Havoc`s Sword

'I coached back to Anglesgreen, instanter, once the lads' brief two hours of Liberty were done, and I was forced to deliver them back into that cess-pool of Corruption,' his father wrote, 'not without the severest warning to Headmaster Headmistress that, were my suspicions borne out, I would have the Law on them, and that Sewallis and Hugh are to be free to write whom they please, when they please, and write what they please. Had I the Authority, I would have snatched them out from that place at once, but, alas, in your absence that is up to Caroline. She was quite Perturbed by my sad relation of the boys' Condition. I fully expect her to do the Snatching. I also spoke with the Vicar at St. George's, cautioning him not to recommend that School to parents of local parish lads, and what the Devil was he thinking when he suggested it to Caroline? Are not Sewallis and Hugh mannerly and quick-witted students, in no need of such strict Chastisements to 'improve' their Wits or Behaviours? I left the old Gooseberry quaking in his slippers, let me tell you, in dread he was sponsoring Buggery. Passing through Guildford once more, I did call upon the Chief Justice and laid my suspicions with him, as well, so we may soon see the end of this so- called 'strict Christian' Academy, once an Enquiry has been begun.

'You must do your part, Alan, and quickly,' his father stressed. 'Write Caroline, urging her to remove the lads at once, and suggest I choose a better, this time, standing Stead for you whilst overseas on King's Business. Offer to pay fees, which I will cover, for I suspect I am more in the way of Money than you at sudden need. I did offer to stand for their Schooling, Hugh's entry into a good Regiment, and little Charlotte's Finishing, after all, do you not recall? Thence, write also to your solicitor, Mr. Matthew Mountjoy, in London, urging him to draw up a Writ on your behalf naming me as your Voice concerning the boys, strictly limited to the choice of school, and their support in lieu of your presence, of course, so Caroline can have no legitimate Objections to such an arrangement.'

Yes, by God, he would, soon as he finished reading the rest of his father's letter.

'… matter which has grieved you since sailing, son,' Sir Hugo continued, 'is your lack of news from Sewallis and Hugh. Be sure that you stipulate to Mountjoy that the boys must write me, as well as their Mother, concerning their Progress and their Welfare, since I will be partially in loco parentis. In this way, the lads will be able to write Letters to you, addressed to me, and you will be able to direct your Correspondence to them, using my Panton St. address as a Subterfuge, ho!'

That opportunity, to circumvent his wife's spite and hear from his boys once more, was almost cheering enough to mollify his earlier anger at how they had, and might have been, abused!

Even more wondrous, his father further suggested that Caroline was now vulnerable. His final point was that too many things bore down upon her, her fear and shame that she had unwittingly exposed her sons to pain and bestiality, that she hadn't been a Good Mother! Even more vexing had been her wrathful split with Sophie (her unallayed suspicions notwithstanding!), and… her elderly mother Charlotte's health was failing.

It all made, Sir Hugo slyly hinted, the perfect opportunity for him to write her, no matter that Caroline had said she'd burn anything that came with his name on it, unread.

'There is no better time for a Wife to appreciate a Husband than when crushed by Adversity,' his father coyly nudged, 'when the Weaker Sex, all at sixes and sevens, find need to lean upon her Stalwart Man with his innate inner Strength, and in the face of shared Adversities, 'form square' shoulder to shoulder in wholehearted Mutual Defence of their Children and their Welfare.

'No matter how slender a Reed that husband be (and I think we both know how Irresolute and Inconstant we Willoughby/Lewrie men turn out to be, God help our trusting Womenfolk) it is their Nature to look to Men for aid. Dispirited as Caroline is this moment, do you intend a Reconciliation someday with your good wife, then strike whilst the iron is hot, using your utmost Subtlety! Nothing too abrupt or promising at first, mind. Cajole her, with no Recriminations for her Foolishness, with no sudden Vows or Wishes for Renewal. But then I very much doubt that you are in need of advice when it comes to cossetting the Fairer Sex, ho!'

'Oh yes, I do!' Lewrie bewilderedly confessed to his empty great-cabins, and his nettled cat. 'Ev'ry man does. And did ye ever have any advice, why the Devil didn't ye share it when I needed it?'

He plumped down in his desk chair once more, exhausted by fear and anger, by outrage. How to pen that letter to Caroline, posing stern and capable, and 'reliable and trustworthy,' he couldn't even begin to conjure. It would be implausible to beg her forgiveness… and much too soon to do so, too. He could not chide her for a brainless chit for being gulled by the vicar's advice, either.

And when you came right down to it, did he wish to reconcile?

Hmmm…

He had to give that one a long think, turning his chair to face Caroline's portrait hanging in the dining-coach; done back when she was a newlywed in the Bahamas in '85 or '86. Dewy fresh and pretty, with her features unlined, but for the natural merry folds below her eyes; long, silken light brown hair worn long and missish under a wide-brim straw bonnet…

T'wasn't all looks, or beauty, though… And damn being a sailorman! He was gone for a year or two, sometimes an entire three years commission, and people and things never were the same as they were when he left. Children sprouted taller, into the most amazing creatures, totally alien to who they'd been before, as strange to him as feathered savages in the Great South Seas. Wives…

Had be been a landsman, even a tenant squire with even a modicum of ability to work a farm (or appear as if he even tried!) he knew things would have been different between them. There would have been no shock of rencontre, at the changes. They would not have mellowed apart, too 'set in their ways' for coping with life as independent agents, but would have slowly, gradually adapted to each other, so that such changes never came as a security-shaking shock of recognition. They would have aged… together!

And, most importantly, living cheek-to-jowl with a goodly wife, standing 'watch and watch' with a woman so sweet and intelligent, and compatible as Caroline, it was good chances he'd never have strayed.

Well, perhaps now and again, but 'twould've been rare. Really.

Lewrie was certain that Caroline was still more than enough for him as a mate; hadn't he deemed her perfect marriage material once he and she had re-met in England in '84, long before they'd wed? Before that anonymous scribbler had exposed his overseas doings, hadn't they proved their mutually pleasing compatibility after each separation and re-adjusted to each other, caught up? So happy and light-hearted, so easily sociable and teasing, so much of the same mind… wasn't she the same spriteiy but serious, level-headed but adoring girl he'd wed?

Reconcile? Aye, he did wish it!

Could he shed Theoni Connor, though, and their bastard son? Almost completely, yes, though he did owe her an obligation. But, was a complete break called for, then so be it. Theoni was well-off in her own right, with no need of his financial support, or wish to bruit her boy Alan James Connor in genteel society as a bastard.

He suspected, though, that as long as the war went on, and the Admiralty had need of him (despite their qualms), once reconciled, he would be right back at sea, years and thousands of miles gone, putting into strange… 'harbours,' as all true sailors did, sooner or later.

Could he actually amend his roguish ways?

Sadly, he rather doubted it; or doubted such a vow surviving an entire year, unless he spent his time completely out of sight of land. He knew by then his own nature… and a lewd'un, it was, he was man enough to confess… to himself, at the least.

He eyed the larger stack of letters, all from Theoni. No! His solicitor, and Caroline, now took precedence. He scooted his chair up to the desk and stretched for paper, quill, and inkwell.

Mountjoy, then the boys, then lastly that vital epistle to Caroline. Well, to his father, thirdly, to give thanks for his ministrations and advice. Which thought gave him shivers! Caroline, last.

'Gawd,' he said with a wondering sigh. 'All this, and Choundas, too. Well, just thankee Jesus for all this bounty.'