Our Eternal Curse I (23 page)

During dinner Lord Pishiobury
was not himself, he kept up with the polite conversation but he did not
contribute any of his usually witty anecdotes.  All of his guests noticed how
somber his mood had become since their splendid morning with the muskets but
were too polite to ask.  They simply assumed that it was a private matter which
had something to do with what his butler told him upon their return.

The food, as always, was
superb.  The grand dining room looked magnificent and Lord Pishiobury politely
asked Pinker to thank all of the staff for their impressive efforts.  At the
conclusion of the dinner Lord Pishiobury’s butler escorted the male guests
proudly to the withdrawing room for port and cigars.  With its highly polished
oak paneling, the room, in which no women were allowed, came alive on these
occasions.

Pinker moved from guest to guest
pouring port from a beautiful cut-glass decanter which had recently been
crafted to order by William and George Penrose at their new glass works in
Waterford.  Placing the heavy Irish crystal on the sideboard, Pinker returned
with a small humidor full of Cuban cigars and as each guest chose one he
clipped the end and held a match as they drew in the wonderfully aromatic
smoke.

All were splendidly dressed in
white tie and black evening tails as they reclined in studded leather armchairs
which surrounded the grand fireplace.  Lord Pishiobury stood in his favorite
position leaning on the mantel looking distractedly into an oil painting of a
prize-winning bull which hung above the fireplace.  It was the families first
Aberdeen Angus and it had won one of his forefather’s many prizes.  The picture
had been in this room for as long as he could remember and it was somehow
comforting to him.  When he heard a question asked by one of his oldest friends
Pishiobury realized how rude he was being by ignoring his guests.  As he turned
to acknowledge his friend, Pishiobury surveyed the cream of English society
sitting in his drawing room and his mood mellowed slightly.

“
Are you all right old chap?”  The question was
asked by the man sitting on the high leather-covered fender surrounding the
fireplace.

“
Yes I am fine thank you.  I must apologize for
being such poor company.”  Lord Pishiobury liked his dear friend, William
Bligh.

“
You have seemed distracted since the shoot old
boy.  May I be so presumptuous as to ask what has been troubling you?”

The fact that William held no
grudge towards him never ceased to amaze Pishiobury.  Bligh had every reason to
be angry because of the Tahiti debacle but he had never so much as raised the
issue with him.  Pishiobury still felt guilty about the failed expedition to
collect breadfruit seedlings because he and the other Jamaican plantation
owners had refused to fund it properly.  They argued that the fruit would feed
sailors as well as it would their slaves and this led the spiteful Admiralty to
bloody mindedly provide a ridiculously small ship.  The cramped conditions on
the
Bounty
had combined with a number of other incidences to cause the
now famous mutiny.

His poor friend Captain William
Bligh was forced to sail a 21-foot jolly boat across an open ocean over a
distance of almost four thousand miles in order to save the eighteen men who
were unceremoniously kicked off his vessel with him.

Pushing the shameful episode
from his mind Pishiobury answered William’s question by saying, “My son is
experiencing some difficulty at school.”

“
Is that all?  My dear fellow I feared something
disastrous had happened.”

“
He is a fine boy but has an inexplicable
trepidation about him.”  Pishiobury dropped his guard.  He was tempted to be
evasive about Robert’s problems but of all people William had earned the right
to be included.

“
It may be that he has a soft life here at
Pishiobury Park.  He needs to be toughened up, send him back to school and
gradually he will become familiar with others.”  As Bligh finished his military
style perspective Pishiobury’s friend Arthur Wellesley walked over holding a
fine Havana and a full glass of the port.  As he expelled a plume of smoke he
said, “Excellent port, what?”  Wellesley’s words served to break the
concentration that absorbed Bligh and Pishiobury.

“
Yes it is indeed excellent port.  I have laid down
a pipe with my shipper in London for Robert’s twenty-first birthday.”  Lord
Pishiobury was still proud of his boy.

“
Good choice, what?  I could not help over hearing
you two talking about your boy, Pishiobury.  Sounds like he needs a stint in
the army, that would toughen him up, what?  I am being sent to Egypt as Brigade
Commander.  He can come with me if you like, what, what?”  Pausing for thought,
Arthur added in a sinister tone, “He must become tough if he is to survive this
coming war with France, you know?  It’s going to drag on for years.  You mark
my words.  In my opinion a little French general by the name of Bonaparte is
about to have a great influence on Europe.  Your boy will be required to do his
bit over the coming years Pishiobury, what?”

“
I understand your point but the boy is so delicate,
it is as though he has an ingredient missing.  Everything about him is perfect
but when it comes to even the most minor confrontation he has no resilience.” 
Then as an afterthought, Pishiobury added, “Anyway old chap, he is a bit young
for that don’t you think?  He is only five years old.”

“
You are correct of course.  Five is too young but
we have them as young as ten in some regiments you know.  They beat the drums
as we march into battle; it saves wasting a man who can fight and they don’t
eat as much food, what?”

“
Are they not terrified on the field of battle? 
Poor things.”  The irony of being a slave owner while aspiring to be kind
hearted was lost on Pishiobury and many of his class.

“
They always keep marching forward just as they are
told to.  We lose so many of them because they are always in the frontlines
where they can be heard by the soldiers.  Boys are by far the easiest things to
replace, what?  The slums of England seem to churn them out in a nonstop
stream, what, what?”  All those close enough to hear, joined Wellesley in a
good laugh.

Pishiobury gave a slight chuckle
to be polite but found it hard to accept the image of poor little Robert
walking to such a violent end.

“
My recommendation is to send your boy to school and
let time and experience mold his character.”  Bligh’s words wiped the terrible
image of battle from Pishiobury’s mind.

“
I will give your advice some thought Sir but now
let us talk of other issues, things are changing in Europe and we in this room
will play a key role in shaping the future.”

As Pishiobury spoke these words
William Pitt, Prime Minister of Great Britain looked across the room to his
friend and added, “Your words are very profound, Pishiobury.  I have just
received news.  The French have invaded Egypt.”

“
Send him back to that school?” asked Emilia with
deep despair in her voice. “How can you possibly suggest such a thing after
yesterday’s events?”  She and Pishiobury were standing on the front steps
maintaining polite smiles for the benefit of their departing guests.

“
I understand your concern my darling but what else
are we to do?  Robert cannot stay at Pishiobury Park for the rest of his life. 
He must mix with other people.”  Even as he spoke Pishiobury hated to do this
to his loving wife but, as he said, what else could he do?  Attempting to make
the situation clearer he added, “Both Arthur and William believe it is the only
way to build his character.”

“
Wellesley and Bligh are both rigid military
disciplinarians — how can you listen to them in matters concerning Robert? 
Anyway Bligh can hardly call himself an expert in human behavior!”

“
That is not fair, my love, as you know I hold myself
responsible for what happened.”

“
As I have said before, that is nonsense.  You had
absolutely nothing to do with how he treated his crew.”

“
Yes but if I and the other plantation owners had
paid for a bigger ship, tension would have been eased between the men on
board.”

“
If the bigger ship had hit a rock and sunk with all
hands because of its deeper draught you would blamed yourself for that also.  I
know you too well, my dear you take on far too many worries for one man.”

“
That is as may be but we are still faced with the
problem of our son’s future.”  Pishiobury was desperately attempting to change
the subject because the mutiny on the
Bounty
was still a painful topic. 
“I suggest that you and I pay a visit to the school to ascertain exactly what
has actually happened.”

Every fiber of Lady Pishiobury’s
body fought against doing what her husband suggested because she was clinging
to a negative image of the hated Miss Wagstaff.  They had met her only once
before sending Robert to school.  She had seemed very nice but now Lady
Pishiobury wanted her to be the problem.  In her heart she knew Robert was
deeply troubled but it felt less confronting to blame someone else.

Emilia refused to accept what
she had observed in her son for many years because just like her husband she
was hiding it deep inside.  The problem now arose that by visiting the Head
Mistress they would have no choice but to face it head on.

The following day Robert’s
parents boarded their carriage and traveled the short distance to Spellbrook School
where they sought an audience with the woman that neither of them wanted to
like.

“
Good morning Lord Pishiobury, Lady Pishiobury,”
said Miss Wagstaff respectfully beckoning them to chairs in front of her desk. 
She was a product of the English class system — respect for one’s superiors was
inbred.

“
Good morning to you Miss Wagstaff.  I believe you
know why we have come here to see you,” said Lord Pishiobury, his tone more
stiff than usual.

“
The matter of your son’s behavior my Lord.”

When said like this Robert’s
dilemma seemed to crystallize before them.  No one had ever spoken of Robert’s
behavior before and this meeting could do nothing but bring it into the open. 
“Err, well yes,” replied Lord Pishiobury with uncharacteristic hesitance. 
Trying to regain the upper hand he added, “We have come to ask you about your
comments to Miss Parks yesterday?”

With the clear understanding
that the man before her held absolute power over her life, Miss Wagstaff
answered the delicate question even more respectfully, “I simply made the
observation that Robert has similar characteristics to a child who has been
maltreated.”

“
That’s it! Those are the very words!”  Lady
Pishiobury was beside herself.  “So you admit that you accused us of harming
the boy?  Do you realize the damage that you could do to our reputation if this
were to become public knowledge?”

Now very worried the Head
Mistress raised a gentle objection, “I did not intend to imply that Robert has
been maltreated.  I merely mentioned that he has similar characteristics to one
who has.  Now having met you and observing your staff I can see that Robert is
nurtured in a very loving and caring environment.  I am completely baffled as
to how Robert could have developed his insecure behavior traits in such an obviously
caring environment?  As I said to your Nanny he is a charming bright young boy
who appears to have absolutely no inner resilience.”

“
What may I ask is inner resilience?”  enquired Lord
Pishiobury, using exactly the same indignant words as his Nanny the day before.

“
I have observed it in many children over the
years.  They seem to be unusually susceptible to the opinions of others and,
like Robert, they seem to lack any kind of self worth.”

The obviously compassionate
educator was making complete sense and much to the surprise of both women, Lord
Pishiobury responded with a complete changed of tack.  Sitting back in his
chair the irate tone left his voice and he seemed somehow relieved, “I cannot
pretend any longer.  I have observed this behavior in Robert myself over the
years but how can you tell in just one day?”

Lady Pishiobury turned her head
to look at her husband in disbelief.  He was agreeing with the horrible woman
on the other side of the desk who wore her hair in such an awful matronly bun.

Looking into his wife’s eyes and
gently squeezing her hand, he added, “I am sorry my darling but I must speak
the truth.”  He hated the effect his words were having on his beloved Emilia
but he had to say them or be untrue to himself and his son.

Feeling deeply sympathetic for
the woman who remained so passionately in denial Miss Wagstaff explained. 
“After so many years of teaching I can usually tell the personality of a child
as soon as I meet them.  It can sometimes takes a few weeks to look into their
deepest self but Robert is so insecure for the want of a better word — I
observed it immediately.”

“
What can be done to repair the situation?” asked
Lady Pishiobury, and it became the turn of his Lordship to look in surprise. 
By saying these words his wife had also acknowledged the existence of a problem
that they had never dared to speak of before.

“
Love,” is all Miss Wagstaff said in response, “he
needs lots of love.”

“
We love the boy more than life itself!  We have
been showering Robert with love from the very moment of his birth.”  Lady
Pishiobury was trying to maintain a semblance of anger but her temper was
completely collapsing.  Resigning herself to the truth for the first time in
five years she gave in and listened courteously as her husband spoke:

“
I believe something has been wrong from the very
first moment of Robert’s life.”

Lord Pishiobury was amazed and
relieved to hear his wife reply in a questioning tone, “You experienced those
feelings also?”

This was the very first time
that either parent had allowed themselves to think about the day five years
before but their uncertainties became reality as he went on.  “When Robert lay
in his cot at the very moment of his birth I instinctively felt something was
wrong.  It was as though grave feelings of foreboding accompanied the boy.  It
made me sad but at the same time protective.  I have never mentioned my
concerns because I could not understand my feelings well enough to put them
into words.”

Lady Pishiobury felt a weight
lift from her shoulders.  Her secret burden had been shared for the first time.

Miss Wagstaff had been
completely forgotten by both of them until her discreet cough brought their
attention back to her office.  “I do not pretend to understand the experience
of which you speak but the problem of young Robert’s future remains as our
common concern.”

“
You are correct of course, Miss Wagstaff.  What
must we to do to help the boy live a normal and fulfilled life?”  Lord
Pishiobury sensed the educator’s unease.  Inside, he silently berated himself
for verbalizing these ridiculously spiritual ideas.  It was just not done for
someone of his status to talk of supernatural events.

The Head Mistress was clearly
relieved to hear his Lordship was not continuing with his blasphemy.  People
had been burned as witches for far less than this kind of behavior fewer than
one hundred years before.  She was a strong member of the local church and did
not like new or radical ways of thinking.  In her experience ungodly ideas
always confuse people, particularly children.

In a sobering tone, Miss
Wagstaff added, “I am afraid that there is only one answer.  Robert must return
to school and learn to mingle with the other children.”

Equally embarrassed about
letting herself become carried away in front of a stranger, Lady Pishiobury sat
and lamented the fate of her poor son.  It did not seem to matter who she
asked, the advice was always the same — throw him in and see if he swims or
drowns.  It hurt to think of Robert struggling alone in a school that clearly
terrified him but he simply could not live his life hidden from society.

In the coach on the way back to
the estate Lady Pishiobury looked at her husband and enquired, “What do you
think we felt on the day of Robert’s birth?”

“
I have no idea,” he replied, “but I do believe that
we should never speak of it again; people will think us strange and that will
never do.”

Lord and Lady Pishiobury prized
their elevated status in polite society.  They had no wish to be considered
avant-garde or freethinking because that was the fastest way to lose friends. 
Both of them had seen well-established families fall from the favor of their
social class for the most mundane reasons and they had no intention of being
the butt of anyone’s snide jokes.  The subject of Robert’s ethereal beginning
became
persona non grata
and never raised again.

Shortly after the Pishioburys
return to Pishiobury Park, Robert and Nanny listened in disbelief as they were
told that he was going back to Spellbrook School.  Quite out of character, Miss
Parks protested vehemently against what she was being told.

“
We are sorry, Nanny but what do you suggest we
do?”  asked Lady Pishiobury.  “Robert must be accepted into polite society,
must he not?”

Her employer’s words made
complete sense but still Nanny continued to argue on Robert’s behalf because
she could feel the fear within her little charge as he sat on her lap.  “Could
we not employ a private tutor for the boy and keep him here until he is old
enough to go to the Leys?”

“
What you say is entirely possible,” replied Lord
Pishiobury, clearly distressed as he spoke.  “We have thought about private
tuition but it does not get us over the problem of assimilation.  Our fear is
that he will arrive at Cambridge in the same condition as Spellbrook.  At least
we, and of course you, will be able to see Robert every day if he attends the
local school.  If we mollycoddle him now his problems may recur at the Leys and
that will be all the harder for him in the long run.”

Miss Parks knew that what they
were saying was true but she still felt terrible trepidation for her darling
little boy.  Robert simply looked from one face to the other as he listened to
his fate in disbelief.