P. N. Elrod - Barrett 01, page 9
"That's Tower Hill, of course, and the ship itself is on perfectly dry land."
"What good is that, then?"
"Oh, it's done no end of good for the navy. If some unwary soul has the bad luck to stop for a look he has to pay dearly for his curiosity."
"What? You mean they offer a tour of the place? Is the fee so great?"
"Great enough for most. The fellow offering to show them around is part of a press gang. More than one hapless lad fresh in from the country has been trapped that way and may never set foot on land again. Foreigners are fairly safe, and so are gentlemen, and since you're both in one, you've nothing to fear from them. Still, I can't help but pity the poor men who wander into that pretty snare." He gave a sincere shudder and by some leap of thought I got the idea that he may have had some personal experience in the matter.
We jolted and wove our way through the many streets for more than an hour, though the distance we traveled could not have been more than a couple of miles. The sights and distractions were many and Oliver was pleased with my reactions to them, enjoying his role of playing the guide as much as I was at playing the tourist.
Presently, Oliver gave the cart man more specific directions and we stopped before a tall and broad house of white stone with black paint trimming the proportionately broad windows. Because Oliver had mentioned the tax upon windows, I could see that the owner of this place was in such a financial position as to be untroubled by the added expense. Already this looked to be a highly favorable exchange for the mean little room I'd had at the inn.
We left the cart, mounted the front steps, and Oliver gave the bell a vigorous pull. A servant soon opened the door and welcomed us inside. He was well acquainted with Oliver and, after sending a footman off to inform the master of the house about his guests, inquired how best to provide for our immediate comfort.
"Barley water, if you please," said Oliver, after a brief consultation with me. "And some biscuits if you have 'em and some ass's milk if it's fresh."
The butler appeared to be somewhat puzzled. "Nothing else, sir?"
"Crispin, if you'd drunk all that we had last night and woke up with all the agonies we had this morning . . ."
Abrupt understanding dawned upon Crispin's face and he vanished to see to things, including the cart waiting outside. He soon returned with a large tray and made us feel at home, explaining that his master would be delayed from joining us immediately. In the meantime, the barley water, though not as good as beer, quenched our thirst, and the biscuits settled the growlings in our stomachs.
"I took the liberty," said Crispin as he poured the milk from a silver pitcher, "of adding some eggs and honey to this. Mr. Warburton swears by its restorative powers."
"Lord, is he studying to be a physician or an apothecary? Never mind answering that. If old Tony has frequent occasion to turn to this for relief, then he's going to be a drunkard. Oh, it's all right, Jonathan, no need to look shocked. Tony knows it's all in jest. He's really a frightfully sharp student, but like the rest of us, he enjoys having a good time when he can."
The mixture in the ass's milk was more than palatable and after seeing to Crispin's vail and to the footmen for fetching my luggage in we were left on our own.
Our room was decorated well and in good taste, though a bit stuffy. I suggested opening a window, but Oliver pointed out that the close air within was preferable to the noisome odors without. Sensing my restlessness, he tossed me a copy of the Gentleman's Magazine. Father subscribed to it himself, but the issues we received were necessarily out of date by several months owing to the long ocean crossing. This one was only a month old and I welcomed the somewhat fresher news.
I flipped idly through the pages, taking note of an article about the comet that on my voyage had caused much excitement and interest in the middle of June. Owing to clouds, the writer was unable to add to what I had been able to see trailing across the southern sky. My chief memory was not so much of the comet, but the superstitious reaction the sailors had had to it. During the week or so that it was visible, there had been much muttering, praying, and wearing of charms against any evil it might bring. Though our captain was a man of very solid sense, he let them have their way in this, but saw to it that they were kept busy lest they brood upon their fears and get up to mischief.
I moved on to another article describing the bloody war raging between the Turks and Russians. There was an annex page that folded out into a very fine map of Greece, and from it I was able to pick out some of the famous cities that had been mentioned in my study of the language with Rapelji. The many details delighted me and I hoped that my father would share it with him when his issue arrived. I was about to comment to Oliver about it when the young master of the house chose that moment to make his entrance.
He was a bit haggard in his appearance, a match to our own, no doubt, and despite the amount of time he'd had to ready himself, he was clad informally in a sweeping mustard-colored dressing gown, plain cotton stockings, and bright red slippers. An elaborate turban covered much of his head, though it was very askew, showing the light, shaven scalp beneath. His eyes were a bit sunken and his flesh pale, but his manner was hearty as he came forward to greet us. Oliver introduced us and we made our bows to one another. Tony Warburton just managed to catch the turban in time to prevent it from dropping off at our feet.
"Oliver, my dear friend, I am delighted that you've come," he said, righting it and himself. He fell wearily into a chair. "The truth is something's happened and if I don't tell anyone, I'm certain to burst."
Oliver threw me a glance to assure me that his friend's somewhat theatrical attitude was normal. "What has happened? You're looking a bit done in."
"Really? I feel wonderful."
"Not some calamity, I hope?"
"Hardly that. It's truly the best thing that's ever happened to me in my entire life."
My cousin now gave me a quick wink, which Tony missed, for he was staring wistfully at the ceiling. "If it is good news, then by all means, please share it."
"The greatest news possible for any man." He tugged absently at his indifferently knotted neckcloth. "Oliver, my best friend, the best of all my friends, I'm in love!"
Oliver clasped his hands around one knee, pursed his lips, and leaned forward with polite interest. "What? Again?"
Tony was oblivious to his friend's doubt.
"This is well and truly real love," he continued. "This is what I've awaited my whole life. Until last night all my existence has been a wasteland, a wilderness of nothing, a desert . . ."
He went on like that for quite some time until Oliver managed to get in another question.
"Who is this girl?"
"She's not a girl; she's a fairy princess come from A Midsummer Night's what-you-call-it. No, she's more than that; she is a goddess. She makes all other women look like . . . like . . ."
"Mortals, I suppose. What's her name, Tony?"
"Nora. Isn't it beautiful? It's like some rare flower on a moonlit hillside. Oh, wait 'til you meet her and you'll see what I mean. My words fall utterly short of the reality."
Oliver doggedly went on. "Nora who?"
"Jones. Miss Nora Jones."
The name was still unfamiliar to Oliver. "She sounds wonderful. Where does she work?"
Tony snapped his head 'round, full of outrage. "Good God, man! She's a respectable lady. How dare you?"
Oliver made an about-face of his own toward true contrition. "I do beg your pardon, I'm sure. I had no idea. My most humble apologies, to you, to her, and to her family. Who are they, anyway?"
Tony settled back and after a moment's consideration, accepted the apology. "The Jones family, I suppose."
"From Wales, are they?"
"France, actually."
"France? How can someone named Jones be from France?"
"Obviously they're not, you great fool—she's just come from France! Been living abroad for her health and only recently returned to London."
"How did you meet her?"
"Robert—that's Robert Smollett—" he said as an aside to me, "had a musical evening on last night and she was one of the guests. She was there with his sister and Miss Glad and Miss Bolyn and all that crowd. She stood out like a rose in a field of weeds. She's the most beautiful, the brightest, the most graceful creature I ever had the fortune to clap eyes upon."
"She must be something if she can eclipse Charlotte Bolyn," said Oliver. "But we shall have to see her for ourselves to make sure your praises haven't been overly influenced by the strength of your feelings."
Tony smiled with patronizing confidence. "Of course, of course. Seeing is believing with you. But I can promise that you will not be disappointed. The Bolyns are giving a party of their own tonight and I've been invited, which means you can both come with me. It's in honor of some foreign composer who's gotten to be favorite in the more fashionable circles, but if we're lucky, we won't have to waste any time on him. Think you can come?"
"Given the chance to prepare. My cousin may need a bit of help. His clothes have been crammed into a sea chest for the last couple of months and—"
"Oh, that's nothing. I'll have Crispin look over the lot and dust everything off for you."
"Dust was hardly my concern, Mr. Warburton, considering that I was on board a ship the whole time," I put in.
Tony waved away my reservations. "Just leave it all to Crispin. You're in the hands of an expert. He never lets me out the door unless I look respectable. I only got away with this costume because he was busy with you two. You must both forgive me, I was up very late last night."
We protested that we were not in the least offended, then he lapsed into more praise about Nora Jones.
"I'm going to marry her, Oliver. I mean it. I'm quite serious this time, so stop laughing. Those other girls were a fool's whim, a passing fancy. This is the real and true thing. I know. I even dreamed about her last night. Thought she was right there in my room, so I shall have to marry her to save her reputation. For God's sake, don't you dare repeat that to anyone. The gossips in this town would turn a beautiful dream into a pit full of night soil given half a chance."
"And just how beautiful was this dream?" asked Oliver, unable to suppress a grin.
Tony's pale skin reddened. "None of your damned business, sir! I wish I'd never mentioned it. What are you here for, anyway, besides to distract me from joyful thoughts of my one true love?"
Oliver told him about our own party last night and the need to recover away from his mother's sharp and disapproving eye.
"Can't blame you for that," said Tony. "It's just as well my parents and the rest of the family are away at Bath taking the waters. Lord have mercy, I can hardly wait to take my examines this year. As soon as I set up a practice, I'm getting my own place. I might even be able to take Crispin along, if I can persuade him. He's a terribly superior sort, y'know. Might think it beneath himself to leave this household for another, even if it is mine. Servants!" He concluded with a shake of his head.
Oliver commiserated; I said nothing. Jericho could easily have come with me, but was convinced that if he left, his place in the house might be filled by another servant more suitable to my mother than myself, despite Father's promise to the contrary.
Jericho and I discussed the subject seriously and thoroughly and concluded that he would be happier left at home. Though I respected his wishes, I could not be accused of being content with the outcome. Now that I was off the ship and in surroundings similar in many ways to that of home, I missed his company.
Perhaps it was for the best, for I'd realized he would look after Elizabeth in my absence and had left him a sufficient amount of money to post letters to me at regular intervals. I had charged him to send reports of all the other news that my sister might be unaware of or ignore from lack of interest. He knew how to read and write for I had taught him, having followed Rapelji's example that a lesson is more thoroughly learned when one must teach it to another. However, Jericho and I had long ago decided never to speak of it, for many people thought it dangerous to have educated slaves, and his busy life might be unpleasantly complicated by their disapproval. Father was in on the secret, though, and, of course, Elizabeth.
I wondered and hoped that they were all right and enjoying good health. That one hope and many, many nebulous worries about them returned sharply to mind, along with a familiar ache to my heart.
"Why such a long face, cousin?" Oliver asked.
"I feel like 'a stranger in a strange land,'" I replied mournfully.
"Eh?"
"He means he's a long way from home," explained Tony. "What we need is something to occupy the time until this evening. I was going to go someplace today, but I'm damned if I can remember where. Crispin!"
His shout brought the butler and a quick question got a quick response.
"You are to visit Bedlam today, sir," he said.
"Bedlam? Are you sure?"
"Your ticket for entry is on the hall table, sir."
Oliver was all interest. "Really? That would be a treat."
Tony was dubious. "You think so?"
"Oh, yes. You know how fascinated I am in such things." He turned to me. "You used to be able to get in whenever you pleased, but the governors of the hospital shut that down. It's a shame too, because they were bringing in a good six hundred a year from the admissions. Now one has to have special permission and a signed pass. Not everyone can get it, you know. This is a wonderful bit of luck."
"For you, perhaps," said Tony. "I don't feel I'm up to it, even if it is for the furtherance of my education. Why don't you go in my place, then tell me all about it later? I don't share your passion for studying lunatics."
"Surely you won't want to miss this opportunity?"
"Surely I do. I have other ways to entertain myself; I'm sure of it."
"This is hardly for base entertainment, Tony. I'll be going there to learn something."
His friend burst into laughter. "Oh, the things I could say to that."
Oliver scowled. "What things? What?"
"Nothing and everything. You're better than a thousand tonics, my dear fellow. You two go on to Bedlam and get all the education you want, but please, leave me to rest up here. After the excitement of meeting sweet, lovely Nora, I still feel quite drained and need to recover. I want to be at my best tonight."
Oliver's scowl instantly vanished and he gave up trying to fathom the cause of his friend's amusement. "If you're certain."
"Yes. I shall do nothing more strenuous today than compose some sonnet, an inadequate tribute to her beauty."
That ultimately decided things for Oliver. He pulled out a great gold watch. "Very well. We've plenty of time, perhaps we can even take in Vauxhall, too."
Tony held up a cautioning finger. "But I thought you wanted to remain sober?"
"Damn. Yes, you're right. We'd better stay away from there 'til later."
"Come back at six and I'll have my barber scrape your chins off."
We took our leave of Tony Warburton, redeemed our hats and walking sticks from a footman, then sent him off to secure a couple of sedan chairs for us.
"I think it's worked out for the best for him not to come," Oliver remarked as we waited outside. "When he's in this kind of a humor, he's likely to try out lines of his poem on us."
"He's such a bad poet?
"Don't ask me to judge that. One and all, my friends assure me that I can't tell the difference between Shakespeare and popular doggerel."
"Then what's the problem?"
"It just occurred to me that it might be a bad idea to enter Bedlam followed by a lovesick fool who's sure to disrupt things by lapsing into verses about his wife-to-be whenever the fancy takes him. We might never get him out again."
The chairs arrived and I listened closely while Oliver haggled over the price with the men. The only way to cease being a stranger in this land was to learn how things were run and the minutiae of local customs. Since I would be living here for at least four years, it was to my best advantage to keep my eyes and ears open at all times.
This resolve, I was to find out, was somewhat restricted once I got into my sedan chair. Though it had two large windows on either side, the view was much more limited than the one I'd enjoyed on the pony cart. Owing to my natural height, my head nearly brushed the roof and frequently did so as the bearers bounced along their way. We passed by other chairs with more top room, something necessary to the ladies within who wished to preserve the state of their hair. I noticed that the leather ceiling of my own bore oily evidence that more than one woman had been here before, leaving behind a dark stain mingled with white flecks where the lard and rice flour had rubbed off.
"Have a care, sir!" one of the bearers warned when I leaned too far out a window to catch a glimpse of the myriad sights we passed. My enthusiasm was an endangerment to their balance. Having no wish to crash face-first into the filthy cobbles, I forced myself to keep still and resolved to engage some other means of travel for the return trip. Anything, up to and including being pushed along in a barrow, would be considered. Confined like this and cut off from conversation with Oliver, the hundreds of questions popping into my head with each new sight had to go unanswered. There being so many, I regretfully knew I'd never remember them all later, for surely they would be replaced by others.
At least I was being spared the grime of the streets and shaded from the sun, but despite these advantages, the ride was long and wearisome. If not for the guiding presence of my cousin I should also be quite lost, for I had no idea where we were or where we had come from. Though the bearers might have little trouble navigating to and fro through the crowds boiling around us, I would not have been able to find my way back to Warburton's unaided.
I was very glad when we arrived.
Though our destination was a hospital for lunatics, it turned out to be a pleasant and restful sight; I had expected something much smaller and meaner than the building before us. Vast and long, three stories high, with tall towers marking the corner turning of each wing and the tallest of all in the center, Bedlam, once known as the hospital of Bethlehem, looked as fair as any edifice I had so far seen in this great city. We stood at the beginning of a wide lane leading directly to the central entrance from the street. On either side, a simple white fence enclosed sections of the front grounds, protecting the perfectly spaced trees within. If one grew tired of observing the inmates, this wholesome patch of greenery would serve to soothe the eye.
