While they waited for the last of the congregation to file in, she took a look behind her for the tall, familiar features of her first pupil.
Despite his words to her, Cassie hadn’t expected Gabriel Hardacre to be serious about learning to read, so her promise to teach him was only half-seriously given.
And yet he came the next day at the hour she had nominated, with a piece of slate in hand, his clothes still carrying a smattering of sawdust, his scent a mix of freshly sawn timber, sandalwood, and the sweat of honest, hard work.
Not since Hugh Bestwick had she been so aware of a man. Feelings and desires she thought had left with Hugh’s betrayal now emerged as new as the spring about them. And the lessons that necessarily put her in close quarters with Gabriel had made the past weeks a mix of both pleasure and temptation.
She ought to count herself fortunate that it was only two hours, two days a week he spent in her company.
Cassie had started at the beginning, teaching Gabriel the alphabet, how the letters sounded, and then joined together to form words.
At first, he seemed to struggle with the enormity of the task of memorizing how to spell words until he realized that letters often combined in fixed combinations – that tree, trod, and travel always began with the same two letters.
She smiled at the memory just as she spotted Gabriel and his brothers at the back of the chapel.
Mathilda leaned toward her to whisper: “It is not hard to see where your heart lies.”
Cassie considered whether to pretend she didn’t know what her cousin was talking about, but the woman’s face held too much of a knowing expression to make believe otherwise.
“Gabriel Hardacre is my pupil. That is all.”
Her cousin nodded, apparently unconvinced. “He ought to be Uriah’s pupil now and study with the older boys.”
“His skill is not so high as that,” Cassie whispered. “He would be too discouraged in his endeavors if he were made to conjugate Latin before he had even mastered writing in the English tongue.”
Cassie was pleased to put an end to the conversation when the congregation got to their feet.
Uriah appeared, dressed in his crisp black vestments, a purple stole around his neck. The visiting Bishop, Joseph Hall, stood at his side, his neatly trimmed black beard peppered with white. He, too, wore the formal robes of his office, black but with voluminous white sleeves beneath his sleeveless black cassock.
She was delighted to hear of the bishop’s acceptance of Uriah’s invitation and was hoping to speak to the man whose keen wit and sharply observed satire saw his work once threatened with burning for its “licentiousness”. The fact it received a last-minute reprieve by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself was a story Cassie was most keen to hear from the author himself.
Her cousin nodded to a small group from the church choir, dressed in white surplices over red vestments, to begin the first hymn.
Cassie joined in the singing and couldn’t help but take a small amount of pride during the dedication of the Penrose Almshouses. She felt they might stand for five hundred years, perhaps even more, in the memory of John Penrose.
Following the service, Cassie waited in the schoolroom as Uriah and Mathilda escorted the various dignitaries through the building.
Everything looked new and smelled new. On each desk in the schoolroom sat two timber-framed slates, a reading primer between them. It looked as though the students had only momentarily filed out from their lessons.
Gabriel and his brothers had done a wonderful job building the furniture. Raphael had taken the extra time to adorn the front of her desk with a rondel. Into it was carved a book and pen. And it wasn’t until just yesterday, as she wiped over the desks in preparation for the visit, that she noticed that every single desk had a uniquely carved feature in each leg – a cat and mouse, an apple with worm, a tree filled with fruit.
So, what would the Hardacre brothers do now that the property was now consecrated and open? She would have a word with Uriah. Surely someone would take them into employment.
Outside in the center courtyard, she heard the band strike up.
She nodded to an older couple who examined the schoolroom arm-in-arm and made her way over to the window. The diamond panes of glass in the leadlight distorted the view outside. Shapes were too indistinct to make out.
Cassie heard Uriah’s voice down the hall. She pulled her attention from the window in time to see him enter the schoolroom with the bishops.
“It’s one of the innovations of which we are most proud, Your Grace,” he said. “A school that will serve the poor of the community as well as a place for the residents of the almshouses to gather if the weather is inclement.”
Uriah raised a hand to beckon Cassie over. She approached and gave the cleric a curtsey.
“This is my cousin, Perspicacity Glenwood. She is living with my wife and me. Her charge is the youngest pupils.”
“’Tis an honor to meet you, Your Grace. I do hope I might impose after supper this evening to talk to you about Virgidemiarum. I would be pleased to know more about your reading of the Greek satirists.”
The bishop’s face brightened. “That my work should excite the interest of a young lady so many years after the fact does an old heart good,” he said.
“‘I first adventure, follow me who list, and be the second English satirist’,” Cassie quoted.
Bishop Hall laughed heartily.
“Then if you teach the classics, the school is in fine hands, I warrant.”
Cassie bowed again and noted Uriah’s pleased expression.
“My cousin is so dedicated to her task that she has taken on a student even before the school has opened,” he explained to the bishop. “One of the carpenters who built the furniture here is now learning his letters.
“He and his brothers are also the acrobats I mentioned. They are about to begin. Shall we go and watch?”
Chapter Seven
Cassie joined her cousin and the bishop out in the courtyard. She spotted Mathilda in the crowd and waved. The four of them found a spot in the corner which afforded a view of the courtyard without too much obstruction from the small crowd that had gathered.
Even so, the three Hardacre brothers would be difficult to miss. They wore blousons of bright blue and yellow divided into quadrants, teamed with a light grey hose that fitted snugly on their legs, as well as other parts of their anatomy. On their feet were highly polished, supple black leather boots.
Gabriel nodded to the band which started a lively tune on fife, horn, and drums. The three brothers put their arms around one another’s shoulders and, as one, danced a jig in time with the music.
Then they split up to take to different parts of the courtyard. Even though they could not see one another, they danced in athletic unison, bounding from one foot to the other, lifting knees high, performing flips and tumbles before moving back together into single file.
Raphael stood between his two brothers. Gabriel faced him. Michael at the rear. Raphael raised his hands over his shoulders, elbows bent. He bobbed just as Michael grabbed his hands and vaulted onto his brother’s shoulders.
That earned a smattering of applause.
With Raphael holding him in place by his calves, Michael bent over Raphael’s head with hands held out. Gabriel took two steps forward and jumped, taking Michael’s hands to help lift him onto Raphael’s shoulders.
The middle brother staggered with the momentum, but recovered quickly and lowered to a controlled squat, his face red with the exertion.
Gabriel placed his hands on Michael’s shoulders. With a loud “Hoy!”, he launched himself up until he performed a handstand on his brother’s shoulders.
Raphael slowly rose to a standing posture. The trick – three men stacked one on top of the other with the highest in a handstand, earned gasps and more enthusiastic cheering.
“They’re really very good,” Mathilda whispered just as Gabriel moved his legs into front splits. He
held that position as Raphael shuffled in a full circle for the whole crowd to see.
Gabriel then performed the feat one handed for several seconds before he curled his body and steadied himself once again on Michael’s shoulders before performing a backward somersault to dismount.
He held a hands and knees position on the ground. Raphael shuffled into position at his side. Michael tumbled into a forward roll and a handstand on Gabriel’s back. He turned a full circle on his hands and dismounted. He reached out toward Raphael who vaulted over Gabriel, and took Michael’s hands to perform a twist turn up and over them both.
Cassie nodded in belated agreement to her cousin’s observation. Yes, they were very good, indeed. Good enough to perform in London, perhaps even the royal courts of Europe.
The band came to the end of the tune; the brothers took their bows. Gabriel drew the crowd’s attention and waved his hand like a conductor. The musicians played a flourish.
He then turned toward where Cassie and Mathilda stood with the bishop’s entourage. Cassie tried to hide a blush as Gabriel looked directly at her.
“Your Grace,” he declared with theatrical flair. Bishop Hall nodded in acknowledgement. “Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished guests. Our next trick has never before been performed in Barnstaple.”
Cassie wasn’t quite sure when he had acquired them, but Gabriel now had three hunting knives in his hand. He started juggling them. The polished steel blades glinted in the sunlight.
“It is said that the ladies in the royal courts of France fainted at witnessing such a spectacle. It is also said the men of the Spanish court also fainted like women!”
The barb aimed at England’s enemy received enthusiastic responses. As Gabriel worked the crowd, Raphael and Michael set up something which looked like an archery butt, except it was rectangular in shape, short end up. It was only just wider than a man and painted black.
Without missing a beat, Gabriel threw one of the knives high, caught it, then tossed all three at once high into the air.
“I need a volunteer from the audience,” he said. After a beat, he turned. Each falling knife returned to his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the blade spinning toward the board. One, two, three knives all bit deep in the wood, their hilts quivering.
“What? No one game enough? It seems I shall have to pick an assistant of my own.”
Cassie took a step back as Gabriel held his hand out toward her.
“You, fair lady?”
Mathilda nudged her forward, and she found her hand in Gabriel’s, the play of mischief around his lips impossible to resist.
Gabriel knew the knives he toyed with were far less dangerous than the game he played with his teacher, but still he couldn’t help himself. He loved the way there was a flush to her cheeks as she placed her hand in his.
He escorted her in a circuit around the courtyard, allowing her to revel in the crowd’s applause. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael wave a large red silk scarf. He drew Cassie near, took the scarf from his brother’s hand, and give it to her as a gallant might have done in centuries past.
“My Lady, blindfold me, if you will.”
Gabriel winked as Cassie frowned but, nonetheless, she moved behind him and performed her task.
“I have two brothers,” Gabriel told the crowd. “Will this day end with me having only one? Raphael, if you please. My Lady, be sure to knot the scarf tight.”
And as they had rehearsed many times, Michael retrieved the knives and placed them in Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel knew the stunt looked impressive but, while it was not without its risk, it was also safer than the audience knew.
The silk scarf seemed thick enough waved in the air, but it was sheer enough for him to make out Raphael’s shape against the black backdrop. As part of the performance, he allowed Cassie on one arm and Michael on the other to position him facing the board.
He readied the first blade between his fingers and raised his hand. Raphael called out instructions and he moved his hand accordingly.
Up! Stop! Left! Stop! Down! Stop! Go!
On that command, Gabriel let the knife fly and heard it make a satisfying thud into the wood. The crowd cheered. He raised the second knife and received his “instructions” from Raphael once more. Thud! And a third time, making sure the knife went in closer to his brother’s side for a greater illusion of danger.
The applause was thunderous.
Gabriel ripped off the scarf and went down on bended knee to take Cassie’s hand and kiss it before taking his bows along with his brothers.
He loved this moment. Fleeting though it was, there was something invigorating about the adoration of the crowd. For a singular point in time, he was accepted. Loved.
Soon the crowed melted away and the feeling of belonging went with it. In a well-practiced drill, Gabriel and his brothers packed away their props before dressing in more fitting clothing to return to the street and blend in with the crowd.
They were nearly at The Strand when they heard their names called.
“Hardacres! Wait!”
Gabriel gave his brothers a questioning glance, and Michael shrugged his shoulders, but they all paused and waited for Reverend Williams to catch up with them. Gabriel shifted a knapsack across his shoulder.
“Reverend Makepeace has asked me to extend an invitation to dine with us at the rectory today.”
Raphael frowned deeply. “Us?”
The curate nodded readily.
The idea of seeing Cassie again appealed, but Gabriel knew equally that his brothers would sooner decline the invitation to prevent embarrassment. That stopped as of today. They could do nothing about their low birth, but nothing could stop them from aiming higher for themselves.
“We accept the good reverend’s invitation, but he will have to take us as we are, I’m afraid. These are our best clothes,” Gabriel told him, aware of his brothers’ mute surprise.
Their silence lasted only until Reverend Williams was out of earshot.
“You’ve turned jester on us, I see,” said Raphael. “Dining at the rectory and in the company of a bishop no less? What the hell were you thinking in accepting such an invitation?”
“He was thinking of his lady love, I’ll warrant,” added Michael.
Gabriel shrugged away the dig. “Makepeace knows who and what we are. He wouldn’t have sent Williams to seek us out if his invitation wasn’t genuine. Moreover, you idiots, I was thinking of our futures. I was thinking of the day we can hold our heads up in the light and no longer skulk in the shadows, when we have people look us directly in the eyes and not wonder whether we are cutpurses or beggars. Do you have a problem with that?”
Gabriel looked to Michael, knowing he would be the first to fall in line. After a beat, he nodded.
Raphael was more stubborn, more willing to push the boundaries.
“Well?” Gabriel pressed.
“I don’t like the idea of making a fool out of myself,” Raphael answered.
“Well, the answer to that is easy,” Gabriel replied. “Don’t be a fool, and you’ll be all right.”
Gabriel sensed victory. Raphael would have dug his heels in and outright refused if he was of a mind to it.
He turned right, toward the rectory, instead of left down to the Wharf Street Tavern. On hearing his brothers follow along, Gabriel smiled. This was the beginning of a new chapter, a new opportunity.
More than that, it was a new opportunity to better get to know Perspicacity Glenwood.
Chapter Eight
“Now, before we go on, you simply have to tell us how you could possibly have rehearsed the trick with the knives without having hurt yourselves,” said Mathilda.
Cassie suppressed a smile. Her cousin’s wife had been eager to ask the question of the Hardacre brothers all day. Now it was late afternoon, their appetites sated by an outstanding meal. She had lulled them in a false sense of security.
The three men looked at one another and then to ev
eryone around the table.
“Well,” said Raphael, scratching the back of his head, “we don’t really share our secrets. They’re tricks of the trade, you understand.”
At Mathilda’s disappointed look – a greatly exaggerated one in Cassie’s opinion – the youngest brother, Michael, seemed almost bereft at disappointing their hostess.
“Oh, but I’m sure it would be all right to tell Mistress Makepeace,” he said. “After all, if we cannot be fully honest in a vicar’s house then…”
He flushed bright red.
All three men were self-conscious, Cassie observed. Raphael showed it in his face. He watched everyone keenly. At the dining table, he was stiff and formal. Gabriel was less so, he effortlessly charmed them all, but yet there was something he kept in reserve.
“It’s part skill and part illusion, Mistress,” he said. “It is dangerous enough, to be sure. The one throwing the knife must be skilled as the other’s life depends on it. But the blindfold is partially transparent and when the subject is against a dark background, the contrast is enough. It’s easy to teach and difficult to master.”
“That is true of any worthwhile endeavor, is it not?” Cassie asked.
Gabriel’s mouth lifted at the corner. “I like to try to master everything that comes to hand.”
It wasn’t so much the words themselves but the timbre of his voice which struck a chord in her chest.
The man was trying to sport with her.
To cover her surprise, she reached forward for her small glass of beer and glanced around everyone in the room. No one seemed to think Gabriel’s comment was untoward.
She was being too sensitive because of her awareness of him. Yes, that was it.
“Would you care to try?”
She frowned. Oh dear, this simply would not do! She had lost her train of thought.
“Knife throwing?” he prompted. “We can try it without the blindfold to begin with.”
There was something in the remark, but Cassie had no idea whether to take him seriously or not.
The de Wolfe of Wharf Street Page 5