Iain Pears - An Instance of the Fingerpost

“Oh no,” she said. “He knows me too well to think me capable of ruining my prospects by such an indiscretion.”

“May I know the name of your benefactor?”

“Of course. Everyone else does. He is my Lord of Bristol, an entertaining and well-placed favorite of the king’s, if rather old. I caught him at Tunbridge, so you see I have great reason to be grateful to you. I was there scarcely a day before I received a message asking to meet me. I pleased him as best I could, and kept him entertained, and thought that was that. The next thing I know, he wants my company back in London, and offers a handsome incentive.”

“Is he in love with you?”

“Goodness, no. But he is hot-blooded where his wife is an old prune, and he is mortally afraid of disease. It was all her idea; she spotted me in the street first of all and drew his attention to me.”

She wagged her finger at me. “You look about to launch into a sermon, Jack Prestcott. Do desist, I pray you, or you will vex me. You are too virtuous to do anything but disapprove strongly, but what would you have me do? I sell my body for my little bit of wealth and comfort. All around there are priests and ministers who sell their souls for theirs. I am in good company, and one more sinner among such a throng will hardly be noticed. I tell you, Jack, virtue is a lonely state in this age.”

I hardly knew what to say to this frank expression of depravity. I could not approve of her, but I was disinclined to condemn, for that would have meant an end to our acquaintance and, despite everything, her company pleased me. All the more so because, to show off her good fortune, she ordered the best food and wine, and insisted I eat as much as my stomach could hold and my head endure. All the while she talked to me of town gossip, and of her lover’s inexorable rise at court so that (she said) he was a serious rival to Lord Clarendon in the king’s favor.

“Of course, Clarendon is powerful,” she said, affecting to know all the secret dealings of the government. “But all the world knows that his ponderous gravity drives the king to distraction, while the gayness of Lord Bristol keeps His Majesty amused. And this is a king who always sacrifices on the altar of amusement. So Lord Clarendon is vulnerable; it will not take much to eject him, and then I will be the second whore in the kingdom, after Lady Castlemaine. It’s a pity my lord is a papist, as that is a great hindrance to him, but even that can be overcome, perhaps.”

“You think any of this might happen?” I asked, fascinated despite myself. It is odd how gossip of the high and mighty exercises such interest.

“Oh, yes. I hope so. For Lord Clarendon’s sake as much as anything.”

“I hardly think he will thank you for your solicitude.”

“He should,” she said, seriously for a moment. “Truly he should. For I have heard worrying tales. He has annoyed many powerful people and some are less peaceable and generous than my lord. If he does not fall from power, I fear worse may befall him one day.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Fall he will, but he is an old man and that is only natural. But he will always be rich and mighty and favored. Such people as he, who never raise a sword nor put their courage to the test, always survive and prosper while better men fall by the wayside.”

“Oho,” she said. “Spoken from the heart, I would say. Is this why you are in London?”

I had forgotten I had told her of my quest, and nodded. “I was here to enquire after a man called Sir Samuel Mor-land. Have you ever heard of him?”

“I believe I have. Is he not a man who concerns himself with mechanical devices? He often approaches people at court trying to beg influence for some scheme.”

“Does he have any strong patrons?” I asked. It is always well to know what you are dealing with; it would be alarming to discover that the man you wish to attack is defended by someone far more powerful.

“Not that I know of. I believe he is associated in some way with schemes for draining fenland, so he may know the Duke of Bedford, but more than that I could not say. Do you want me to find out? It would be easy enough to do, and a pleasure to oblige.”

“I would be deeply grateful.”

“Then that is all the encouragement I need. It shall be done. Would you care to come to my lodging this evening? I attend my Lady Castlemaine in the morning, and my lord in the afternoon, but the evenings are my own, and I am free to receive whomever I like. That is our understanding, and I must invite people, if only to show that I am keeping him to our agreement.”

“It would be a pleasure.”

“And now, I hope you are refreshed and prepared, as I must leave you.”

I stood up and bowed deeply to thank her for her kindness, and was bold enough to kiss her hand. She laughed with merriment. “Stop, sir,” she said. “You are being deceived by appearances.”

“Not at all,” I said. “You are more a lady than many I have met.”

She blushed and made fun of me to cover her pleasure at the compliment. Then she swept out of the room, accompanied by the little black servant given to her as a present and who had been there throughout our interview. Her lord was easygoing and gracious, she said, but there was no need to risk his displeasure unnecessarily.

Itwas already darkening, and cold, so I passed the hours in a coffee shop near St. Paul’s, reading the journals and listening to the conversation of others, which filled me anew with disgust for the city and its inhabitants. So much bravado, so much bragging, so much time wasted in idle, foolish talk designed for nothing but to impress their fellows and impose on their betters by pretense. Gossip in the town is a commodity, to be bought and sold; if it is not possessed, then it is fabricated, like coiners make specie out of dross. I was at least undisturbed, for no man there sought my company and I was truly glad it was so; while others now habitually frequent these shops, and lower themselves in what they call good company, I shun the vulgar and public places.

The time passed, if only slowly, and eventually the hour of my appointment came. I was apprehensive of the meeting, despite our differing stations in life which should have ensured my comfortable superiority. But London is corrosive to deference. Who you are is less important than what you seem; a fraudster of no family can impose himself on a gentleman from an ancient line simply by being better dressed and having a winning manner. For my part, I would reestablish the rules the great Queen insisted upon; no merchant should be allowed to dress as a gentleman, and should pay the price for any impudent imitation, for it is fraud and should be punished as such, just as it is fraud for whores to disguise their nature.

Vice had brought great rewards in Kitty’s case and, though I was loath to admit that good can come from bad, she lived in a fashion which showed a great deal of what we are now taught to call gout. I am glad, I must say, that we English are still robust enough to need to borrow words from the French for such nonsense. While many of her fellow laborers for Venus would have flaunted the spoils of conquest, she lived simply, with solid oak furniture, rather than the gilded stuff of the foreigner; simple arras on the walls to keep in the warmth, not some gaudy tapestry. The only piece of gross vanity was a portrait of herself on one wall, impudently matched to one of her lord on the opposite, as though they were husband and wife. That, I felt, was insulting, but she assured me when she saw my disapproval, that it was a gift and she could do no other.

“Jack,” she said when we had greeted each other and sat down, “I must talk to you seriously for a moment.”