Lady Fielding had been absent from our home atop the court on only one previous occasion, and that was for a brief visit with her son, Tom Durham, then recently promoted from midshipman to lieutenant. She met him in Portsmouth, where he had been transferred to the
Clarissa, then just fifteen, had taken a path into the Fielding household in a manner similar to my own. She was the daughter of a felon-or one who would surely have hanged as one-educated beyond her station and bright beyond her years. Yet Lady Fielding took pity upon her and saved her from the Lichfield poor house, or service in some aristocrat’s downstairs crew, by persuading Sir John to take her on that she might have a secretary to aid her in her work at the Magdalene Home.
As for myself, I, an orphan, did come before Sir John falsely accused of theft. That most just of magistrates saw through the perjured testimony that had brought me to him. He made me, after his fashion, a ward of the court and eventually took me into his household. Thereafter, I helped with the housework and soon found myself able to give him aid in his work as magistrate. And how, you may ask, could a mere lad of thirteen (which was then my age) be of help to one noted as a lawyer and as an enforcer of the laws? Why, by performing all those duties for him which he might have been capable of had he the faculty of sight. For yes, strange though it may seem, and amazing though it would have been to see, he had so distinguished himself as a magistrate that he had been knighted-even though he had been blinded many years before.
All the while, as we wended our way through the tight streets, Clarissa kept her mind upon the awful tests that lay ahead. That is to say, I was reasonably certain that it was thereupon she had concentrated her thoughts, for as I glanced over at her once or twice, she seemed to be repeating Lady Fielding’s instructions to her word for word, over and over again, almost as a litany, a prayer. But then, of a sudden, she did turn to me, stopped in the busy walkway, and confronted me.
“Jeremy,” said she, ”you will do the buying for me, will you not?”
“Why, certainly,” said I, ”if that is what you require. I did the buying for Lady Fielding, for Annie, and for Mrs. Gredge before them all. But perhaps you ought to accompany me-if not this day, then another-that you might see how the buying is done. I would introduce you to Mr. Tolliver, the butcher, and to some others. They can be very helpful.”
“Well …,” said she, in a manner a bit less certain than her usual, ”as you say, if not this day then another. I believe another would be better.”
Thus we came to Bow Street and sought entrance not into the courtroom, for Sir John’s voice could already be heard through the stout oaken door, loud and commanding.
“Come along upstairs,” said she to me. ”I’ll prepare a list for you.”
Returning from Covent Garden well over an hour later, I was fair loaded with all manner of comestible cargo — packages of carrots and turnips, a sack of potatoes, a loaf of bread, and last (though not in the order of importance), some good pieces of stew meat bought from Mr. Tolliver, our butcher. That last came with detailed instructions for preparation, which I was to pass on to Clarissa. And that I would have done had I not been hailed by Mr. Marsden, the clerk of the Bow Street Court, the moment I struggled through the door.
“Here, you, Jeremy! The magistrate wishes to see you most immediate.”
It had been my experience that when Mr. Marsden referred to Sir John by his position, it bode ill for me-and so it proved that day, as well. The moment I looked into the modest room at the end of the hall, which he referred to somewhat grandiosely as his ”chambers,” I was greeted by a blast that near singed the hair upon my head.
“Who is there? Is that you, Jeremy?”
“Yes, Sir John, I-”
“Where have you
It had also been my experience that when I was addressed as ”lad,” then all was well, but should I be called ”boy,” I was then to expect the worst.
”Why, only to the Garden, Sir John. I-”
“It is not a fit place to spend your time,” said he, interrupting again. ”There are too many of the young criminal element thereabouts. Your friend Bunkins, now that he is reformed, no longer lays about on the steps of St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, as he once did. Why, praytell, should you go there, then?”
“To do the buying for supper-at Clarissa’s request.”
“What? Oh, I … I …” Taken off guard, he stammered for a moment as he sought to adjust himself. ”But did I not tell you that we were to meet with the Lord Chief Justice this very afternoon?”
“Yes sir, you said that it was bound to mean trouble. But you did not say at what hour on the clock we were to depart.”
“Well, never mind that. Did I not say the meeting was to take place in the afternoon?”
“Yes sir, but-”
“But me no but’s. Is it not now the afternoon?”
I sighed. ”Yes, Sir John.”
“Then let us be off.” He jumped up from the chair where he sat and, feeling about the top of the desk for his hat, he found it and planted it firmly upon his head.
“I must bring what I have bought to Clarissa,” said I, shifting the packages noisily in my arms.
“Well, yes, I suppose you must. I shall meet you at the door to the street.”
“Done,” said I and hastened back down the hall and up the stairs. Yet I found when I reached the top that I could not quite manage the door latch, so full were my hands. I kicked at the door, but it did not budge until, after a brief pause, Clarissa threw it open.
“Ah, Jeremy, just in time. I’ll need you to peel the potatoes.”
“Sorry,” said I, pushing past her, ”but I must accompany Sir John to his meeting with Lord Mansfield.”
I deposited the load in my arms upon the kitchen table, then made for the door.
“Must I do it all myself?” Clarissa wailed.
“Why not? Annie managed it so.”
“Well I know that I’ m
That I caught just as I started down the stairs.
“Don’t worry,” I called back to her. ”You’ve hours before dinnertime.”
By the time I reached the foot of the stairs and spied Sir John waiting by the door, it had occurred to me that I had not passed on to Clarissa the instructions given me by Mr. Tolliver on cooking the stew meat. There simply had not been time for that. Ah well, I assured myself. Lady Fielding had no doubt covered all that earlier. Besides, women knew all about such matters as cooking, didn’t they? It was second nature to them, was it not?
“You had best fetch us a hackney,” said he to me. ”I have the feeling that we are awaited.”
Sir John Fielding had often said to others within my hearing, ”If a man lacks one of his senses, then he must compensate by strengthening the other four.” Since he had lost his sight more than three decades before whilst in the Royal Navy, he had so strengthened his smell, touch, taste, and hearing that through them he could perform prodigies of ”seeing” with his blind eyes that astounded all but those who worked by his side each day. And if this were not sufficient, he seemed, during this same period of time, to have developed still another sense nearly as reliable, and even more impressive, than the other four. He would identify a visitor by his knock upon the door, a criminal by the tone of his voice, and who, among a silent dozen, had been discussing him only moments before he entered the room. Therefore, reader, I was inclined to take him quite seriously when he said that he had the feeling that we were awaited. And furthermore, I took it that his tetchiness regarding our departure had to do with his feeling that the meeting ahead was of greater importance than he had previously supposed. And so it proved to be.
As we bumped toward the residence of the Lord Chief Justice in Bloomsbury Square, it occurred to me that
