I, Sofia-Elisabete, Love Child of Colonel Fitzwilliam

by Robin Kobayashi

  One evening, I eavesdropped on the landlord and papai while they drank a glass of capillaire, a ‘disgusting syrup’, which is what I heard my papai mutter once. ‘Très bon, très bon,’ papai lied to please his host. This landlord, Monsieur Rignolle, who went by the name of Lapin for some reason, bragged that he had many a lover and thus ‘many a bâtard’.

  ‘How many children do you have?’ asked papai.

  ‘I make twenty-seven of them,’ returned Lapin with cool indifference.

  ‘Twenty-seven?’ papai’s voice squeaked.

  Lapin shrugged. ‘I send them to foundling hospital.’ He yawned just then, as if his children meant nothing more to him than, say, a cart-load of vegetables or legumes.

  An image entered my mind of the despicable Lapin with his twenty-seven chickpeas, each of the chickpeas having a tiny, sweet face, and he tossed them one after another into the foundling turnbox wheel. A dark cloud of troubled thoughts passed over me, and before I could stop myself, I turned into an ogress, ready to pounce on this rogue.

  ‘Olha maroto!’ scolded I from the doorway.

  Papai scowled at me and my clenched fists. ‘Miss Changeling? Pray ask Sofia-Elisabete to return at once. Now go and do my bidding,’ said he in a harsh tone.

  Papai’s censure stung me to the quick. I took to my heels, running out of doors, to search for myself, but no matter where I looked, I could not be found. Distressed at the thought of losing papai’s good opinion, I trudged back to the inn where he awaited me in ill-humour.

  ‘Well, now, have you returned to your senses?’ His brow darkened.

  I hung my head. ‘I can’t find me.’

  ‘Are you certain you’ve looked everywhere?’

  I nodded. ‘I’ve looked high and low.’

  ‘O fie!’ papai growled out, casting me a severe look.

  ‘Papai,’ I inched closer to him so as to fidget with a button on his coat. ‘I know why mamãe Marisa left me in the roda when I was a bebê.’

  This piece of news unsettled him, and his countenance softened. ‘Indeed?’

  ‘She said she did a bad thing.’

  ‘To be sure she did.’

  A hint of suspicion tugged at my heart again – that dim feeling of doubt and hurt that lives inside of you, taking shape without your knowing it or wanting to know about it. I peered into his dark blue eyes, whereupon I blurted out, ‘Papai, did you forget me?’

  This home question deeply affected him, and he swallowed hard.

  ‘I never forgot you.’ Papai drew me to his breast. ‘I wasn’t man enough at first to come and look for you. I was a lost soul. Will you forgive my weakness?’

  I knew papai spoke the truth, because Sister Lisbet had once described him as ‘so very lost’. And that is why I grasped his hand now to kiss it. ‘A bênção meu papai.’

  Mid-morning the next day, the pilot of the Princess Augusta sent word that we would up anchor in half-an-hour. The whole hotel was in confusion as we lodgers bustled about to pack our things. After papai had settled our bill with the landlord, we hied to the dock, my papai carrying me and our portmanteau and hat-box. Pico lagged on the pier until papai ordered, ‘Come, lad, quick march.’ It hadn’t occurred to me that Pico dreaded going home to Edwinstowe where a day of reckoning with his father could no longer be put off. MacTavish grasped Pico by the scruff of the neck to prevent his escape, and when they came on deck, he tied down Pico until we were safely out at sea.

  ‘Gad zookers,’ complained Pico. ‘I’m not a criminal.’

  ‘Ye sud ha’e taken the twenty thumps wi’ the Colonel.’ MacTavish rapped Pico on the head.

  Ere long papai’s complexion turned a shade of green as we pitched about on the sea, and he got sick over the side of the packet-boat. MacTavish positioned papai on deck near a pail, and each time papai got sick, so did the dandy next to him, and then the matron next to the dandy, and then the matron’s portly husband, and so on, they each of them taking a turn at it – what an odd thing it was – until it seemed that most every passenger had sickened with this malady related to the sea.

  I placed a rosolio drop on papai’s tongue to soothe him, and he moaned his gratitude, his eyes half-closed. Then, abruptly, he reached for the pail, and the dandy next to him did the same with his pail, and the matron next to him, and you can guess the rest. I resolved to relieve papai’s and everyone’s suffering, and so, having told Wind to make haste and push us to Dover, I pressed my tiny hands on papai’s forehead, praying with all my might. Hola, ho! God! Please help my dear papai. Que milagre! Like a miracle, papai’s head sank upon his breast, and he snored for the remainder of the sea journey, as did the dandy and then the matron, &c.

  The sun now being low in the sky, we sighted the British shore and the lofty white cliffs. ‘Huzzah! Old England for ever,’ shouted a sea officer with pride and relief. ‘Huzzah!’ echoed MacTavish, rousing papai from his peaceful slumber. In a wistful mood, papai gulped down French courage from his flask. He, having noticed my curiosity, offered me some.

  ‘Papai, I am not yet six years old,’ I chided him.

  ‘Humph.’ Papai offered his flask to the dandy next to us.

  ‘I dare say I’m more than six years of age.’ With a whoop, the dandy gulped down the wicked liquor, and when he had done, he honoured us with a loud belch.

  ‘Well, I never!’ protested the matron next to the belching dandy.

  I began to giggle, when papai covered my mouth with his hand to shush me.

  ‘Papai, where do memories go?’ I shan’t ever forget this silly dandy, methinks.

  He paused to reflect on the matter. ‘Well, now, everyone has a sea of memories. Some memories sink to the bottom of the sea, where you hope they never resurface, while others you wish to keep afloat for ever, but they eventually sink as well over time, unless you go and fish them up.’

  I do believe I gathered up many memories from my adventure on the continent – some of them joyful such as rope dancing with the gipsies, some of them frightening such as nearly falling into an abyss, some of them hurtful such as being told why my natural mother had abandoned me in a foundling turnbox wheel. Would they all sink inside of me, down to my toes, never to be thought of again by me?

  Oh, how I longed to hold my mamãe Aggie and to recount my adventure to her before any of it faded from my memory. I imagined that she, being a forbearing and sympathetic soul, would understand why I had gone off, and she would deem my adventure a fortunate misfortune, because should not a child know from whom she sprung? If not for my quest to find a perfect moon world – a world that turned out not to exist – then I would not have discovered my natural mother and the truth of my mysterious beginnings.

  We put ashore at Dover, cheered by the lingering rays of the setting sun, when a chaotic scene ensued with passengers and porters and customs-officers. ‘My girl, I am quite recovered, now that I’m back on English soil, and I shall be reunited with my dear wife,’ rejoiced papai, his eyes bright and shiny. ‘They say you must quit your home to appreciate it when you return.’ Determined to share in his happiness, for I wished to be at home once more in Scarborough, I straightened my majo jacket, and I flung my brown capa over my left shoulder in the way I had seen Señor Gonzalez do with his capa whenever he summoned up a manly resolve. I promenaded down the pier in a graceful paseo, rattling my castanets – ta-ria-ria-pi.

  But then, the distant blare of an alphorn beckoned me, and I began to pine for the past, and it pained me to think that everyone I had met on the continent would forget me, for I surely would never forget any of them. I turned round one last time, imagining I could see far into a continent at the horizon now blurred in a vapour of violets and oranges and reds and yellows. Lo! There I am, dreaming atop the tower at Villa La Luna. There I am, riding a mule with my beau Oskar Denzler in the Gemmi pass. There I am, dancing the bolero with Doña Marisa at Casa Castiglione. Enough, I told myself, and with a sorrowful heart, I bid everyone and everything there adeus.


  Finis

  Glossary

  This glossary consists of selected words and phrases and slang that were used in the story. They are defined below as they were understood then in the early 1800’s. When a word has several meanings for that time period, I’ve provided only the definition of the word that fits into the context of the story.

  Legend:

  D = Dutch

  E = British English

  F = French

  Ge = Genoese dialect

  Gr = Greek

  I = Italian

  L = Latin

  N = Nottingham dialect

  P = European Portuguese

  S = Spanish

  Sc = Scottish

  Sw = Swiss German

  A bênção meu avô – A blessing, my grandfather (P)

  Adesso ti mangio – I’m going to eat you (I)

  Adeus – goodbye (P)

  Adufe – square-framed drum (P)

  Adufiera – adufe player (P)

  Ahora te como – I’m going to eat you (S)

  Alla salute! – To your health! (I)

  Allez! – Gee up! (in reference to a horse) (F)

  Amô – love (Ge)

  Anjinha – little angel (P)

  Apre! – Hey day! (P)

  Arre! – Gee up! (in reference to a horse) (P) (S)

  Aweel, aweel – Well, well; used for introducing a remark (Sc)

  Bardy bairn – mischievous, impertinent child (Sc)

  Barouche – a four-wheeled horse-drawn carriage with collapsible hood over the rear half (E)

  Basquiña – petticoat (S)

  Basta! – Enough! (S)

  Bâtard – bastard child (F)

  Bât-man – an officer’s servant (E)

  Bebê – baby (P)

  Boba – fool (P)

  Bolsa – a purse; a pouch for traveller to store his necessaries (S)

  Bom dia – good day (P)

  Breeched – to put a boy into breeches when he reaches a certain age, usually five; prior to that, the custom was that children of both sexes were dressed alike in gowns (E)

  Bres drume – brass drum (Sc)

  Broo of broth – the liquid part of broth (not the vegetables or other substances) (Sc)

  Brood – bread (D)

  Bruxa – witch (P)

  Bubbies – breasts (E)

  Buckskins – breeches made of buckskin (E)

  Buenas tardes – good afternoon (S)

  Burrinho – little donkey (P)

  Cabriolet – a light, hooded two-wheeled chaise drawn by one horse (F)

  Cagg – a solemn vow by a soldier not to get drunk for a fixed amount of time (E)

  Caixa – a drum used by the Portuguese military (P)

  Calai-vos – shush, be quiet (P)

  Calash – a light carriage with low wheels and folding hood, drawn by one or two horses (E)

  Callidus – crafty, cunning, sly (L)

  Capa – cloak (P)

  Caza de pasto – public-house (P)

  Cerveja – beer (P)

  Chum – food (Sc)

  Cicisbeo – gentleman escort (I)

  Clout – to cuff, to give a heavy blow with the hand (E) (N)

  Come ti chiami? – What’s your name? (I)

  Con muito gusto – With pleasure (P)

  Cortejo – gentleman escort (S)

  Court-martial – noun: a judicial court (either military or naval) for the trial of military or naval offences, or the administration of martial law; verb: to try by court-martial (E)

  Coxcomb – a foolish, conceited, showy person; a fop, a dandy (E)

  Dandy – a man who is excessively concerned about dressing elegantly and fashionably (E)

  Derring-do – daring action or feats (literal meaning: daring to do) (E)

  Diabo – devil (P)

  Dios mío! – My God! (S)

  Domingo – Sunday; also, a man’s name when he’s born on a Sunday (S)

  Drumhead court-martial – an urgent court-martial held in the battlefield for offenses committed in a military action (E)

  Ear trumpet – a small trumpet-shaped device that is held to the ear to help a person hear (E)

  En route, hi! – Gee up! (in reference to a horse) (literal meaning: on the way) (F)

  Fatigue duty – labour assigned to military men (E)

  French courage – French brandy (E)

  Gallego – Galician (a person from Galicia in Spain) (P)

  Gaol – jail (E)

  Gendarme – soldier employed in police duties (F)

  Gewgaw – bauble, toy, ornament (E)

  Gitanos – gipsies (S)

  Gli italiani – Italians (I)

  Gooseberry fool – a dish where pureed stewed fruit (gooseberries) is folded into sweet custard (E)

  Goose-grog – author’s slang for gooseberry fool dessert awarded to Sofia-Elisabete; grog being a naval term for a drink that is part rum, part water, a daily ration of which was given to sailors (E)

  Graça – grace (P)

  Hackney – a horse-drawn carriage for hire (E)

  Heigh-ho! – exclamation to express a yawn, a sigh, weariness or disappointment (E)

  Hey day! – exclamation for wonder, surprise, gaiety, frolicsomeness (E)

  Ho fame – I’m hungry (I)

  Hoezee – huzzah (D)

  Hoyden – boisterous noisy girl; rude, ill-bred girl (E)

  Inglaterra – England (P)

  Jongetje – little boy (D)

  La luna – the moon (S)

  Lapin – rabbit (F)

  Laranjeiras – orange trees (P)

  Laudanum – alcoholic tincture of opium (E)

  Lei una strega – She’s a witch (I)

  Libertas – freedom (L)

  Looby – awkward, stupid, clownish person (E)

  Lusitano – Portuguese horse breed related to Spanish Andalusian horse (P)

  Lusty – healthy, strong, vigorous (E)

  Maan – moon (D)

  Majo/Maja – the beaux and belles of the lower classes, with their elaborate dress and cheeky manners, who were imitated by the privileged classes in a show of Spanish nationalism (S)

  Mangiamo! – Let’s eat! (I)

  Mantilla – veil (S)

  Me chamo – My name is (P)

  Merci – thank you (F)

  Merci vielmal – thank you very much (Sw)

  Middling sort – middle class (E)

  Minestra – soup (I)

  Mira! – Look! (S)

  Mon Dieu! – My God! (F)

  Mora – an Italian game where each player simultaneously extends any number of their fingers and calls out a number; the player who successfully guesses the total number of fingers revealed by all players combined scores a point (also, Morra) (I)

  Mr O. P. Umm – author’s slang for laudanum (E)

  Musitioner – musician (Sc)

  Namorado – beau (P)

  Não – no (P)

  Não entendo – I don’t understand (P)

  Não vás – Don’t go (P)

  Necessary House – privy, latrine (E)

  Niños – children (S)

  Niver – never (N)

  Nobiltà – nobility (I)

  Nunca – never (P)

  Och! – exclamation of surprise, contempt, annoyance, impatience, or disagreement (E) (Sc) (also, Irish slang)

  Oh-lah pa-pai ah-deh-oosh – phonetic spellings for ‘hello papa goodbye’ in Portuguese (P)

  Pão – bread (P)

  Parritch – a well-known Scots dish, hasty pudding (a porridge of oatmeal or flour boiled in water) (Sc)

  Pico – peak; also, a nickname for a man with a big nose (S)

  Pobrecito – poor thing (expressing pity for) (S)

  Polenta – boiled cornmeal and/or other grains (I)

  Por qué? – Why? (S)

  Post-chaise – a horse-drawn carriage with postillion, used for carrying mail and passengers (E)

  Postillion – rider mounted on horse or one of a pair
of horses to guide a horse-drawn coach or post-chaise (E)

  Potage au macaroni – macaroni soup (F)

  Public-house – pub, tavern (E)

  Quality, person of – nobility, high birth or rank, good social position, e.g., a man of quality (E)

  Que bella menina – What a beautiful girl (P)

  Que estranho – How strange (P)

  Qué mal olor – What a bad smell (S)

  Qué maravilla – How wonderful (S)

  Quizzing glass – a monocle; a single eyeglass with or without a handle (E)

  Rum ’un – odd, strange person (E) (N)

  Rusticate – to stay or live in the countryside (E)

  Sábado – Saturday; also, a man’s name when he’s born on a Saturday (S)

  Sardinha – sardine (P)

  Scì – yes (Ge)

  Sedetevi, per favore – Sit down, please (I)

  Sí, cómo no – Yes, of course (S)

  Siéntese! – Sit down! (S)

  Silencio! – Silence! (S)

  Sim – yes (P)

  Sofia-Elisabete – our girl hero’s name is pronounced Soo FEE uh Ah lee za BET (P)

  Summat – something (N)

  Tamborilera – drummer (S)

  Tatterdemalion – a person wearing ragged and dirty clothing (E)

  Tengo hambre – I’m hungry (S)

  Tonto/Tonta – fool (S)

  Torero – bullfighter (S)

  Très bon – very good (F)

  Treacle - molasses (E)

  Turnspit – a dog used to turn the roasting-spit; the dog runs in a tread-wheel connected with the spit (E)

  Vaarwel – farewell (D)

  Valza – waltz (P)

  Vete! – Go away! (S)

  Villano – villain (S)

  Viva! – shortened version of “ora viva!” or “hello there!” (P)

  Voto a Dios – I swear to God (colloquial); I vow to God (literal) (S)