King, Ship, and Sword

'Your pardon, sir, but you'll be havin' your dinner before you post your letters today?' the cook, Mrs. Gower, intruded on his musings as she bustled from the kitchen. 'Steak and kidney pie!' she tempted.

'No, long as I'm to town, I'll get something at the Ploughman,' he told her. 'Does it keep, that might make a good supper, though.'

'La, and I've a brace o' rabbits your man Furfy snared in the back-garden this mornin', sir,' Mrs. Gower objected cheerfully. 'And them skinned and all, and steepin' in an herb broth for your supper already.'

'Well, don't let Phineas Chiswick know of em,' Lewrie japed. Legally speaking, Lewrie rented his land as a tenant, not freeholding, and had no right to shoot, trap, or snare any game that strayed upon his property; those rabbits were Chiswick rabbits. Fish in the rills and creek, in the dammed-up stock pond, were Chiswick fish! 'Rabbit does sound tasty, and we do have to… eat the evidence of Furfy's poaching. Let him and Desmond enjoy the pie.'

One of the first things he'd done, once the first fortnight of mourning was over, was to dismiss that dour Mrs. Calder as housekeeper and semi-tyrant, with two month's wages. Caroline's maidservant had been let go, too, though with half a year's salary and her choice of Caroline's clothing, those that he had not donated to the church and the parish Winter charity, or let Governour's wife, Millicent, have.

Now his domestic staff was reduced to Mrs. Gower and her husband, who served as handyman, gardener, and doorman, should any caller ride up or knock. Little Charlotte still needed a maid-and-governess in one, and Mrs. Gower had need of a scullery maid and one maid-of-all-work to keep up with the cleaning, but, as for him, he felt no need for a manservant. He had Liam Desmond and Patrick Furfy, his former Cox'n and a sailor off his last three ships, to see to everything else about the stables, barns, the livestock, and the crops, with day labourers hired on as needed. It was not due to the expense of keeping a staff that he'd pared them down; it was rather that the presence of so many people bustling about the house, no matter how downcast or cheerful, rankled him!

Lewrie went on past the kitchens, still-room, and pantry, to the rear exit, and more of Caroline's handiwork. Her herb plots and her meticulously arranged flower garden, with the bricked terrace and the bricked walks through it, under the vine-covered pergola where wicker chairs and a settee sat ready for mid-morning contemplation or afternoon tea. A bit further out to the right there was another gathering of wood-slat furniture under the spreading oak boughs, which provided a splendid view of the fields and woods, the barn, stables, and stock-pens and paddocks.

'Aye, and there ye be, Cap'm,' Liam Desmond called out as he led Anson, Lewrie's favourite horse, from the stable doors, saddled up and ready to go. 'He's ready for ye, faith. Missed his mornin' ride, and that eager for a trot t'town, sure.'

'Morning, Desmond… Furfy,' he added to the good-natured side of beef who was Desmond's shadow. 'Lashin's of steak and kidney pie for dinner, lads. And Furfy? We'll have your rabbits for supper, so the magistrate won't learn of it,' he added with a wink as he took the reins. 'Think we should bury the bones, once we're done with 'em?'

'Master Sewallis's dogs'd 'predate 'em more, sor,' Furfy said, looking furtive over his misdeed. 'They must be a goodly warren about, though, for s'many rabbits raidin' th' gardens, arrah, sor. Mebbe we… I should keep snares set?'

'Damnedest thing, Furfy,' Lewrie said as he swung aboard. 'At this moment, I think I've gone deaf! Couldn't hear a thing ye said.'

'I meant t'say, sor…,' Furfy began before Desmond poked him in the ribs. 'Oh! Git yer meanin', sure, Cap'm Lewrie.'

'Forget yer hat, sor?' Desmond pointed out.

'Oh. No threat o' rain, today, so…,' Lewrie said, shrugging and peering at the sky. 'I can live without. Later, lads.' A flick of the reins, a cluck, and a press of his heels on Anson's flanks, and he was off round the house to the circular driveway and the gravelled lane down to the junction and the bridge at an easy trot, posting in the stirrups. Though the day was cool, the breeze felt good on his scalp, and the sunshine scintillating through the fully leafed trees was delightful.

And it struck him then that the only time he felt like japing or smiling was when he was astride a horse… away from there.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Why Captain Lewrie!' Maggie Cony exclaimed as he entered the Olde Ploughman. 'Just in time for the mail coach, and steak and kidney pie, t'boot! And look who's just arrived not a tick ago! My, but we must cut you a goodly portion and put some meat on your bones again.'

'Hallo, son,' Sir Hugo St. George Willoughby, seated by himself at a table near a side window, cordially said, hoisting a mug of ale in invitation.

'Father,' Lewrie replied, crossing the busy dining room to join him at his table, and plunk himself down in a wood chair. 'I wondered whose carriage that was, out yonder. What brings you down from town? Alone?' he added in a softer voice, with a raised eyebrow. Though Sir Hugo was now of an age, and played a Publick Sham of upright respectability, the lascivious old rogue's penchant for doing 'the needful' with any courtesan, or mistress who would go 'under his protection' still thrived quite nicely, and his fortune in Hindoo loot from his time in the East India Company Army assured him willing, even fetching, young things… some of whom fortunate enough to enjoy his offer of a fortnight of 'hospitality' at his country estate, Dun Roman.

'Alone, aye, this time,' Sir Hugo admitted with a shrug and a roll of his eyes, 'though there's a delightful new one in London. As to my business here, why, I came to see you, lad. See how you're coping… speak of a few matters. Mistress Cony's right, ye know,' his father added, reaching out to pluck Lewrie's coat and cocking his head in survey. 'Ye have lost some weight. Several good feeds're what ye need. Seen the latest papers?'

'Ah, some,' Lewrie replied as one of the waitresses brought him a brimming pint mug of the Ploughman's famed sale. 'Thankee' for the waitress, who was a fetching brunette, and 'What about the papers?' to his father. 'Have I missed something or other?'

'Evidently,' Sir Hugo drawled. 'This business over Alexandria and Malta… the French ain't happy, and neither's our government.'

'Bugger the French!' Lewrie snapped, which statement aroused a chorus of Amen and a few choicer curses from the public house's diners.

'Spoke with a few people at Horse Guards.' Sir Hugo leaned over closer to impart his rumour in a guarded voice. 'The general sense is that Pitt and his people-Windham, Grenville, and that crowd-and the King himself want the war t'start up again. The Prime Minister, Addington, is leanin' that way, and his cabinet, too. First week of March, the King said in his address that the militia should be called out, and ten thousand more men called to the Navy, hey?'

'Must've missed that'un,' Lewrie said after a deep quaff of ale. And feeling a bit of hope. 'But so many people were just sick of the war, the shortages and taxes… '

'England ain't one o' those damned democracies, as mob-driven as ancient Greeks!' Sir Hugo hooted mirthlessly. 'And thank God for that! Recall what that scribbler Edmund Burke wrote… that intercourse with the French is more terrible than fightin' 'em? Give 'em leave and they'll spread their revolutionary ideas everywhere. Uhm, 'The spread of her doctrines… are the most dreadful of her arms'?' he quoted.

'Missed that'un, too,' Lewrie replied, cocking his head at his sire. 'Damme, when did you take up readin' so much?'

'I'm a retired gentleman o' means,' Sir Hugo snickered back, 'a fellow with the time for it… 'mongst other, more pleasant things, o' course. At any rate, Bonaparte and the Frogs ain't happy, as I say. He evacuated Taranto, but we're still in Alexandria and Malta, a year after we were s'posed t'turn 'em over to the Turks, and the French. We gave France back her West Indies colonies, and we got Trinidad and Ceylon, but lately… '