A Maggot - John Fowles (16 page)

Q. Very well. Go on.

A. I told Mr Bartholomew he had my sympathy, but not
all the treasure in Spain would induce me to stoop to a criminal
undertaking. And that I foresaw very unpleasant consequences, should
he be successful in his enterprise.

Q. What said he to that?

A. For his father, that he felt sure he could be
brought to forgiveness in time, since their relations had been
affectionate enough before this rupture. For the uncle, that his
cruelties to his niece, and his intentions, were too gross to have
escaped notice, and he must know what public disclosure might show of
his own conduct and selfish aim. That he might huff and puff if his
niece fled his roof, but would not dare prosecute the matter.

Q. He won you to his cause?

A. I still had scruples, Mr Ayscough. He assured me
he wished no future blame attributable to any save himself. He had
thought on the matter, and proposed that my part should extend no
further than to within a day's ride of his destination. He would then
proceed alone with his man. Upon his most solemn word he would not
ask me to take any direct part in an elopement. I was merely, as he
put it, to safe conduct him to the threshold. What passed thereafter
was not my affair.

Q. Had he some plan of elopement?

A. He intended to ride out the storm in France, then
to return, his wife's majority once attained, and to throw himself
with his bride at his father's feet.

Q. What next?

A. I requested a night to reflect on his proposal,
sir. I wished to discuss it with Mrs Lacy, as is my habit in all that
appertains to my life. I have learnt to value her opinion. If she
considers an engagement below me, I will not take it. Mrs Lacy's
parents no more approved my profession than you do, Mr Ayscough. When
Mr Bartholomew spoke of his troubles, I thought of my own greener
years. Not to put too fine a point on it, Mrs Lacy and I also did not
wait upon parental blessing. It may be a sin by the book, but its
fruits have been a Christian and most happy marriage. I say this not
in excuse, sir. I cannot deny my heart and ancient memory somewhat
blinded my eyes.

Q. She approved?

A. After she had helped me examine my sentiments
concerning Mr Bartholomew - I would say, of his sincerity in his
cause.

Q. Let us hear these sentiments.

A. That he was a serious young man, even somewhat
grave for his years. I cannot say he spake in general with much
outward feeling of his attachment, yet I formed the impression that
it was deep and virtuous in intent. I say this, though I know now I
was being duped and gulled. And even when the veil was lifted from my
eyes ... well, sir, I found another and even darker veil remained. I
will come to that.

Q. You met on the morrow?

A. At Trevelyan's again, in the same room, by which
time I had spoken with Mr Topham also, concerning the playing my
part. I put on some semblance of uncertainty at first.

Q. To raise the fee, no doubt?

A. You persist in misjudging me, sir.

Q. Then do you not persist in suggesting you were not
a hired instrument in a criminal offence. Cupid is one thing, Lacy, a
duly appointed guardian is another. To say nothing of a father's
right to bestow his son's hand where he pleases. Enough. Proceed.

A. I wished to know more of Mr Bartholomew and his
circumstances. He politely refused this, maintaining that it was not
only for his own protection, but mine. That the less I knew, the less
harm might come of it, if the matter became public. That I might
claim ignorance of his real purpose, et coetera.

Q. Did you not ask his true name?

A. I forgot to say, sir, that he had early confessed
the one given me was false, for the reason just stated. I took it
favourably that he did not attempt to impose on me in this.

Q. Did you never find his manner disconsonant with
that of a mere country gentleman?

A. Am I to guess that -

Q. You are to guess nothing. Answer my question.

A. Then, sir, not at this time. He seemed little used
to London ways, as he claimed.

Q. You were of different opinion later?

A. I had doubts, sir. He could not hide a certain
assurance, and an impatience with his part. I knew him more than a
country squire's son, even though I could not guess what he was,
behind what he would seem.

Q. Very well. To your story.

A. I requested his repeated assurance that my
obligations to him would cease at the point he proposed. That
furthermore, whatever his plans might be beyond this point, violence
formed no part of them.

Q. Which assurance he gave?

A. Most earnestly. He offered to swear it upon the
Bible, should I wish.

Q. Come to the practice.

A. He wished we should set out a week thence, that
is, the Monday next, the twenty-sixth of April, which you will
doubtless recall was the day before his Highness the Prince of Wales
was to join hands with the Princess of Saxe-Gotha; and which Mr
Bartholomew did think would cause great stir, and make our leaving
the less likely to be marked. My guise would be that of a London
merchant, his of my nephew, under the same name of Mr Bartholomew,
our ostensible purpose the visiting of -

Q. I know of that. The supposed aunt at Bideford?

A. Just so.

Q. Now, did he lead you to believe that he was
watched, that there were spies set upon him?

A. He gave no evidence, yet implied as much: that
there were those who would spare no pains to thwart his attachment
and his intention therein.

Q. You did understand, those of his own family, or
those of the young lady's, her guardian?

A. I conjectured the former, sir. For he did speak
once of an elder brother, that did think as their father in all, and
with whom Mr Bartholomew said he was scarce on speaking terms, so
estranged had they become.

Q. They had become estranged for the reason that this
elder brother dutifully obeyed his father's wishes?

A. That like his father he placed the acquiring of a
fortune and handsome estate above the satisfaction of natural
affection.

Q. You have said nothing of the man Farthing or the
maid.

A. There was question of a servant for me. Mr
Bartholomew asked if I knew of a person I could trust, someone of
quick wits, able to play a part and also be of service on the roads,
to guard us down against highwaymen and the like. One such occurred
to me.

Q. His name?

A. He is even more innocent than I am, at least in
this.

Q. Why say you, at least in this?

A. I first knew him when he was doorkeeper at Drury
Lane, but lie was dismissed that post for negligence. His failing is
strong drink, it is common in our profession, alas.

Q. He is an actor too?

A. He would have been so once, I believe. On occasion
he has taken small clowning or menial parts, lie has some skills at
the droll. He is Welsh by origin, he played me the porter in
Shakespeare's Macbeth one day when we were in straits through
sickness and could find none better. He was passably received, we
thought to employ him further. But he never got his lines well
enough, even when sober, for any but smallest parts.

Q. His name?

A. David Jones.

Q. And you say, you have not seen him since the first
of May? A. I have not, sir. Not since the day previous, if you would
have me exact. For he ran away in the night, without our knowledge.

Q. He did not go on, either with you or Mr
Bartholomew?

A. H; did not.

Q. Let us come to that in place. You have not seen
him since? Nor heard of or from him?

A. Upon my word. I met a man in the street but ten
days since, who knows him well, and I asked. And he too had not seen
or heard news of him, these four months past.

Q. Know you where he lived?

A. Only a punch-house he frequented in Berwick
Street, where I have also several times inquired since I returned. He
has not been seen.

Q. We talk of Farthing?

A. Yes. When he ran off, he said in a note to me that
it was to see his mother in Wales. At Swansea. He told me once she
was keeper of a wretched alehouse, but I know not if this is truth,
nor if he be there. I can help you no more.

Q. You engaged him?

A. I brought him to meet Mr Bartholomew, who approved
him. He is a well-built fellow, can carry arms and look bold, is
skilled with horses, and so was taken. He had played me once also the
part of a blustering braggart, a drunken sergeant in Mr Farquhar's
The Recruiting Officer, where he gained no small applause, though he
did not merit it, for in truth he was so drunk before we commenced he
needed not to act his part; nor could have done, had he even the
powers. But it was decided he should play something of that part
again, to accomplish this our present design.

Q. At what fee?

A. Ten guineas for the whole, which I was to pay him
at the end, save one for earnest, to keep him sober. And his living.

Q. But you have never paid him?

A. I have not, sir. Or only a small part, as I will
tell. And that is not the least mystery of the affair, that he took
to his heels when it was well-nigh earned.

Q. He was told all?

A. That our purpose was to effect a secret journey,
under false names. That an affair of the heart was involved.

Q. He made no objection?

A. None. He took my word that there was nothing
heinous in the venture. He owed me services.

Q. And what services had you done him?

A. I had employed him as I say. I obtained him a post
when he was dismissed his office at Drury Lane. I have lent him small
sums of money on occasion. He is more shiftless than rogue.

Q. What post?

A. Coachman to the late Mrs Oldfield, the actress.
But she was obliged to give him his wages, lie was too often drunk.
Since then he has lived from hand to mouth. He was scrivener's clerk
for a time, window-polisher, more newly chairman, I know not what
else. His hat covers all his household.

Q. He sounds rogue enough to me.

A. He met the part, sir, as we say. He is a great
boaster among his equals. A glib tongue is second nature with him.
Since Mr Bartholomew's man was mute, we thought a fellow like Jones
might allay suspicion where we lodged. For he knows how to keep a
close mouth, whatever his appearance and even in his cups. He is no
fool at heart, nor more dishonest than the next.

Q. Very well. Now what of the maid?

A. I forgot to tell, Mr Bartholomew had advised me of
her coming with us. But I saw her not, till we came to Staines. He
informed me she was that very maid he had spoke of, the young lady's
confidante, who had been dismissed for her pains. Upon which he had
had her brought to London and placed under his protection, and now
carried to rejoin her mistress. I took little notice of her at the
first meeting. She seemed like enough to be a lady's maid.

Q. Her name was given as Louise? You never heard her
called other?

A. It was, sir. And I did not.

Q. You did not find her over-delicate and haughty her
station?

A. Not in the least, sir. Silent and demure in her
outward.

Q. But a handsome wench?

A. Fine eyes, sir, and her face did not want
elsewhere. Well enough spoken withal, when she did venture. I might
call her modest beauty, had she not been to my taste too slight and
thin of figure. Yet I must tell you also there is a great mystery
concerning her part; and that of his man likewise.

Q. What of that last?

A. Why, sir, beside his natural deficincies, he was
like no manservant else I have ever seen. He had not worn a blue
livery waistcoat when first he came to my door, I doubt I should have
recognized him as such. He had the eyes of an idiot, nor any of the
accustomed manners of his station; as he had never been in polite
society, nor knew to respect those above him. Nor wore he livery at
all when we travelled, but looked like some simple country fellow,
more Irish vagrant than gentleman's servant, and surly to all but his
master and the maid. This is not the half of it, sir, there is
stranger still.

Q. In proper time. Let us come to your journey. Mr B.
was manager in all?

A. As to our itinerarium, yes. He said he feared the
Bristol road, since it is much frequented, and he thought it likely
the uncle had a man posted to watch it, at Marlborough or Bristol
itself, so he might have warning. Therefore we took that to the
south, as if for Exeter, upon the pretext we had business there
before my visit to the supposed sister in Bideford.

Q. He had told you so much before you started - that
Bideford was where he tended?

A. Yes. But requested us to advise him in the
subterfuge, saying it was the first time in his life he had put on
such a pretence, and we must know better how to carry off such
matters. So we advised him, as I say.