Absolute Honour (19 page)

‘And if we announce it in two weeks?’

‘Two weeks, eh? Hmm.’ He finished the mug and Jack immediately signalled to the landlord for replenishment. ‘I suppose a fortnight
is not far off. It may take me that long to get back to your mother in Germany. And if I make the announcement from there,
as soon as I arrive …’ The beers came and Sir James raised his. ‘Very well, boy, I’ll indulge this romance you all seem so
obsessed by. To love, you puppy. To love.’

The love I have, thought Jack. And two weeks on the highways, two weeks of unromantic poverty, should lessen my Letty’s desire
for it considerably. By the time all is revealed, I’ll have my beautiful girl and her beautiful fortune. And I’ll have done
my Absolute duty.

Raising his tankard, he glimpsed the landlord staring at them from the corner and wondered which Absolute the fellow thought
wore the more satisfied smile.

They drank deep into the night, the yawning publican contented by a gold crown to leave them to his barrels – though Jack
was not sure he got a bargain. His father’s good humour entirely restored, it was time to swap stories of their recent escapades.
Sir James was a suitably impressed audience, loudly applauding all tales of combat, happily appalled by the tattoos Jack showed
him on chest and forearm.

Light was in the sky when they staggered out. Sir James seemed to have drunk himself sober and would not hear of staying at
Jack’s house. ‘I will away,’ he said. ‘It’s a long ride to Harwich and a hazardous crossing to Hamburg. Your mother awaits.’

Jack knew there was no arguing with him. And to be
truthful, it was better he was gone. Sir James’s moods were notoriously changeable. He’d wake with a sore head and haul Jack
and Letty before a priest on a whim. ‘Kiss her for me.’

‘I will, lad. And you shall see us both soon – at your wedding.’

Not unless you ride via Scotland, Jack thought. He walked his father to his inn, saw his horse saddled. In his stirrups, Sir
James leaned down.

‘Godspeed, boy. If the girl is imbecilic enough to fall for your romance, I shall just have to accept that I will get idiots
for grandchildren.’ The smile belied the words. ‘Love and duty,’ Sir James cried, swinging the horse’s head, digging in his
heels.

Jack watched his father till a corner took him, then he began a slightly meandering ascent to the Upper Town. He was ready
for his bed now, for the few hours sleep he could allow. He must be up early – an elopement took organizing and he only had
one day to do it.

He thought of going in the front door. Surely the girl would not be watching from her house opposite at this hour? Yet caution,
this close to the prize, made him tread the gravel behind the Circus. Next door, all remnants of building work had been cleared
away. The house was almost ready for the royal visit.

He smiled, hiccoughed. King George arrives and Jack Absolute leaves. Quite a day for the Corporation of Bath!

He spent nearly half a minute trying to understand why his key didn’t work. Then he realized the back door had been open and
he had just locked it again.

‘Bloody Fagg,’ he muttered, pushing in. ‘Lazy in everything.’

Tiredness was a strange thing. So complete the one moment when he thought he might not even make his bed. Completely gone
the next, when a hand reached out from the dark and seized his arm.

*

Drunk he may still have been. Incapacitated he was not. And he had done a lot of wrestling in his Cornish youth.

The hand that gripped him was gripped in its turn, twisted against its inclination. At the same time Jack stepped away and
back towards the door. Through it there was space for flight or further fight; above all, there was light.

His left hand had gone straight to the shoulder above the twisted arm, pushing the man’s face towards the floor, turning his
body away from him. If he had a knife or a cudgel in his other hand he should not be able to use it. If he had a pistol, mind
…

‘Faith, man, is this how you greet your friends?’

The voice was pained – and recognizable. ‘Red Hugh?’

‘The same. And if you’re quite done with it, could I be after having me own arm back?’

Jack released his grip but, just in case his brain was playing him tricks, he also stepped the other way, to the door, throwing
it open. A rectangle of pale light came through. In the centre of it squatted the Irish Grenadier.

‘Christ, man, you’ve broken me bloody arm.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Jack, leaning against the doorframe, his legs suddenly weak. ‘We’d have heard the crack.’

Suddenly, both men were laughing. Red Hugh rose, and they each extended a hand. ‘Easy now, me lad. It might yet fall off.’

They shook and Jack saw the man wince. Looking down, even in the faint light, he could see a stain on both their palms, feel
the stickiness of blood. ‘I did not do that, did I?’

The Irishman shook his head. ‘An earlier misfortune.’

‘And this?’ Now he was closer and his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that his hand was not the only hurt sustained.
There was bruising on his cheeks, one eye was nearly closed, and there was blood running from his nose.

‘I know. I know.’ Red Hugh saw the concern in Jack’s eyes. ‘’Tis superficial only. Sure and you should see the other fella.’
The laugh that came pained him and a hand went to his side.

‘We should get you upstairs to a bed,’ Jack said.

‘That would be fine indeed. But I came in the dark and I must leave the same way, observed by no one.’ He tipped his head
to the ceiling. ‘Will your servant not be about your business?’

‘Fagg?’ Jack snorted. ‘He’ll only be about the business of sleeping for a good two hours yet. You will not be seen.’

‘Then I’ll take that offer of a lie-down and perhaps some brandy if you’ve any about.’

Though he moved slowly, he did not need Jack’s arm. And once he was sitting in a drawing-room armchair, brandy in hand, a
pipe lit and the worst of the blood and dirt washed away, he seemed already revived.

‘I thought there was a rib stoved but now I think ’tis only bruised. Other than that, just a few cuts and scrapes. This one,’
he held up his right hand, wrapped in a handkerchief that Jack had supplied, ‘might need some stitching, if you’ve needle
and cat gut.’

‘I can get some.’ Jack shook his head, wonderingly. ‘You’ve got another story to tell and no mistake.’

Red Hugh blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. ‘A dull one, my boy. Tawdry, to be truthful. Not the storming of a breech under
a Turkish cannonade, or a night attack across an ice floe.’ He sighed. ‘I told you I had creditors in this town.’

‘You did. Those men at the theatre were their representatives. You never told me what you owed or why.’

‘Another piece of dullness. But these fellows decided that my bond was not good enough. They decided they wanted flesh as
well. Or instead.’ He smiled. ‘Shylock, isn’t it? Anyway, those big boys you saw came for me in an alley
and,’ he gestured to himself, ‘well, I got away but I’m half sure I killed one of them before I did.’

Jack went across, filled the empty glass. ‘And will they seek you again?’

‘Undoubtedly. My time in Bath is over, methinks. If you wouldn’t mind my sleeping here for the day, I’ll slip out with the
night.’

‘You are most welcome. Though since it is our joint prize money that has paid for this abode, it’s as much yours as mine.
And didn’t you stow some stuff in the cellar?’ He received a nod. ‘I don’t know how much rest you’ll get, though. They are
presenting the house next door to the King today. There’s bound to be a marching band, fanfares and other hot air.’

‘The King? I had forgot. And next door, is it?’ Red Hugh had put down the glass and was peeking under the handkerchief at
his cut. ‘Well, he’ll not disturb me. Caesar entering Rome atop an elephant having triumphed over Vercingetorix would not
wake a McClune when he has a mind to sleep. As he does.’ He gave a huge yawn.

Jack poured the man another tot of brandy. ‘Have you, uh, seen your cousin at all?’

‘Laetitia? I have not. My troubles, alas, have kept me from her lovely company.’ The glass was halted halfway to the mouth.
‘You’ve met my cousin, then, Mr Absolute?’

‘Ah,’ said Jack, and proceeded, awkwardly, to tell his tale. It was received in silence and a cold stare, which began, gradually,
to thaw. At its conclusion, a long silence held before the Irishman spoke again.

‘And you say her guardian approves the match?’

‘To Jack Absolute? She does,’ replied Jack eagerly. ‘Indeed, all parties do.’

‘Well, I am not as close a relation as Mrs O’Farrell. But close enough to demand the family’s honour is upheld.’ He studied
Jack closely. ‘Will it be?’

Jack nodded. ‘I swear to you, sir. The former self you disapproved of is no more. We love each other and she has consented
to be my wife.’

Red Hugh smiled then frowned. ‘Beverley’s wife.’

‘Ah, you have hit it, sir. There lies my problem.’ Jack rose, began to walk up and down the room. ‘The guise that enabled
me to woo her now stands between us. I can’t marry her as Beverley. I must own myself again. Yet if I do, will her cursed
romantic nature not rebel at a marriage everyone approves of? Will she not resent the subterfuge I used to win her?’ He sighed.
‘I am at a loss, sir, I confess.’

Red Hugh came and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘You said it yourself: two weeks of low inns on the road to Scotland will
surely cure the romance of poverty. While two weeks of your company will win her for yourself, certain. Do not doubt your
own power to attract, dear soul. I’ve told you, haven’t I, how you remind me of me in my youth? And was there a lady of Clare
that did not desire a better acquaintance with both my face and my mind? None, I say!’

‘Then you think—’

‘Give her the elopement she craves, lad. Then marry her as yourself.’

Jack flushed with excitement. ‘By God, I will. I’ll be about the preparations instantly. Midnight cannot come fast enough.’

He turned, as if to begin. But the Irishman’s hand turned him back. ‘Now there’s the only point of disagreement between us.
And it’s the usual quarrel of age with youth. Do not attempt the elopement at midnight.’

‘But I thought—’

‘D’ye hear that rain?’ They both listened. ‘It’s the type that will come and go all day and on through the night. The roads
will be awash, the carriage ruts concealing holes to trap a horse’s hoof. Six gets you three, you’ll lose your way, circle
about and, by dawn’s light, be drenched and exhausted scarce five miles from Bath.’ He raised a hand to forestall Jack’s protest.
‘I acknowledge romance almost demands the midnight escape. And I know you wish Laetitia to tire of poverty sooner rather than
later. But not at five tomorrow morning.’

Jack was disappointed. Midnight was indeed the time prescribed for elopements in all those ghastly novels. However, he could
also see the sense. ‘What hour would you suggest?’

‘Tomorrow still but early in the afternoon. People always think the night best for mischief but daylight is when no one’s
expecting it. I’ll get a message to Mrs O’Farrell, luring her away from noon till three. And another, advising Letty. How’s
that for friendship?’

‘I would not want you to risk encountering enemies on the street again.’

‘Rest easy, I’ll take care of that at no exposure to myself, I assure you. It’s the least I can do – and probably the only
wedding present I can afford.’ He gripped Jack’s shoulder, looked deep within his eyes. ‘Sure, don’t I already consider you
a relation? I cannot tell you my delight in knowing that the relationship will soon be made official in a church – cousin!’

‘Cousin!’ echoed Jack with a grin. Preoccupied elsewhere, he had forgotten just how much he liked this man.

Another yawn came, larger than all the rest. ‘But if I’m to accomplish anything today, I must get some sleep. Was there not
an offer of a bed?’

Jack led the way from the parlour and up the stairs. ‘I’ll make sure I forestall the servant from entering. You will not be
disturbed.’

‘I am beyond gratitude.’ He looked into the bedroom. ‘A snug billet, sure. What’s through there?’ He pointed to the door on
the other side of the landing.

‘Another bedroom,’ replied Jack, ‘but empty of all furniture.’

Red Hugh had already gone and sat on the bed. He was pulling at his boots, and it obviously pained him, so Jack helped him
off with them. Then he went to close the shutters and shut out the creeping daylight. Glancing into the street, he saw that
some workmen were already before the house next door, about final preparations. Flowers were being arranged in pots, bunting
threaded through the railings that fronted the building. What had his Cornish friend called his bedroom? ‘The best view in
Bath.’

‘You know,’ he murmured. ‘I would not have minded seeing the King receive his house.’

A voice came from the bed, muggy with sleep. ‘Don’t worry, dear honey. I’ll tell you how it all turns out.’

It was hard labour, leading three horses through the streets of Bath. Two were sullen and venerable nags, typical of what
could be hired at coaching inns across the land. The third, a bay gelding that Jack had mounted, was younger and at least
had some spirit but showed it mainly by nipping at the others and, when they were unavailable, at passers-by. This latter
activity increased as the crowds thickened at the top of Stall Street, causing him to be cursed frequently and, on two occasions,
struck with sticks. There was a wall of backs ahead of him, heads reared to catch sight of the day’s great attraction: the
King, having bathed and taken the waters, progressing up the town toward the Circus and the presentation of number twenty-one.

The noise was horrendous, for not only did the crowds shout and huzzah at each glimpse of royalty, but the royal progress
had attracted every brass player in Bath. There seemed to be a formal orchestra giving a bottom line to the music, a selection
of popular favourites like Arthur o’Bradley or Black Eye’d Susan. But over it was a cacophony of mainly French horn, played
by men with some talent, little or none.