Notebooks of the Young Wife (21 page)

I arrived on the dot of the appointed time to be met by a frillier-than-usual version of Laura complete with black stockings. ‘Go for it,’ she said into my ear, ushering me into the small dining room that looked out on the rise at the back of the house. He was already there, standing framed in the morning light of the window.

‘Good morning. I understand it is
Doctor
Greene I am speaking to.’ It seemed I wasn’t to be offered a hand or even a name in return.

‘Yes sir, it is.’

‘Please take a seat.’ He pulled out a chair for me then took his place opposite. As we drank the freshly squeezed juice in front of us he said, ‘A PhD, I take it; and the subject of the thesis?’

‘DPhil. Oxford, you know. Banned books.’ It was a while since anyone had asked. He was looking at me curiously, so I elaborated. ‘After the printing press was invented, all books had to be licensed until the Act expired in 1695. So I was looking at how prosecutors and publishers went about doing their respective business in the following century.’

‘I see. I own a number of volumes from that era myself.’ He paused for a moment. ‘
Venus in the Cloister
is one and, if my memory can be relied upon, one called
Discipline in The Ladies Academy
.’

‘Well, both of those titles were the subject of legal action, though not necessarily the editions you possess.’

‘Very interesting. Perhaps you would be able to cast an eye over the rest some day.’ It was a promising remark that I could let lie while Laura took away our glasses and served us from the hot trays on the side counter with a mound of soft scrambled eggs, home-cured bacon and the hash browns Mrs Beaton had been asked to cook. I was glad to see the southern gentleman had an appetite as healthy as mine, so we ate in a surprisingly companionable silence. When the plates were nearly empty I broke it, feeling the moment had come to make my pitch.

‘I know you’re upset, sir, about the empty shelves in the den. But from what you say, they will be easily filled by the contents of your own library.’

‘And more.’ He was staring at me with no expression I could read. Maybe I’d gone too far, but I was in a mood to go further yet.

‘To be blunt, sir, the books were never part of the sale. You may have hoped to find a collection, but such a thing was not promised. Sir Montague always wanted them to go to our national collection.’ That was stretching matters to the point of untruth, but there were occasions when I felt the facts should not be allowed to get in the way of arguing a case.

‘Can you tell me to whom exactly these books are available where they are held now?’

‘“Bona fide scholars” is the phrase used, and those who qualify are allowed only to request specific titles to be consulted in the reading room on the premises. However, if you became Master of Ardingley End and were to give your, shall we say, retrospective approval to the donation, then I could arrange that you be granted direct and unlimited access to our material. There are precedents in the treatment of past donors of important collections. In addition, while I can’t at present guarantee it, I am confident I can arrange visiting rights to an unparalleled archive of women’s writings that is stored not far from here across country. Again these would be granted in view of the late Master’s generosity in the past.’ My breakfast companion had been listening intently and took a swallow from his coffee. When he put the cup down he wasn’t actually smiling, but the craggy face had softened enough to make that look like a possibility.

‘My father used to say it was a foolish man who, in his private life, refused an inducement to do something he was already inclined towards. So, Dr Greene, there is a good chance I shall be taking you up on these offers.’ It sounded as though I was home and dry, even without resorting to what I expected to be my ace card. It was time to play it and clinch the deal. I’d brought with me one of the two volumes of the Notebooks, and when our dishes were cleared I placed it on the table and pushed it towards him.

‘This is something that has a direct connection with the house; in fact it belongs here in a way the other items under discussion don’t. It’s a journal that was kept by the new bride brought to Ardingley End the best part of three centuries ago.’ The prospective Master took the old leather binding and opened it carefully. His eyes skimmed over the faded writing on the pages in front of him. ‘It’s not that easy to make out at first. The writing can be a bit of a scribble and she has a kind of shorthand all her own. But if you look inside the front cover you’ll find a few sheets printed out.’ He did as indicated and I waited a little nervously while he finished reading.

‘
Uxor studiosa
– now is that the studious wife?’

‘Not exactly. More like eager. Keen to be initiated into the sexual games of the age.’

‘You are the expert, Dr Greene, though I would guess this volume is quite a prize.’

‘It is one of two, so there’s quite a lot of material. I was hoping to arrange for an edited version to be produced.’ The patriarch made a gesture of acquiescence.

‘I’m sure the task is in good hands.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ I didn’t want to put at risk the progress we were making by any lapse into informality. ‘There is one more thing. The Notebooks contain a number of passages about a grand tableau that was mounted on August 15th in 1728. It seems to have been a kind of stylised orgy of flagellation and copulation whose elements were rehearsed weeks in advance and recorded in some detail. Now, I wondered if, as an inauguration ceremony for the new Master...’ I stopped, suddenly apprehensive. We knew the man had an interest in erotic literature, but my thought of a full-blown
staging
might be an idea too far. However, I needn’t have worried. The piercing blue eyes had come alive with interest.

‘The fifteenth of August, you say. That is barely four weeks hence. Planning ought really to start without delay. My daughters will arrive tomorrow and they are sure to want to be involved.’ I didn’t bother trying to suppress the silly smile that had taken over my face.

‘We shall need transcripts of the relevant passages, sir. Leave it to me and I’ll get on to it straightaway.’

‘You mean you did it and he’s not pissed off about the books any more? Ace. So now I can keep my bum well away from that board.’

‘Don’t bank on it. You might well be called upon next month to present the cheeks publicly. To say nothing of the rehearsals that’ll be needed.’ Tamsin was perched on a kitchen counter, having begged an extra pot of coffee from Cook after sleeping in. The news had gone down well but the last bit left her staring at me nonplussed. I tried to explain. ‘In the summer of 1728 the then Sir Monty put on a show starring the young wife he had recently acquired. She kept quite detailed records of the whole thing and the new man would like to honour the anniversary of the occasion.’

‘A show? Would I be right we’re not talking about a wholesome evening of family entertainment?’

‘Well, Tams, saving that you’re a couple of centuries early with the concept, I’d have to say yes. It seems to have been a rather, er,
heated
affair, as the young lady herself might have put it.’

‘Let me guess. Given the period, and in this house we’d be talking about very hot bottoms and even hotter sex.’

‘Flagellation and fornication.’

‘Or flogging and fucking.’ The PA giggled. ‘All the fs. And you’ve signed us up for parts in a replay?’

‘Well, you decide for yourself, of course. But given what we’ve got from the place, it seemed a little churlish to refuse.’

‘Right, you’ve twisted my arm. As long as I get a rôle that’s not too heavy on the pain bit. So, guv, what do we do next?’

‘You can drive me out into the country, to the lady who worked on the Notebooks before. We’re going to need some transcripts PDQ.’

On our way out to the car the boy came round the corner and I waved my document case at him.

‘The Notebooks are going to Miss Faversham, for more copies. Fancy a spin?’

‘Well, er...’ The response was not enthusiastic and I guessed he was remembering what happened the last time.

‘Don’t worry. She won’t lay a finger on you in that state.’ It seemed to reassure him into joining the expedition, though he made a great fuss squeezing into the space behind the front seats as if to rub in how sore he still was.

We bowled, or rather boomed, our way along the country lanes with Tamsin’s stereo sparing us the need to make conversation. In the light of a cloudless morning the village green shaded by its ancient oak looked impossibly idyllic, as did the cottage nestling under a thatched roof. Its owner was expecting us and appeared as soon as we drew up. The jacket had been discarded in acknowledgement of the weather, though the tweed skirt was still in place. She beamed at us.

‘I’m pleased to see you again, though I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure...’

‘Tamsin Bingley. Without her, Rare Books would certainly come apart at the seams. Tamsin, this is Miss Faversham.’

‘Edith, please. Well, do come in.’ Once we were installed in the small living room I handed over the Notebooks and gave an abbreviated account of their retrieval.

‘It’s good to see them safely back. Now, I’m familiar with many of the passages you are interested in so I should be able to have a printed version for you within the week. And, of course, I’d be very happy to take part in a longer-term editorial project. At least I shall no longer be accused of making away with the materials.’ She turned to the boy who looked down, embarrassed. I came to his rescue.

‘He is sorry for that, Edith. And at present he’s in no condition to risk chastisement, given his recent experience.’ It took little coaxing for the ill-treated posterior to be offered for inspection, and our host was suitably impressed. I had to agree that the technicolour hues surrounding the central six-barred grid were rather startling.

‘My, my. The work of a formidable rod, I would say, with a technique to match. As it happens I might be of service here, having been blessed with an older brother who was always getting it in the neck... so to speak. Not quite to this extent, but enough for me to have developed some methods for dealing with the aftermath of a good beating. The marks are, I believe, quite recent.’

‘Yesterday morning. Early.’

‘Very good, boy. Then I take it you’d be willing for me to have a go. It is a while since I was last so employed, but I don’t expect the hands will have lost their touch. So let’s make a start, shall we?’

‘Yes, Miss F. Thank you.’ Deferent and polite. She seemed to have a way with him, whether dishing out discipline or dealing with its after-effects. The two of them disappeared through to the back and I dragged Tamsin out the other way. There was no garden at the front for the house gave directly on to the quiet cul-de-sac that separated us from the grass. But there was a long bench, and on it we basked in the sunshine while she filled me in on the politicking at the Library during my week’s absence. It seemed no time at all before the boy came out followed by his new carer. He was giving off the slight but unmistakable glow of the young adult male who has had a basic need catered for.

‘There,’ she said with a little sigh. ‘That should improve matters no end. Now, Jane, I wonder if there’s any chance I might borrow the lad for a day or two. There’s a new computer system on the way – the one I’ve been using is so behind the times, you know – and I remember from my work at the End that he is quite the expert. It would save me a lot of trouble.’ I looked again: there was more to the boy than the sexual proclivities for which there seemed to be a growing demand.

‘No problem, Edith. Help yourself. Unless there are things he should be doing at the House.’ Not knowing exactly what his duties were, I thought it only right to ask.

‘Nothing special.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, this is work. We get the transcripts quicker.’ I bowed my head before the blunt logic and then remembered what else I wanted from our visit.

‘So that’s settled. There is one more thing, though. As far as I can see, Ardingley End lacks any standard canes, being equipped only with fearsome things from the most damaging end of the scale. I am going to be called upon to do a little instruction soon, and I wondered if you could help out, Edith. I’m after the kind of thing once to be found in a Headmaster’s – or Headmistress’s – study, for use on misbehaving senior pupils.’

Edith Faversham was nodding vigorously.

‘I know exactly what you mean, Jane. The idea was to cause short-term distress without putting the offender out of action altogether. An excellent tool, and indeed I possess a number that fit the bill.’

‘Well, if I could have the loan of – actually I’ll be needing two...’

‘Oh, please, you’ll accept them as a gift. No, no, I won’t hear of any other terms. Now if you’ll just be patient for a few moments, I’ll go and fetch what you require.’

We dawdled back and succumbed to the temptation to make a detour to
The Greene Man
, whose landlord’s embarrassed fascination with disciplinary matters had entertained us on the first visit.

‘Afternoon, ladies,’ he called out, and when we approached the counter lowered his voice for it not to carry to any of the occupied tables. ‘So how did you get on at the House, if I might ask?’ I shifted my hand to let him see the handle of the cane I’d been hiding behind my back, and his eyes bulged.