Watery Grave (10 page)

Tom gave a sigh of capitulation.” As you say then, Sir John.”

“Precisely.”

And so it was by these circumstances that Lady Fielding got her wish. She would not, as was her hope, see him in bespoken clothes, tailored to his new dimensions, yet there were respectable shops in Chandos Street that sold ready-made of fair qualitA- and castoffs of high quality that might be altered to fit. It was decided she would take him there.

Before they left, however, she passed to me a list of comestibles to buy in Covent Garden for the admiral’s dinner. At the top was “a side of lamb fit for roasting.”

“Lamb is hard to find,” said I, mumbling my dissent.

“Go to Mr. Tolliver,” said she.” He is sure to have it this early in the day. If not, I fear you must make a trip to Smithfield Market.”

“All right then,” said I.” I’m on my way.”

And so I was, running as I did most days through the crowded piazza, making my way from vendor to stall, picking over the stock to find the best they had to offer. I had become a wise buyer in the year or more I had been with Sir John. Satisfying Mrs. Gredge was no easy matter, yet taught by Lady Fielding, I had learned that to buy the biggest was not always to buy the best, that the brightest color did not always assure the best taste.

Yet in our trips through the Garden, Lady Fielding had surprised me by avoiding the butcher stall of Mr. Tolliver. Situated as it was in the far corner of the piazza, it was not difficult to avoid, but well I remembered that it was she who had first taken me across the wide Garden and introduced me to Mr. Tolliver and assured me that his was the best meat available there, that he gave the best cuts and the best values for pence and shillings. All this, however, wa before her marriage to Sir John. During their brief courtship, I had borne a message to her from him, and afterward seen Mr. Tolliver emerge from her lodgings all dejected and forlorn. I know it now, though I did not perceive it then, that the Covent Garden butcher had himself been a suitor for her hand. Therefore, after her marriage to Sir John, she must have thought it more seemly and certainly less embarrassing to avoid his stall altogether. Thus, taught by her example and with a word or two to direct me elsewhere, she diverted my course from Mr. Tolliver’s place of business and sent me to his lesser competitors. When something special was wanted, such as that grand beef roast we had eaten at Tom’s homecoming and the next night, too, I was sent traipsing off to Smithfield Market. Yet not on this day. Why was it so? Even now, I can only guess that perhaps a matter of time was involved, or perhaps even quality, for his meat was equal to any I bought at Smithfield —as she must have known.

In any case, it was to Mr. ToUiver I went on that warm day in July 1769, to seek “a side of lamb fit for roasting.” He was there at his post, serving a great swarm of buyers. I took a place in line, and as I waited I was recognized. He acknowledged me with a nod of his great head, and when my turn came, he waited not for me to speak but, blurting out a bit uncertainly, gave forth his greeting.

“Well, Jeremy lad, it’s been a bit since I seen you, ain’t it? ” said he.

“Yes sir, ” said I, “though I’m not quite sure why.”

“Well, I’ve a good idea of it.”

“I’ve been often to Smithfield.”

“They’ve good meat there, though no better than mine, as I’ll be pleased to show. What will you have?”

I told him, and he went off to the meat, uncovered a small carcass hanging apart from the rest, and with a few expert turns of his big knife cut it near in half—and then he remained to cut some more. He sent away the flies, wrapped the remains of the carcass in its cloth, and my meat in paper. This package he delivered to me.

“This is true lamb, ” said he, “not young mutton. It makes a smaller piece than you might suppose, so I gave you a leg, as well, at no charge. Call it a gift to bring you back again.”

“Well, thank you, sir.” I counted out his payment into his palm.

“The fact is, I’d see you whether you bought from me or not. You’re a good, plucky boy, Jeremy. Remember that day we chased them black-suited devils away?”

“Oh, I do, sir,” said I, most enthusiastic.

“We showed them, didn’t we? ” He shook his head in thought, giving a most queer smile as if the memory he had called up gave him both pleasure and pain.” Remember me to your mistress. Next?”

And I was pushed aside by a cook in a great hurry. The package of meat under my arm, and my other purchases filling my hands, I started back to Bow Street. I knew not altogether why, but I felt quite filled with emotion by the encounter. Could we, when young, but understand as well as we feel, how wise we would be.

Arriving home, I found a stranger in our kitchen giving his attention to Sir John. He was a small man oi no particular distinction, perhaps the keeper oFa little shop, or a clerk. He held his tricorn tight in his two hands before him and gave me a quick, nervous smile as I went silently to the kitchen table and unloaded my packages. iMrs. Gredge was seated there, Fully dressed, in an attitude of waiting, looking no better nor worse than she had the day before. She threw me a glance, no more, then lowered her eyes as she continued to listen to Sir John.

“… and since, in regard to her many long years of service in my household, I feel an obligation —nay, a duty —to provide for her in her declining years, I have decided to settle upon her an amount of one pound a month.”

“Oh, but that is most generous, sir,” said the small man. He squeezed his tricorn even tighter. I feared he might crush it altogether.

“You are married, are you not?”

“I am, yes sir.”

“And you have children?”

“We been blessed with three.”

“And a noisier trio of rascals you never heard,” squawked Mrs. Gredge in her inimitable jackdaw manner. Her tongue still seemed a bit large for her mouth.

“Aw Mama,” protested the small man, quite evidently her son, “you ain’t been by for a couple of years. They ain’t like that now.”

“That’s as may be, ” said Sir John, “yet the question is, how large are your lodgings?”

“Two rooms, sir.”

“That being the case, this added pound per month will enable you to move to a larger place, one in which our mother may have a room of her own, a privilege she has always enjoyed with us. I shall depend upon you to do that. Is that understood, Mr. Gredge?”

“Oh, aye, sir, quite well understood —and agreed! And when Will Gredge gives his word, sir, he keeps it. I’m well known for that in the tailoring trade, sir.”

“Ver)‘good, “said Sir John.” Andyou may use the remainder to raise your general situation. She will benefit from that, of course, but you and your family deserve something for keeping her, as well.”

“I likes my sweets’.” crowed Mrs. Gredge with sudden vehemence.

At that Sir John chuckled most heartily.” Indeed she does,” said he, “perhaps too well. See that she gets them from time to time. Far more important, however, that she get her meat and vegetables. You’ll see to that?”

“Oh, I will, sir.”

“Good then. All that understood and agreed, here is the first payment on my debt to your mother for her service to us.”

And with that, he presented him with the one-pound banknote he had held throughout their conversation palmed in his right hand. Mr. Gredge took it eagerly, near too eagerly it seemed to me, and pocketed it. Yet he sounded most sincere in his response.

“I’ll not let you down, sir.” Then, to Mrs. Gredge: “Nor you, either, Mama. I’ll take good care of you.”

She rose from the chair whereon she sat, struggling a bit to make it to her feet. But she won the struggle and was encouraged by her victor) to limp over a few steps to Sir John. She took his hand.

“You’ve been a good master. Sir John Fielding, ” said she.” None could want better. And you’ve provided for me well. My only sorrow is that my old body failed me, and I could not go on serving you the rest of my days.”

Sir John groped a bit but found her shoulder with his left hand and drew her to him in an embrace.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gredge. And from the bottom of my heart I thank you for my poor, dear dead Kitty. You were the best and gentlest nurse that ever she could have had. None could have treated her as well as you treated her. I shall always remember you for it.”

With that, she pulled away, tears streaming down her old, slack cheeks.

“I’m ready. Will,” she announced.” Take my chest down.”

“When …” Sir John began, then cleared his throat and began again: “When the first of the month comes, another one-pound payment will be delivered to you. Will Gredge. I hope by that time you will have settled in larger quarters. Be sure to communicate the location of your new place to us.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that, sir. Thankyou, sir ” — bowing and scraping a bit.

“Jeremy,” said Sir John, knowing full well that I was also present, “help Mrs. Gredge down the stairs. Her son will have his hands full. Then get them a hackney carriage.” He gave a great nod to us then.” Goodbye to you all.” He turned and made his departure across the kitchen he knew so well and started up the stairs.

Will Gredge lifted the chest filled with his mother’s belongings, which in truth was not so heavy but bulky and clumsy and difficult to carry.” Come on, Mama.”

He went down the stairs with it. Mrs. Gredge and I followed, she

leaning upon me so that we went quite slowly, one step at a time. By the time we arrived at the bottom, Mr. Fuller, the day constable, had come to help Will with the chest. Between them, it was no job at all to move it out and through the door to Bow Street.

“Jeremy,” said she to me as we made our way together, “I have to say that Sir John was righter about you than I was. I admit I had my doubts, butyou turned out better than I ever thought you would. I want you to take care of him, boy. Take care of him, obey him in all things, and love him as you would your own father if he was alive.”

“I will do it as you say, Mrs. Gredge.”

“He has great faith in you, Jeremy, and high expectations.”

We had reached the door to Bow Street. I helped her through and saw that Mr. Fuller had already brought a hackney to us. As he and Will handed up the chest to the driver, Mrs. Gredge kissed me on the cheek.

“Goodbye, Jeremy. Take care now.”

“Goodbye, ma’am. I’ll seeou again soon.”

“God willing.”

I helped her up to the door of the carriage, and Will, who was already inside, pulled her through. It was done awkward between us, and she tripped once going in; but in she was, and the carriage door shut after her. The driver stirred his horses to life, and the hackney pulled away.

Alone I stood on the walk, for NW. Fuller had left us as soon as the chest was loaded. I thought that just as well, for tears had welled in my eyes and begun to course down my cheeks. I wiped at them, of a sudden quite embarrassed that those walking by might see me so. In my own mind, it seemed to me I was far too old to weep.

This bleak farewell had brought me so low that when I returned to the kitchen, all I was able to do was sit and mope at the table. I know not how long I sat thus, but when ascending steps came on the stairway below, I roused myself at last from my lethargy and stood to my task, unpacking the things I had brought in from Covent Garden some time before.

In the first moment of his appearance, I did not recognize Tom Durham, even though he entered the room with his mother, and sense dictated it could be none but he. He looked that glorious in his new apparel. Yet it changed him in ways I could not have foreseen. He looked distinctly older, more settled and capable. The serious expression he wore, I later discovered, was due to his discomfort in this new costume. Even so, it added to the impression of maturity, giving him
the look of a young gentleman of affairs. I had seen such on their way hither and thither in the City of London.

“Does he not look elegant?” asked Lady Fielding.

“Oh, indeed he does!”

“Quite lubberly is how I look,” said Tom stubbornly.” I know that full well, for I’ve spent a good long time before the looking glass this day.”

“We were mojt fortunate,” said she, quite aflutter with excitement.” The breeches are ready-made and of quite good stuff. They look well on him, don’t you think so, Jeremy?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Ah, but the coat — the coat/ True enough, it was owned before, but barely worn at all—you can tell. Just look at the trim on it, the good work on the buttonholes,/d’/the stuff of it. And it fits quite perfect just as you see it.”

Obediently, I grasped where she directed me. Tom seemed to fight an impulse to jerk away. In a way I pitied him being tugged and tucked at all morning, but much more did I envy him. The fabric seemed both soft and strong. It was indeed an elegant coat.

“I should like to get into my old duds, Mother,” said Tom, hefting the package he carried, which contained them.

“Not until I show you to Jack!”

“But he cannot see me.”

“I can describe you to him exact, and he can form a picture in his mind. He is quite good at that, Tom. Sometimes I think he can see more than we do —quite uncanny, really. Do you not have that feeling at times, Jeremy?”

“More often than you know, my lady.”

“Is he about?”

“Upstairs —in his study, perhaps.”

“We shall look for him there. Come along, Tom.”

She led the way. As Tom left me, he rolled his eyes most expressive, as if to marvel what a fellow had to put up with.

Thus the rest of the day passed in preparation for the visit of Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond. When at last Lady Fielding returned from above, she inspected my purchases and approved them, though she registered surprise that I had taken it upon myself to add a leg of lamb to the side of lamb she had asked me to buy.

“That was given gratis by Mr. ToUiver,” said I, “to tempt us back to his stall.”

She smiled then a smile that was near as odd as the one I had seen on the butcher’s face.

“That was dear of him, was it not? Perhaps we have been neglecting him. Henceforth, Jeremy, you may go always to Mr. Tolliver unless I specifically tell you to go elsewhere.”