Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

At five o’clock, dispirited and groggy, Cobbwent home to the comforts of his wife and family. He hoped that hissurprise visit to Oakwood Manor after supper would prove moreproductive than his afternoon had been.

***

Before going on to his meeting at Baldwin House,Marc took a few minutes to visit Brodie in jail. Calvin Strangway,a humane jailer, had given Brodie a large cell with a southernexposure and a good-sized window. Celia and Diana had already beenthere, bringing extra bedding and food. Marc was able to reassureBrodie that the several ongoing lines of investigation should, inthe least, turn up enough evidence to throw doubt on the case andsee him released in the morning. Marc was not as confident as helet on, but he felt constrained to cheer up the young man, wholooked glum and uncharacteristically fearful.

At Baldwin House, Marc joined Francis Hincksin Robert’s chamber for a high-level consultation. With just overtwo weeks till the Legislature opened (the Governor had just sentout the call), Robert wanted to assess their progress. PoulettThomson had been meeting with the Tories, Orangemen and moderateconservatives whenever they became available – wining, dining, andotherwise plumping their vulnerable egos. He had taken great painsto give the appearance of shunning the Reformers, while meeting insecret with them and their envoys.

“So, where do we stand, vote-wise?” Hinckssaid, getting right to the point.

“We appear to have seven or eight of themoderates onside,” Robert said with his customary caution. “Enoughfor a comfortable majority on the main question. They’ll vote as ablock.”

“What about amendments?” Hincks said. “TheTories will certainly try to emasculate the union by tacking on adozen crippling amendments.”

“Uncertain, I’m afraid, because we don’t yetknow what they might be – though we can guess.”

“We’ll have to play them day by day, then, asthe debate progresses.”

“Which is why we need all the help we can getonce the Legislature opens. Our men in the Assembly don’t have yoursilver tongue, Francis. We’ll need to prompt them daily and feedHis Excellency his lines if he is to keep the pressure on.” Robertlooked at Marc.

“Which puts me in somewhat of a bind,” Marcsaid. “It’s just possible that Brodie will be charged with aserious offence.”

“I know,” Robert said. “And if he is, I wantyou to devote all your time and energies to defending him. We’llget along without you as best we can.”

Marc knew how difficult it was for Robert tomake such a concession, given the total commitment he had made toresolving the current political impasse and ensuring the futureviability of the province.

“Thank you. I just pray it doesn’t come tothat.”

“Me, too. Brodie is a sterling young man, andno murderer.”

Hincks was poring over the roster of Assemblymembers. “I think we could add Cecil Marshman to ourmoderates.”

“He’s way off in Windsor, alas.”

Hincks sat back, flashed his winning Irishsmile, and said to Robert with a twinkle in his eye, “You know, ofcourse, how the Governor is winning these conservatives over andmollifying the high Tories, don’t you?”

Robert sighed. “I’m afraid I do. Without adoubt he’s been assuring them that if they vote for the union ofthe two provinces or refrain from gutting the bill with amendments,he will make certain that as long as he’s the vice-regent here,there will be no bending to the will of any future Reform majorityin the Assembly and no infringement on his absolute right to choosehis own cabinet.”

“While assuring us that in practice,as time goes by, he will find himself doing the opposite,” Hincksadded. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, why we’re going along withthe charade and skulking about our own streets like saboteurs?”

This brought a brief smile to Robert’s face.“We have no choice but to move one step at a time. The Union Billis step one. At present we are a weak minority in the Assembly, eh?There’ll be no new election until after the union – which will come if Britain has its way, now or very soon – but wehave no real power until then.”

Hincks’ face lit up, and Marc observed withsome awe how handsome and winning he really was when his heart andmind were fully engaged. “And what His Excellency doesn’t know, orisn’t admitting, is that after the union there’s every chance thatLouis LaFontaine will bring his French rouge members into acoalition with us. Then we’ll see whether this or the next governorwill have the courage to resist the inevitability of a home-grown,responsible cabinet-government.”

“You’ve heard from Louis again?” Robert said,surprised.

“I have. He’s hoping to come here to meetwith us in February or March, after the Union Bill passes. In themeantime he is continuing to speak against the terms of the bill,as he must, given their inherent unfairness.”

“That’s good news. And news we’ve got to keepunder our hats.”

Robert poured them each a brandy, and theytoasted Louis LaFontaine.

***

Sir Peregrine Shuttleworth and Lady MadeleineShuttleworth knew how to impress the natives. The dining-room table- resplendent with gold-leaf candelabra, rococo serving-dishes,gleaming porcelain, and silverware too beautiful for use – groanedwith “light supper fare”: roasted quail and partridge, glazed hams,stuffed rabbit, a thick-crusted game pie, smoked whitefish,steaming tureens of gravy and piquant sauces, and a tray ofsweetbreads. All of which was to be washed down with chilledchampagne and other exotic vintages. A white-jacketed servantanticipated every need and satisfied it with elegant dispatch.Seated at table, as honoured guests, were Cyrus and ClementineCrenshaw, Horace Fullarton, and Andrew Dutton. Sir Peregrineoccupied the chair at the head of the table and did his best toplay lord of the manor, but it was Lady Madeleine, at the foot ofthe table, who attracted the most attention, overt andotherwise.

She was a striking woman in every respect. Atthirty-six, she had maintained the willowy proportions of heryouthful figure – merely by adding inches in equal measure to eachof her maturing feminine curves. Two of the latter were audaciouslydisplayed in a low-cut sateen gown of a shimmering green hue with aprovocative yellow bow winking at its waist. Attempting to tame herflaming curls was a diamond tiara that glittered like a profanehalo and framed her heart-shaped, delicately featured face. It washer brown eyes and milky skin, however, in contrast with the bushelof red hair that drew libidinous glances from the twice-widowedAndrew Dutton and the well-married Cyrus Crenshaw, and compelledHorace Fullarton to find less volatile objects to rest his gazeupon. Clemmy Crenshaw also found her gaze settling upon Lady Mad(as Sir P. fondly referred to her), though more in envy than inlust.

Clemmy herself was a forty-five-year-oldwoman of ample proportions, which she unwisely tried to disguisewith a garish frock two sizes too small for the package it wasmeant to encompass. Her plain brown hair had been steamed intorebellious ringlettes, which gave an effect not so much of feminineallure as of permanent fright. Her freckled complexion had beenover-powdered and much-rouged, and her eyebrows startled into adouble arch. The latter merely emphasized the hazel eyes, whosepupils seemed to bulge outward as if propelled by belladonna. “Oh,what a gorgeous table!” she had cried upon entering the dining-room- in a voice that tended to wobble from a trumpet to a screech. “Itis positively mellifluent!”

Before the meal, Sir P. (as all and sundrywere urged to call the baronet in the spirit of camaraderie) hadgiven his guests the royal tour of Oakwood Manor, commenting withamiable condescension upon its many glories, and once being so goodas to mention the role that “Horace” had played in its design. Ofthe numerous, impoverished in-laws, there had been no sign: theynot only inhabited their specially constructed wing, they wereapparently sealed within it. The pièce de resistance , ofcourse, had been the ballroom converted into a temporary theatrefor the proposed production of scenes from Shakespeare’s Dream. “I think of this space as our Blackfriars,” Sir P.had quipped, alluding to the Bard’s own intimate, in-doorplayhouse.