The Best of Men (9 page)

Ingram surveyed the huge canvas over the fireplace, of Lord Beaumont seated in his library gazing pensively into the distance, a volume of poetry resting on the table before him. “It’s a remarkable likeness.”

“A trifle flattering,” Lord Beaumont said, modestly. “At any rate, Stratton is almost a neighbour now. He left the capital this winter to take up residence at Wytham. With all the rioting, he was afraid for his family. He has children, Laurence, two young sons. I expect that he
may call here again; I asked Geoffrey to stop by his house on the way to Oxford, to tell him of your return.”

Tom was watching his brother, Ingram noticed; then he shot a question at him, as though delivering an order. “Will you come back to town with us tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think I shall,” said Beaumont.

“He wishes to pay a visit on Dr. Seward,” Lord Beaumont told Tom.

“What do you want from him, Laurence, more lessons in Greek?” Tom joked.

“No, I just want to see him again, as a friend.”

“That reminds me,” said Lord Beaumont, setting down his glass. “I must go and copy out the transcription for my letter to Earle. Laurence, do me the favour of reading it over, once I’ve completed it, and then you can take it with you to Merton. Until later, gentlemen.”

As soon as he had gone, Tom refilled his own glass, and Ingram’s. “So,” he said to his brother, “you
do
intend to join up with me, don’t you.”

Beaumont’s eyes were on the wine jug, which was now empty. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Do you think you’re too good for us because you have some practice under your belt?”

“Oh no.”

“I hear you and Ingram got thoroughly soused the other night in Newbury,” Tom said next. “A shame I wasn’t with you.”

Beaumont only shrugged his shoulders. Dear God, Ingram thought; he could at least say that he was sorry, too.

Tom’s jaw tightened. Then he began to laugh. “You’re still such a liar! Wasn’t Stratton’s wife your mistress, before you left?”

“Who told you that?”

“Someone in a position to know.”

“Since we’re discussing married women,” Beaumont said, with a provoking smile, “tell me all about your wife, Tom.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Tom responded, his face reddening. “You should try marriage. It has its benefits.”

“Really? I think I’d be liable to stray. But then perhaps that’s the difference between us.”

“Well, we’re all human,” Ingram said, seeing Tom scowl. “We must struggle to overcome our faults as best we can.”

“How right you are,” Beaumont said, getting up. “Excuse me – I should help my father with that letter.”

“You mustn’t press him too hard about serving again,” Ingram said to Tom, after Beaumont had disappeared. “He’s been home such a short time. He may be more inclined to join you when he’s had a chance to catch his breath. Although have you ever thought –” Ingram stopped, and took a drink from his glass. “You know, Tom, it might be easier on you both if he were in another troop.”

Tom gaped at this. “We’re riding under the family colours! What would people say?”

“What will people say if you end up snipping at each other, as you did just now?” Tom gave a little nod. “He’s less quick to argue than he used to be, however,” Ingram went on. “While we were out drinking, some local piss-pot started to harass him. Called him some choice names. When we were young, he would have answered back with as good as he got.”

“He might not be as fast with his fists as he once was.”

“On the contrary – he’s faster, and stronger. The fellow came at him anyway, and was sent to the floor with two punches.”

“If he’s willing to fight local piss-pots, then why is he trying to avoid army service?”

“I can’t speak for him. But he might listen to someone who knows how it was, in the other war. I’ve promised to introduce him to my future brother-in-law, who certainly paid his military dues with the
Dutch. What if your brother were to join up with his troop instead?” Tom did not speak, evidently mulling over the idea. “I suppose I might accept it,” he said, at last, “even if our father wouldn’t be at all pleased. These days, we must think beyond ourselves.”

After the family had taken supper, Laurence repaired with Ingram to his father’s library and lit a fire, although Ingram protested that it was a waste of firewood in early August.

“I still find it so cold over here,” Laurence said, throwing himself down by the hearth.

“You will let me take you to meet Sir Bernard Radcliff tomorrow?” Ingram asked, as he filled his pipe. Laurence nodded; he had forgotten about Radcliff. “By the way, I had a talk with Tom. He said he’d understand if you didn’t accept his offer.”

“What offer? Oh, to join his merry little band of men.”

Ingram puffed out a cloud of smoke. “I wish you’d make an effort with him.”

“I
was
making an effort.”

“With that snide inquiry about his wife? Beaumont, can’t you see how galling it must have been for him, when without a care in the world you walked out on everything you were born to – a station in life that would turn most men green with envy? I’ve some sympathy for him. I’m a second son, too.”

“He would have been the fourth if all of my brothers had survived infancy. But if I could have us put back in the womb and pulled out in the opposite order, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.”

“Since you can’t, try to be easier on him.”

Laurence smiled affectionately at Ingram. “Always the peacemaker, aren’t you.”

“He used to adore you,” Ingram muttered.

“Thank God he grew out of
that
.” Conscious of Ingram’s disapproval, Laurence changed the subject. “My mother gave me some news today. She’s arranging another marriage for me. And she has a candidate picked out.”

“So quickly!”

“Don’t underestimate her. If she were His Majesty, she’d have subdued Parliament long ago.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“She might appeal to you more than the other prospect you rejected.”

“Ha! That wouldn’t be difficult.”

“I’ve always wondered, Beaumont,” Ingram said, “why didn’t you just choose someone else?”

“It was a matter of land. Both families were set on it. I assume land is at issue again. No,” Laurence corrected himself, stirring up the fire, although it was blazing quite well by itself. “This time, the main issue
is
issue.” He glanced back at Ingram. “Why are you frowning at me like that? Don’t you appreciate my views on marriage?”

“Were you and Lady Stratton lovers?”

“I wouldn’t say lovers, exactly.”

“So you were. You must have been mad! She’s your father’s cousin!”

“Only by marriage.”

“All the same, you could have caused a proper scandal if you’d been found out,” Ingram persisted.

Laurence shrugged, mildly ashamed that he had not thought of Diana at all until his father had mentioned her. Now he began to remember how attractive she was, and how enthusiastic in bed. “She seemed so bored with that prig of a husband,” he said. “Do you know how many women get no joy out of marriage?
That’s
a proper scandal, if you ask me.”

“Ah,” said Ingram. “Then it was a mission of mercy on your part.” Laurence could not help laughing, and even Ingram began to smile. “Let’s talk of something else, Beaumont. What’s your opinion on those training manoeuvres – with cavalry, I mean. You are familiar with them, aren’t you?”

“Yes. And we
were
taught the German formation, not the Swedish.”

“So which is best?”

“It depends on the situation. But no commander should be so prejudiced against either one that he won’t adapt to suit the moment. They both share a major disadvantage, however, and I don’t understand why it hasn’t been corrected.”

“What’s that?”

“The horses aren’t taught to jump.”

Ingram blew out more tobacco smoke. “In an enclosed place that would be a problem.”

“Once they’re cornered, they start to panic. The men who are thrown get trampled to death, and it doesn’t take much to finish off the rest.”

“Why didn’t you say any of this to Tom?”

“Because my years in the army were hardly glorious, as I tried to explain to you the other night.”

“From what I heard from your father, you may not have to engage in active duty. He confided to me over supper that he believes Lord Falkland might take you into his service. That would be a piece of luck, to work for the Secretary of State.”

“I’m not so sure,” Laurence said darkly, alarmed that Lord Beaumont should have spoken of it to Ingram. Yet why should he not, when he had no notion as to what such work might entail?

Ingram was now staring at him as though struck by an unpleasant thought. “Beaumont, did you … did you do anything of the sort while you were abroad?” Laurence was silent. “Who for?”

“My German mercenary friends – or should I say, whoever happened to be paying them at the time,” Laurence answered, wishing that Ingram would not probe him any further.

Ingram lowered his eyes. “Forgive me again. You must think I’m judging you.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

It was Ingram’s turn to hesitate. “Your father said you weren’t keen on his suggestion, that you feared you might be forced into some objectionable duties. I don’t know that you’d have to worry. Falkland is a family friend. And this is not the Low Countries. You’ve become jaded and now think all wars are the same, but we’re Englishmen here, and, God willing, we shall treat each other with respect.”

“My father said almost the same thing. Are you going to shake hands with your enemy before you fire on him?”

“Oh come, Beaumont, wouldn’t you prefer a position with Falkland to joining up?”

“I prefer neither.”

“Then what will you do?”

“As I said to Tom, I haven’t decided. I might discuss it with Seward when I go to see him tomorrow.”

Ingram drew on his pipe, examining Laurence all the while. Finally he asked, “How long were you in the business of espionage?”

“About a year.”

“Then you went back into service?” Laurence nodded. “But you must have left again, if you ended up in Spain. Why?”

“Too many questions, Ingram,” Laurence said, grabbing the poker again, to adjust a smouldering log.

“I should hope you weren’t discharged for some offence.”

Laurence tossed aside the poker and faced his friend. “If you must know, I was never discharged. I deserted. After one last barbarity I was involved in, I couldn’t go on. And I don’t want to talk about it,” he
added, suddenly angry. “But take my word: hanging would have been a small price to pay, for some of the things I’ve done.”

“I can’t believe that of you!”

“You should. I’ve become worse than jaded, man. I’ve lost my honour, in the truest sense, and I’m not sure if I can get it back.”

Ingram blinked and bit his lip. “So,” he said, at length, “where did you go, after you deserted?”

“To The Hague. I would have stayed there, if it had been possible. But once the armies were mustering for the spring campaign, I had to escape. I went south, into France – and then to Spain.”

Ingram sighed and got up to tamp out his pipe in the fireplace. “We’re starting out early tomorrow. I should get my rest. What about you? Not tired?”

“No.”

“I’m afraid I raised some ghosts for you.”

“They’re not ghosts to me yet. Good night, Ingram, and sleep well.”

“You too, my friend,” said Ingram, with a tremor in his voice. He stopped at the door for a moment as if he would add something else, but then left quietly.

Laurence rose to put more wood on the fire. He was annoyed with himself now. He should not have been ill-tempered with a friend who had always been so faithful to him, and who wanted to have faith in him still. But what most upset him was that he had not warned Ingram explicitly to keep quiet about all that they had talked about. Tomorrow morning he must remedy his error.

Settling at his father’s desk, he took the coded letters from his doublet, determined to make a last attempt to understand their secret language before he showed them to Seward. There were three pages of very fine yet durable parchment; two bore the writing of a measured hand, while one was in a different, more aggressive style. Laboriously he copied out the script onto fresh paper, underlining each symbol and
counting the frequency with which it reappeared. He could recall the tables he had memorised during his studies with Seward, detailing how many times certain vowels and consonants most commonly occurred in various languages, and he tried to match the figures with the frequencies of English, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Greek, and even Arabic. No pattern emerged. By now his candles had dwindled to molten stumps, and his hand was beginning to cramp.

As he pushed back his chair to stretch, he heard a knock at the door, and went to answer.

Elizabeth was hovering outside wearing an embroidered dressing gown, her hair loose beneath her nightcap, her feet bare. “I couldn’t sleep, and then I saw your light under the door,” she whispered. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, and made way for her, shutting the door behind them.

“You’re busy.” She indicated the papers. “Is it another one of our father’s games?”

“Something like that.”

“May I sit with you, while you work?”

“If you can find me some candles.”

He set a chair for her next to his; and when she had accomplished her task, she sat down, close to him. She smelt of roses, and her presence was as sweet and comforting. Yet as he picked up his quill and began to ink it, he was shocked to feel her hand on his side.

“It’s here, isn’t it,” she said. “Ingram told me.” He did not move as she pulled his clothing up at the waist, nor did he help her, disturbed by the intimacy of her actions. She examined the scar with awed fascination. “I could put my fingers inside, as doubting Thomas did with Jesus’ wound.” He must have given her a peculiar look, for as if to reassure him, she tucked his shirt back neatly. “Laurence, I have so much to learn about you. I was so young when you left us.”

“And now you’re not?”

“I am nineteen this year. Do I have to remind you that I’ll be married at Christmas? Isn’t it strange that Tom and I should be married before
you
are!”