Tom Browning's Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter Thirty

I could not ask Cedric at the present moment as both of us needed our breakfasts. Both Jabez and Paolo were there and were serving my father, Paolo by the hot tureens and Jabez dispensing tea from a silver pot.

"Ah, so you are awake at last," my father said to us as Paolo handed him a loaded plate of hot, steaming food. "I expected the pair of you to be up and about ready for another morning of exploration, but good morning to you both." We dutifully offered our greetings and took places opposite him at the table. "My morning is settled for me," he asserted after testing a fork-full of steaming sausage. "I have to visit my bankers to see if there is a pot of gold still at the end of the rainbow I saw after that storm earlier this year."

"Then you must have been dreaming, father," I replied, nodding happily as Paolo set my plate of equally steaming sustenance before me. "I have been told that you have to follow the rainbow to where it touches the ground. Cousin Lancelot says you could never do it and showed us how the rainbow appears by using a prism of glass. So that pot of gold cannot be found!"

My father groaned. "Boy, why destroy an old man's dreams?" He shook his head. "Tell me where the bank keeps all it's gold so I can see if there is any which is mine."

I shook my head. "Lancelot told us that the banks do not hold gold but pieces of paper with names and amounts on them. He said if a bank went up in flames then the money would burn and become ash. He said..."

My father waved his hand. "...Your cousin is too clever by half but he is right. I have land and horses but unless there are those to buy what I have in excess then paper or gold does not pass." He laughed. "But those clever fellows in the bank will know if I am worth a penny or two to lend me what I will need to feed, clothe and house your dear brother while some of those horses I am to sell grow another hand or so in height."

Branscombe was listening intently. It was his sister to be housed, fed and clothed, too, and I did not know what one of Her Majesty's Majors of Horse received in pay for his loyal service though he had his portions from the wills of our grandfathers. "My father has the same concern as you, sir," he said, "He is always complaining that his bankers do not know the costs of maintaining a good household or extending the building as he wishes. How does one learn these things?"

My father nodded. "I have a rule taught to me by my father. Do not borrow nor lend more than a good quarter's income. But in these days who knows what that might be? Harvests have been bad. The government demands money. The banks want more interest on money they have lent."

"But horse prices remain good and you have a good stock," I said, knowing this was something he had said only a couple of days ago in conversation with Uncle Digby.

"Young ears flap too much," he rebuked, but he grinned as he said it.

Branscombe was still in a questioning mood. "My father says a good working man is worth his weight in gold. Not in reality, of course, but his efforts ought to bring him a good reward. I have read that many manufactories do not pay a good wage and until recently children were made to work many hours for a mere pittance."

My father was nodding vigorously. "That is true. I have heard many terrible stories of how even young boys and girls were in mines or weaving mills and worked long hours for very little. I remember reading of young boys of seven or eight who would fall asleep towards the end of their day's work and have to be carried home even too tired to eat. That is, if there was food in the house as the parents had little or no work for themselves." He held his fork up. "There was much commotion among the owners when some ten years or so ago our Parliament passed an Act to prevent children under the age of nine to work in the weaving mills." The fork was waved. "But even then they could work up to forty-two hours a week." He shook his head. "Although my grooms and labourers work as required I would never expect the hours as are worked in those industries. We in the country do not know of some of the privations which many in these large towns suffer."

"But, father," I said, "We know of those in our own village who do not, or will not work unless forced by hunger..."

"...Or your Aunt Matty's tongue." He did laugh then. "I know what you mean. My father took his whip to more than one idler who was not supporting his family through a good day's work. We have had times when crops have been bad but the farmers around us have always made sure that men are not laid off unnecessarily. I do not boast but I have endeavoured to pay a wage even if much work is scarce as in a bad winter like two years ago. There is always work to be found for a man if he is willing. He may not be a trained carpenter but sawing logs or making new hay boxes are necessary tasks which have to be done come what may. A farm and stables such as ours always has work to be done, repairing fences, digging ditches, cutting timber, so hands need not be idle."

Branscombe was nodding. "My father has good gardeners and there is always work to do in the glass-houses even in this wintry weather. He uses journeymen, bricklayers and carpenters in the building work and these seem to take a pride in providing good work for the wages demanded. I think they agree for twelve hours a day as long as there is daylight with time for their victuals. I do not know the payment they receive but I know my father does not quibble only grumbling that everything costs more and more as time goes by."

"Men can look after themselves," my father said, "But I have read in the news-sheets the conditions in those mills and how the youngsters are easily injured. I have also read there is agitation in Parliament for more restrictions on their employment." He looked at me. "Take heed, young man, if my pot of gold is not there you could be sent to work in a coal- mine for nine shillings a week." He laughed. "And you can have Jabez to shovel the coal for you to haul to the surface for another ten shillings."

I had forgotten Jabez and Paolo were listening intently as well as replenishing our plates and cups.

"Sir," Jabez interjected, bowing his head, "You did set me to work with a shovel when I displeased you one time. I hope I do not displease you now. May I refill your cup?"

My father's chest heaved. "Was that the time you frightened those poor kitchen- maids by flapping around in your mother's nightdress and they thought you were a ghost, or was it when you put that mouse in Mrs Gray's beaker before she filled it?"

Jabez's face was passive. "No, sir, I was not aware you knew of those occasions. It was when I put Mr Brewer's riding-coat on the scarecrow and he was looking for it when you needed a mount."

"If I remember rightly you had to clear the Hall stable as a little task, eh?"

"My mother complained of the smell I took home and I felt her hand on my bare backside when I had to bath. And I was set to that task at the age of eight!"

My father guffawed. "That Factory Act does not apply to you, scoundrel! And I will have more tea!"

I did not know of that punishment he had endured plus the smacked arse. Mr Brewer was Bobby's father and had a small-holding now, though he had been employed as a groom for many years. He was a rather fussy little man and I could imagine him being the butt of one of Jabez's pranks. I knew of the mouse and the time he filled Mrs Gray's lunch-time tankard with cold tea rather than the good ale she expected. Both times he got three cuts across his buttocks from Mr Clements. However it never wiped the smile off his face nor diminished the fondness in which others held him.

I think Branscombe was wondering what type of family his sister was marrying into. I had the feeling he was comparing my father and his drollness with what I had gathered was his rather strict and solemn parent. I imagined my father would just laugh if I appeared with a ring through my cods and would probably ask if Robin tied a thread to it to keep me in order like one of old Biddle's bulls. Cedric's father had not been told of his adornment and what his mother might say or do was beyond my understanding as I knew no haughty ladies and their manners. I think my mother might just exclaim 'Oh, Tom!' and ask if I had made headway with another chapter of the latest book she had passed to me.

My father finished his breakfast before us and said he must make himself ready to visit his bankers and bid us good day. As we completed our own repast Cedric and I had just a little discussion on what we might do. With Cedric's prompting, and my acquiescence, we decided to ask if we might visit the Tower of London, instead of some optician's shop, as long as we promised to be back by midday. Uncle Digby merely laughed and waved his hand when I asked if we might be allowed the chaise again. "As long as you do not attempt to steal the crown jewels like Colonel Blood it is yours. But do not dally too long as the warders there like to tell all the gruesome tales and expect good recompense."

Mr Topping said he would arrange our transport so we went back to my bedroom and used the jakes which Branscombe said was most comfortable and he was going to tell his father not to extend further until he had information. I said he had better borrow Robin's brother who would, no doubt, make the drawings for all the apparatus. I think Branscombe was rather amazed when I said young Philip was not yet thirteen. As Jabez was with us making sure we were tidy he drew out a letter which Philip had written for his mother to send to him before Christmas.

"Excuse me, sir, but this will show his talent," Jabez said and folded back the page to show a drawing of a snowy scene over which our Careby church tower was soaring high. It was well-drawn and the lines of the tower as it rose were penciled straight and true.

Cedric whistled. "That is quite amazing. My mother has had many lessons and is good but I swear this outdoes her efforts."

I was pleased to hear another opinion. "I think there are plans for Philip," I said, "He does not flaunt his ability and I hope he will be given opportunities."

"Are there plans for him to attend our school?" he asked.

"I do not think so," I said, "He has enough Latin and some Greek but I suspect he will be a pupil to an artist or something like that."

Jabez was smiling as Cedric handed back the letter. "Keep that safely," he instructed him, "I think he will have a name in the future."

That was a judgement I hoped would be true.

Jabez excused himself as we went downstairs saying he must report to my Uncle. The chaise was ready and waiting as we went toward the stable. Gregson was our driver and a very happy-looking Natty was beside him. I went over and saw that Natty was sporting a new neckerchief under his cape. I would hear about that later, no doubt. Gregson was looking rather solemn. I asked him about Peters and his cough. He said he thought my potion had cured that but he then bent down and whispered that there was a contagion about. He said the funeral procession I had seen, when out with Rowley, was of a mother and her seven-year-old son. They had succumbed quickly to some fever which the doctors said was like cholera. He had heard of two other families close by that family where members were ill in bed. So we would not be going anywhere near those streets, he asserted, louder and emphatically. I agreed but didn't tell Cedric any of this before we set off. We got to Piccadilly very quickly as Gregson drove the horses at quite a lick. In fact, we managed to get to Long Acre and Drury Lane with little difficulty but were slowed in the Strand. We negotiated Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill much better. As we skirted St Paul's and drove towards Cheapside I pointed out Paternoster Row where my sister lived. It was here I ventured to ask about his vehemence when that cab-driver almost caused a mishap as there was a cab with a wheel off and a horse being calmed at the roadside as we passed.

He laughed and asked had I never heard that sailors swear all the time? I shook my head. He said Jake and two of the other footmen vied with each other over the number of different words or phrases they knew. He had listened in to them many times from various hiding-places as a youngster. He had confessed to Jake what he had heard as he had been discovered skulking behind a pantry door. He brazened it out by repeating a few expressions which caused some alarm and said he wanted to know what all those strange words meant. Jake had said he would explain when he was a bit older and he should keep his mouth shut for now or he might find he was marooned on a desert isle with cannibals about. Cedric laughed again as he said he was a rather trusting young lad and it was not until he was home from school when he was fifteen that Jake had told him most of the meanings as Jake had cut himself with a razor when trimming his beard and had produced a fearsome volley of oaths.

I said I had also remembered some of the things he had said and I wanted to know what they meant. I think he was so pleased at being taken on excursions he immediately said I should ask. Before we arrived at the Tower I had learned that a 'pushing school' was a sailor's term for a 'brothel'. I knew that word as there was a scandal in the village when a girl had run away from her position at the Squire's house and had been found in a 'house of ill-repute' in Grantham and had been brought home in great distress. I remembered that as I had skulked as well! I had overheard two grooms as they traded that information with each other!

I was all agog when Cedric said that 'socket money' was what one of those girls would be paid for her services. Oh, so that was why Megson was getting agitated when payment for showing and fingering was being discussed. But I then heard it was more than that. It was the payment for using the girl for pleasure, which was simply fucking as Branscombe explained, using that word. I had also heard that talked about and, of course, had seen plenty of animals being serviced, male on female. Branscombe went on to say there were many women who plied their trade in most towns, and especially here in London, for men who wanted such gratification. Branscombe laughed and said I must be careful if I was tempted as if I caught a 'burner' there was no cure for that disease and my prick was most likely to fall off.

I didn't ask more though he had used words like 'fucking' or 'prick' quite openly and was obviously enjoying telling me such things. However, I had seen a drawing of a diseased pizzle in one of Lancelot's books which he usually kept locked away in his room but had forgotten. I had looked into it as the title had the word Venus in it without realising it was a treatise about diseases centred on that part of the body I had at the time discovered gave me the greatest of pleasure. That picture almost gave me nightmares and I did not touch my newly growing prick for at least four days until wanton feelings triumphed over caution. I had peered at it each time after that to see if there was any sign of the sores and holes depicted. Luckily, Lancelot had left the book on the shelf another day and I had opportunity for a further look and so discovered I would be unlikely to have such a calamity befall me without recourse to a source of such a disease. I had not dared even to acquaint Robin with my findings, hoping he would not succumb to temptation.

By this time we had rattled over the cobbles leading to a gated entrance at the side of the Tower. Gregson said we should have to pay for entry and he would be waiting across the road on our return. I looked at Natty on the box and beckoned him down.

"I haven't heard yet of your visit to the Museum and I think you will have more to tell your mother if you say you have been inside the Tower where two of King Henry's wives lost their heads."

The lad looked at me almost goggle-eyed. "Oh, Master Tom, an' be their heads still there? I would be afeared to look."

Branscombe clapped him on the back. "Do not worry, lad, I hear they only walk about at night with their heads tucked underneath their arms."

Poor Natty! He looked quite frightened. "If there are any ghosts that Warder will run them through with the pike he's carrying," I said to him with a smile to ease his alarm.

He breathed out. "Oh, Master Tom, I am a foolish boy. I know there b'aint no ghosts but those grooms do tell some horrid tales."

"Don't worry, my lad," Branscombe said, "But I expect those Warders will tell us a gory story or two."

Gregson was grinning from his position on the box. I guessed he had experienced a visit here before. He bent down and pointed at the gatehouse with his whip. "I advise you to ask if Warder Griggs is about. A sixpence extra to him and you will see many things others do not."

Branscombe was ready to advance on the fortress. Two Warders in their antique uniform stood guard. Branscombe marched up to the older one. "I am informed Warder Griggs is a good guide. Is he available, Sergeant?" he asked with quite an air of authority. I noted the stripes on the Warder's arm and using the man's rank did the trick.

"Sir, I am he," he said, bringing his pike upright to his side and coming to attention, "You wish to gain admittance?"

The question was said in such a way that extra monies would pass with success. Cedric withdrew his long purse and counted out four shillings.

"I trust this will be sufficient, Sergeant," he said as he handed it over. As the Sergeant made an entry in a book Cedric whispered to me. "A sixpence to his companion, I think."

Luckily I had such a coin loose in my pocket. It was discreetly handed over and pocketed. Natty was watching these transactions with a bemused look on his face. "Do I...?" he began but I tapped his arm and shook my head.

The Sergeant nodded at his companion, who remained at his post, and did a smart about turn. We followed as he marched, rather stiffly, through the imposing arch. We spent a good hour and a half being shown the headsman's block, axes, pikes, armour and some dreadful table which the Warder said was not shown to many. I guessed it was for torture and was glad when we left that room. The Chapel was plainly furnished and the Sergeant said this was where those to be executed would be exhorted to confess. Often, though, he said with a shake of his head, they went straight from their cell to the block. A large key was produced and we peered down a flight of well-worn stone steps. "If you went down there you never came back," he said, "That is if you were a prisoner. The tide comes in and those cells get very wet..." He didn't need to elaborate. We saw the ravens and were told the legend that if they left the Tower then England would be no more. They cawed as the Sergeant approached them and looked too well-fed to fly away. We were told their wings had been clipped.

There were more Warders guarding the treasury where the Queen's jewels were kept. As we approached the heavy door Sergeant Griggs said they were always wary of visitors. "You haven't a pistol secreted in your britches, eh, young man?" he said holding his pike towards Natty whose mouth opened in a silent scream, "Colonel Blood was the last one to thieve but merry King Charles did pardon him." He laughed. "That always scares the young ones!" We could not begin to gauge the worth of such things as crowns, coronets, sceptres and so on encrusted with many coloured and bright gems which were there on view. We just gazed in wonderment.

After seeing the Jewel House he took us to a room by the side of the Warders' Mess and we had a tankard each of good ale each and Natty looked a little calmer. We were regaled with more tales about how prisoners were brought by boat to Traitor's Gate and disappeared inside to be executed or placed in cells sometimes for years on end. "You've heard of Sir Walter Raleigh?" he asked at one point, we all nodded, "He was here for four years and was to be executed but was pardoned. But he did lose his head at Whitehall in the end. Gruesome days they were." I think we were convinced of that.

Our visit came to an end after the Sergeant had told us he had spent over twenty years in the Infantry and asked Natty if he wanted to be a soldier. I'm afraid we laughed rather when he said his mother wouldn't allow that. We thanked the Sergeant most gratefully for his time and I think another coin passed from Branscombe to him. As we walked from the gatehouse to the waiting chaise Natty very politely thanked Branscombe for allowing him to be with us on that visit. As he said his thanks he shook his head. "My mother'll never believe all the wonders I've seen. 'Tis a wonderful place this London but 'tis not the place for the likes of me."

"You love the country, eh?" Branscombe asked, "I do too, but I must go to sea for my livelihood. That's in my blood and I must follow my father and grandfather into what I know will be my life. You will find your life in the country and I hope it will be a happy life. My father says great changes will come and we must be ready for them."

I had heard that from my father, too, and had come to the same conclusion listening to things discussed in Mr Ridley's extra classes. Canals and horse-drawn carts carried our goods now. Would railways, which were said to be faster, haul goods as well? People were moving from the villages to the larger towns where goods were made and new manufactories were set up. Would men and women leave our village to try their luck elsewhere like young Larkin the ploughman's son? Though he might have had a particular reason if Bessie's child was his. I had heard of the rioting in Manchester and the trouble when workers wanted to form unions to protect their livelihoods. Was the social order to change? I had learned so much more recently about our class system which seemed so rigid, but there were friendships which crossed barriers. I still had much to understand. As Uncle Digby had said 'Watch and learn'.

Gregson was waiting rather impatiently with the chaise and said he hoped the streets were not too busy so he would take back ways as it was gone eleven o'clock. We fairly galloped along some of the roads and sped across Regent Street to get into the smaller roads to Charles Street. We could do no more that wave goodbye to our valiant driver and a rather dazed Natty as Branscombe and I raced into the house. The hall clock stood at eleven fifty- eight. Two minutes to spare.

Both Mehmet and Karem were waiting in my bedroom. They were wearing silken robes like the one found for my brother. We hurriedly used the jakes, Branscombe hopping up and down but allowing me first piss, and as I shed my clothing so Karem laid out soft towels on my bed. Mehmet was doing the same to the other side of the wide bed ready for Branscombe. He uncorked a small flask which he brought to me and held under my nose. "This is oil of Neroli," he explained, "It is from Italy and is distilled from orange flowers so I am told. It is highly prized but your uncle said you should experience it. We must not use too much and will use an oil with no scent for most of the time."

As Branscombe came from the jakes and began to undress so Mehmet and Karem removed their robes. I had seen Mehmet before in his tight yellow drawers looking so brawny and sturdy but here was his brother, slimmer but still quite muscled, clad in equally tight but red drawers. I saw Branscombe look from one to the other which slowed down his own disrobement. Karem guided me to the bed and I lay on the towel as before, face down.

I felt the cool oil drip on my shoulders then Karem began the massage. I relaxed and listened as Mehmet instructed Cedric to remove all his clothing so he would not get any oil on even his undergarment. Oh, I thought, if he rolls over and I peep I may see his adornment again!

I think that Karem was the equal of his older brother and I quickly fell under the spell of his sensuous stroking and probing. As with the time under Mehmet's hands I could not help but become erect so when commanded to turn over my young flagstaff was ready to carry Her Majesty's standard. I did not care. I was almost fifteen and I knew I had still to grow more. I was not ashamed of my pizzle and it's present length. It had been assessed by the expert eye of Jabez Bottom who had attested it was of good dimensions. I did look at Karem as he leaned over me. I could see his pizzle outlined in the tightness of his drawers with the bulge of his cods beneath. It was not difficult to make out the shape of his peg. There was a plumpness of length and a definite acorn at it's end which looked the same as mine when I withdrew my skin completely. An art which I had only accomplished recently as my retaining skin had loosened. So being circumcised meant that acorn was always on show.

As I pondered on this, with eyes half closed, my chest and stomach were being kneaded carefully and I heard Mehmet quietly ask Cedric to turn over. I deliberately forbore from turning my head. I heard a whisper and two giggles. I opened my eyes then as Karem was slowing in his actions. Branscombe was on his back and what stretched back over his belly was a most sizeable weapon bent somewhat like a sickle. He was approaching seventeen so had at least two years on me and showed he was well-equipped as dear Jabez was wont to say.

My eyes though were cast down a little and, as he lay on my right-hand side, I had a good view of his weighty cods. Yes, the ring was there and as Mehmet massaged across his thigh so he carefully re-positioned the sack so he could reach downwards at the top of his leg. I saw Branscombe wince a little. It was just then that Karem moved down to minister to my own thighs and I imagined he was copying his brother's actions. Yes, that area where my thigh met the fork of my legs was most sensitive and I tightened my stomach muscles as his fingers pressed into that delicate area. All too soon the pair announced they were done and we should stand to be wiped free of oil. We stood facing each other with smiles on our faces and as the towels were used on our backs our rampant pricks were well on show. Cedric pursed his lips slightly but said nothing. I knew I had been judged. Was I found wanting?

As Branscombe had so handsomely paid for our entry and guide to the Tower I maintained I would recompense the lads for their much-appreciated efforts. Both smiled and bowed their heads as I passed over a silver half-crown each. Not a golden half-guinea! Branscombe thanked them and wandered back into the jakes his pride erect before him. The pair had corked their flasks, folded their towels, replaced their robes and were gone and I was almost dressed before he emerged.

I noted his prick was no longer erect and mine had softened once I was off the bed. "I could do with a massage like that every day if it has that effect," he said, "Had to keep that unruly beast quiet in there." He swivelled his hips and the 'beast' swung to and fro. So Branscombe was confessing to acting as I did so many times at home, without recourse to the luxury of a jakes but using a piece of cloth or a soiled stocking to mop up spent juices.

He stood before my long glass and flexed his arm muscles and then rolled his shoulders. "I do not see all of me at once at home. My mother has a long glass but I could hardly wander into her boudoir and show myself like this. Those two boys outdo me though in muscles. I think I will have to play a little more and do more running as I have eaten so well and I do not wish to become like those gluttonous simpletons in Pratt's."

"Nor do I," I said, admiring the contours of his body, almost a replica of Curly, "I do not know what sport is arranged for this coming term. I am not fond of football but hope that George Lascelles will be persuaded to run more on our return rather than muddying himself on the field. That I prefer."

Branscombe looked at me with a smile. "George or running?"

"I prefer running," I said stoutly, "But my real preference is Robin."

I wondered if I had said the right thing. Cedric just smiled a broader smile. "I have a preference, too, but he will not be with me at Ashbourne. I told you of my uncle's son. We have pledged our companionship and must try for a future together. It will be difficult but he wishes to be a Naval Instructor and my father has promised to find him a place to study. He is a better scholar than I and, like you with your uncle, has been taught by our rector. He needs a College place but neither Oxford nor Cambridge appeals. He has a mechanical turn of mind and has set up a number of ingenious devices to lighten the load on our grooms and labourers. There is a contraption where a mule turns in a circle and a weight lifts and falls to crush turnips and beet for the cattle and another which spins and provides a cooling draught in the dairy so the milk does not turn sour so readily in warm weather."

I immediately thought of the demonstration I had seen at the College in Gower Street. As Branscombe dressed I told him of that and how Aubrey Bayes' father was an eminent man there.

"I must tell my father as that would be a fine place for Alfred to attend. But I would ask you not to say anything at Ashbourne." He nodded. "And I will see that you and Robin can be together, too."

I was smiling then. But, he had expressed an interest, I though, in Miss de Vere. I was bold enough to ask.

He laughed. "My dear boy," he said, "You will find you can be friends with the fair sex but that does not mean one need succumb to being with them for ever. I think my mind is made up already as I have told you."

I could see that was true. Millicent Jefferson could be a friend but not necessarily a companion for life. More to ponder on.

It was time for luncheon and then I had to be changed ready for my participation in the At Home this afternoon. With that happening Branscombe and I were alone in the breakfast room as my father was lunching with my Uncle Digby in his study. As usual we were served by the ever-attentive Paolo. He said that Cedric would be given a small hamper to keep him company on the stage to Canterbury as he would have to leave as soon as the At Home was over. He finished eating before me as he said he would have to check all his things had been packed in his bags. I had several more mouthfuls to consume and rushed upstairs still chewing to get changed into my Sunday best.

As I entered my room Karem came along now dressed in his usual grey livery and, unfortunately, not in those tight red drawers for me to ogle. "Please, Master Tom, your uncle says as Jabez is not available yet I should assist." So Jabez was absent again. Uncle must know where he was. An errand? Anyway, I had to hurry to change and look smart and tidy. I thanked Karem again and complimented him on his appearance for the massage, though I didn't dwell on the fact I was interested in exploring what was contained in his scanty apparel. He said he was exercising with Mehmet but he didn't wish to become as massive as he was. I didn't say I could see why his patrons would want to stroke his leg!

It wasn't until I had gone down again and reached the drawing room door that a rather breathless Jabez appeared, again in a plain suit but this time of a good cut.

"I must apologise again, Tom," he said, "I must change quickly as I am to be on duty here this afternoon and I will be on the coach this evening for the SoirＦ."

Before I could ask any questions he was away. There was no one yet in the big room. I took my flute from it's case and fitted it together. I blew a few notes and thought it sounded true. I put it on a shelf of a tall dresser where I could retrieve it easily. The book of sonatas was on top of the pianoforte so I opened it to the page and placed it ready on the music desk as I would be first. Rosamund had said she would be my page-turner. I tried a part scale, E, F, G, A, and there was no jangling so the pianoforte had been tuned and corrected. I looked at the printed notes and remembered the two bars where I had to be careful. I didn't play them but imagined my fingers on the keys. I felt confident and strangely calm. I had played to my mother's friends at home and was used to playing my flute but these were people who went to many recitals and here was I, a mere boy, starting the afternoon's performance. Just as I was looking at the next page Rosamund came into the room.

"I thought you would be here," she said, "Are you prepared?"

"I think so," I said and returned her smile.

"We'll wait until everyone is here," she said, "Otherwise there will be so much talk and we shall get distracted. There is a small room here to where I often escape when I want peace. We'll wait there. My mother will look after Signor Bruschi and the lady singer and their accompanist. You'll like him he's a very good player. I haven't heard Madame Walters before but she is highly recommended."

She led me along the hallway to a closed door. Opened, this revealed a cosy room with a lit fire and two armchairs and a scattering of books on the table. Father calls this 'Stanza di Rosamund' ever since I said it was mine when we first moved here." She laughed. "You are honoured, Tom, there are few who have crossed the threshold."

I did not dare ask if Marmaduke had. I didn't think he was one of the favoured ones. We chatted about my visits. She said the Harrison boys were a delight and young John made her laugh. She hadn't been to the College in Gower Street but had visited the British Museum which she said had such an array of good things. When I came to London next she would like to accompany me there as there were always new exhibits. Her favourite place to visit was the National Gallery where many pictures were hung. She hadn't visited the Tower so I forbore from telling her how gory it all sounded. There was a tap on the door. It was Jabez now all smart in his green and gold livery. We were led along to the drawing room where it looked as if all the seats were occupied. "To the piano," she said in a whisper.

I didn't have time to look around and went to stand by the keyboard as a ripple of applause sounded. I sat and played that first movement as if in a dream. To my ears it went better than I had ever played before. As the last chord vanished into silence there was more than a ripple of applause. I stood and bowed three times then, as the clapping diminished, I followed Rosamund and walked to an empty chair on which a programme was placed. Here was I, in print, announced as 'Thomas Browning, Esq. Pianoforte' and then the title of the piece I had just played. Later I saw I was there twice more as 'Flautist'. A little fame perhaps but I saw that the Signor was noted as 'Cellist with the Paris Conservatoire' and Madame Walters as 'Soprano' with a list of appearances in Berlin, Rome and Madrid amongst others.

The whole afternoon was a revelation. I was used to hearing the rather scratchy tones at times of our village band and it's stringed instruments. Signor Bruschi played two full Sonatas by Italian composers and his sound was best described as velvet, or warm chocolate. I had no other words with which to compare his artistry: there was no roughness here. The accompanist was a perfect match for him and I noted the cellist smiled across at him several times as they intertwined their melodies. Madame Walters sang a selection of German and French songs in her two contributions and I was enthralled by the effortless way she reached those high notes. My 'Air from Xerxes' went well and I think Rosamund and I were well- received. At the end there were many smiles and nods as I played two merry country dances with that final Sailor's Hornpipe to finish the afternoon. I saw Branscombe applauding vigorously at the end as he had clapped along with others during that spirited piece.

I was congratulated by numerous people and I saw my father sitting next to my mother with a most satisfied look on his face. Whether it was me, or finding his pot of gold, I didn't know. Even the Signor complimented me by saying I had a good touch. Odd, he didn't have any foreign accent but sounded just like Mr de Vere with his North Country way of speaking.

The lads served afternoon tea from a buffet set up at the back of the room. Small tables had been brought in very quickly and the rattle of teacups and plates soon took over from the music. Branscombe came to say farewell and said with a real grimace that he would see me at Ashbourne. He said that look wasn't for me but our lessons began on the Thursday a fortnight away and that was not to his liking. I commiserated with him and observed we both had journeys to make to our homes first before setting off again. We each would be travelling several days. He said how much he had enjoyed our visits and was sorry I hadn't been to my optician's shop but it was something for my next journey to London. A few minutes later Mr Purrett came and informed him that the chaise was loaded with his bags and ready to go to the Bull and Mouth for him to catch his stage. As we parted at the back door of the house he gave me a real hug of friendship and said once more how much he had enjoyed himself. "And I saw you staring at Karem's..." He didn't finish but gave me a wink as Gregson led him down to the waiting conveyance.

When I went back into the house most people were ready to go and carriages were lining up at the front entrance leading to Charles Street. I listened as several ladies saying goodbyes to my aunt were announcing they must depart but would be at Lady Bridges' SoirＦ later. I also heard people remarking on the fine Ball on New Year's Day and especially the decorations. As young Antonio was near me handing round a platter of small cakes at that time I grinned at him and went 'Miaow'. The imp screwed up his nose then smiled and put the plate up for me to choose. "No mice around I hope," I said and he giggled and moved on to a rather portly lady who took two cakes without even looking at him.

It must have been near five o'clock before the last of the visitors went. We had had an afternoon of good music and there was still more to come. My mother told me to be down sharp on six o'clock and as long as I did not spill food on my new tails I should come to dinner ready dressed to leave for Lady Bridges' house. My aunt was listening and didn't help matters as she said she had a baby's bib somewhere which had been left behind when the twins were younger. She did make amends by saying that people were quite genuine in their praise for my playing.

Jabez was a great help me in getting my essentials packed for my journey home in the morning. He said he would supervise the parcelling of all my books and other clothes as my mother would not be leaving until Saturday morning in our coach. I said he was a good and faithful servant, but he had better help me get dressed ready for dinner and the SoirＦ or I might have to employ Natty instead. He didn't retaliate as I expected but asked if I had thought of taking Natty to my school. With Robin also now as a scholar, there would be two horses to manage and Natty was a willing and able lad most able to be a good groom. I thought that would be a good idea and said I would discuss it with my father and thanked him for the suggestion and said it showed he wasn't just a simple serf.

Luckily I wasn't yet dressed in my finery as I was bundled over the bed and tickled. I managed to say he hadn't got the touch of either Mehmet or Karem. His response was to grasp my poor now-erect pizzle and say the only touch I was used to was my own hand on that object. I was laughing too much to enjoy more of his touch but he then promised he would be able to stay with me overnight as both Mehmet and Karem were going to their home to be ready for a busy few days at the Baths. "Many men like to visit the Baths on a Friday or Saturday and then again on Mondays. Ready for a weekend of carousing and then to be pummelled to put them right again." He grinned. "And I think your friend enjoyed himself. Mehmet told me about that ring but I wasn't to say anything but you knew." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I would volunteer for such a thing tho' Mehmet says there is much talk about even more painful things."

I said the last thing I wanted was a ring through my prick. Jabez was unkind and said they probably didn't make rings that small. I retaliated and said I would get Isaac and Jacob to hold him down while they inserted a ring such as they made for the cooper's man to fit round barrels. He just sneered and said at least he had something to show it off with, not a measly little carrot. As by that time I was more or less dressed in my finery I said he would be dealt with later!

As he brushed my hair when I was fully arrayed in white tie and tails he told me that he would tell me something of his present errands when we were together later. He said he trusted me not to say he had divulged anything as he was changing his identity for a few days. He whetted my appetite but that was all he could tell me as we heard the church bell somewhere chime six.

Downstairs there was my brother Terence and another gentleman, both in white tie and tails. Terence said he was a brother officer and he was introduced as Captain Musgrove. They would be escorting my aunt and Rosamund. Ah ha, no Marmaduke! Of course, Terence wanted to know how his little brother had twiddled his fingers this afternoon. I gave him a brotherly sneer but he laughed and said our mother had already praised her little darling. That merited another sneer. Captain Musgrove said his young brother was always doing the same to him so it must be something peculiar to boys. Since he winked at me, as he said it, he was spared. I forgave Terence, too, because he was my favourite brother. That is, most of the time.

At dinner I managed not to spoil my suit as a good-sized napkin was placed over my chest by dear Jabez who managed a surreptitious tweak of my ear. Aunt Fanny informed us there would be a long supper interval at Lady Bridges so we would have only two main courses tonight. Wondering if the supper would be satisfying I did manage two good helpings of a very delicious dessert, as well as a reasonable slice of fine cheese.

Aunt Fanny was in charge as Uncle Digby said he would be having a good game of chess with Mr Pembridge while our ears were beguiled by more sweet music Again there would be three carriages. My Aunt and Rosamund with their two escorts in the big coach drawn by four of the greys. Our coach would have my mother, my father and me, followed by the closed chaise with the two ladies' maids escorted by Mr Pembridge and Mr Purrett.

I felt quite excited as we traversed the dark streets shrouded in the usual murky fog with shadows caused by the gas lamps dotted every few yards. There was quite a throng of carriages converging on Belgrave Square as we came down the curved road after we left Hyde Park Corner. At last it was our turn to alight and I was bemused as link-boys bearing flaming torches led each group to the front steps of the huge mansion.

After disposing of our hats, cloaks and gloves we were led then by servants bearing sconces of candles into what seemed a vast hall where some hundred or so padded chairs were set up in serried ranks. On a raised dais were four chairs with music stands ready for the players. I noted we were ushered to the third row in the middle which I took to be rather important and were joined there by my Uncle Billy and Torquil in their evening suits.

There was much nodding as we newcomers joined the rows of seats already occupied. Uncle Billy and my Aunt Fanny were greeted by many so they were well known. I felt quite grand sitting between my mother and Rosamund and kept trying not to make it obvious I was looking to see those still entering. That was the only problem being in that third row. I did spend a time looking at the splendidly printed programme with the ornate coat of arms on the cover. Inside were descriptions of the three sonatas to be played. The first was to be by Mr Haydn, a quartet in C which was described as 'The Bird' which sounded rather light-hearted. The next was by Franz Schubert and was noted as being in D minor with the strange title 'Death and the Maiden'. That didn't sound very jolly but it was explained it was based on a song. I would have to wait and see. The interval was then indicated and there would be refreshments served in the salon. An hour to eat! I expected there would be a lot of chat as well. There was one item after the interval: a sonata in F major by Ludwig van Beethoven. The programme said it was the first of three composed in 1806 for a Russian nobleman. I was looking forward to that as my Aunt Matty at Careby was always praising Beethoven's music and played his sonatas whenever she could find time. I had tried one called 'The Waldstein' when she was teaching me and said I should persevere with it as it was one of his best. I agreed it was most tuneful, but it was difficult.

As the time to begin approached so an elegant procession of ladies and gentlemen entered. They sat in the front row as everyone else stood. Rosamund whispered that they must be rather grand as even Lady Bridges was being uncommonly deferential. After we were all seated again the four musicians walked from a doorway behind the dais and stood and bowed while everyone applauded. There was absolute silence when they began to play and I watched them intently as the opening movement of the Haydn sonata progressed. Again, I was experiencing music at its best, skilfully played and I felt transported to a different world as it were. All too soon it seemed to end and I joined enthusiastically in the applause. The 'Death and the Maiden' wasn't so sad and sorrowful as the title implied but was full of melody even though mostly in a minor key. As it finished so there was a pause before the applause began. The four men stood and bowed again and walked off as the sound died away.

Rosamund clasped my hand. "You enjoyed that didn't you?" I could but nod. My head was ringing with the sounds and I wanted more. She squeezed my hand. "Food now, more later!" I think Rosamund knew I liked both music and food!

We had to stand and wait while those in the front row were escorted out before our party could follow the general exodus into another richly decorated room. Candles were everywhere shining back from polished ornaments and glass. Liveried servants handed out glasses of wine or cordial and the ladies sat around small tables with the gentlemen, including me, standing and chatting, though there were chairs ready for us, too. There were many who came to talk to Uncle Billy and I heard many words of congratulation on the award of his knighthood. Rosamund said there were several in the front row who were connected to the Royal Family but she wasn't sure of their names, however, she recognised two lords and their wives who had been at the Ball. She whispered that Aunt Fanny had been asked to join a particular group of ladies who were interested in charitable work which was quite an honour and she thought that was why we were chosen to be in that row.

Aunt Fanny turned to me and asked my opinion about the evening so far and I said I could not have imagined a better end to my stay in London. "Next time we must arrange for a full concert for you," she said and smiled. I think she was more than pleased by my performance at her At Home. We all then took our seats as the servants brought platters of cold meats, small pies and various ornamented pastries with delightful fillings. I was sitting opposite Terence who I could see was making a good repast of the numerous delicacies. I got a sneer when he saw my laden plate as I matched him in amount and assortment. I hoped I would not be sleepy after such a spread as the time for the recital to continue approached.

I need not have worried though I was quite replete. We reassembled in the main room and the musicians soon came to the platform and after some applause the Beethoven started. I was transfixed. The cello melody at the beginning gave way to the most glorious interweaving of melody and harmony and as the movements progressed I knew that Beethoven was a composer I must learn more about. At the end there was a torrent of applause. We stood and waited until the front row group left the room with much bowing and imperious nods from two of the ladies especially. More people came up to talk and there were discussions on how good the playing had been. The delay was good as carriages had to be assembled again. As we moved from the room we heard a majordomo calling out names as carriages arrived. I heard 'The Right Honourable Lord Canning', 'Sir William Tasker' and 'Captain Francis Witham' among many others. Uncle Billy and Torquil bid farewell as 'Sir William Browning' was called. It wasn't long before we heard 'Lady Digby Wright' and as my aunt and Rosamund with Terence and Captain Musgrove moved off so 'Mr Samuel Browning' was next.

Our journey back to Charles Street was rather slow because of the press of carriages leaving the various large mansions around Belgrave Square and along Hyde Park Corner to Piccadilly. It was particularly foggy and the yellow murk swirled around and obscured the gaslamps lighting our way. My mother began to cough and said she would be glad to leave London and return to good air in the countryside. My throat was tickling, too, and I felt the same. Of course my father just laughed and said as we, meaning him and me, would be off by seven in the morning we would have all this muck blown away by a good gallop.

Seven in the morning? It was near midnight as we entered Church Street. My father did relent and said we must leave no later than eight as long as that tardy brother of mine didn't oversleep. Of course, Torquil was to ride with us, too.

Jabez had been on the box with Rowley Roberts and as he helped me undress ready for bed he asked if I had enjoyed the music as much as he had. He then confessed he had been asked by the head footman at the door if he would oblige as there was a servant missing and so had carried one of the sconces of candles to the salon and had stayed just inside the door and made himself useful later by handing in plates for the supper and returned to hear the Beethoven. "There is always a way to get what you want," he informed me. I congratulated him as we grinned at each other as he also said one of the footmen had told him the audience was made up of the 'Highest Quality'!

As we lay in bed he went over his story of what was happening about his new errand. My uncle was concerned about the frightened housemaid in the nearby house and the effect it was having on a groom in his service. Mr Purrett had made discreet enquiries and had discovered that the owners were away spending the winter in Italy. To cover their expenses they had rented out the house for six months to a rather strange woman and her companion. It was this peculiar woman who was making the servants so scared as she claimed she could talk to the spirits of dead people. She was holding what she called 'seances' which people attended after paying an entrance fee. Mr Purrett had also found that a number of people were so convinced of the woman's powers, which amounted to fortune-telling, that they were parting with ever increasing amounts of money for her predictions. When Uncle Digby had heard all this he was convinced she was fraudulent so was determined to stop her. Mr Purrett and Jabez had been asked to apply for positions in the household and to find out what they could. So far, Jabez had been working as a part-time houseboy both mornings and had found there was general concern amongst the staff who were all too frightened of losing their positions by leaving. He had already heard there were things like table-rappings heard and he and Mr Purrett were to enquire if work as footmen in the evenings might be obtainable as well.

I said he had to be very careful because there could be danger. Not, I thought, from ghosts and spirits, but from evil people who had been found out. There was always talk of ghosts and such in the village and I knew the older grooms had a store of stories to scare the young ones, and I had heard some at Ashbourne as well. Uncle Dodd had told Robin and me, when we were younger and had been frightened by some tale, that we should beware of such superstitions. He explained there was a Romish practice of exorcism as some people were very credulous and believed a person could be inhabited by an evil spirit. Robin had asked about the man described in the Gospel of Luke whom Jesus had freed from an unclean spirit. Uncle Dodd had explained that in his experience there were people who were in madhouses because they believed they were the King or Queen, or some other fanciful person such as the Archbishop of Canterbury, but it was a sickness in their heads and was not possession by a spirit or even the devil. He had said poor King George, the one called the Farmer King, was thought to be possessed but a wise doctor had treated him as if he were ill. Uncle had laughed and said if he heard strange noises in the night he just clapped his hands and the mice ran off in the wainscotting. I had heard many creaks and bangs in the night in Careby Hall but had learned from my father that any old building will produce such noises and any skitterings we heard could be cured by having a good cat rather than with bell, book and candle as in that Romish practice!

Jabez said my Uncle Digby had explained the wiles of people like the women at the house as he had investigated such a case not three years since where a rich old man had been preyed on by a couple of scoundrels. They had convinced the old man that his son, who had died serving in India with the East India Company, had messages for him saying he owed debts which had to be paid by giving letters of credit to the pair who would attend to the business. They were apprehended when another enraged father had realised they were gulling him and had followed them to their lodgings where they had many documents which were their downfall. Jabez said he was interested in finding out the tricks the woman employed.

He also said he had seen the black boy again as Lady Clements was also at the SoirＦ. They had used the outside privy together as they had arrived at the same time but again it was too dark for him to see what the lad possessed. They had talked together and he had found Aunt Fanny was to attend an At Home at Lady Clements the following week and he hoped they would meet again.

We were ready for sleep then but, before we settled, once again Jabez so expertly and gently drew my juices from me and, as we lay head to toe, I did the same for him. We shared the remnants on our tongues and clasping each other fell asleep. My visit to London was now over.

To be continued: