Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Coat

An extremely handsome coach had met them at the boat landing, and they rode in comfort through the streets of Kingston as night fell. The coach ascended a hill overlooking the army camp north of the town, then spiralled down to a pleasant valley at the foot of the hills that rose to the east into the Blue Mountains.

The house they came to on a shell drive was huge, islandbuilt imitation Palladian but with a veranda all about it. Light gleamed from the front rooms and over thirty carriages already stood in the shadows of the trees.

Once in the foyer Lewrie began to almost purr in delight. There was a large salon aglow in candlelight as large as any he had seen in London. Perhaps the trim work was not as fine, but the drapes and the furnishings were top quality and in impeccable taste. And the salon was crowded with people; civilians in their finery, naval officers in blue and white, army and Marine officers in red, planters in velvet and silk and broadcloth. And women. Women of every imaginable type, done up in silk, lace, velvet, satin and damask, their bell-shaped gowns all trimmed with flowers and embroidered panels, their bosoms hitched up in tight-fitting bodices, lace sleeves and fine wigs. Jewels shone in flattering candlelight, and eyes were already flashing.

The butler introduced them to no special notice from the crowd, which was intent on their own conversations, or the delights of the groaning buffets or wine tables. ’James. How good to see you after all these years," their host said upon spotting Kenyon. ’Richard," Kenyon replied. "Rather, Sir Richard, now!’

‘Pox on that, it's still Dick to you," Sir Richard Slade said. ’And who are these two scamps? Yours?" He winked. "My midshipmen, Dick," Kenyon said. "Thaddeus Purnell.’

’ Not Alexander Purnell's boy?’

‘Aye, sir," Tad said, surprised. ’Knew your father well, used to do a lot of trading through Bristol." Sir Richard beamed. ’Midshipman Alan Lewrie." Kenyon continued. ’Your servant, Sir Richard," Alan said, making a leg. What a Macaroni, he thought; must be fifty guineas for his duds but he's too old for them by half…

Sir Richard Slade sported heavy dark blue breeches made of velvet, and an extremely flared coat of powder blue satin, sprigged with fanciful gilt braids and button trim, gilt buttons everywhere, tight sleeves and huge pockets. His waistcoat was gold silk with elaborate floral embroidery. In spite of the heat he wore a huge floured wig. His shoes were even high-heeled in the French style, and his buckles seemed paved with brilliants. Altogether, the image of a man with too much money and not enough clothes sense.

His handshake was also as limp as a dead halibut. Lewrie felt an instant revulsion and wondered where Kenyon had made friends with such a coxcomb. Reminds me of Gerald and all his Molly friends. ’The pleasures of my house are yours, gentlemen," Sir Richard told them. "James, come, let us catch up on things. It has been too long since we've talked.’

’Enjoy yourselves," Kenyon told them. "Within reason. ’

‘If you are allowed, why do you not all stay over tonight and accept the hospitality of my home?" Sir Richard asked. "I'll have Cassius arrange some rooms for you.’

’Aye, but let me send a message to my mate," Kenyon said. A servant was there in a moment, and another younger boy in livery to steer Kenyon to a study, where he could pen some orders for Claghorne. This left Lewrie and Purnell alone, so they wandered off toward the buffets and the wine tables. ’Odd sort," Lewrie said. "Knows your family, does he?’

‘I suppose. But there are so many traders out here we deal with. I'll have to write Father about him. ’

‘Well, let's get some wine aboard, and see what the buffet has to offer. Oh, Lord, look at the 'cat-heads' on that woman!" Purnell stared openmouthed at a slim woman in her thirties who sported a pair of breasts that looked as large and firm as apples, half her globes swelling above her gown and thrust forward proudly. They almost could make out a hint of her rosy aureoles. ’My, yes," Tad breathed, close to fingering his crotch. "Don't do that, they'll all want some," Lewrie warned him, seeing his strangled expression. ’Do you… think tonight has possibilities?’

‘Definitely." Lewrie smirked, worldly-wise. ’I see no young ladies my age." Tad frowned. ’And damned lucky you are, at that. Last thing you want is a young girl. Hold hands, giggle, and that's all.’

’Db?" "Half these ladies are escorted by officers or husbands who could have you flogged to death if you even breathed on 'em. Now that leaves about half to choose from. Older ladies have a great fascination with younger men, Tad," Lewrie said, piling tasty morsels onto a plate. "And should one of those take a fancy to you. while her husband is off doing something grand for King and Country, and discover that it's your first time, I swear you may not survive her kindness.’

’Oh, I didn't consider a married lady, Alan. That would be a sin. I thought we'd find a young whore. I mean, doing it with a married lady would be a mortal sin." Tad fidgeted. ’Would it be a sin with a widow?" Lewrie asked. nibbling on some shrimp as they grazed their way down the long foodladen table. ’Well… I'm not sure." Tad fidgeted some more. ’There are all kinds of widows, Purnell. This hock is iced, by God. Marvelous. ’

‘You were talking about widows," Tad said. taking a glass of wine without caring what it was. "Well, some have lost their mates to the Grim Reaper, naturally," Lewrie said, leading him to a quiet corner where they could munch and drink without being trampled by the crowd, "but there are some widows who have lost their husbands… some become enamored of someone prettier, or younger, or they have chased after their careers or money or a peerage to the total exclusion of their wives' happiness. They have committed the greatest sin you can inflict on a woman still ripe and comely, Tad. They have shunned them, ignored them, denied them.’

’Well, I suppose, if the husband was really tired of her… ’

‘Consider a woman who enjoys a romp, and affection and loving, all the folderol… being cast aside like an orange that has been sucked dry. There is a woman who is as much a widow as the natural kind, mourning the loss of everything she staked her life on, and some of them are just aching to get their own back. Somewhere here; tonight, Tad, there are women exactly like that, just waiting to find a strapping little chub like you," Lewrie beguiled, nigh mystically.

Purnell's eyes cut about the room. He finished his wine in two sips. "But what if she doesn't find me attractive, or I don't like her, or something?’

‘We shall do our best for you, Tad. Now go slow on the wine. You need oysters and some of those spicy kickshaws to raise the heat of your blood. And we can chat up a few now, 'cause we're going to get seated far below the salt at this party.’

Their end of the long table was definitely below the salt. The rich, the high-ranking and the glittering were near the head of the dining room on either side of Sir Richard and Lord Cantner in plum satin, and his wife, who was a raven beauty with an adventurous look to her eyes. No wonder the old monkey brought her, Lewrie thought; were she my wife I wouldn't let her out of the room by herself…

Their closest dinner companions were less impressive socially, an older couple from the Customs, a magistrate and his wife, a matron named Gordon with her daughter, both of whom would serve, if one didn't mind "country-puts.’

Purnell was seated next to a sleepy old gentleman said to be some sort of banker-it didn't matter much because he could barely open an eye to survey his plate. But on Purnell's other side was a lean older woman named Mrs. Hillwood who at one time must have been a great blond beauty. During the course of conversation they learned that her "lawful blanket" was off in the wilds inland doing plantation-type things, and had been for some months. To Alan's left was a woman named Haymer, a short, plump and fetching woman in her late thirties, Lewrie guessed, done up nicely in white taffeta with burgundy ribbons and flounces. It seemed her husband was also off on business in the Americas. Hmm… possibles? Alan thought.