Of course not, Mr. Haggard. It will be our great pleasure.'

  'Good. Well, then . . .' Haggard rose, and the parson followed, ‘I am sure you have a great deal to do. I would like to have a closer look at your church, after Sunday's service, if I may.'

  'Why, Mr. Haggard, it would be a privilege to show you the church.'

  Haggard walked him to the door. 'I understand it is several hundred years old.'

  'Oh, indeed, sir, indeed. It was built by the Normans.'

  'And must require a great deal of upkeep, I should think.'

  'Ah, well, sir, old buildings, they do cost money to maintain. But your predecessor here was very generous. Oh, indeed, very generous.'

  'As shall I be. Would five hundred pounds be of any use to you, Mr. Litteridge?'

  'Five hundred pounds? Why, Mr. Haggard, I don't know what to say. Five hundred pounds? Why, it is a princely sum.'

  'I'd not have your church, our church, Mr. Litteridge, falling down,' Haggard said. 'My agent will give you a cheque on Monday morning.' They had reached the stairs leading down to the lower hall, and a footman was waiting for them. 'Where is Middlesex?'

  ‘I do not know, Mr. Haggard.'

  'Well, you go and find him, as soon as you have shown Mr. Litteridge out. And tell him I wish a word with him.' 'Yes, sir, Mr. Haggard.'

  ‘I will say goodbye, Mr. Haggard,' Litteridge said. 'And again, many thanks.'

  Haggard nodded, watched him go down the stairs, turned and saw Emma at the top of the second flight. Slowly she came down. Her face was still frozen.

  'Well, Mr. Haggard?'

  'They'll not come to supper. It seems that Mistress Litteridge would not approve. She is a Cobham. What is a Cobham?'

  Emma led him into the withdrawing room. 'Worcestershire gentry. Are you angry?'

  ‘I am amused, by their little prejudices. Although I had thought to leave those things behind in Barbados.'

  Emma stood before the fire. 'Perhaps we should have stayed there.'

  'Now sweetheart, it is your idea that we came home. Your triumph.' He sat down, poured two glasses of mulled wine, leaned back and crossed his legs. 'No doubt I shall get used to England, and English weather.'

  'And English ways?'

  'They will have to get used to me.'

  Emma remained standing, nor did she take her glass. 'I disagree, Mr. Haggard. It is you must get used to them. To having white servants instead of black, for example. Have you come to a decision on Margaret Lacey?'

  'Ah . . . no. I do not want to burden you with housekeeping duties, Emma. I wish you to get well as soon as possible. I really think we should have a doctor in to see to you. And Annie Kent, well, it will take time for her to understand the supervision of a house like this.'

  'While you can sleep with that girl to your heart's content.' Emma produced a large handkerchief and blew her nose, loudly and vehemently.

  'My dear Emma, surely who I sleep with is no concern of yours? Providing I also sleep with you, regularly. And this I shall do the moment you get rid of that cold. But I'll confess I'm mortally afraid of catching it from you, with the climate so dismal.'

  She sat down. Her knees seemed to give way and she collapsed into a chair. 'You'd not treat me so if I were your wife.'

  'I'd certainly sleep with more serving girls if you were my wife.'

  She sniffed. 'But they'd not be able to sneer at me, and suggest they'd be taking my place, next.'

  'Now, who would do something like that?' 'Margaret.' 'Oh, come now.' 'It's true.'

  ‘I’ll speak with her.'

  'And fuck her while doing it. I won't have it, Mr. Haggard.' Her chin came up; there were tears in her eyes, but her mouth was set in a determined line. 'I won't have it.'

  'Oh, really, Emma. No crisis tonight, I beg of you. I have had a wearying day, with everyone doing their damnest to irritate me. Middlesex, now, was not even in the hall to show Mr. Litteridge out.'

  'He wasn't there when the parson arrived, either,' Emma remarked.

  'Wasn't he, by God? I shall have to have a word with him. Now, Emma, sweetheart, why don't you go and have a rest, and then change your clothes. MacGuinness is certainly coming to supper.'

  Emma stood up. 'But I shall not, Mr. Haggard.'

  He raised his head. 'Oh, really Emma, whatever is the matter?'

  ‘I shall not sit down at your table while that girl remains in the house. If we are to be treated as equals, then we are both servants. I will take my meals downstairs.'

  'In the name of God,' Haggard shouted, the anger which had been simmering in his belly since the visit to the coal mine suddenly bursting forth. 'Do what the devil you like. Get out. Get out of my sight.' He glared at the door. 'What do you want?'

  Henry Suffolk stood there, shifting nervously from foot to foot. 'Well, Mr. Haggard, sir, it is a fact that James can't be found nowhere.'

  Haggard frowned at him. 'What the devil are you talking about?'

  'Well, sir, Mr. Haggard, he gone. And he take his things with him. And that boy John Essex say he see he riding a horse down the road this time in the morning.'

  'Gone? To the village?'

  'Well, that I ain't knowing, Mr. Haggard, sir. But he take all he belonging with he.'

  What he was being told only slowly penetrated Haggard's understanding. Emma gave a little gasp as he slowly rose to his feet.

  'You are saying that Middlesex has absconded?'

  'Well, sir, Mr. Haggard . . .'

  This morning?'

  'Well, sir, Mr. John . . .'

  'And nobody told me up to now?'‘

  'Well, sir, Mr. John

  ‘I’ll have you whipped. By God, I'll flog the lot of you myself. Now you get out of here, and saddle me a horse. Emma, my coat and boots. Henry. Tell John Essex to prime my pistols.'

  'Yes, sir, Mr. John.' Suffolk ran from the room. 'What are you going to do?' Emma asked. 'Do?' Haggard said. 'I'm going to bring him back. By God, I'm going to bring him back, tied to my horse's tail.'

  CHAPTER 4

  THE RUNAWAY

  'Mr. Haggard,' Emma begged. 'John.'

  It was the first time she had ever used his name.

  'Middlesex will come back,' she said. 'I'm sure of it.'

  Haggard frowned at her, at the same time wondering why he was so angry. But he was angry. It was a combination of many things, the boys and girls at the pit head, the attitude of the parson, his self-contempt at the course of bribery on which he was engaged— but most of all the sudden realisation that he was in the centre of a country which consisted entirely of Emmas, that however much he might love her, or might have loved her once, she was no longer the uniquely beautiful and sexual creature she had been in Barbados. And could not all thos
e new Emmas be similarly bent to his will, similarly rendered his and only his?

  But he loved her. Did he, still? She was the mother of two of his children.

  'He's a runaway,' he said. 'I'll fetch him back. By God, I will.'

  The horse done saddle, Mr. John.' Essex stood in the doorway, with the pistol case. Suffolk was behind him, with Haggard's hat and cloak.

  'You want me to come with you, Mr. John?'

  'No,' Haggard said. A white posse would be more appropriate, he thought, in a white man's country.

  'Can I come, Father?' Roger already had on his hat and coat.

  'No. You'll be soaked to the skin. But you can help me with these boots.'

  Suffolk knelt before one leg, Roger before the other. Emma recovered from a fit of sneezing.

  'And won't you be soaked to the skin, Mr. Haggard? You'll catch a cold just like me.'

  'Oh, go to bed,' Haggard snapped, standing up and stamping his feet to make sure they were comfortable, if I'm not back by-Sunday morning, mind you attend church. With the children.' He went outside, pulled his hat lower over his eyes, adjusted the weight of the pistols in his pockets. The rain settled around him like a wet blanket. Whatever had possessed Middlesex to abscond? No Haggard slave had ever absconded. Perhaps it was, after all, only an explicable mistake. But what mistake could take a slave away from his proper situation?

  He mounted, walked his horse down the drive. He did not look over his shoulder, although he knew that every window in the house was filled, from Emma in the withdrawing room to the servants on the ground floor to Charlie and Alice in the nursery upstairs. This was something entirely out of their ken. The remarkable thing was that it was out of his as well.

  He rode down the main street of the village. It was Friday night, and Derleth was a glow of candle light. A prosperous community, MacGuinness had said, even if their lungs were filled with coal dust. But it was the thought of all those other places which were also filled with coal dust which kept ranging through his mind. He had not been so affected in years. He could not ever remember having been so affected.

  He drew rein outside the inn, from whence there came the sound of voices and laughter. He dismounted, opened the door of the pot room, went in, gazed at the men, and women, and children, gathered there, some sitting at a long table to one side, most standing, drinking ale from pint pots, gossiping and giggling. Certainly they looked happy enough.

  Hatchard the publican saw the squire in the doorway-, and touched his forehead. Slowly the understanding that they were in the presence of a superior being spread away from the bar counter. Conversation ceased, and smiles died, and everyone in the room turned.

  'Good evening to you all,' Haggard said. 'Good evening, Mr. Haggard,' they chorused. 'I need some help,' Haggard said. 'One of my people has absconded.'

  They stared at him, not apparently understanding his meaning.

  'Mr. Haggard?' MacGuinness emerged from a table at the far side of the room, his face red, his mug of beer still in his hand.

  'Ah, MacGuinness. I would like you to organise a posse for me. One of my blacks has run off.'

  MacGuinness came closer, a fixed smile on his mouth. 'Let me buy you a mug of ale, Mr. Haggard.'

  'I've no time for ale, MacGuinness. Nor any inclination.'

  'Please, Mr. Haggard.' MacGuinness lowered his voice.

  Haggard remembered what he'd been told that morning. And an extra half an hour would not matter very greatly. 'All right, MacGuinness. I'll take a'mug with you. But I shall buy. I shall buy for everyone.' He shouldered his way through the crowd. 'Mr. Hatchard, you'll serve everyone in the room, and render the tally to me.'

  ‘Indeed I will, Mr. Haggard. The squire's buying, lads and lasses. Who'll give a cheer for the squire?'

  The noise echoed, and the room burst into a babble of conversation. People squeezed Haggard's fingers, and one or two even slapped him on the shoulder. A full tankard of ale was thrust into his hand, and he found himself against the counter, with MacGuinness beside him.

  'Your health, Mr. Haggard. That was a masterly stroke, it was.' He lowered his voice again. 'Now what's the trouble?'

  'My man, Middlesex, has run off. I'm damned if I know why. But I'll have him back.'

  MacGuinness commenced to frown. 'Run off,' he muttered. Then his expression brightened. 'He stole, of course. Took some money?'

  'Why, I have no idea. I doubt it.'

  'He stole, Mr. Haggard. That's what you must tell these people if you'd obtain their help.'

  Haggard's turn to frown, ‘I'm not sure I understand you.'

  'Well, Mr. Haggard . . .' MacGuinness drank some beer. 'English people, and especially people up here, well, sir, they don't much hold with slavery. I doubt they'd come with you to return a man to bondage. No sir.'

  'But he's my property.'

  'No doubt, sir, no doubt. According to law. But well, sir, they'll not have it, sir. Believe me. I know them well. And you want to remember almost your entire electorate is in here, saving the parson.'

  'You mean I must just let him go, unless I ride after him myself?'

  'No, sir. You tell them not that he's an absconding slave, but that he's a thief and a robber, sir, who took money from the kindest master who ever lived. And one of your horses, I'll be bound. They'll ride with you then, sir. They don't hold with thieving.'

  Haggard scratched his head; he had never told a lie in his life. But he had never had to deal with a runaway, either. He straightened his tricorne. 'Very well, Mr. MacGuinness. If I must stoop to subterfuge. Let's get it done.'

  'Leave it to me, sir.' MacGuinness banged on the counter with his empty mug. 'Now you listen to me, lads,' he cried. 'As you know, this gentleman who has just bought you all a pint, is the new squire, Mr. Haggard. And you can take it from me, lads, that he's the best and kindest gentleman any of you will ever have known, or ever will know. So what do you think has happened to him? His very own butler has run off with the family silver. Every last piece of valuable from the manor dining room. Can you believe it, lads? This scoundrel, who has lived and worked with Mr. Haggard all of his life, and been looked after by Mr. Haggard, all of his life, has now turned on the hand that has fed him, all of his life. What time did he leave, Mr. Haggard?'

  'Early this morning.'

  'Would he have been a black man, Mr. Haggard?" someone asked. 'Aye.'

  'I saw a black man riding down the street, on way to pit,' the man said.

  'And so did I,' said another.

  'Where was he heading?' MacGuinness asked.

  'For the London road.'

  'Aye,' Haggard said, ‘I made the mistake of letting them have a look at London during the couple of days we were there.' Middlesex was intelligent enough to suppose that in so big a city he would easily disappear.

  'But he weren't carry no bag of silver,' said the first man. 'Leastways I didn't see none.'

  'He had saddlebags, didn't he?' MacGuinness asked. 'He wouldn't have been stupid enough to carry it in his arms. I need three volunteers to ride after him, with Mr. Haggard and me.'

  There was a moment's silence while glances were exchanged.

  'You'll be well paid,' Haggard said.

  'I'll come with you, Mr. Haggard,' a young man said. 'Peter Wring is the name.'

  Thank you Wring. Anyone else?' 'Me, sir. Jemmy Lacey.'

  Very obviously Margaret's brother, alike in size and in his handsome looks. Haggard wondered he hadn't noticed him before. Thank you, Jem.'

  'And me, Mr. Haggard. Toby Doom'

  Then let's be at it. There are horses in my stables.' Haggard finished his ale, went to the door, ‘I thank you. I thank you all.'

  ' Tis us to be thanking you, Mr. Haggard,' Hatchard said. 'We'll back you, sir.'

  'At least there'll be no problems with your election, Mr. Haggard,' MacGuinness said. The two men rode down the London road, jolting in the saddle as even the horses could not avoid occasionally stumbling in the deep ruts carved in the rai
n softened earth by the stage coaches. Their three companions rode behind.

  'Would there have been in any event?'

  'Independent people, Derleth folk,' MacGuinness said. 'Why, Squire Redmond, that was here before you, sir, he didn't get on too well with them, was always cursing at them for lazy dirty scum. He never drank with them.'

  'And he took his seat in the Commons just the same,' Haggard said.

  'Ah, but there was some question of it, sir. There was talk of an opposition candidate, but they couldn't raise the deposit money. But eleven of them abstained. Mr. Redmond was elected by five votes.'

  'Yet he was elected,' Haggard pointed out. 'Nor is there the slightest prospect of a community of farmers and coal miners raising the money to finance a parliamentary deposit.'

  'Still, sir, it's best to be a popular squire, if it can be managed,' MacGuinness said.

  'No doubt,' Haggard agreed, and gazed down the turnpike in front of them. The rain was falling harder than ever, and the road had remained empty, save for the stage, which had rumbled by them several hours before. But now he could see lights.

  ' Tis a village, sir,' MacGuinness said. 'And a good place to stop, if you'll pardon the liberty.'

  'Stop?' Haggard inquired.

  'Well, sir, it must be nearly dawn, and we've ridden all night. The horses need fodder, and if you'll pardon me, sir, so do we. And a warm fire for an hour.'

  'And what of Middlesex? Will he have stopped, do you suppose?'

  'He must eat as well, Mr. Haggard.'

  'Oh, very well.' Haggard pulled his horse into the gateway of the inn, dismounted, stretched. He was very tired. And hungry. He stamped up the steps to the door, banged his fist on the panelling.

  It was some minutes before a window opened over his head. 'Who's there?'

  'Five men, seeking breakfast.' 'It's four o'clock in the morning.'