Tom Browning's Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter Twelve

We were still laughing as we set to work again disturbed only by the delighted whoops of a half-dozen or so small children who had been drawn from their play and found new entertainment by pelting the hapless pair with snowballs and screaming their delight at the sight of two big boys arse-up and then staggering away with britches down trying to cover themselves.

Bobby came hurrying back carrying a couple of parcels. "What's been happening the whole village is in uproar?" he asked, "There's a procession of kids chasing a couple of characters with their britches down and Old Mother Caudle's behind them with her broom battering the pair for cursing." He shook his head. "As I came out of Mr Hine's I saw Rogers and the Rector outside the inn with that flash cove of a potman in irons and Jim Flaxman yelling that the varmint had pinched half the bottles from his cellar."

"That must be the uncle that pair were shouting about," said Isaac, "We reddened their arses for them for impertinence. But what's going on?"

I said I would ride down and find out. I rinsed my face and hands in a bucket of fairly clean water and donned my clothes. As I untied Blaze and vaulted onto his back I could hear the lads laughingly telling the tale of those vagabonds.

A small crowd had gathered outside the Varley Arms when I got there. I tied up Blaze and went to the side door which was open. Old Mother Caudle was standing just outside holding a large besom broom. I smiled at her as I went past. Uncle Dodd was sitting at a table with a sheaf of documents in front of him reading through them. Constable Rogers had a squint-eyed fellow standing in front of him with manacles on his wrists with two of our labourers to the side. The pair of rough lads were cowering beside him held by a couple of other men who also worked on the farm. Their britches were still round their knees and they were holding the remains of their shirts across their genitals. They were in tears now and not the blustering gallants of before.

Uncle Dodd looked up. He smiled at me. "I need a secretary, Tom, you will do. Come, sit by me." He shuffled some blank sheets of paper towards me and Mr Flaxman, the inn-keeper, produced an inkwell, a sandbox, sealing wax and a couple of rough pens.

Uncle Dodd looked at the manacled man. "I have here a Warrant for the arrest of George Lott. Is that you?" The man nodded. "I must hear an answer," Uncle Dodd said. The man mumbled 'Aye'. "Please write 'George Lott admits he is the person in the Warrant'."

While I was writing Uncle Dodd went on with questions. "Navy, eh?" The man mumbled an 'Aye' again. "Discharged six years ago it says here and wanted for vagrancy and theft in, let me see, five different places. Keeping low here, eh? Pity for you my son Erasmus recognised you from when he lost that purse from the kitchen at his vicarage."

Uncle looked to see I had written his wording correctly. "Now, Tom, 'I, Alfred James Dodd, Justice of the Peace in the County of Lincolnshire and the riding of Lindsey, place in custody the said George Lott to be carried to Lincoln Castle in accordance with the Warrant so received.'"

I wrote this as carefully as I could. When I had finished he took up the page and signed it, dated it and sanded it to dry the ink. He folded the paper and sealed it with wax and wrote an address on the outside. He looked up at Constable Rogers who even at this time in the morning looked rather flushed.

"Constable, arrange with Mr Sam Browning for enough men and carriages to convey this person and the others in custody to Lincoln tomorrow morning. I will provide enough money for their expense this afternoon. You are responsible for their safe passage to the gaol and at no time may they be loosed from their irons."

Rogers looked a bit bemused. One of the labourers stepped forward. "Sir, I am a deputy and will assist." My uncle smiled.

"Thank you, Mr Johnson, that will be noted. I trust you are familiar with the procedure."

"Yessir!" he said readily, "I've had that duty as you know before."

"Another page, Tom. Make a note that Deputy Johnson will be in charge of the prisoners, expenses and all documentation and I will sign it. His full recompense will be calculated on his return with that of the men accompanying him. I will supply them with ready money in the morning for their journey. Mr Rogers can then see that they are safely outside the parish boundary." Rogers looked a bit relieved.

Lott was marched out between the two labourers and the pair of lads were hoicked up straight with a stern whisper from one of the men holding them to look lively. Tears were streaming down their faces and they looked as if they might faint at any moment as their arms were held at their sides and their shirts flapped open.

"Turn them about," Uncle Dodd instructed the two men. Their shirts were short and their buttocks were covered in welts. "Turn them back and let them cover themselves," was his next instruction. The two winced as they raised and buttoned themselves and pulled their braces over their shoulders. I had noted neither wore an undergarment. "And you two have had punishment already for some misdemeanour. I have here a note that George Lott may be accompanied by two youths of no known abode. Are you ready for a term in the Reformatory for vagrancy or worse?"

Even I had heard tales of the rough treatment youngsters convicted of even minor crimes had when sent to the House of Correction in Stamford. The sobs now were pitiful. "Sir, we mean no harm," the taller one managed to say between sniffs. "We are cousins and cast out of our home years back and fell in with that man last year who said he would teach us a trade."

"A trade of thieving, eh?" my uncle said.

"Sir," wailed the other, "I would not live if sent to that place. I know a boy who died in one. I beg forgiveness. Holy Mother, Mary, forgive me!" He tried to fall to his knees.

"Cast out because of your religion?" Uncle asked.

The taller one nodded. "Our mothers and fathers went off from Liverpool to try for America but we were left behind and then the fellow who housed us took against us when we grew and would not obey his wishes so..."

"You have lived by your wits since?"

The lad nodded and gave a series of loud sniffs.

"Are you willing to work if the threat of the Reformatory is still there? You look hardy enough and I will see you will not be persecuted because of your religion. You know I am Rector of this parish?" Both nodded. He looked at Mr Flaxman and the men holding them. "I will take charge of these boys and will find them suitable masters and you can be witness to their willingness to work but if there is any backsliding they know the consequences." The men all said 'Yes'.

"I don't know what you have done to deserve the beatings but I can guess their provenance...," I got a nudge on the knee at that point "...and will accept you were rightly punished. Do you agree?" The boys both nodded. "This will be set down and you will sign or make your marks." I then had to write all that and found they both could read and write as they signed their names in neat script after scanning the page and nodding. I read 'Liam Keegan' and 'Niall Keegan'.

"Your fathers were brothers?" Uncle asked when he took back the sheet and saw their signatures.

"Yes, sir," the taller one said, he was Liam, "They said they would send for us but no word has come for more than seven years."

"Well, boys, you will come to the Rectory. My son is a physician and he will examine you and assess any damage. You are under my care and I want your solemn oath in front of these men that you understand and will obey."

It was interesting as both said they would obey and then made the sign of the Cross on their chests. I had not seen that done before but had read about it. I was instructed to ride on and inform Aunt Matty about the arrivals. They would be taken first to the hovel which needed to be searched and the men would accompany them. Both looked relieved at the outcome and I had the feeling they might be reformed characters without the Reformatory.

Of course, Aunt Matty wanted to hear everything including why they had been beaten. She laughed and said Isaac and Jacob should be the Parish Constable between them, then clapped her hand to her mouth. She said I was not to say that, but Rogers was so proud of his son even though almost all the women in the village had turned up with mob-caps or bonnets for the baby and his head had not yet been seen by his father.

"Aunt Matty," I said, "I think I am too young to hear such things."

She laughed again. "I think you know more than you are willing to tell. I have heard of two boys who like to climb on walls!"

I wondered what else my Aunt or others might know. But then, she had accepted Jenny, and my brother Torquil had been forgiven, and being the Rector's wife must mean she hears of many sins.

I was sent to the kitchen to be fed as I waited. Even Mrs Reynolds could not ruin good red beef with a hunk of bread and a pickled onion. After I told her to expect two new scullery lads she was full of news about her eldest daughter who was now betrothed to one of the grooms. I knew Bert Perkins as the bigger of the two guardians escorting the lads and had seen him pissing up the wall behind the stable many times holding a lengthy pizzle and bating the others there to match him. Mrs Reynolds was wanting them to be married at Easter or before,... The rest was left unsaid as Nelly then came in, red-faced, round and jolly. She was holding a brace of woodcock which had been plucked already. She waved the birds at me and said she hoped her mother would not boil them to death. I suggested quite mildly that woodcock were best roasted. I got the impression that Nelly didn't know the difference and wondered if poor Bert would get more than a warm heart. Or, a good thing. I was still rather confused about the insistence of it being so good.

I waited close on an hour before Uncle Dodd rode back and spent much of the time rooting among the myriad books in his study. I had found nothing of real interest so was back munching a piece of tart and looking out of the kitchen window when he appeared. He said the others were walking and carrying two sacks of ornaments and bottles they had found hidden. I went with him to the parlour where he told Aunt Matty the whole story again and ate through a goodly portion of the roast beef which Nelly brought through for him. I added a bit about the reason for the beatings.

"I feel sorry for those boys and I think they have learned a lesson. They will be made to apologise to Mrs Gray and young Benjy and I would think Mrs Boggis was mentioned, too." He took a good swig from the tankard by his plate. "We will employ them here until I can persuade a couple of good masters for them. I will find a priest for them to confess to. They seem to be literate."

I said young Eamonn our scullery lad was also Catholic and he nodded when I said a priest had taught him to read as well.

"I have been impressed on my travels with their insistence on a good education for intelligent boys. Of course, until dear King Harry any boy with an ounce of wit would be taken to a monastery and trained. We have lost all that and I wonder how we will all survive and prosper with all this new knowledge and science I read about. It is up to boys like you and Robin and that son of mine to make sure we can educate those who are able. There are plans to extend the training of teachers and unless Parliament is not too overrun with fools we may hear things to the general advantage of the country. I despair sometimes as there are so many deserving of a good education. We may bemoan the rise of the dissenters but at least they teach many to read and write and that can only be to the good."

"But you and Aunt Matty have taught many in the village," I said.

"Yes, enough to read verses from the Bible and to count their money but there is so much more knowledge. I know in London and the north there are institutes for self-help for clerks and artisans." He laughed. "There would seem to be the rise of a new station in life and that is a great worry for the so-called gentry and aristocracy. I hear that in London there are many shop-keepers and others who are richer than their customers who are Lords and Ladies."

I said I had heard that boys at school had fathers or grandfathers who had been in 'trade' and I supposed my Father would be counted as being at a lower station than the son of a baronet.

"My boy," Uncle Dodd said, "My great-grandfather was a common mercenary soldier who rose in the ranks when his officers were slaughtered and managed to gather enough loot to return home to England and buy a small estate. I am not even certain his name was Dodd. My grandfather married an earl's ugly daughter and made his fortune in the India trade as he was banished there by his father-in-law. My father was his third son and a poor parson like me." He laughed. "So, what station in society do I hold? You are who you are, just remember that, not what society may say."

I said I would like to talk more about such things as I would like to say more in Mr Ridley's classes.

"Take care, though, there are those who guard such things jealously. They go to the same schools, they mix with the same people, they belong to the same Clubs in London, to them only Oxford or Cambridge are real universities, and so on. I have heard much and seen much in my travels and the positions I have held. I suppose as a parson I am seen as harmless but it is up to the Church especially to see that all people are equal in the sight of God." He laughed again. "I am certain there are many bishops who do not believe even that."

As usual after a discussion with my Uncle I had much to ponder but then Mr Simpson their butler came in to announce that certain persons were assembled in the scullery and the sniff he then gave meant he did not approve of even the scullery being invaded. As we went through Uncle Dodd whispered that he thought there was a special station in society for butlers and they were some way above Royal Dukes. I was still giggling when I saw the lined up pair with their guardians. In front of them were two hessian sacks which bulged.

"What have we here?" Uncle asked, "I can assume you know where all those goods came from. Mostly from the village?"

Liam nodded and gave a different sort of sniff than Mr Simpson who stood well away from the rougher crowd.

"Then we will return it all with apologies. Anything from here?"

"Two jars with white powders, one has Pot something on it," said the shorter lad, Niall.

"So you have raided my son's cellar?"

"Only looked," said Liam, "It smelt bad so we left. Dead things."

"I would agree," said my Uncle without a flicker, "Best left alone, especially jars with Pot something on them. Very dangerous I would say. You didn't taste it? Probably wouldn't be here if you had."

The lads were looking even more worried.

"Mr Simpson, please escort Perkins and Bolsover to the kitchen and instruct Mrs Reynolds to make a good repast for them. I will see them later."

"And leave them here?" Mr Simpson asked, pointing a disapproving finger at the two lads.

"No, I will take them to my study as we have many matters to discuss and Tom will be with me."

He led the way through the house and I followed the pair who were more and more bemused. Anyway, I didn't think they had recognised 'poor palsied Jock McTavish' as my face was cleaner and the niche behind the bellows had been quite dark.

Uncle's study was quite commodious and I was instructed to clear three chairs. I don't think the pair had ever been invited to sit when in front of such an important person as Uncle Alfred. They were tense and frightened.

"Now, my boys, I want some of your history. I must assume your parents came from Ireland to seek work and you were living in Liverpool."

I knew that the port was there and ships arrived and sailed to and from many countries.

The elder boy, Liam, leaned forward. "That is true, sir, our fathers found work on the docks but wanted better. One of our priests bought them passage on a boat to New York and gave them letters to carry to find work there but said they might have to travel further. The priest did not have enough money for all to go so we stayed with a man who had a tobacco shop and we were set to work there."

Niall was nodding. "It was not hard work and the man had difficulty with his writing so we were set to do that as well." He shook his head. "But he was lazy and his wife died and he drank and the priest left to go back to Rome." He looked at his cousin and began to weep. "He said he had no more money and it was a pity our sisters had not been left as..." He stopped. His cousin was braver.

"...He told us to go to the docks and entice the sailors but we knew that was evil so we ran away."

"How old were you?" Uncle asked.

"I was thirteen and Niall was twelve."

"And now?"

"I am sixteen and he is fifteen."

Oh, they were younger than I would have thought from their earlier impudent demeanour.

"And you have arrived here from Liverpool? Tell me more."

"It was not too difficult," Liam said, "We went from village to village and there is often an old woman who needs help. That is until her son or neighbour thinks we might get her money if she dies so we are chased out. We have spent time in many Poor Houses but we get told to go as we are vagrants and cost the parish money even though we are set to work. Last year we met that man and he said he would look after us if we worked for him."

"He has cheated us," said Niall. "He finds a position in a house or an inn and then steals and we have had blame and we have to leave quickly."

"So the five places in the Warrant?"

"Sir," said Liam, "I confess there are many more."

I was listening intently to their story. They spoke well with little hesitation and they did not have the rough accent they used when at the forge. I felt these were two boys whose lives had been ruined through no fault of their own. I sensed Uncle Dodd thought the same.

"There is no need to confess yet." Uncle Dodd said, "Your story is like that of many others. You can read and write and that means you have gifts which many in your station do not possess. If you promise to work and to make good then I can help. This is a happy village and the people here will accept you if make yourselves amenable. Are you willing to abide by my direction?"

There was no hesitation. The boys realised they had a chance.

"Please sir," Liam said, "We are not really evil. We pray each evening for a better life. I want to confess."

"And me," his cousin echoed.

Uncle Dodd took up a book from the ones on his desk. "You know I am not a Catholic of your particular belief and do not hear individual confessions but we do have a general confession. I promise I will find a priest for you but, if you are willing, we will say the Pater Noster together. You know that?"

Both nodded and I knew that was the Lord's Prayer in Latin.

"Sir, we know the Lord commanded all to say that for forgiveness," Niall said, "I tell Liam we must say it each night."

Uncle smiled. "We will kneel and we will say it together." He handed me the book. It was a Romish Missal and all in Latin. "We will begin..." The four of us repeated the words as we knelt. I read but Uncle and the boys recited from memory 'Pater noster, qui es in caelis: sanctificetur Nomen Tuum; adveniat Regnum Tuum; fiat voluntas Tua, sicut in caelo et in terra...'. At the 'Amen' the two crossed themselves and both were weeping.

As they brushed away their tears they also smiled. "Sir," said Liam, "We are your obedient servants."

I stood and handed the book back. "Uncle, I will try to help their acceptance." I put out my hands and helped them up. I thought then that Niall looked at me cannily. Did he recognise me?

"All to the kitchen and we will find accommodation and some better clothes. You are hungry?" All three of us nodded. Perhaps I wasn't included but...

After they, and I, were fed, Bert Perkins was instructed to take them to one of the attic rooms to wash and change into clothes from the pile which Aunt Matty always had ready for the needy in the village. Bert was told he should stay the night and see the lads were settled. Perhaps Uncle wondered if they might run off again. I was told to make some peace with Mrs Gray and the others at home and as I left Lancelot came rushing in as usual and was sent off to inspect the boys. I did manage to tell him about our scullery boy with the bad hand. He said he would see the boy tomorrow as my father wanted him as witness to some deeds.

Blaze was restless as I set off. Although Uncle's groom had combed him and polished his hooves he wanted his master and wasn't settled until Bobby and I had him in his own stall. In the kitchen the maids had several versions of what had happened. They said Mrs Clements, the housekeeper, had been in the village and seen Mother Caudle and the boys but was too busy to find out more I said what I had seen, but not in too much detail. I found that Benjy hadn't slammed the door on the two rough lads as they had only been at the back entrance a few minutes with his father delivering a length of Turkey carpet. Their performance at the forge was all bluff and bluster!

At table that night I had to retail all the happenings again and Father said he was glad I had been useful for once and that might continue in the morning as I could attend the meeting he was having with his lawyer as he was also making an announcement which I would like.

I was ready for my bed again but had settled to read more of Oliver Twist when a rap came at the door. It was Robin. He said he had had a busy day with his father and the Reverend Carstairs had been so pleased with his father's sketches for the memorials he had ordered them at once. Robin laughed as he did not think the old man knew how to spell 'Michael' properly and had scribbled 'Micheal' on the page which they would have to check. He was also ordered to be present in the morning as my Father wanted his lawyer to see the plans and to hear about costs for the jakes. There was also the document from Mr Dimbleby about the horse and all the argy-bargy about Cobblers Farm as Father had put it at the meal. Mr Grindcobbe would be earning his fee.

Robin had ridden home with his father but his brothers were asleep and Silver needed good care so it was decided he might as well disturb me instead. As Steven Goodhew had found us many times asleep together he knew full well we were more than fond of each other. Of course, I had to go over all the events of the day again and he said he was sorry he had missed such a show and wondered what the boys had really asked Eamonn to do.

Benjy came a little later with a jug of hot cordial and said young Eamonn was much more settled and the ointment was working a miracle. I asked how his bruises were and he said they were better, too. We didn't ask him to cross-question the lad about the incident by the river.

In bed that night we explored whether we had soft mouths. I said that was something we would share with just ourselves as our seed was for us and us alone. I think at that point I knew that I was too fond of my Robin than to contemplate another in the same way.

We slept sound and our faithful Benjy was there just as we heard the church clock strike seven. He said he had seen the menu for the Village Christmas Feast for next Wednesday and there was more meat, drink and plum puddings than ever before. Of course, the village had grown by several new persons who had arrived by marriage or by work, plus several new babes including young.... I knew he was to be baptised on Sunday before the whole village! I also heard that on Saturday there was to be another gathering here, at least twenty local neighbours and farmers to be seated and at least two meats, a haunch of roast venison and another roast sucking pig but with the stuffing young Timmy had described. There would be a dance or two after as well and Mr Venables would have a quintet of players. Two violins, a clarinet, a viol and the big bass. He would have to play the big bass as Mr Barker did not approve of dancing!

That was all news but we had other things to contemplate as well. All the legal things and what was to happen to the vagabonds. Still, we had had a busy night and needed our resources to be replenished. My Father was already in the breakfast-room when I got there.

"Go and fetch Robin," I was instructed, "He needs to be with us more. I have spoken to his mother and father and they wish only the best for him. When you return at Easter I think his place will be here. I vow his brothers will not suffer any want." He shook his head. "Young Philip has made a new drawing of some of the things Nicholas suggests. He suggests not having the pan back to the window because of draughts. I would agree, a draughty privy is not conducive to good contemplation." I knew the commodes in my parent's rooms were always being moved around.

I fetched Robin and was left to my own devices as my Father and he talked about horses. I did listen in the end as Father said he needed to know the true provenance of Timmy's horse. He had made a study of it and said it was a pity it had been gelded because as a stallion it would have been very valuable. Even so, he was quite proud to have it's oversight as any prospective buyer of other stock seeing it would know he had a good stable.

I said that all I knew was that Jack Lascelles had the horse and relinquished ownership when he was bundled off to London and that was what Mr Dimbleby had written. Perhaps his cousin George would find out more and he had promised to write to me.

Anyway, a good breakfast of bacon, boiled eggs, kidneys and slices of bread fried in goose fat would set us up for the morning.

I was in the library with Robin looking at the sets of drawings, including the very neat extra ones sketched by his brother Philip when Mr Clements announced in the hallway that Mr Grindcobbe had arrived. We made our way to my Father's study where the lawyer and his clerk were standing, backs to the roaring fire.

When I first saw the illustrations in the Pickwick Papers I had laughed out loud. Someone had drawn Mr Grindcobbe and called him Mr Pickwick. He was short, fat with a round face and, I felt, rather jolly. His clerk, Mr Lewsey, was the opposite. Tall, thin, with a long face and a long nose which he wrinkled up and down when he did not approve.

"I know you, Master Tom," Mr Grindcobbe said, "And this is?"

Robin bowed his head slightly, "Master Robin Goodhew, sir."

The lawyer smiled. "Mr Matthew Grindcobbe, at your service."

The twitch of the snitch of the other showed some disapproval.

Father came in followed by Lancelot as well as his secretary and the accountant from the farm and stables. This was an important meeting!

"Let us begin," he said when all were seated around the long table in the window space. "There are several matters to be dealt with and I have asked my son and my grandson to be present as well." That was the first time I had heard Father actually say that about Robin, so this was the announcement. No one stirred except the nose twitched. "Firstly, as I wish to purchase Cobblers Farm perhaps we could deal with that. All the documents are here, Mr Grindcobbe?" He nodded. "Would you take us through the procedure?"

I didn't realise that law could be interesting. There was history as the farm and the whole of this area had been in the possession of a bishop who had sold off or given bits to his 'nephews'. His 'nephews' seemed to have been rather a lawless bunch and had gone off leaving homes and families and I think the Varleys managed to grab an amount of land before the next bishop was consecrated way back in the 1300's. Mr Grindcobbe said over the years more and more people got involved with dividing the acres because the monasteries and clergy who owned the land had been displaced in the end by Henry the Eighth and much of the land had been given to cronies and hangers-on. There was then much borrowing and lending money as estates were built up or sold off with mortgages entailed to numerous claimants. In the case of Cobblers Farm the mortgages were entailed to at least three parties who had sold their interests on to a London Bank. The last owner was so in debt the farm had now fallen to the freeholders who would seem to be this London bank. If all the documentation were true, which he, as a lawyer could verify to the courts if necessary, then my Father could take over the present mortgages and the freehold of the land would fall to him or his heirs and successors in one year and a day's time. As the bank in question was in dire need of funds the sooner the transaction took place the better as the capital sum being asked was very reasonable.

I listened then as both Lancelot and the secretary asked questions about various clauses in the deeds. 'Did so-and-so truly relinquish a claim in 1760?' was one of Lancelot's questions. The secretary had a list of calculations prepared by the accountant and they and Mr Lewsey looked and checked them against various old pieces of parchment and they agreed it all seemed correct.

It was then that Robin asked a question. "Sir, if the bank has the freehold, why would they wish to sell their interest instead of having an income from the rents?"

Mr Grindcobbe smiled. "A very good question, young sir. I have asked the same of myself and have made enquiries. My opinion is that the bank is in serious difficulties. It needs immediate funds and is selling off any securities it has. I know of two others which are being finalised at this time. If a claimant came forward it would cost time and money to deal with the matter and the bank has neither."

Robin had not finished. "Does that mean if a claimant did come forward then grandfather would be held liable?" He had taken the hint, or challenge.

Mr Grindcobbe was enjoying this. "I would hope not, Master Robin, as the document of release I have prepared, which the bank will sign, places the whole onus on the bank, or it's successor, to handle any claims within the year. They are prepared as there are no present claimants in their opinion and they need the money and their shareholders are clamouring. Now or never!"

He looked at his dour assistant. "Mr Lewsey has the best experience of trusts, mortgages and entails of anyone in the practice of the law of property in this county. He will sign as a trustee of the deed to be set up. I need the signature of the principal involved, Mr Browning, and those of two witnesses to each document. Being a witness, I remind you, does not mean a liability."

I did not see the amount of money my father was paying but both his secretary and accountant smiled as he put his signature. I guessed the farm was ours for a reasonable price. Mr Grindcobbe said he would be taking the stage coach this evening and would return on Tuesday with all documents signed and sealed. I saw him look at Robin and I'm certain he winked.

All the other matters were settled. Mr Grindcobbe was satisfied with the document from Mr Dimbleby concerning the horse but it would be better to find out more. That would be my task.

The secretary and accountant were sent off for refreshment and Steven Goodhew and young Philip came in. Even Mr Lewsey seemed interested in the idea of a jakes in every bedroom. I guessed having a nose that size he would be offended easily by any smell. I was bemused by the discussion of costs but listened as Philip described how he would have placed things to make minimum disturbance. Nicholas had been quite extravagant in his designs which probably reflected the wealth of his clients in New York. Father was shaking his head almost in disbelief as Philip finished by showing how the outflow pipes would need an open pipe upwards, too, through the roof space so the debris would flow freely. "Dr Lancelot has shown us how to hold water in a pipe with our finger over the end and if there is no method for air to go down the pipe then all the waste would be held. May I show?" He took a quill, open at both ends, from his pocket. He poured some water from the jug on the table into a glass and dipped the quill into it. He put his finger over the top end and held it above the glass. As he removed his finger so the water held in the quill dropped out.

We all looked at Lancelot. "My boy," he said, "I had not noticed that problem in the drawings. You have applied scientific knowledge exactly. I think you should be recompensed as an assistant."

Father laughed. "He's no assistant, is he Steven? I think he should be your chief clerk!"

I could see how proud Steven Goodhew was of his two sons. One now almost relinquished, the other blossoming even at the age of twelve.

There was no question. Father signed a deed giving Steven Goodhew the contract for all the work involved for a sum to be decided.

Father insisted that the two lawyers should stay for luncheon and there must have been quite a merry time as even Mr Lewsey smiled as he shook my hand before getting into the chaise. What had been arranged was that Robin and Philip would accompany Mr Grindcobbe to London as his youngest son, who would have gone, was suffering from the croup. As Mr Grindcobbe said, as the door was closed, the Bank must be desperate to have the owners present on Saturday morning and the two boys were to be ready to catch the overnight stage to St Albans at seven o'clock from the inn at Stretton and he would be on it with Mr Lewsey from Stamford. "I think you two will be the same size as my son. He is rather like me!"

Robin was slapped on the back by Father who asked what fee he would be charging for his advice as lawyers always charged six shillings and eightpence for each consultation and Philip had his hair tousled and the promise of something good for his sharp thinking. This would be quite an adventure for them as neither had been to London before and they were warned not to wander. I noted some coins were passed over.

Going overnight to St Albans meant they would be in London in good time. The arrangements were that the lawyers and the boys would be staying with Mr Grindcobbe's brother-in-law, Bernard Harrison, who was also a lawyer. He had five sons and a big house near Lincoln's Inn so no trouble about accommodation. The two youngest sons were the same ages as the pair and would, no doubt, be companionable. Letters and notes were written quickly to be delivered firstly, to my sister Hatty, the St Paul's clergyman's wife, who lived quite near the Harrisons and the boys could be shown St Paul's and meet up again with the twins. Secondly a letter was to be delivered to my Aunt Fanny Wright to give details of our arrival for New Year and asking if anything was needed.

Lancelot said he would see the lad with the bad hand before either staying for an evening meal or going back to the Rectory to see what Mrs Reynolds had concocted.. Of course, he was invited to stay! I went with him to the kitchen and we took the boy into the dairy room. Lancelot asked him how he'd come by such damage as the hand looked rather red and swollen. Apparently he had been turning the handle of the beet cutter getting food ready for his father's pigs and the heavy handle had swung back and hit and cut his hand.

Lancelot rubbed his fingers along the back of the lad's hand. "I don't think any poison has spread." He beckoned me. "The wound is swollen with blood, you see, but there is no red streak running back. I think all is contained beneath the cut. I intend to remove the blood with the help of our little friends and as my salt and water treatment seems to have cleaned up Mr Jarvis's injuries I will use the same system here." He held up the lad's hand again. "Now, you mustn't be afraid. I think we can clean this up but it'll take a couple of days before I'm satisfied. You must do everything I say and you can sleep here. I'll get Benjy to look after you." He smiled at the boy. "Don't look so doleful. If I can cure you I want you to tell all your friends who need a doctor as you'll be so pleased especially as I'll try not to hurt. It's painful now?" The lad nodded. "I'll give you a little something to ease the ache but now we must set to work. Or, at least, get our friends to work."

I was sent to tell Benjy to bring a bowl of hot water and some salt, plus a clean piece of cloth. The lad winced when Lancelot washed his rather grubby hand in the bowl of hot water. "You must wash your hands every day if you are to work in the kitchen" was his injunction as he dried the swollen hand.

"I haven't noticed that he has broken any bones across the back of his hand," he said, "I think we will continue." I was always amazed at what Lancelot carried in his pockets. He drew out a small stoppered glass globe. Inside were two leeches in water. He carefully took the stopper out and upturned the globe over the swollen part of the hand. The leeches clung on and quite soon were filling with blood. I was fascinated but both the boy and Benjy had their eyes closed. Lancelot prodded Benjy. "Bring the lad a stool so he can sit and hold his hand still over the table here." He pulled out a half-hunter from another pocket. "I'll give it an hour and then we will continue. So don't move, lad, and I'll be back."

Lancelot went into the kitchen to talk to Mrs Gray about some ailment so I went back to the study to look at the plans. Yes, young Philip had also suggested that the extra rooms should be constructed back to back to keep the amount of piping needed to a minimum. I just hoped I might be deemed clever enough to train as a physician as Philip even at his age was showing great promise.

I went back and talked to the lad. He was so pleased to have a position in the Hall and wanted to do well. He didn't think he wanted to be a groom but he was intrigued by what he had heard Timmy talking about plants and herbs and that was interesting. I said he had time to make his mind up and he laughed then and said his father was pleased he was taken on as he didn't think his son wanted to be a pig-keeper either.

The leeches were quite fat when Lancelot returned. He touched them with a quill dipped in salt and they dropped off back into their container. He then sponged over the bites with a piece of the cloth dipped in the now warm water. He nodded and Benjy was sent for more hot water.

"This will sting," Lancelot said as he added salt to the water and stirred it to dissolve. He picked up the boy's hand and plunged it into the hot salty water. The boy cried out but Lancelot kept his hand immersed. "I want you to keep your hand there for twenty minutes and not to take it out. Benjy, find me another piece of clean linen for later."

We waited and Lancelot took out a newssheet from an inside pocket and read it and grunted when news was not to his liking. The twenty minutes were soon up. The paper was put away. The lad's hand was carefully dried and the cloth tied over the wound. "I will see it in the morning so do not remove the bandage and do not get your hand dirty, understand?" The lad nodded and Benjy was instructed to find him a bed and to have him ready for inspection at nine o'clock in the morning.

Lancelot kept us entertained at our evening meal. Just father, mother, me and him. He had plenty of stories to tell about his travels abroad and he did mention the head, much to my mother's disgust but she did say I could go with him when he found out where to take it in France. She said Clermond seemed a familiar name and she would write to her mother in Chester to find out if she knew of it from before she left France so many years ago. Grandmama was very aged but had a good memory.

When I was ready for bed Benjy was there with a hot cordial and news that Robin and Philip had looked very smart in their Sunday clothes when they waited for Rowley to take them in my father's coach to Stretton for the stagecoach to London. "Never been to London," he said, "Don't know whether I want to go. Stories I hear it's full of thieves and vagabonds. Much rather be here, safe and sound, looking after young Eamonn and getting on with my work."

He came back a little later and said he had lent the boy an old nightshirt of his and he was sleeping with Eamonn and he, as a faithful valet, would keep me company but not on the hard mattress of the truckle bed. I was missing Robin and valued the company. Benjy always had tales of happenings in the village so that would be something added. After bringing more hot water for both of us to wash we stripped off and he flaunted his thick pizzle at me. I said it would probably look longer if he lost a bit of the belly he had and waggled mine at him. He said he had cut down on his eating and then made a rude remark about whether Mr Grindcobbe would be able to see his own as his belly was five times the roundness of his. I chased him round the room for his impudence and we had a mighty wrestle which ended in much giggling and two good spurts between us. We washed and donned our nightgowns and shared my bed where he told me several stories of things he'd seen and heard and he wondered if it was true the young grooms had a ceremony of 'playing the mare' when they entered their apprenticeship. I said I hadn't heard of it and he should try to find out more. We were both excited again and fell asleep after we helped each other to our second squirting of the evening.

To be continued: