Julian Stockwin - Artemis

He ground his teeth with frustration. 'The adverb (Lat. adverbium) as the attribute of an attribute doth occur in divers forms, cf adverbiation, the phraseological adverb . . .' What possible value could that be to anyone in real life? To a sailor, for instance, out there on a topsail yardarm in a blow, fisting the madly flogging canvas to a reef while the ship rolled wildly. He leant back in vivid recollection. And what would Stirk say if at quarters, the gun loaded and run out, he reminded him, 'It is of the first importance to apprehend the singular difference between the two distinct families of nouns — the nomen substantium the first, the nomen adjectivum the second. On no account should these be confused . . .' He smiled at the thought.

'Then you do not find your lot uncongenial?' He had not noticed Renzi entering the littie classroom.

'Be damned — how this mumping rogue c'n cackle his grease like this, I'm beggared t' know.'

Renzi's eyes softened. 'A utile article will always prove perdurant to the mind,' he said enigmatically. Kydd threw him a frosty glance and bent again to his book.

'I proceed to town this afternoon. There are some articles I must have when — when I return aboard. Do you wish anything for the school?' Kydd looked up. Renzi was saddened at the bleakness in his expression. Kydd's family future was now secure, but the family's only son most surely was not intended to be a crabby pedagogue.

'Thank ye, no,' Kydd replied, and quickly bent to his work.

Renzi left noiselessly. There were now only days left on his ticket-of-leave, at which point he must go and, in accordance with his resolve, for good.

The bookshop still had not the new Wordsworth in stock, and he turned to leave.

'Why, Mr Renzi, what a pleasure.' Renzi faced a well-proportioned woman in the latest high-waisted fashion and fussily ornate reticule, her face just a little too ruddy for the elegance of her attire. It crossed his mind that this was one of the mothers who entrusted her child to the Kydd school — her name eluded him — and he politely inclined his head.

Her eyes roamed over his austere black, and an impish smile appeared. 'You are a man of mystery, I do declare, Mr Renzi,' she said, eyes a-twinkle. 'You appear suddenly from nowhere, and not a soul knows aught of you! Pray, where are you spending your leisure?'

Daryton, that was her name. And with a daughter to provide for, he remembered with sudden caution. 'Do not, I beg, concern yourself on my account, Mrs Daryton,' said Renzi coolly, 'I have reasons enough to visit this charming town, but when these are concluded I must return.'

There was a brief hesitation, but then she continued brightly, 'Yet even the man of business must seek diversion, or the spirit must wither.' Her eyes remained watchfully on his.

He allowed a brief smile to show, then bowed and made to leave.

'Oh, Mr Renzi,' she called, 'it has just this moment crossed my mind - silly me, it seems I may have omitted to let you know — that we are holding an assembly next Tuesday. Mr Budsoe will perform on the flute and Miss Eccles has promised her new poem for me on that very night. Can you find it in your heart to forgive my lapse and accept my invitation? I know Letitia is beside herself to meet you.'

No doubt, thought Renzi wryly. He opened his mouth to refuse, then found himself saying, 'Indeed. May I inquire who will be attending?'

'Why, His Worship, of course,' she began.

The mayor must have been a coup for her, Renzi mused.

'And Major Summers of the militia, Mr Beddle - the one that owns the mill, not the other one — and . . .'

'Quite so,' said Renzi smoothly, 'and of course Mr and Mrs Kydd,' he added, without change of tone.

Mrs Daryton stopped, shocked. 'A tradesman! Mr Renzi, you . . .'

'. . . who now owns the new town school, a man of business, a professional gentleman,' he continued. 'But he was . . .'

'And who is considering extending his holdings to a Godalming establishment of the same nature in the future, I understand,' Renzi continued, inspecting his cuffs disdainfully.

'My reputation . . .'

'. . . who some would consider it folly to disregard.'

Mrs Daryton stared at Renzi with barely concealed frustration, then began with finality, 'Mr Renzi, I cannot—'

Renzi drew himself upright. 'Mrs Daryton, I thank you for your kind invitation — I will consult my engagements, and hope they will allow me to accept.' He fixed her eye with an uncompromising determination.

'Very well, Mr Renzi,' she stuttered.

Renzi relaxed his expression. 'I do recall, however, that in the event, Tuesday will be available to me, Mrs Daryton.' She returned his gaze with puzzlement — even a small country town had its delicate social snobberies of which pedagogy came perilously low on the social scale, and just where did Renzi fit in the scheme of things with his effortiess sophistication?

It would, of course, be expected that a daughter of marriageable age attend, and therefore it would be impossible to refuse the son - Renzi felt a twinge of amusement at the thought of Kydd in a social situation, but this was his future, and it was the least he could do to set him up in this way. The Darytons were some sort of merchants, he couldn't quite recall, and therefore the occasion would not be high, but it would serve to set the Kydds one step up on the social scale.

'They have a son and daughter, I believe,' Renzi said.

'But of course,' said Mrs Daryton faintly. 'But was he not at one time a common sailor?' she added more strongly.

'He was most untimely taken up by the press, if that is your understanding,' Renzi admonished, 'and now he has been able to establish his credentials and return to the bosom of his family.'

'How dreadful,' she replied, eyes wide.

'Until Tuesday eve,' Renzi prompted unctuously.

'Tuesday, then, Mr Renzi.'

The hired carriage ground on briskly towards Merrow Downs, the four passengers in a companionable crush inside. Mr Kydd had a slightly bemused air, Cecilia was serene, and Mrs Kydd fidgeted with the fan in her lap. 'Do remember, Cecilia, that it is not seemly to be seen to accept a dance with a gennelman too quick. When he says, "Do you want a dance?" you make him wait,' said Mrs Kydd.

Cecilia flashed a guarded look of amusement at Renzi, sitting opposite, and murmured, 'I will remember, Mama.'

Renzi returned a faint smile, knowing the impossibility of conveying the Byzantine subtleties of social interplay to someone without the breeding to have absorbed it from birth. He felt sure, however, that Cecilia could be relied upon to give a spirited account of herself. 'I rather fancy that the formalities in this instance will not necessarily be observed to the full,' Renzi said. That would certainly be the case — discreet enquiries had revealed that the Darytons had done well only recently in the coach trade to Brighton, and had since set up in a fine house out of town.

'I just know I should have worn the mauve crepe,' fretted Mrs Kydd. 'Cambric will not answer, but it is the fashion — what will Mrs Daryton think?'

'Now, Mama, please don't fuss. Think of the hours we spent at the needle and goffering iron. We are now in the first rank of the fancy. Set your cares at rest and enjoy yourself tonight, dear Mama/

The carriage swayed at a corner. 'Tell the driver to have a care, Walter,' Mrs Kydd instructed, shrilly. Mr Kydd obediently banged at the roof. An upside-down face suddenly appeared at the window, grinning devilishly; the ladies screamed.

'T-take care, if you please, driver,' Mr Kydd said to the apparition.

'Aye aye, sir!' said the boatswain, and winked at Cecilia but remained inverted, grinning inanely.

'Mr Perrott, you are in drink,' said Mrs Kydd frostily.