Troubled Waters

anonymous scribbler.'

That stopped her in her tracks, wide-eyed in surprise.

'I've been his gun-dog since '84, in the Far East,' he went on, sensing an opening. 'Dancin' t'Twigg's music in the Med, and the West Indies, too. And, every time Twigg, or one of his agents, shows up with a scheme, I feel rabbits runnin' over my grave. He finds me a… useful asset, Caroline,' Lewrie spat. 'Still does, else I'd never have gained support from the Abolitionists t'defend me, nor gained such a good attorney. God help whoever it is writin' those letters to you, my girl, if Twigg discovers 'em. He can make an enemy just disappear, on the quiet. All the pain they've caused you… wouldn't you desire t'know who's plagued you, and have something done about it?'

'I… never knew,' Caroline softly replied, looking puzzled; not any less bitter, but it was a slight improvement.

'I was never at leave t'tell you, or anyone,' Lewrie said. 'Now, show me this latest letter. As Twigg and I coach to London together, I can show it to him, and let him have a go at it. Please, Caroline?'

She took a long pause to think that over, her arms snugly tucked under her breasts, hands gripping both elbows, and looking at the floor, before making up her mind, and going to the bedroom to fetch it.

Damme, I think /know this hand! Lewrie told himself as he read the first, for Caroline had fetched not one, but two of those letters, both much crumpled in her past rages. From where, though, or when, I wonder? Still could be a man's hand… or a woman's.

The oldest was about Sophie, full of scurrilous 'observations' of her behaviour in London society, perhaps just after the time that she fled Anglesgreen and went for shelter with his father. Sophie was portrayed as frivolous, flighty, and 'flibberty-gibbet,' openly flirting with the many beaus who sniffed about her, sporting, and playing balum-rancum on the sly with impressive bachelors and rich married men who kept her 'under their protection' like a mistress or a courtesan, then creeping home to Sir Hugo St. George Willoughby, into his bed where they whored together, and regaled each other with minute recollections of their latest conquests!

The anonymous writer included an allegedly overhead conversation 'twixt Sophie and some other infamous young belle, about how she filled her days, and nights, but could not wait 'til her 'hero,' long out at sea, could return, so they could pick up where they'd left off, and continue their long affair… right under her Paladin's roof!

'Caroline, this is utter, bloody… tripe!' Lewrie gravelled. 'All the years Sophie lived with us, sweet and virginal, how can you believe she'd act so, or sound so, carnal? What girl, not a penniless waif, but damned-well supported and reared, would say such things to anyone if she had any hopes of makin' a good match!

'This supposed overheard conversation… Sophie might've been heard talkin' 'bout Anthony Langlie… comparin' dance partners, and tellin' some other girl why she was so indiff'rent to 'em, that's all. Someone's twisted it all round, and salted it with smut,' he told her.

Caroline had moved to the tea table, and had poured herself a cup. She sipped standing up, and looked over the cup's rim at him in faint, mute agreement that his supposition might be correct.

The second about Eudoxia Durschenko was even more scandalous, more lurid. She was portrayed as an amoral Roosian foreigner, a jade who didn't own the morals that God promised a stoat, a circus person who performed nigh unclothed, and thought nothing of it, an actress!-which was a bare cut above a street prostitute, if the sum was right.

According to the scribbler, Lewrie and Eudoxia had rogered in his great-cabins, on long country rides, naked as earthworms right out in the open, in her private dressing room before and after performing.

Well, he'd fantasised such, but nothing like that ever happened… more's the pity. Can't be anyone from the convoys, aboard Proteus, who wrote this trash, he grimly thought; this is all made up, a fever-dream for certain. Worse 'n a novel 'bout a sultan's seraglio!

And, how had the nameless writer discovered all this? '… 'introduced to her following a performance of Wigmore's New Peripatetic Extravaganza,'' Lewrie read aloud, his scorn and sarcasm positively dripping on the threadbare carpets, 'cross the Thames in Southwark, and, after complimenting her upon the heroism she and the circus performers had shown when assailed by a French frigate in the same South Atlantic battle in which her paramour won his latest fame, she thanked me prettily, but then began to regale me with tales of how she had emulated her Navy lover. Then, to my astonishment, told me of their lovemaking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, or so it might be to such a trull, who may not even be strictly allowed to be considered a Christian!'

'Damme, Caroline,' Lewrie spluttered, 'she and her father were Roosian Orthodox! Arslan Artimovich slept with one eye open to keep her a virgin, with a dagger in one hand, and his bullwhip in t'other, and there wasn't a man in their troupe who'd dare even let his glance linger! For someone t'know details… all of 'em false, mind!… he had t'be close t'me this last year past, and…,' he paused to compare the handwriting of both letters, 'and these letters are both done in the same hand. The one time… once, I tell ye, that Dan Wigmore invited me back-stage after the show in Recife, none of the performers had a dressin' room t'roger in. Rickety foldin' mirror tables, with a thin curtain t'dress behind, that was all! Eudoxia was never guested aboard Proteus, and you go aboard Savage tomorrow morning, you ask of anybody, from wardroom to gun-deck, they'll tell you that Can't you see that someone is spinnin' tales 'bout Sophie, and Eudoxia, out of thin air? That this is all spite?'

'Though she behaved so fond of you, when I met her during the circus parade, right here in Portsmouth, Alan,' Caroline coolly said, seemingly intent on her tea as she slowly paced the rooms, slowly and more gracefully. 'Rode right up onto the sidewalk, bent down to kiss you, in a most intimate fashion from horseback, did she not?'

'I was in all the papers after we anchored and paid off, she was famous, and saw a way to increase the audience by a public show,' he countered, managing to sound relatively reasonable about it. 'And I introduced you and the children to her, did I not? Would a guilty man do that?'

'The slyest ones would, yes,' Caroline said, 'and could. She flung herself upon you, you said, Alan. How much did she fling, hah?'

'We met aboard the circus ship, the time the dancin' bear tried t'eat my hat and shins,' Lewrie replied, 'I told you o' that, and she found me amusin'… what happened t'me, amusin'. Didn't see her at all 'til we anchored at Recife, and I went to the circus, and Wigmore invited me back-stage. I talked to a lot of circus people. He wanted me t'use what influence he thought I had with Captain Treghues to let-Navy sailors have shore liberty, so they could attend his shows, makin' him even more 'tin.' Faint chance o' that, you remember Treghues. We sailed for Saint Helena, they put on the circus, and the comedies and dramas there, and I sat in the front row one night, and after the curtain call, she hopped off the stage and plopped herself in my lap, just as I told you… for a jape on her father, for the audience, 'cause it was funny!'

'Ha… ha,' Caroline mocked.

'At Cape Town, I barely saw her,' Lewrie pressed on, going over old news of his innocence. 'She stayed in Cape Town when others from the circus went inland t'hunt new beasts for their menagerie, and we were down at Simon's Town, salvagin' a new rudder. She rode out the mornin' we set off, for target practice with her bow and her guns, and met us on the road… in front of a dozen sailors, and a dozen more drovers… and we talked for a bit as we rode along… Pennsylvania rifles and Fergusons, the Red Indian moccasin boots she got in Savannah, Georgia… a shootin' contest, perhaps, then she galloped off to exercise that white trick stallion o' hers, and that was all, dear.' 'Uhm-hm.' One brow was up, high, and her eyes were squinted. 'Your own brother met her,' Lewrie stanchly soldiered on with his protestation of innocence. 'The mornin' we were loadin' the new rudder into a barge, she came down to the docks t'sight-see, Burgess came ashore off one o' the home-bound Indiamen, and I had t'introduce her, or give her the 'cut-direct.' And, when I named him as my brother-in-