Connexions (7)

[the_comfortable_courtesan]

The accidents of good fortune

Maurice Allard gazed with a little horror at the scene before him. Would, he fancied, have looked very well in a play, but had very much rather not have been in the midst!

There was young Binnie quite dancing about the room with the dog Pompey, that was most gratifying pleased to see her, and licking her face with great exuberance.

There was his sister Marie – his fierce sister Marie! – sobbing on their cousin Dorcas’s shoulder in her gratitude at the latter’s having brought about this happiest turn of events –

Quite witchcraft! thought Maurice, might one attribute that to such a pious Methodist as Dorcas, that went about holding prayer-meetings and Bible-readings among the women of Covent Garden when she might spare the time from her duties as Lady Bexbury’s housekeeper.

She and Prue, the housemaid in the establishment, had been doing the like these many years – armoured in the Holy Spirit, they had said, or so Sophy had told him, when he raised his eyebrows at the thought of quiet but very handsome Dorcas going about Covent Garden. But maybe 'twas so, could Dorcas face down Nat Barron!

He wondered how Nat had come into the business – would have to look into that – had himself murmured about getting Nat to bring his powers of persuasion to bear on Binnie’s ma, but all had been determined to do their best within the Law – at least, at first.

Well, Nat had looked out for 'em, 'twas true, since they was hardened little sinners in the streets and alleys of Seven Dials – had always made something of a pet of Maurice himself, constituted himself his protector – only a decent return for him to lure gentlemen into dark spots where Nat’s gang, for he already had a set of fellows about him, even then, might rob 'em. Had there ever been a passage or so 'twixt 'em – a mere matter of curiosity on Nat’s part, no doubt, had it been so – Maurice’s lips were very firmly sealed.

Had Nat not been fucking Marie quite regular? Even before he had took over from Staithe, had took care of her, made it clear to Staithe that she was under Nat’s protection, and even in those days that was a warning to proceed with caution!

Indeed, they had long had a surmize that Jacques Allard’s drunken demise in a flooded ditch had somewhat to do with a favour from Nat….

Sure, they had both made something of themselves since then – being in the business of special pleasures for gentlemen was not like walking the streets, 'twas more what one might call carriage trade, law, the tales Marie might tell, just from seeing her lip curl when she read of some fellow prosing in Parliament or such. Had been brought on by that artist in those skills, Mary-Theresa O’Callaghan, in return for Maurice dressing her in the crack of Mamzelle Bridgette’s styles for when she attended the theatre or soirées as the consort of the critic Pargiter.

But Marie had still been hardened, her brother thought. He had thought himself thus, but was nothing like the same. There had been the benign example of Biddy Smith, Mamzelle Bridgette, that had give him a chance to become a modiste in spite of his sex. Once he had moved off the streets into the comfortable rooms of that certain club, it had not just been safety and much better remuneration, had been fellows like Captain Penkarding and Saxham Loppingham that had took an interest, give him good advice, recognized his abilities and advanced him to membership as a very useful fellow indeed.

A fellow that had very useful connexions with one that could forcefully discourage attempts at extortion….

Yet here was Marie – could not put it all down to the shock of Trembourne dropping dead at her feet. No, had been well before that that she had took in that waif Binnie. And he apprehended that she had been quite some time in the habit of going to Dorcas and Prue’s bible-readings and prayer-meetings at Mollie Binns’ coffee-house.

He shook his head. Then stood, picking up his hat and stick. Well, he said, is all well and happy, will be about my ways. He went to kiss his sister farewell, clasp Dorcas’s hand, inserting a couple of banknotes towards her charitable efforts, and then departed.

It was, he conceded to himself, exceeding annoying to one that had such a fine reputation for dealing with matters – was entirely the fellow they went to at the club – constantly consulted by the other chaps in the local businessmen’s association – the sisterhood were wont to appeal to him over any little troubles – considered entirely an oracle by his family and their wider connexion – that he had not been the one that had been able to resolve his own sister’s difficulty. Fancied he should have been able to come at some way to handle the business.

He was still brooding over this when he came to his own apartments, where he found the lamps lit, there was an agreeable scent of some good food, and best of all, the sight of a fine tall red-haired Scotsman sitting reading in one of the easy-chairs. Having hung up his outer garments and disposed of his hat and stick, he went to sit in his lap.

My dear, said Sandy, after a few moments, is something ado?

Maurice lifted his head from where it had been comfortably resting on Sandy’s shoulder and snapped, Just because I do not chatter like a magpie or the parrots at Black Tom’s, you suppose somewhat must be ado?

Well, it is a little unlike your usual wont not to say what you have been about!

Maurice sighed, stood up and shook himself. I was at Marie’s – all is very happily resolved about that brat Binnie, her ma has been entire converted by my cousin Dorcas, that was able to inform Nat Barron that his services would not be required in the matter – and how he found about the brangle, I should like to know! –

Sandy began to grin. And all without the intervention of a certain useful little dusky fellow, that takes a pet over it.

Maurice scowled, and reseated himself. Indeed I do.

Why, my dear, here you are, your bustling time o’year – this business at the club – why should you not leave it to other hands? You had no objections to Leda going investigate –

I knew about that! 'Twas not going on behind my back –

You mean, they did not bother you with it. I daresay you would have got into one of your takings over Dorcas going into Seven Dials –

It was very likely that he would have!

Sometimes, Sandy went on, even Clorinda, that arch-contriver, will leave matters up to other hands – does not suppose that there is nothing can go right without she is in the business – now, I fancy you would feel a deal better for taking a gin-hot and then a plate of this excellent stew that Euphemia sent with me.

Maurice snorted, but complied. His mood did indeed improve with the application of those remedies and Sandy’s company, that he had not anticipated to enjoy for some months yet whilst he jaunted about Scotland with young Carter.

Now, said Sandy, when the meal was done and they were sitting convivially with drinks in hand, I apprehend that what you have been going about very effective is fomenting a coup at the club against Saythingport.

Maurice modestly cast down his eyes. La, you will make me out a wild revolutionary fellow! But indeed, once I began to make certain essays I discovered how little he is liked by so many of the members. It was quite the revelation that Sir Stockwell, of all people, is most exceeding weary of his ways – does not think he has any notion of the necessity of running things in shipshape and Bristol order fashion –

Anyone might suppose Sir Stockwell to be an old salt rather than sitting at a desk in the Admiralty these many years!

Quite. And of course, at present Saythingport is seldom even there, because he is about this business of taking Talshaw about Society with a view to marrying him off –

Sandy groaned. I suppose that there will be those that consider his rank must outweigh his considerable defects of person and character when making a matrimonial bargain.

One dares say. But it keeps Saythingport occupied, and I think we are like to favour the membership of young Davison when it comes to committee.

Excellent! Sandy looked down into his glass, and poured himself some more port. My dear, there is a troubling little piece of news I fancy I ought to communicate to you – may be nothing, or rather come to nothing to bother us: but Basil Linsleigh has been seen in the region of Naples.

Maurice hissed. Not murdered by Albanian bandits or died of fevers in Greece, then.

Alas, no, in fine plump form from what Emmy di Serrante writes to Clorinda – horrid mincing fat creature that was rudely insulting about lady water-colourists. Though the company he was in included a family of wealthy Virginians that he was making up to, so perchance he will venture to the New World. Meanwhile, Marcello is arranging for him to be under observation.

Maurice fluttered his eyelashes. Is Marcello not that fellow that is extreme handy with a stiletto?

Sandy looked at him with his most disapproving John Knox face. We do not commission assassinations, he said, however much we are tempted.

I did not mean it – not entirely – sure I might wish him half an hour with Thad –

Sandy leaned over and kissed him. Come, my dear, you are tired –

Not so very tired –

Sandy stood and pulled Maurice up into an embrace.

I am, said the latter, very fortunate.

Sometimes he still could not believe the accidents of good fortune that had brought him this.