Meanwhile, Up at the Manor

The third story in The Burleigh Town Sentinel.

Jim and the council arrived at the manor house all in a jumble. The hall’s stable boys were surprised to see eight extra men and horses, and the second footman was surprised to discover no one riding in the carriage. The butler and first footman tried mightily to straighten things out in the hall, directing the councilmen to the front parlor, but the mob insisted on following their sentinel.

“Gentlemen,” Jim began, “I have had a lifetime of experience in dealing with my father and I need to speak with him privately. It will be perfectly safe – after all, you’re just downstairs. Kiley, please show the council to the parlor and bring them refreshments. I will be back in half an hour.”

The butler obeyed James’ orders without question and in a few minutes the councilmen were seated before a roaring fire, eating pastries and drinking sherry. A few of them were wondering how heroic this would look in the retelling.

Upstairs, in William’s dressing room, the scene was a little more dramatic as Jim barged in unannounced with Stephen in tow. The half-dressed nobleman calmly dismissed his valet and then turned to stare at his eldest son.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

James was momentarily nonplussed. He had rather imagined that that would be his own line.

“You thought I came to apologize?” Jim said, slowly shaking his head, never breaking eye contact with his father. “I am here, old man, because it is part of my job.” He purposely phrased it that way because nobility did not engage in trade. “As Burleigh Town Sentinel –“ - there, a definite wince - “- I am required to investigate threats to my town and my guide.”

“Oh, your town and your guide, is it? What about your family and your honor?” William sat down and folded his arms, preparing to sit in judgment. “Stephen, do quit standing there gaping like a fish. Well?”

Both sons found themselves sitting on a large chest, rather like defendants at the bar, and James realized that his father was trying his usual trick of using his parental authority to intimidate them into making mistakes that could then be held – and used - against them. It brought back memories of paternal examinations where the boys had been forced to testify against each other for their father’s amusement. William always said it was to make them wily and tough. Well, now it was time to show the master that James had learned his lessons well.

“Now, now, Father. Just what did you expect? You can’t threaten to take the title away from me like you used to. I’m dead, remember? And you can’t threaten to lock me up and let me rot; you tried that and it didn’t work.” James stood up and began pacing around the room, coming closer to William at every sweep. “You can’t threaten my position as town sentinel because Burleigh had every right to hire the sentinel of their choice. You can’t make me just disappear suddenly one night because unlike Sir James, Jim the sentinel would be missed. Have I forgotten anything? Oh, yeah - I have a letter of mother’s, bearing your seal and dated forty years ago, that mentions in passing your participation in one of the town’s more interesting May Day rites. One of the townspeople gave it to me. It proves beyond a doubt that you have had full knowledge of the coven for all this time. So, Dad, are you willing to burn along with the rest of us? Stephen would probably still inherit, although there is always the chance that the title would be taken away.”

Stopping right in front of William’s chair, Jim put his hands on the armrests and leaned down to speak directly in his father’s face. “I can see the little wheels turning in your mind, Father, and I know the weak point you think you have spotted - Blair, no mention of Blair. ‘Maybe I can get rid of the little Jew and save some face.’ But there you’re making a grave miscalculation, because without Blair, everything goes boom. Without Blair, I have no reason not to tell the world that you locked up your son the sentinel – who looks just like the portrait of your father, so don’t try to weasel out that way either - to die, staged the funeral, and set up your more acceptable younger son to take his place.”

Stephen gasped.

“I would have no reason not to try to reclaim the title myself -‘Crazy Lord Jim’, the first sentinel peer in a century, how does that sound? I wouldn’t live very long without my guide – see, I can still see those wheels turning - just long enough to make sure I ruined you. It’s all written down just in case; you know how organized I am. If we should both mysteriously disappear, legal documents will arrive at the Lord Chancellor’s, the House of Lords, and your club in London, among other places. So here’s the deal --- as long as Blair and I are safe, you get to be Lord Burlington - and not one moment longer. Got it?”

After letting go of the chair, Jim paced the room one more time, before stopping to point at William. “There’s one final thing you should be aware of. You almost died in your sleep last night, old man; you just didn’t know it. Do you realize you’re only here because my guide thought it would be wrong? Ha. He doesn’t know you like we do, does he, Stephen?” Jim waved his hand dismissively. “Still, a guy your age who eats and drinks like you do – it would be a perfectly natural thing. I guarantee it.”

William was now cowering against the back of his chair, his skinny legs trembling. “I sent two men to town to kidnap Sandburg.”

“What?!” Jim and Stephen yelled together.

“They left here an hour ago - Drury’s sons - with orders to take the guide to the edge of the county and threaten him with death if he came back. They, uh, they were supposed to rough him up as well.”

“God damn you! I should, I should –“

“Come on, Jim, we have to leave now or there’s no chance of catching them,” said Stephen, putting himself between his brother and his father. “You alert the council and I will get Friars to round up some hands. You, Father,” he said, not bothering to turn around, “had better pray that we’re not too late. You have enough to answer for already.”

The ride back to town was an even less stately affair than the trip out. James rode far in the lead, urging his horse to an almost suicidal gallop, and the others ranged from a distant second to the schoolmaster, Deal, who had liked the sherry rather a lot and was still trying to mount his steed in the manor courtyard. Upon entering the High Street, Jim tore straight down the middle, scattering hens and housewives on either side, before leaping off his mount and rolling into a crouch in front of the Town Hall doors. The ladies, still making up charity bundles, didn’t know what to make of it exactly, although most of them thought it looked very dashing and romantic. Their husbands never did anything like that. Jim raced up the stairs and flung open the door to the guide’s office. It was empty.

Rushing back down, he was about to race back out into the street when Old Maude took pity on him and called out, “You, you might want to ask us where he is. The excitement is all very nice but your poor clothes! I tell you, if men had to do their own mending, there’d be less of this sort of thing.”

After wasting a few precious moments trying to understand Maudie’s message, Jim turned to the rest of the ladies. “He’s hangin’ inna tree,” said Mrs. Toby helpfully. “The one over the horse trough,” added Mrs. Biggs. “Serves him right,” said the vicar’s wife, giving a vicious shake to a woolen shawl before adding it to a bundle.

Jim emerged back into the grey afternoon exterior fully expecting to see Blair dead, as the world had suddenly gone mad, but all he saw was Allen Drury - hanging from the thickest branch of the old apple tree over the horse trough by his wrists, his face smeared with drying fruit and mud, his clothes in much worse shape than Jim’s, begging to be let go. It didn’t take much persuasion to convince him to tell Jim what had happened – how he and his brother had snuck into the Town Hall, expecting Blair to be easy pickings, and how the entire Ladies Aid Society had attacked – “Honestly, what is the world coming to? That one grannie hit me with a bible!” His brother got away – “the coward”- and then the women had tied him to the tree and used him for target practice. They were terrible shots but Drury was a fairly stationary target at this point and the old men were giving them pointers. The guide had been invited to show off his pitching arm, but had declined since he would have to preside over the miscreant’s more official punishment when the constable returned with the sentinel. Right now Blair was behind the hall playing football with the team.

Most of the rest of the posse arrived in town just in time to see Jim burst into uncontrollable laughter. Bodmer led Jim over to a bench, one of the ladies brought him a glass of cider, and Miller took his horse to be tended to.

“Don’t worry about making a scene, Jim, “ said Bodmer confidentially. “We all make allowances for your little ways. Nerves are an affliction of all the high-born families, we hear.”

(Next – Harvest Home)