further intrusion and his voice became indignant. “Listen here, you. I can tell who’s supposed to be in here with the rest of the fancy, and who belongs out there, in the streets, and you do not belong here.” He tried to shut the door further and I wedged a boot between it and the doorway.
“I fully understand the position you have taken over my lack of apparent qualifications to enter this building, I have not spared the time to visit a tailor nor a wigmaker, I am newly arrived from Boston and have cause to meet with Mr Wick, I am sure he is haunting the halls this evening.” I kept the reasons behind my lack of wig to myself, being because I hated them, and my shaved head, the results of my effort to put an end to the louse infestations due to my imprisonment.
The other man’s eyes grew dim for an instant. The Londoner’s natural belief in his existence being higher than any colonial came to my aid. Wedging my thigh and some of my upper body through the portal I suddenly heard my name shouted from the interior of the building and lifted my chin in surprise. Mr Wick’s green frock flying out behind him to reveal a pink waistcoat, never one to disappointment his tailor. He looked similar to a fashion plate come to life in the wood panelled corridors of the College.
“My boy! My dearest Esmond, you are returned to us at last!” The shout brought bewigged heads from out of more than a few doors to investigate the cause of the disturbance. Wick ignored the shushing and, coming to an abrupt halt, he hugged me to his breast as if I were still a child. I stood taller than him these days. Even in his heeled, buckled shoes, his wig tickled my nose. I sneezed on the powder he used to keep it fresh from lice.
The small doorman took my acceptance by one of the oldest members of the Royal Society as an indication of previously unknown self-worth and retreated back to his seat by the doorway. Where he reigned, supremely confident in his chosen occupation.
Mr Wick stepped back and I used the freedom to take a deep breath. “Mr Wick.” I sketched as good a bow as any soldier might. “It gladdens me to see you looking so well, and sprightly, may I add.” I clapped the older man on the arm.
Feigning a wince, he smiled back at me. “Not as firm by half as when you last saw me,” sobering, the older man studied the lines of my face. I knew well the changes he would see and watched as he filed them away in his great brain, corridors of memory. “I hoped you would come to see me in Aldersgate, we are well met here. They are conducting an experiment using a microscope to study the single-celled organisms of Antoine van Leeuwenhoek. He is giving a discussion on the matter, are you interested in joining?”
I would have been interested in listening to the lecture as I missed him when attending classes at Cambridge, but I looked down at my attire and my lack of preparation would only embarrass me. I began to make my excuses but the old man already guessed my thoughts. “No need to rush into the fray, he will be around in the future. I am sure. He is considered a valuable member of the College and you can read of his lecture and findings in the papers.” He squeezed my shoulder, assuring himself of my physical presence. “Why don’t we walk around the corner for a dinner? The Hollybush does a decent turkey pie.”
Mr Wick chatted amiably on the latest news concerning the Royal Society. Though I read the papers when I eventually received them in the New World, some of the most interesting happenings were between members, rather than their experiments. “And Mr Cotswald replied, he wished he had never taken Jenkins as his partner in the experiment and he would never have him along one of his specimen-gathering walks again, as he is a rogue of the worst sort! I would not believe it myself dear boy, if I had not heard the words straight from his mouth. Well, it’s all a sorry affair as now the two are arguing over who made the mineral discovery, as it is worth some money to the finder.”
After ordering two cups of Northdown Ale and Wick being disappointed over the turkey pie being finished. We decided to have the beef and cabbage instead. We sat in a relatively quiet corner of the smoky pub. “I am sorry to hear of Mr Cotswald’s troubles. He was a nice man when I knew him ten years ago. Unfortunately I cannot say anything on this Jenkins, having never met him.”
“Right, right,” Wicks took a deep drink and studied me over the rim of his clay cup. “I am sure you have no interest in all these goings on.” He smiled with relief. “Now you are home, you might want to have a man take over your affairs, mine has done as good a job as any. Your stipend from you late parents’ estate still gives you five hundred Sterling a year. My man of affair’s says you hardly use any of it, and you might presently consider a reconciliation with your uncle.”
Sensing the hesitation in his voice, I carefully constructed a firm yet truthful reply. “You have mentioned your hopes in letters you sent and you already know my answer. He made his choice and I made mine. I want to be free to choose my own path in life, not the one he has arranged, as you said, I do fine on my stipend and I have my army pay, such as it is, to keep me.”
Wick’s brow crumpled in thought. “The last letter from you,” his hands shook, “full of despair, self-hatred. I worried for your state of mind, pondered over the words of comfort, you clearly stated your intentions to sail home and sell your commission. Your time in the army finished, your service to our country at an end, has there been a change?”
“Your old friend, Colonel Manners, used a persuasive argument to dissuade me from selling my commission.” For the first time I pointed to the satchel sitting on the table. “I have an assignment and I will be leaving on the morrow for Scotland. I am sorry this will have to be a short visit.” The frown on the old man’s face made me put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
To my surprise the old man began to cry, a few tears tracked their way down his cheeks before a flood erupted. Astonished, I searched through my pockets for a kerchief. Fortunately, Wick produced one at the ready, and sobbed into it a few times. Between attempts to clear his blocked nose he mumbled. “I wish I had never sent you to Colonel Manners. If I had known I would not see you for ten long years, well, I never would have helped you. I would have sent you straight back to your uncle. Some days I think your father watches from the grave and he hates me.”
“Mr Wick, you have always been a valuable friend to me, the best a lonely boy could ever want.” Wick looked from behind the wet rag to study may face. “I would never even know my parents if not for your stories. You know my uncle never spoke of them, and my father was a soldier. He would have been proud to have me follow him to the regiment.” I tried to reassure the old man. He carried a heavy burden. He introduced my beautiful, independent and well-dowered mother to his friend, a penniless soldier, working his way through the ranks of the army. He helped them marry in secret and ride the storm of my uncle and society’s disapproval. “You are our family’s saviour, I think, we all must come to you for help out of some trouble or another. I would have joined the army with or without your help. You gave me the opportunity to train as an officer rather than start as a foot soldier, much more dangerous in these tumultuous times.”
Wick secreted the rag into one of his pockets and took another long pull from his cup, finishing the ale and signalling for another. “Still, I know you believe your mind to be set on the matter, however a reconciliation with your uncle will set give you good stead with the rest of society. You would be welcome at court, along with all the privileges, even take a seat in the Lords. As a boy you wanted to change things.”
Finishing the rest of my ale, I handed the serving girl the empty cup. “When young, I wanted a great many things. I wanted a family. I wanted to take apart the great steam engine I saw at the Royal Exhibition in order to find out how it worked. I wanted to be a good nephew,” sighing heavily into my second cup. “None of those things, I am disappointed to say, have come to pass.”
Face lighting up, Wick leaned forward. “Here you have a chance to do all those things in one!” He carried on excitedly, not even seeing me anymore, completely absorbed in his own cleverness at finding a solution to what he believed were my problems. ??
?You only need to reconcile with the Baron, it might take some prostrating on your part. You will be a good nephew again. I might be able to find the plans for a steam engine. I will ask around and you can build your own, think of the lecture you could give at the Royal Society. All you need do to rectify the first is get married, it is well past the time for a young man such as yourself to find himself a woman.”
Placing the clay cup down with enough force for a good measure of the contents to spill around the lip. I stared at Wick. “I had a good woman. I had a wife, she is dead, though not be my hands, by my actions and surely by the actions of the Boston Militia.”
Wick made to protest, to placate. “None reading your letters would ever doubt you loved the girl, Esmond. It rang out in the words you used to describe her, the everyday tasks she accomplished. Your marriage could never have worked. She was a savage. You could not have brought her home with you and you could not marry under the laws of the Church, only some pagan ritual.” The last words delivered with a squeak.
My temper, ever at the surface since the death of my wife, boiled over onto the old man. “Native she may have