***
Robert was standing in the doorway of the library asMarc and his party were moving down the hall towards the foyer.“Marc, could you spare me five minutes before you go? It’surgent.”
“Politics?” Marc said with a half-smile.
“Only indirectly.”
“Isn’t that usually the case?”
“Alas.”
“Give me a minute to visit the water-closet,”Marc said.
“I’ll wait for you in here, then.”
Marc handed Maggie over to Diana, apologizedto Beth for his being delayed, and then found the smaller hallwaythat led to the water-closet. On his way back, he passed an opendoor and overheard this exchange:
“But if he loves me, why did he insult me bycallin’ out your name?”
“He don’t love you like that, Edie. He don’tlove nobody like that. He’s a nice old gentleman.”
Edie snorted. “You’ve got a lot to learnabout men!”
There was no immediate response to thisremark, and Marc was just about to carry on to the library when heheard a girl’s snuffle that quickly turned to weeping.
“I’m sorry, Betsy. I really am. My mom says Igot a big mouth and a tart tongue. But you are younger thanme, ya know.”
A maid’s tiff, Marc thought, the kind he hadheard often during his childhood on his adoptive uncle’s estate inKent. He sighed, and headed for the library.
***
Robert came straight to the point. “It’s my uncle,Marc. He’s getting to be a problem here and could soon be a biggerone in the city.”
“I don’t follow. How can he be of concern,isolated as he is out here in the countryside?”
Robert frowned and looked decidedlyuncomfortable. But he was not a man to back away from trouble orhis duty. “You saw how he behaved out there.”
“A man in his second childhood, I’d surmise,enjoying the children he didn’t have in his other life.”
“If that were only the whole story . . .”
“Seamus was a lawyer, wasn’t he? And abachelor?”
“He was married as a young man, but his wifedied in childbirth along with the babe. He never remarried.”
“Stuck to the law?”
“Yes. As a solicitor, doing the dog-work fora prestigious firm in Cork. And leading a narrow, monotonous,constricted life, I’m afraid.”
“With a personality unsuited to that kind oflife?”
“In the extreme. My grandfather forbade himto pursue his first love: the stage. Well, last winter he suffereda nervous breakdown of sorts and abruptly retired – alone afterthirty-five years service.”
“He had your family back in Ireland, did henot?”
“Over the years he had become increasinglyestranged from them, and then when he needed them most – ”
“They were not there for him?”
“Something like that.”
“So your father suggested he might as wellcome out to the colony, where a ready-made and loving familyawaited him?”
“My father is as perceptive as he is kind. Hebelieved that because he and Uncle Seamus were close as childrenand he had known him well that my children and their many friendswould be the tonic he needed to restart his life. After a furiousexchange of letters and exhortations, he agreed to emigrate.”
“And it’s obvious, is it not, that the fellowloves children. And yours are out here every weekend and a gooddeal of the summertime. So what’s the problem?” Marc had a prettygood idea what the problem was, but he was hoping against hope thathe was mistaken.
Robert smiled grimly. “I don’t believe for asecond that you did not see the inappropriateness of some of hisbehaviour today.”
“It looked to me as if the girl deliberatelyleaned into him,” Marc said carefully.
“Perhaps. But it was he who invited the maidto play and he knew full well who he was grappling with. He hasplayed this parlour game before, and he can see quite well throughthat fake blindfold.”
“And you think his hands lingered a bit toolong where they shouldn’t have?”
Robert sighed. “He does a ventriloquist actat parties, using Edie or Betsy as his dummy, sitting on his kneeand flapping their lips whenever he pokes them in the back. I mustadmit it’s hilarious, and our guests love it and the girls,especially Edie, don’t seem to mind. But good Lord, Marc, the manis sixty years old! And my housemaids are barely sixteen!”
“Perhaps you need to talk to him. Clear theair. Set some limits on his behaviour.”
“You’re right. And my father and I wantnothing more than to do just that. But we’re also fearful ofundoing the gains he has made thus far in restoring his mental andphysical health. He was deeply depressed and melancholic when hefirst arrived. But after that display today, we may have no otherchoice.”
“Perhaps you could replace the maids withmore mature servants.”
“You don’t really mean that, do you?”
Robert knew his friend too well. Both he andMarc felt strongly about employing girls whose family life andgrinding poverty made escape their only option. Edie Barr and BetsyThurgood were the daughters of nearby mill-hands, who themselvesled a hardscrabble existence. Robert would no more think of sendinghis young servants home penniless any more than Marc would havereturned Charlene Huggan (now Mrs. Hogg) to her abusive father inCobourg.
“No, of course not,” Marc said, sitting down.To this point the two men had been standing beside the big mahoganytable that dominated the book-lined room. Robert joined him. “Butif it is even remotely possible that your uncle has a prurientinterest in these girls, then you must act to protect them. Theyare in a real sense your wards.”
“That’s what has made the past few weeks soagonizing for my father and me. We are devout Christians, and wetake the guardianship of those in our care as a solemnresponsibility. So far we have made certain that my uncle’s contactwith the servants is formal and usually within sight ofothers.”
Marc was tempted to mention the conversationhe had just overheard, but felt it was unfair to prejudice eitherBetsy or Edie on the basis of a twenty-second bit of dialogue forwhich he had no context. Besides, Robert already had his suspicionsabout the potential improprieties. Instead, he said, “You hintedearlier in the hall that there was an indirect politicalimplication in this business. I don’t see any except thepossibility that a scandal might occur that would tarnish the magicof the Baldwin name among Reformers in the province.”
“I plan to make sure that does not happen,but there is a further and more imminent issue.”
“And that is?”
Robert reached for the macaroon dish healways kept to hand and whose contents he used like worry beads.“Uncle Seamus wants to help out in chambers. The truth is he is nolonger melancholy, but simply bored.”
“But I thought he liked the outdoors: hikingand trout fishing and that sort of thing.”
“He does. And with duck and goose huntingcoming up, I figured he’d be well amused. But not so. He’sdetermined, he says, to pay his way.”
“But I assumed it was the law thatdrove him nearly crazy,” Marc said.
“True, but he feels he needs to earn hiskeep,” Robert said with a resigned sigh. “He knows that you and Iand my cousin Bob are increasingly involved in politics, leavingthe day to day running of the firm in the overworked hands ofPeachey and our clerks. I don’t see how I can refuse his offer. Sofar I’ve put him off by saying that we won’t need extra help untilthe assizes begin in two weeks. He’s agreed to wait.”