[CENTER]Chapter 8 Part 1[/CENTER]
Master Philip was working in the estate office that bounded part of the manor house stable yard. It was a week after the fire and everything appeared to be returning to normal, when Jenny Lees, the between floors maid rushed into the office. “Millie is running up the drive sir. She looks most distressed.”
Philip was worried. William and Millie had the day off and were supposed to be on their way back from town about now. For Millie to be on her own, something serious must have happened.
He thanked Jenny before running out of the office and through the house, as it was the quickest way to get to the front door to see what was going on.
As he raced down the wide steps to the gravel drive, his friend began to slow a few paces away, before doubling over to get her breath. Seconds later, between huge gulps of air she said, “The Press have got William” and then collapsed to the ground.
The manor was twenty-eight miles from the nearest sea port, yet the Navy had sent a press gang this far inland. They must be desperate for sailors.
“Where is he?” he asked, more harshly than he intended.
“The Press are in the Tavern, and William and the other men they have seized are under guard in the brewery. I begged them not to take him but they threw me to the ground!”
Jenny had followed him out and began tending to Millie, as Philip debated whether it was quicker to run down to the village, or go back and fetch a horse. In the end his decision was made for him when his friend said, “They intend to catch more men, then march them out tonight.”
Holding Millie’s hands, Philip told her, “I promise I will get him back for you, even if it costs me my freedom.” With that, he went back to the house and began to plan his friend’s release.
As dusk began to fall, Philip unlocked the rear door of the tavern using one of the spare keys normally kept in the estate office, and slipped inside without relocking before making his way around the tables set in front of the bar.
Samuel Rolands, the tavern landlord, was behind the bar having an argument with a Royal Naval Petty Officer, telling the latter that he was not welcome, and he would be served neither ale nor food.
Suddenly there was the crack of wood upon wood as Dolly Rolands smashed a bung-starter down onto the bar top, a hair’s breadth away from the fingers of a startled fourteen-year-old Midshipman.
“Get your filthy hands of my nice clean bar! Did your mother not teach you any manners? If you want something, you say please, and if you get it, you say thank-you, not, give me a pint of beer!”
With her face barely a whisker away from that of the Young Gentleman she roared, “So what have you to say to me, boy?”
In a dejected tone, the Midshipman replied, “Sorry mother, I mean Missus”
May I please have a tankard of ale?”
“No, you pimply little bully, YOU MAY NOT! Now wipe your nose and go and sit down.”
As the boy moved between the tables, the 2nd Lieutenant in command shook his head, then suddenly became aware of a young man, smiling and sitting opposite him
“Where the hell had he come from?” he thought.
“Hello mister sailor,” Philip began. “You have taken my friend, as well as several other good men that do not belong to you. I want them back.
“We have a warrant from the Queen, and she do need sailors, so we take who we want, and you can like it or run home to your Ma,” Sneered the lieutenant.
Still smiling, Master Philip continued, “Ah well, you see it is like this. My friend doesn’t want to go with you, and I don’t want him to go, so I want you to give him back, plus all the other men you have stolen”
“Oh.” Replied the lieutenant, “and what if I don’t want to.? What if I decide to take you as well?”
“Then I would have something to say about the matter.”
The officer jumped as he felt a hand almost crush his shoulder whilst pushing him down, before releasing him just as quickly. A heavy-set man then sat on the bench next to the young man who had struck up the initial conversation.
Again, the sailor thought, “How are these people getting in?” It hadn’t been through the front, and he had checked the only back door himself, removing the key afterwards. Unnerved, he checked his pocket and discovered it was still there. There must be another way in that they hadn’t found.
The sailor then became disturbed even more when he realised a young girl in her late teens and wearing a maid’s uniform had appeared at the other end of the bench. All three people now sitting opposite him were smiling ominously.
Pointing first to the young girl on his right, the man directly opposite said, “This is my best friend, Miss Amanda Prentice. She is also a friend of my friend whom you have stolen. She would like him back as well.”
Pointing to his left he then continued, “This is Amanda’s father, Geoff Prentice. He is the village Blacksmith. As you already know, he is very strong.”
The lieutenant began to speak but Philip cut him off.
“This tavern belongs to the Knowl Park estate, as does the brewery you are using as a gaol. That means you are trespassing. I’m Philip Marsden, the son of the estate owner. I am also the estate manager. and I say what goes on in here, not you.”
“Do not think you have any power here, son; you cannot buy your men back. I have six armed men in this room, and four guarding the brewery.”
[CENTER]Chapter 8 Part 2[/CENTER]
Looking around the room, then back to the sailor, the smile never leaving his face, Philip countered, “I would suggest you have five men and a child in here.”
Raising an eyebrow to the Blacksmith, he received a reply to his silent question.
“Forty-three at the last count, and more arriving.”
Whispering to her husband, Dolly Rolands said, “Get ready,” whilst gripping her bung-starter even tighter.
Samuel slid his hand under the bar to grasp his persuader, a short, stout staff, shaped to form a handle at one end and iron bands wrapped around the other.
Dolly had seen something that nobody else had, and she knew that violence was going to erupt at any moment.
The only sound in the room was the occasional rustle of clothes, the odd cough, and a scrape of a stool as someone tried to get a better look.
Meanwhile the battle of wills continued between the cocky lieutenant and the smiling young man before him, who had now begun a lecture.
“One hundred and twenty-two people of all ages live or work on the estate.”
“The village population at the last count, which was only six days ago after we had a fire by the church, stands at one thousand, three hundred and forty-six.”
“When Mr Prentice came in, forty-three of them, with more arriving every minute, were concealed around the brewery.”
At this, the lieutenant stiffened. Again, he opened his mouth to speak, but this time it was the Blacksmith who cut him off. “Like Mrs Rolands said, mind your manners. Master Philip is speaking and you shall listen.”
The sailor was becoming unnerved now. These two men obviously had the ability to organise a force of over forty villagers here. He had met ragtag groups of snivelling women and drunken men, all begging or making half-hearted threats as his gang dragged off the fittest, and youngest they could find, but never before had he met resistance like this.
No violence yet, no raised voices, no begging, no direct threats, just the implied one that his men outside would be overwhelmed in seconds if he didn’t give in.
The young man with the mirthless smile began again. “By now there will be over fifty men and women, all armed, watching and waiting for a signal. Oh, they may not have pistols and cutlasses like your lot, but sickles, pitchforks, boning knives, and at least one shotgun will easily rip your four men to pieces.”
“You made a mistake revealing the strength, and more importantly, the weakness of your forces. That was a big tactical error. That won’t go down well with your commanding officer now will it?”
The lieutenant gulped, his men and the boy starting to fidget as they imagined what was happening outside, and how this would affect his prospects of promotion if his captain ever found out.
Trying once more to gain control, he spoke firmly in a voice more confident than he actually felt.
“But at what cost to your people? In here, my men and I out-gun you and your drunken rabble of old men and women. If you start anything, I assure you that I will finish it.”
Still smiling, Philip looked around the room, then back to the man opposite. “Women and children murdered in a drunken sailor’s brawl,” will be how it is written in the newspapers. Is that what you want?”
Looking directly into the man’s eyes, the smile suddenly disappearing from Philips lips as he spoke, “However, I’m sure it won’t come to that.”
“All you have to do is leave quietly and peacefully, but without the men you have stolen.”
Suddenly the unnerving smile was back. “Our friend is called William. Last week he was a hero during a fire we had nearby. His actions saved many lives and livelihoods. There is not a man or woman in this village or the estate will let you take him from us.”
“I also made a promise to his sweetheart that I would save him, even if it meant losing my freedom in the process.”
The officer had been keeping an eye on the girl next to the man opposite. There was room next to her father to sit, but she had instead chosen to place herself next to the young man. There was obviously some affection between them otherwise she would sitting be alongside the older man.
When the man opposite had said he was willing to be imprisoned, the officer expected some sort of reaction from the girl. A look of horror perhaps, a few words begging her lover, friend, or whatever he was to her, not to do this.
What the lieutenant hadn’t expected was for the girl to nod in agreement. This was bad. It meant the man would fight if he had to.
Fighting for Queen and Country was one thing, but an opponent who was fighting for their friend or someone they loved was much more dangerous.
The young man had begun speaking again. “I understand that gas-gangrene is the worst. I’m sure you know all about the rotting, putrid smelling flesh of gangrene after injury or amputation. I’m sure you know it can sometimes be arrested by further amputation, but not gas-gangrene.”
“It insidiously creeps around the body, rotting it from the inside. It is slow and agonisingly painful. Once started, the only known cure is death.”
The lieutenant noticed the young midshipman looked like he was about to be sick. The landlady had noticed the same and scolded the boy, giving him a withering look at the same time.
“Don’t you dare puke in my tavern.”
With that, the boy ran out through the nearest door, followed by the sound of retching, then muffled voices.
The sailor had been watching the girl again, expecting her to recoil in shock at the man’s words, but she just stared back at him with a look of distain.
“Look at it this way,” continued the young man calmly. “He was a liability so by leaving he has actually improved your odds in here.”
“He is mocking me now,” thought the sailor.
[CENTER]Chapter 8 Part 3[/CENTER]
Then the young man was off again on another subject about his childhood.
“M’father is a Quaker, a peaceful man. If you struck him, he would stand there and let you do it again. I take after my father in many ways. I abhor violence and will do anything within my power to prevent it. Unlike my father however, I will use it if absolutely necessary.”
“When my brother and I were in our teens, we found a pair of duelling pistols. Our father wanted to give them to the Blacksmith and have the barrels flattened, but my brother and I persuaded him to let us to use them for target practice.”
“Father was very strict. He got one of the former soldiers from the village to teach us how to load and fire without harming ourselves or anyone else. We set up a target range in a dell beyond the house, and practiced every so often.”
“The soldier told us, “never point a gun at someone unless you intend to use it. Never use a gun on someone unless you intend to kill.””
“My brother turned out to be a very good shot. I was nowhere near as good, but could usually land a ball somewhere on the target at twenty paces, even though it was rare for me to hit the centre.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Are you going to challenge me to a duel? I assure you that like your brother, I am also an excellent shot.”
Again came a look of indifference from the girl. This was not going well for the sailor at all, and he was rapidly losing control of the situation.
The young man leaned forward and began to speak very quietly, so only those at the table could hear.
“Before we came here, the Blacksmith and his wife made a mixture for me of slag, iron filings, and rust, all collected from the forge, and rolled it into a nice, neat plug with well-rotted horse dung from the stables, then wrapped it in waxed paper to make a cartridge”
“That cartridge is sitting snuggly inside the bore of the duelling pistol I am now pointing at your groin.”
This is what the landlady had noticed earlier. Geoff Prentice had passed something metal to Master Philip whilst the sailors were distracted.
The lieutenant was ashen as the young man continued in his quiet voice, always with that damned smile on his face.
“A good surgeon can remove a bullet, or a sliver of wood, but there is no doctor in the world that can remove what I will put into your body if you resist.”
Nodding to two men sitting together at a nearby table, he said, “The man with his hand in his pocket is Gilbert, our gamekeeper. He carries his paunching knife in that pocket, and I suspect by now that it is out of its sheath. Saw-toothed and razor sharp, it will cut through bone.”
“The man next to him works as a rat-catcher in the town. I don’t know what he carries about himself, but no doubt it has a sharp edge or point, and probably still has remains of dried rat-blood on it.”
“The landlord keeps a metal bound stave under the bar, which is where his hand is right now. His wife, as you have seen, is very proficient with her mallet.”
“I only have one shot, and I doubt it will kill you, at least not today, and possible not even this week, but with what is in it, it will kill you eventually.”
“Even if by some miracle you don’t develop gangrene, you will never be able to have children, and you will find it most difficult when you need to pass water.”
“Mr Prentice here has a recently sharpened knife in his left boot. Miss Prentice has an equally sharp kitchen knife in her right boot.”
“The sound of a sudden pistol shot, followed by your high-pitched screams through clouds of smoke and blood will confuse your men long enough for the rest of us to despatch them in short order.”
“How do I know you aren’t bluffing?” queried the officer.
Raising his voice only slightly, Philip said two words. “Miss ’Manda,” which didn’t make sense until the lieutenant realised that it was a warning. The girl stuck a forefinger in each of her ears, closed her nostrils with the little finger of each hand, took a breath and held it, then screwed her eyes and mouth shut.
At the same instant, her father had covered his ears with his hands and turned his face away.
In that moment the lieutenant knew it was true. The girl had been warned what would happen if the man fired the pistol. Cap or flintlock made no difference. A cloud of smoke and flame would roar out of the barrel, plus the horror that had been loaded into the gun, ripping through his breeches and the softest parts of his body. Add to that the possibility that blood and gore, might splatter anyone near, this man had made sure the girl was protected.
With a sigh the sailor said, “I fear I have no choice but to concede to your demands.”
“Oh no sir, that is where you are wrong. I demanded nothing. ‘Twas nought but a polite request, to which you have now agreed.”
With his hand still under the table, he looked towards the bar and then went on, “I suggest you order your ship’s butler to fetch my friend and the other men you tried to steal away whilst he still can.”
The lieutenant craned his neck round and was mortified to see that the ship’s bosun was looking back at him, completely oblivious to a man in his seventies holding a muzzle loading Baker Rifle about two inches away from the sailor’s tarred ponytail.
“How the hell did he get in as well?” was all the officer could think.
The petty officer was confused, but carried out the order without question and left the tavern. The young man then told the defeated sailor before him to hand over his pistols, cutlass, and any other weapons he might have about him.
Once he had done this, he was instructed to order his remaining men to do the same. They were equally confused, but complied because refusing to follow an order would get them flogged.
[CENTER]Chapter 8 Part 4[/CENTER]
When the bosun came back, he was with the midshipman and they were both in shackles, having already been disarmed.
The villagers had got tired of waiting and had taken matters into their own hands only to find the supposed guards had spent most of the time inside the brewery, drinking half fermented beer, and were totally incapable of fighting back. They hadn’t even bothered to post a sentry outside. They had been part of a press gang before but had never encountered any serious organised resistance, so decided to make the trip into a Jolly.
The men caught by the Press had been shackled together and to one of the stout roof-supports as well. They were quickly released by the villagers, and then they and the former prisoners alike had waited inside knowing that if Master Philip failed, the rest of the sailors would eventually come back there. At that point they would have been overwhelmed as soon as they set foot in the door.
As it transpired, only one man came back to find his shipmates blind drunk, and seventeen very angry men and woman armed to the teeth with all sorts of vicious weapons waiting for him. Seconds later, dozens more of the locals poured in behind the newcomer, cutting off his retreat.
The drunkards were taken outside before being shackled themselves; nobody being keen on the idea of someone vomiting inside the hallowed place where their ale was produced.
The bosun was also shackled and led back to the tavern, being joined by the midshipman and the men who had intercepted him earlier. Just to make a point, he was shackled to the bosun before they were both led inside. Due to the vagaries of naval ranks, the young boy was actually the much older and experienced man’s superior officer, second only to the lieutenant.
The villagers had found a pile of manacles and shackles next to the drunks that were obviously intended to subdue more pressed men, so these were used to secure the remaining sailors in the tavern, under the watchful eye of the landlord and his wife.
The lieutenant had been ordered to remain seated whilst the rest of the seamen were herded towards the fireplace, the drinkers who had been present when Philip had entered having now all sensibly moved towards the bar.
Suddenly a girl’s scream made several people jump, but Philip just smiled as the brown-haired girl spoke.
“That was Millie. She must be with William again now”
It was over. Philip withdrew his hand from under the table and the officer could now see that the young man had not been bluffing. He really had been holding a very ornate percussion cap duelling pistol to his groin.
The young man removed the firing cap and set the hammer to half cock before saying to the girl, “Excuse me; I need to go and discharge this somewhere safe”
About half a minute later there was the muffled sound of a pistol shot that made the officer jump at the thought of how his life could have been so easily and horribly ended.
Suddenly all the men that the press gang had taken were in the room accompanied by cheers and backslapping, plus a few tears.
The pretty blond girl who had begged for her sweetheart’s freedom was there, and as soon as she saw the young man come back from making safe his gun, she ran to him and ferociously kissed him on the cheek, saying thank you over and over, then did the same to the embarrassed blacksmith before hugging the brown-haired girl tight, both with tears of joy making their faces wet.
The young man called William came over and held his hand out to the man called Philip, who ignored it and instead hugged his friend just as tight as the girls had done.
When the two pairs broke apart, William hugged the brown-haired girl, then shook the blacksmith’s hand before going round the room and thanking everyone who had help in securing his release.
The old soldier was at the bar, carefully inspecting and unloading the sailor’s firearms when the young man everyone was calling Master Philip kissed the maid on the cheek and sat down again opposite the lieutenant.
“Well sir it seems you had me beat from the moment we met. I must commend you on your skill and tactics. We could do with men like you in the Navy.”
At this comment, the girl removed a wickedly sharp looking kitchen knife from her boot as if to inspect it, whilst waving it perilously close to the officer’s eyes.
“I think my friend has given you her opinion upon that idea.”
“No, we had you beat as soon as you took our friend,” replied Philip. “You would have been pursued without mercy until all our men were returned, no matter the consequences.
“Now sir, the question is, what shall we do with you all?”
Gradually the noise in the tavern abated and Master Philip drew breath ready to address everyone present, when suddenly came the sound of flesh on flesh and a cry from one of the sailors.
Millie had given the man who had accosted her such a roundhouse stinging slap that it had knocked him off balance, and left a red handprint on his face.
Speaking to the lieutenant, but loud enough for the other sailors to hear, Master Philip told him that this seaman had fared better than the last man who had tried to interfere with Millie.
“You might be brave fighting-men in battle, but here today you were bullies and drunkards, which is not what our Queen expects from her Navy”
“Now, I can imagine things will not go well for you if you return empty-handed, so I have a suggestion. When the army come a-recruiting, they don’t slink around stealing unarmed men, they bang a drum and blow a bugle, and tell everyone what a wonderful life it is to be a soldier.”
“Of course, they don’t mention anything about being killed or blown to bits, but they do tell of being paid, and being fed and clothed.
“Occasionally they will pick up a man or two from the village, and they always march back through from the town with quite a few men who have been seduced by a recruiter’s words, but none of them are ever forced.”
[CENTER]Chapter 8 Part 5[/CENTER]
“There is always poverty in the town with many people near starvation. I’m sure you can find enough to satisfy your captain by offering food and pay to men with no job, or to families who cannot feed every mouth in their hovel.”
“The Magistrate’s Court might be persuaded to let you have men convicted of lesser offences such as petty theft, which is often brought on by poverty and lack of food.”
“You might even find a well to do family who would buy a commission for a wayward son in order to avoid scandal.”
The lieutenant was listening carefully to the young man, who he had seriously underestimated when the young maid surprised him by joining in.
“You might try the Christian Mission as well. They help to feed street urchins and people who have fallen on hard times. They might know of men who would swap the lives they have now for security and food, especially if they will get paid. They might even know of a few former sailors.”
Nodding at the young girl’s comments, Philip continued,
“You don’t need to kidnap men who might be providing for others who would starve if those men weren’t there, when you could find others who will go with you willingly because it would mean a better life for them.”
Changing the subject, Philip carried on, “You and your men will spend the night in the church which will be locked and guarded better than your men achieved at the brewery this evening.”
“You will all be fed with bread and the landlady’s stew which will be warm, but not hot enough to scald if you decide to throw it at someone. You will pay for the food, and the beer your men have ruined, plus the wages lost by any of the men you had in captivity.”
In the morning, the vicar and I will release you,” and then with a mocking tone and a smile, “after we have counted the candlesticks.”
“What about our weapons?” asked the seaman, which earned him a snort of derision from the girl.
“I’ll let your men have short knives in the morning,” Philip replied. “I wouldn’t want them incapable of defending themselves should they be attacked by a gang or ruffians.”
The irony of this was not lost on the lieutenant. “You can have your cutlas tomorrow as well. It would be unseemly for an officer of Her Britannic Majesty’s Navy to be seen without one.”
“I will however require your parole that you and your men will not retaliate on anyone in or around the village and estate. The return of your remaining weapons on your way back to your ship will depend upon your word.”
“Do I have it sir?”
The lieutenant was astounded and impressed by the young man’s tenacity and forethought, even to the extent of ensuring stew would not be hot enough use as a weapon.
Taking only a moment to think, the officer agreed to all the terms laid down by this young man, having been assured that the shackles would be removed from each of his men as they entered the church.
On the second morning after the press gang had first arrived in the village, they returned from the town with several more men of various ages.
Lookouts had seen the group approaching as they came along the Post Road a half mile distant, and a rider was despatched to the manor house.
By the time the navel men arrived in the village, Philip was riding in from the other end followed by a small group of men and women on two carts.
Villagers lined each side of the road, looking threateningly at the lieutenant and the original members of his gang.
The landlady walked forwards and then pointed to the church tower. After a moment, the officer realised there was something poking out between the slats of the belfry which the sailor now recognised as being a rifle barrel.
At this range, the concealed rifleman was unlikely to miss.
The group slowed to a stop as Master Philip approached.
“You were right,” began the lieutenant before Philip could speak. “We collected eighteen volunteers. That’s many more than we could have handled if we had pressed them, some we would be bound to lose on the way back as well.”
“I am indebted to you sir, especially considering the way we treated your people, which I now regret.”
“Perhaps you will pass that on to your superiors then,” replied Philip. Pointing towards the tavern he continued, “Your weapons are there on the tables outside. I suggest you collect them and leave straight after.”
Whilst the men were re-arming themselves, many of the villagers and estate workers watched them with suspicion. At one point the lieutenant commented that there was no gunpowder. Philip raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“Ah,” said the officer, “I understand.”
As the sailors and the new recruits made their leave Philip called out, “I have one final piece of advice for you lieutenant.”
“Never come back here.” Looking at the rest of the men he added, “Any of you, or any of your kind. I can’t guarantee you will be greeted with the same hospitality that you were this time.”
The officer knuckled his forehead in salute, nodded, then turned and walked his men out the village.
“Hoy, you boy!” The Midshipman looked back to see Mrs Rolands wagging a finger at him. “Remember to mind your manners.”
As the sailors left, Amanda arrived and asked Philip what he had really put in the gun.
“Black powder and salt. Enough to cause a huge cloud of smoke, and sting the officer badly enough that he would scream, believing he was ruined from the waist down. That would have caused the confusion and chaos we needed to overpower the rest of his men.”
The pair walked arm in arm to his horse then rode back to the manor together.
William was an excellent horseman and had tried to teach both Millie and Amanda to ride. Although he had succeeded to some extent, they were never particularly interested. Neither of them however ever gave up an opportunity to ride two to a horse with the young men.
Millie preferred to ride holding onto her sweetheart from behind, whereas Amanda was never happier than to have Philip holding her. She still held out hope that one day he would be hers, but for the time being she just had to content herself with their close friendship.
I liked that, Philip is a very able & intelligent man.
I have heard of press gangs & wonder if part of that is true, about someone explaining to the navy officers, the way Philip did, that force is never the answer but given facts & by persuading them they will have a better life is what stopped the press gangs.
I have mixed fact with fiction throughout the story, which is set in an undefined time and place during the Victorian period. I have also mixed the timeline so things like Press Gangs and Railways were around at the same time in my story, but probably did not co-exist at the same time.
In general, Impressment was used when other recruiting methods failed to provide enough volunteers, so in fact, the Lieutenant in my story would have tried the methods suggested by Philip first, and much nearer the coast in order to find sailors with experience.
Press Gangs all but stopped after Napoleon was beaten, and ceased around the mid 1850s, although it remained on the statute books until the late 20th century. They may still be law as I have been unable to find an Act of Parliament that ended the practice.
Conscription during WW2, and National Service afterwards were all forms of Impressment, so it is possible the laws still exist in some form or other.
Thank you for the info, Fruitcake.
Chapter 9 is writ. I’ll proof read it in the morning then chop it up to post it as before.
[CENTER]Chapter 9 Part 1[/CENTER]
“Of course we should attend. We were present when Kenneth received his University Degree, and I clapped the loudest when he was given his certificate. I see no reason why we should not be present when Philip is presented with his College Diploma where I shall again be the one to clap the loudest.”
Anyone who knew Sarah and Albert Marsden Marsden knew that they had never had an argument since the day they met. For them to have any sort of disagreement was unusual because Albert would always give way to his wife’s wishes, but today he just could not understand why she was saying they shouldn’t go to see the culmination of their youngest son’s educational achievements.
“No Bertie, we should not attend,” replied Sarah.
“Why ever not? I do not understand your suggestion at all.” He knew however that he was not going to get his way. As soon as she called him Bertie, he knew anything he said was a lost cause.
“Because we have not been invited.”
“Of course we are invited.” Pointing to a spot in the manor library he went on. “Philip stood right there and read out the letter from his college saying he was welcome to bring guests.”
“Yes Bertie, but he never asked us to be his guests. He hasn’t invited his brother either, although I know they discussed it whilst Philip was in town yesterday.”
“But *Sally, we don’t need to be asked. It goes without saying that he would want us there. It is expected of us to attend. He must have invited somebody. He wouldn’t go to such a thing like that on his own.”
“He has invited Amanda.” His wife answered.
“Well that is no surprise. In fact, I would have been surprised if he hadn’t invited his friends. That still does not explain why you think we should not go.”
“Friend, not friends. He has only invited Amanda. He means to take just her and nobody else.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. What does it mean? Is he finally going to put the poor girl out of her misery do you think?”
“One way or another, yes I think he is.”
“Or another?” asked Albert. “Whatever do you mean?”
“She has her eye on him you know,” Sarah replied.
“Well of course she has. The poor girl has been keen on our Philip since she was eleven”
“No Bertie, not Amanda. The pretty girl who works for Mrs Beasley,” explained his wife.
“Clara? No that simply isn’t possible Sarah. I don’t believe it for one moment.”
“No silly, not Clara. Annette, the girl about Philip’s age at the tea rooms. She is always looking across at him when he is there, and always makes sure she is the one to serve him. They seem to be getting on very well.”
“What? Exclaimed Albert. “I never noticed when I was there.”
“Well of course you didn’t. Anyway, I think Philip is either going to declare his love for Amanda, or he is going to break her heart. I cannot think of any other reason why he would take her and nobody else.”
“What will she do if it is the latter do you think,” asked Albert.
With a look of sadness, Sarah replied, “She will hand in her notice and go back to live in Forge Cottage. I fear her friendship with Philip will not survive if that happens, and that will make things very difficult for William and Millie to remain friends with them both as well.”
“Amanda is such a lovely girl and would make a lovely wife once she is older. I really don’t know what is in Philip’s mind. The only thing we can hope is that he is waiting for her as you waited for me until I turned eighteen before you asked my father if you might court me.
Amanda was excited, but also apprehensive. She had never been on a train before, nor had she ever been further than the city, but today she would be travelling over forty miles on two trains, and the same on the way back.
Albert and Sarah had insisted on taking her and Philip to the town station. The pair said goodbye to his parents once he had bought the tickets before passing through the stone arch and onto the Northbound Platform.
There were four tracks but only two platforms. Philip walked his friend to one end of the platform to briefly explain about the points and signals that enabled trains that didn’t need to stop to pass through on the middle pair of tracks without having to wait for trains standing in the station.
After that they walked back a little way, and waited on a seat for their train.
© January 2021
*Author’s note: - Less popular now, Sally was sometimes used as the diminutive for the name Sarah.
[CENTER]Chapter 9 Part 2[/CENTER]
Sights, sounds, and smells, all assaulted Amanda’s senses. When their train arrived, she was terrified at first by the huge beast of iron with fire in its belly, belching smoke and steam as it clanked along the tracks towards them.
Philip sensed her fear and slipped his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight against his side, speaking quietly, reassuring her until she was calmer. He had travelled this route at least once a month for nearly three years and assured her he would not have brought her along if he did not think it was safe.
She had only been to the station once before. That was when she had helped Philip to ensure his friend Charlotte had married the man she loved. On that occasion they had not ventured anywhere near the locomotive, so until now Amanda had never realised how big and imposing they were.
Once the train came to a stop, several people got off before Philip chose an empty compartment with the door already open, but explained that other passengers may well join them for the relatively short journey to the big city.
Amanda had on her favourite green dress and thought it such a treat not to be wearing her maid’s uniform with it. Even so, her clothes were a little old fashioned and a little faded, but she didn’t care what others thought.
If they didn’t like it they should keep their own council.
Philip helped his friend to negotiate the gap and narrow step up into the carriage, which Amanda thought a little awkward and daunting at first, before suggesting she take the seat by the window facing the way they would be travelling.
Once they were settled, Philip began to explain the sequence of events involved in getting the train ready to depart, reminding her of what she had seen and heard when he had misled Sir Charles into getting onto the wrong train.
Philip pointed to the platform clock, and a few moments later there were shouts, the banging of doors, the guard’s whistle followed by piercing blast of the engine whistle. Telling Amanda to hold his hand he then warned her that there would be a series of sharp jolts as the train started to move, but it would settle down very quickly after that.
The girl sat and stared out of the window in amazement as the platform slid past as if it was the station itself that was moving rather than them. She turned excitedly to Philip as they picked up speed, only to find him watching her intently instead of out the window.
He smiled then used his free hand to gesture towards various sights such as the Town Hall, the river, and the canal with its warehouses alongside. After a few minutes they were past the outskirts of the town and into open country.
With a look of wonder Amanda said, “It’s so fast. Much faster than I have ever travelled before.”
“We won’t get much above thirty-five miles per hour, but once we change trains in the city, we might get up to sixty miles an hour on the main line towards London.”
To the girl, thirty-five miles an hour sounded incredible, and once up to speed, she could not conceive how it would be possible for them to travel nearly twice as fast on the next train.
The pair had made an early start at Philip’s insistence, not wanting to miss their train due to unexpected delays such as a problem with their horse or the carriage itself. Once they were in town however, Philip took them all to Mrs Beasley’s, saying that it would only take a few minutes to walk to the station afterwards, so they now had time to spare.
Clara was delighted to see them all, and Annette was pleased to see Philip again, although he seemed pre-occupied and not so inclined to chat as much as he normally did.
The serving girl noticed too that Philip was dressed very smartly, and the maid was wearing nice clothes as well instead of her normal drab brown dress and uniform.
“Perhaps they were all going to another wedding,” Annette thought, not realising that only the two youngest members of the group would soon be travelling unaccompanied.
Now that he and his friend had alighted at the city station, Philip was beginning to regret having had an extra cup of tea earlier.
Not wanting to leave Amanda alone on the busy platform, he suggested she stay in the First-Class Waiting Room whilst he dealt with a call of nature. The two had known each other so long that neither were ever embarrassed if either one of them needed to use a lavatory.
Amanda had not realised until then that they would be travelling First Class on the mainline train because Philip had kept it a secret, hoping to surprise her once they got to their carriage.
Whilst attending college he had told her he always travelled second class, or even third class if it was possible, explaining that the less he spent the more often he would be able to buy a train ticket to come home and visit his friends and family. As a result, Amanda had just assumed they would be travelling in the same manner that Philip had always done whilst living away to study.
He led his friend to a comfortable chair within the empty waiting room, saying he would only be gone a few minutes, and they had at least fifteen minutes before their next train was due to arrive.
“Is there a problem?” Philip asked as he re-entered the waiting room.
A rather surly looking man in a Station Porter’s uniform turned to look at the newcomer, noting that the young man who had just spoken was smartly dressed in well-made moderately expensive clothes, but not too extravagant to be risked for travelling by train.
“Obviously a sensible young gentleman from a wealthy family,” thought the porter.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 9 Part 3[/CENTER]
A couple in their late sixties or possibly early seventies had arrived whilst Philip was away, and were now sitting opposite Amanda, looking somewhat bemused. Amanda herself looked both confused and upset.
“I was just explaining to this … girl that she should not be here,” replied the railwayman. “Look at her sir, the way she is dressed makes it quite obvious that she cannot afford to travel first class. Indeed, she does not have a first class ticket upon her person but has instead made some excuse that her friend has it.
“I see an attractive, smartly dressed young woman with a perfectly reasonable explanation why she does not have her ticket with her.” Philip responded.
Indicating the older couple he continued, “I’ll wager that this attractive, smartly dressed young woman here does not have a ticket upon her person either. Am I right Miss?”
The older woman was delighted with the compliment and immediately replied that no, she did not have a ticket of any kind.
“I’ll warrant this handsome young man here beside her has gallantly purchased his young sweetheart’s ticket, and is guarding it with his life.”
“Is that not so young sir?
“Precisely so,” replied the old gentleman with a twinkle in his eye.
Philip turned his attention back to the porter, countering with, “Are you going to insist this young lady leaves as well as the young Miss here then, because neither have a ticket about them?”
Before the porter could reply, Philip continued, “Of course you aren’t. Now, this young lady is my best friend. Here is her ticket, and here is mine.” Handing both pieces of card to the astonished porter, Philip continued, “and I’ll trouble you not to make assumptions about a lady simply because of the way she looks.”
“I, I … I’m sorry sir, miss, I had no idea.” Stammered the porter.
“Indeed no sir, that is quite obvious.” Philip stated as a rebuke. “I suggest in future you do not jump to conclusions. Now if you will excuse us, my friend and I have a train to catch.”
Turning to the older couple Philip quipped, “I wish you success in your elopement, and that you have a long and happy life together.”
Philip took Amanda’s hand and escorted her out of the waiting room, exchanging smiles and a wink with the older couple as they did so.
Once they were settled in their compartment, Philip apologised for abandoning his friend, and for the way he had behaved. Amanda replied that it was worth it to see the look on the porter’s face when Philip had handed him two first class tickets.
Five minutes later, they were on their way. It took longer to reach the city suburbs then open countryside than the first part of their journey, but Amanda was just as enthralled with the sights passing by as they picked up speed.
She asked Philip to explain what everything was as it all looked so different from her viewpoint, and also got Philip to tell her why things close to went by in a flash, but things further away looked as if they were being passed at a walking space.
He had warned her about sudden noises that would occur as they passed under bridges or through a tunnel, the scariest thing however would be when another train passed in the opposite direction. Philip had been holding her hand the whole time, and gave it a reassuring squeeze when she jumped and cried out in alarm the first time it happened.
Amanda was mesmerised when they entered Box Tunnel as the image of fields suddenly changed to her own reflection in the dim lights of their compartment.
At one point Philip took out his pocket watch and then timed the distance between mile-markers, declaring that they were travelling at slightly over sixty miles an hour.
Ascending the incline at Dauntsey Bank, the train began to slow before maintaining that speed over the last few miles until it finally stopped at their destination in what Amanda thought of as “Philip’s college town”.
He had arranged for them to visit Mrs Phillips, his former landlady who he had also invited to his presentation. He explained the different routes he normally walked from his lodgings to college to the station and back depending on where he needed to go at the time.
Today they would be going first to collect Mrs Phillips, then walk with her to the college, then have a light lunch at a small family run tavern that did good wholesome food at reasonable prices he had treated himself to once a week.
Mrs Phillips had told him in their correspondence that she would then visit a friend in the town, so Philip would not need to accompany her home afterwards. Philip would then show Amanda the way back to the station from there that he rushed to do so many times straight after his lectures had finished.
Philip took a short cut through Victoria Park, named of course for their Queen, passing through the biggest glass-house Amanda had ever seen, full of strange and beautiful plants.
“Touch the wall,” he told his friend.
“It’s warm!” she exclaimed. Philip then told her that there were small stone outbuildings on the other side containing a series of coal fed fireplaces, and chimneys that ran along and up inside the wall to keep the glass-house warm whatever the weather.
“It’s not uncommon for homeless people to be found sleeping in those little buildings when it is very cold outside.”
Amanda couldn’t imagine a life without a permanent home. How lucky she was to have two.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 9 Part 4[/CENTER]
The pair only had to wait a few moments for Mrs Phillips to open her door after Philip had knocked. The older lady was delighted to see her former lodger, but was somewhat taken aback when she was introduced to Amanda, before apologising.
“I’m sorry. I knew that Philip wrote to his friends and family on a regular basis, but he never told me that his best friend was an attractive young lady. He kept that quiet.”
Amanda reached the front gate a few paces away first, only to realise that Philip and his landlady had not moved. She heard the first part of their conversation but not what was said afterwards, and was intrigued by the brief exchange she had partly witnessed.
Walking together arm in arm with a lady on each side, Philip played a game of Piggy-in-the-Middle as the two women exchanged information about each other, and to his embarrassment, gossip about Philip. Thankfully both ladies came to the conclusion that Philip was a well behaved and considerate young gentleman.
Upon arrival at the college, they were directed to a small auditorium that Philip explained he had sat in about once a week to attend lectures. He stopped briefly to chat with some of his fellow former students once the two ladies had been seated.
One of these young men asked who the girl was, and after being given the answer, another asked in a stage whisper, “Best friend is it? Have you tupped her yet?”
“Don’t be so crude, of course I haven’t. Why, have you tupped your best friend yet?” Philip angrily retorted before walking away, followed by laughter and the sound of the rude young man being ridiculed by the others in the group.
Living amongst a farming community, Amanda was well aware what the word “tupping” meant, and was amused by Philip’s suggestion that the other man had been intimate with another. The mocking he was now receiving served him right.
All the young men gradually drifted off, only to appear one by one as their names were called to be presented with a beribboned scroll and a narrow lightweight wooden box to keep it safe.
Each man then stepped down from the raised dais at the front to join their friends and family.
Seated in the tavern afterwards whilst waiting for their food to arrive, Amanda insisted on seeing Philip’s scroll, and then proudly read it out loud before handing it back with a flourish.
Having later bade Mrs Phillips goodbye, the pair then made their way to the station. Once aboard their train, Amanda settled in her seat by the window facing the way they were travelling. The view from the carriage this time was of the opposite side of the railway line to their outward journey.
After a while, she closed her eyes as the dappled sunlight filtering through trees warmly caressed her cheek as she went over the events of the day in her head.
She had really enjoyed her day out with Philip, especially the parts where there had only been the two of them.
Normally their other two friends would be with them, but not today. They hadn’t been invited; nor his parents or brother. She understood why Philip’s newly married friend Charlotte hadn’t been invited, but not why she had been the only one.
Still, she was delighted that she had Philip all to herself.
Thinking back though, she was confused by what had taken place by his former landlady’s front door when Mrs Phillips had asked if Amanda was his sweetheart.
If someone was asking in rude way, he would simply say, “No” and say nothing further. In general conversation though he would normally say something like, “No, Miss Prentice is my best friend, but we are not romantically involved.”
This time his answer was different. He had spoken only two-words, but said so quietly that she couldn’t hear. Mrs Phillips had looked surprised by his answer, then smiled and touched Philip on the arm before replying in an equally quiet voice.
Her friend then offered his arm to his former landlady and walked her to her front gate before offering his usual gentlemanly arm to Amanda as well.
Sunday morning. That’s what it felt like. Sunday morning when she didn’t have to get up early, so instead she would lie in bed and drift in and out of a delicious light sleep. It was like floating on the softest goose feathers ever plucked.
Sunday morning, when she awoke in her bed at Forge Cottage, having been escorted home after work the evening before. Sometimes she would walk home, sometimes she would ride in the covered buggy if it was raining. Sometimes William and Millie escorted her, sometimes it was the cook and her husband, sometimes the butler and his wife. Once it had even been Mr and Mrs Marsden themselves. Best of all though was when it was Philip.
Normally it took her twelve minutes on foot, or five in the buggy which had to take a slightly longer route.
She deliberately took longer if she was being walked home by Philip, fifteen minutes if she could get away with dawdling, but they were never alone. No matter who took her home there were always at least one other person. She had asked Philip why, and he had simply said it was to protect her reputation.
She knew her parents trusted Philip implicitly and never considered for one moment that their daughter needed a chaperone when she was with him. Their friends, and indeed nearly everyone who knew them thought much the same, so she wasn’t actually sure from whom he was protecting her honour, but was honoured that he did so.
As she drifted into wakefulness, she thought how different it was today. Oh, they might be together on their own if their paths crossed in the manor, or the village, or in a crowd at the town market, but he never contrived to be alone with her at any other time, yet here they were, just the two of them.
Alone. On a train, miles from home.
© January 2021
[CENTER]Chapter 9 Part 5[/CENTER]
Gradually she became aware of her surroundings as she slowly opened her eyes.
She must have fallen asleep. Opposite her was the same middle-aged couple that had entered the carriage after she and Philip had sat down. The man was looking out of the window, but the lady was looking at her and smiled as she did so.
Philip had been sitting in the middle seat to her right, and had taken her right hand in his left, then placed it on the seat between them. When she awoke, he was still holding her hand, but now it felt different.
When all her senses began to function, she realised that things had changed. This wasn’t like the dull, leaden feeling followed by pins and needles she sometimes got if she somehow fell asleep in an awkward position. This was more like … looking around a room in the dark after the candles had been blown out, and gradually becoming aware of her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. In this case, she was gradually becoming aware of her body, as if parts of it were gradually coming back to life.
Her right hand was no longer in Philip’s left, but in his right, which was now resting palm upwards on his left thigh. To her surprise, she then discovered that her left hand was resting on Philip’s chest, and her head was resting on his shoulder, with his left arm around her, holding her close to him by her upper arm.
Intimate was the word that first popped into her mind. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he had wrapped her up next to him. He had not tried to move her, discourage her, or awaken her. Whatever discomfort he had felt with her lying against him he had endured without protest.
At that moment she felt closer to him than she had ever felt before. She was in love with him, and wanted to tell him right now in that railway carriage, but she knew it would do no good.
She was no longer a child, but she knew he would say she was still too young, and probably still say that they could not be together.
As the train slowed for the final curve into the big city station, she looked up at him and smiled, even though she felt pain inside.
He looked down into her eyes and smiled before kissing her on her forehead, saying, “Hello sleepy head. We need to change trains now”
He didn’t offer an arm as he usually did when he escorted her, but instead took her hand to ensure they did not become separated. He led her along the platform, then over the iron footbridge to the platform where the train to the town near their home would depart.
Finding a vacant bench seat, they both sat and waited. He was still holding her hand. “What was happening?” She thought. Was he going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear? He had been so kind, so gentlemanly … so honourable towards her that she couldn’t help feeling he was about to break her heart, even though it was the last thing he would ever want to do.
When she had told her parents that Philip had not invited anyone else, her mother sat her down and warned her he may be going to tell her bad news. If he was with someone else, or wanted to be with someone else, he would tell her, not let her find out some other way.
After a while she spoke. “What did you tell your landlady? I know I have no right to say, but when she asked you about us, you said something different to your normal answer.”
Looking at the expression on his face she suddenly said, “I, I, oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Leaning towards his friend he said quietly, “We were talking about you, so you have every right to ask, and every right to know what was said.”
Leaning closer still he began, “When she asked me if you were my sweetheart, I said …”
His lips pressed against her thick, red-brown hair, making it tickle her cheek as he did so. It was late afternoon but the air was still warm, yet she shuddered as his hot breath fluttered around inside the shell of her ear as he spoke.
It wasn’t the sudden shrill blast of a locomotive steam whistle that made her jump; it was the two words he breathed into her ear, so close that another person standing next to them could not have heard it.
She went rigid, not wanting or daring to look at him as he broke contact with her before looking at the platform clock, saying, “We have plenty of time yet. There is no rush.”
She remembered very little of the rest of the journey back to the manor. Like an automaton, she got on the train and allowed Philip to hold her hand, got off at the other end and rode home in in the jaunting car driven by William.
Afterwards she couldn’t even remember talking to Millie. She wasn’t even sure she had been there.
That night it took a long time for her to get to sleep, and then only fitfully, remembering over and over again every time she woke those two words that Philip had spoken directly into her ear.
Over and over in her head flashed all her memories of Philip from the day they first met and he had given her some of his toys. How he had saved her when she was attacked. Their friendship ever since.
But now, nothing was ever going to be the same again. Philip, the man she loved, had in saying those two words, changed her life forever.
Her pillow was wet with tears as she eventually fell into a deep sleep.
That night she dreamed a strange dream. When she was younger, her father had been commissioned to make some branding irons for a company that wanted its name burned into every box and packing case that left its manufactory.
For her thirteenth birthday he had made her a branding iron that spelled her name. Despite protests from her mother, he had heated the iron in the forge before running through the cottage and then with a flourish, burned his daughter’s name into her bedroom door.
She remembered the smoke and flame, and tiny bits of charred wood that fell to the floor as he pressed the dull red iron brand into the wood.
In her dream, the letters on her door changed, and instead of her name, her father burned the two words that Philip had spoken, over and over again into hundreds of imaginary doors until she awoke, sweating, sure that she could still smell the fire and see the smoke in her room.
© January 2021
Oooh! A mystery. I wonder what those two words were!
I thought about revealing it in the next (final) chapter, but have decided to add conundrum as an ending instead.
One will be answered in the epilogue, and one in a postscript that will follow it.
'Tis finished. I shall let it brew for another day before giving it a final proof read, and then I’ll post it.