The Blooding of Jack Absolute (21 page)

He was seized, dragged away, not by Melbury’s men, but by the maskless flunkeys who served as the Watch of the Gardens, tough
ex-seamen in the main. Looking across, he saw that Craster was equally bound, like him had lost his mask in the scrap and,
to his fierce delight, was adding blood to his collar stain from his nose and one eye.

‘What is this rough housing? Who are these lumber troopers, disrupting the night for respectable people?’

The speaker was dressed in tones similar to the flunkeys but infinitely more richly expressed. He also wore a powdered periwig,
the only adornment of his head, for he too was maskless.

‘Roaring Boys, Mr Tyers, sir,’ said the man clutching Craster, ‘ ’ad too much gin in ’em by the smell.’

‘Gin?’ The man’s sculpted eyebrows rose. ‘All know that such poison is not admitted to my Gardens. By God, I’ll banish ye
both for life for your temerity.’

‘Mr Tyers.’ The voice that intruded now came silkily from beneath the Devil’s mask. ‘Mr Tyers, I think you know me.’

The man moved from wrath to servility in a moment. ‘I do, indeed, my Lord M—’

The voice interrupted harshly. ‘No names, sir. You know me as a friend and generous patron, d’ye not? I would help you this
night, as I have helped you so often before.’

‘I would be so grateful, sir. Um … how?’

‘By removing this … offence.’ He nudged Jack none too gently with the toe of his boot. ‘For he has offended me, too.
I was set to teach him a lesson before he embarked on yet another scape.’ He waved a hand over the prone cousins. ‘It appears
I was too late. But not to make amends. Nothing must interfere with your festivities.’

‘You are so kind, my Lord. And if this is a private matter—’

‘It is indeed.’ He tapped the sailors holding Jack with his cane. ‘Allow my fellows to take charge of the miscreant.’

Hands were released, replaced by others equally strong. Jack was jerked up.

A released Craster rose too. ‘May I accompany you, my Lord?’ he said, pressing forward eagerly.

‘And you are?’

‘This blackguard’s cousin. I’ve known him all his miserable life. He’s always been a villain and I would like to see him get
what he deserves.’

Jack, who’d been unable to summon words, found them now. ‘The only one who deserves punishment here is him,’ he shouted, ‘for
this day he raped an innocent young woman. Punish me if you will, but call the Watch first. Let him face the punishment of
the noose.’

‘He lies,’ bellowed Craster back. ‘The girl he speaks of is a well-known French whore who drew me into the house and then
refused to fulfil the business. I taught her a lesson, is all. These gentlemen here are witnesses.’ Beside him, his still-masked
cronies, the pink-jacketed Horace prominent among them, nodded vigorously.

‘You’re the liar, Craster Absolute, and a coward too. T’was so throughout your life. You’d stand and watch me thrashed, you’d
even get your kicks in. But you’d never stand and face me like a man.’

Quite the crowd had gathered outside the entrance, a line of flunkeys struggling to hold them back. At Jack’s words, those
unaligned to any cause started crying out, ‘Brave lad!’ ‘Is he a coward then?’ ‘What’s his name?’

Craster flushed. ‘I’ll fight you any time, boy. Name your ground and time.’

‘Here and now.’

Tyers the proprietor spoke. ‘We allow no such affairs in Vauxhall! My lord, I appeal to you.’

Melbury’s smile had grown under the mask. ‘Indeed, this sanctuary must not be violated. But there is ground without which
should suit such purposes. And,’ he continued turning to Jack, ‘since you have now claimed the prerogative of a man, I too
will treat you as one. For I am tired of you. So if you survive your cousin’s fire, you will face a second flame … from me.’

There was no choice. There could be no escaping now should he want to. And in that moment, he didn’t. For even if he was to
die this day, he would kill Craster Absolute first.

At Lord Melbury’s nod, his men released Jack though they stood close by and the whole party began to move toward the Pleasure
Gardens’ entrance. They had not gone five paces before another voice halted them.

‘Tell me, pray … where exactly might you be taking my son?’

The party turned. The man who had spoken wore the face of Mr Punch and it was the sum of his disguise. Jack knew the speaker
always said that, since he spent so much on his clothes, they would damn well be displayed, masquerade or no!

‘Father!’ Jack had taken a step back but a raised hand prevented any further approach.

‘I know you, sir,’ said Lord Melbury.

‘And I know you, Sir Devil,’ said James Absolute, ‘and your ways. As you do in Office, so here. Everything in darkness, nothing
in the light.’

Melbury took a step back toward him. ‘Do you insult me, sir?’

‘Maybe later,’ Sir James said evenly, then turned to Jack. ‘What is this between you and your cousin?’

Both young men tried to speak, seeking to override each other in their need. Sir James waved them both down. ‘It doesn’t matter
now. All heard your exchange, the challenge
issued, accepted. You are both Absolutes and of age and the family name must be respected. But now, sir,’ he faced Melbury
again, ‘what is
your
quarrel with my son?’

‘It concerns a lady, sir, and is between ourselves. Your son was offered a thrashing as an alternative punishment and refused.
Thus matters have progressed.’

‘Thrash my son?’ Mr Punch’s head tipped to one side. ‘Now there was I thinking that pleasure solely mine. So I see why he
must fight. Again. Excellent.’ He nodded vigorously and made towards the group. ‘So let’s to it then, gentlemen.’ He raised
his arms as if to usher them forward, then halted them with a gesture. ‘And I presume the proper code is to be observed?’

‘Code, sir?’

‘Code, sir. Who, for example, is the president?’

‘Really,’ rasped Melbury, ‘this is more in the nature of—’

‘A punishment? Yes, you said. But my son’s refusal to be beaten like a cur, followed by his challenge, transformed that.’
His voice had become very cool, a contrast to Melbury’s. ‘Have you a president?’

Lord Melbury glowered at the small crowd still gathered around. A fellow in regimental scarlet, topped by the face of a gargoyle,
stepped forward.

‘Gentlemen, I would be delighted. And my friend here is a surgeon.’

‘My next question answered. You see, sir, how easily the code can be accommodated?’

The soldier – for his uniform was too well cut to be anything but the real thing – spoke again. ‘And may I suggest that we
all retain our masks. No names, eh?’ He tapped the gargoyle’s warty nose before continuing. ‘A public place and the magistrates
harsh on such affairs, eh?’

‘An excellent precaution. Agreed?’ Sir James got a short nod from Lord Melbury. ‘Now I presume these are your seconds? And
my nephew has these fellows. So where are my son’s?’

Lord Melbury said, sourly, ‘I am sure you could fulfil the function.’

‘You know, I am sure I could. Do you agree, boy?’

‘If … you …’

‘Excellent. Wise choice.’ He sighed. ‘Then according to the custom of these things, as your second I must take on certain
obligations, certain duties. I must look to your interests. And the first thing I have to say on your behalf is,’ he stepped
closer to Lord Melbury, ‘that you will not fight two duels in one night.’

‘I
will
meet him tonight. Now.’

Sir James’ voice was still calm. ‘You will not. As his second I cannot allow it. You will choose another night and other ground.’

Lord Melbury roared. ‘And allow you to smuggle your bastard out of the country under your
actress
wife’s costume? I think not.’

Jack winced. Few people, in his hearing, had ever referred to Lady Jane’s previous career without consequence, and none, ever,
with the inflection that His Lordship had just given the word. He awaited the thunderbolt. But instead, the knight’s voice
stayed calm. ‘Ah! There! Now you have strayed onto different ground.’ His voice lowered. ‘You will answer to me for those
words. You can take a ball for ’em. Or,’ he smiled, ‘you can kiss my arse.’

Melbury grimaced. ‘When and where, sir?’

The smile broadened. ‘Well, we seem excellently accommodated here. Shall we say … straight after the lads fight?’

Melbury smiled back. ‘Let us. And with you dead, there will be no one to prevent me stamping out the last of your rat’s nest
of a family.’

The president stepped forward. ‘Except for me, sir. I will have no shuffling.’

‘Enough. No more talk,’ snarled His Lordship.

The conversation had been hitherto conducted on the move. At the gates, most of the small crowd turned back, for their viewing
of the duel would cost them another ticket if they wanted to re-enter the Gardens. The few who would follow
were dissuaded by Lord Melbury’s Imps. So it was only the party concerned that emerged from the gates and began to walk along
the Vauxhall Road, past the carriage park toward the open heath land beyond.

The party divided into three. The larger of Lord Melbury’s swelled when Craster and his roughs joined them. The president
and his surgeon-friend walked between. Jack and his father brought up the rear.

‘Father. I … I am so sorry.’

Sir James grunted. ‘So you should be! How you get into these scrapes I’ll never know. Must be the Irish in you. God knows
it’s nothing to do with Absolute blood, which was ever temperate.’

‘How did you find me, sir?’

‘Those dogs who beat upon my door in search of you today? Well, that lazy poltroon of a footman was nowhere to be found, of
course, so I admitted them myself. They immediately began to threaten me. In my own hallway, damn their insolence! The one
ceased talking on the instant, t’other swiftly confessed his allegiance,’ he gestured to the Devil ahead, ‘and soon after
the rest of the plan. So I came to the rendezvous.’

Jack was so overcome he nearly grabbed his father’s arm. ‘I am much obliged to you, sir.’

Sir James sniffed. ‘Should think you are. I’d a good mind to let you die. Teach you a lesson. But Lord Melbury is an enemy
to this country, whispering in the King’s ear his treasons for an accommodation with the French. It will be good for the realm
if I end his career today.’

‘Can you, Father? Isn’t he—’

‘The best shot in England? A rumour largely put about by himself.’ He lifted the mask to his forehead and turned now to wink
at Jack. ‘Besides, never faced an Absolute, has he?’

The party halted a few hundred paces into the open country, just past a series of market gardens newly turned and fertilized
for the sowing. A ripe smell came from them, for the nightsoil men of the city sold their collections to the owners of these
plots and hundreds like them around London. A strong wind crammed the savour of the excrement into their nostrils, had most
there raising kerchiefs; it had also cleared all cloud away, leaving the full moon to ensilver the little that was there,
the close-cropped, glistening wet grass, an empty sheep pen with broken staves, the party of cloaked men settling at its edge.

‘A fine night for a clear shot, is it not, sir?’ said the president, approaching Jack and his father. He gestured to where
two of Craster’s friends waited. ‘The terms, sir?’

Sir James, who had been quietly contemplating the ground, now roused himself. ‘Indeed, the terms. But before we talk with
them, a word with you, if I may, sir?’

Jack watched the pair walk off, the Gargoyle and Mr Punch, immediately in quiet and intense conversation. Then he looked across
to the group and the figure standing slightly detached from it. Craster looked back, for a moment both boys stared, not moving,
not blinking. Then each simultaneously turned away, Jack to gaze up into the moon, seeking there the figures from old Morwenna’s
rhymes: the dog, the cow, the spoon.

In a few moments his father returned. ‘That’s all settled then,’ he declared briskly. ‘Both sides agree: the president himself
is to have the checking and the loading of the guns for they are his, fetched from his boat here. It is to be one shot apiece
and one shot only.’

Jack flushed. ‘One? But what if I miss?’

‘And he misses you? Why then, you shake hands and walk away and no harm done.’

‘No … harm?’ Jack had begun to shiver, but no longer from cold or fear. ‘That … scum ravished Clothilde Guen, brutalized her,
an innocent, a sweet …’ A flash of bloodstains, of tears, jammed the words in his throat. He coughed, swallowed. ‘I intend
to kill him.’

‘That may be. There’s enmity between you and your cousin I can never comprehend – though I felt much the same about his father.
But if you do not put a killing ball into him you will
not fulfil your intention this night.’ Jack made to speak but his father grabbed his shoulder. ‘Look at me, boy. No, look
at
me
! This is not about Clothilde any more. If she was harmed as you say, we must allow the Law to deal with that. So this is
no longer about vengeance. This is about honour. A man’s honour is his life; without it we are nothing, less, and our family
name is nought. When you stand facing him, you stand for nothing but that name, just as he stands for it. For all the Absolutes
that have preceded you and all the Absolutes to come.’

‘But if you had seen her, Father—’

The hand pulled the collar roughly. ‘Have you listened, boy? She is a matter for another day, other ground. This day is now
only about honour. And whether you live, live crippled, or die, honour
will
be
satisfied by a single shot.’

‘And if I die …’ Tears came then, lodged in his eyes, sprung from many sources of anger and fear.

‘We are born astride a grave, my boy,’ Sir James said softly, looking away, ‘live your life knowing that, and you will live
your life.’

The president called them to order. Releasing his son’s collar, straightening it with a flick, Sir James pushed Jack towards
the ground, where the president handed the elder Absolute a pistol. Craster was waiting on a level patch of cropped grass.
Jack, his father beside him, walked quickly to stand just behind a cross gouged in the grass, turning from there to face his
cousin. He was no more than a dozen paces away.