Not Dead Yet: A British Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1-3, page 56
“I most certainly will not,” he snarled, filling my heart with joy, and he pointed his cane to within an inch of Rotheby’s nose, “and I will see you, woman beater, in Hyde Park at sunrise.”
There was an escalation of noise at that and I slinked back beside Rotheby and watched as Fitzgibbon stomped away. “Awfully sorry, old boy, I tried my best.”
Rotheby’s eyes were glazed and he spoke in monotone. “Jack, what the bloody hell just happened?” In some eerie premonition of what was to come, his handkerchief had at some point fallen to the floor. It was smudged red with port, which made it look all the more symbolic and I considered stooping to retrieve the cloth as it had real potential for an art piece in my study.
I sighed and looked remorseful, “it looks like you’re going to have to fight a duel, George.” I placed my arm around him, offering comfort, consolation. “But don’t fret about that … fought in one of those myself, did you know … made my name, it did, and neither are they too taxing, just aim for the nob and squeeze. How the folly hell do you know hop-along anyway?”
“But I didn’t do it, Jack,” he groaned, “and I really think I could have made him see sense but he just wouldn’t have it.”
I sighed sympathetically, “you don’t know that oaf like I, my friend, and unfortunately, when the man’s mind is made up… but don’t worry, I’ll be your second … no, no, I insist, I have experience in these matters, you see.”
He was still staring blankly forwards. “Oh, how ever will I get myself out of this one.” He began to swoon so I helped him into an adjacent empty hallway and plonked him on a bench.
I sat beside him. “Now, George, I’ll tell you this straight because I know you’d expect nothing less from me but the situation is that you’ve been accused of thrashing bloody,” my words made him wince, “the wife of a lord of the realm. No, no, let me finish, because the truth is that, although I know you to be the innocent party, that’s not how these things work and you know it.” I took out my kerchief and offered it to my friend, which he accepted. “When word gets out, and it will, then this event’ll likely embarrass the Queen too … oh, She’ll be kept out of it, all right, but still, George, you’re on Her payroll and that … that ogre dishonoured Her as much as he did you.”
“Oh, we can’t have that, Jack,” he sniffed, “Her Majesty, can’t be shamed, especially not on my account.”
“I know how fond of dear Vicky you are, George, and your devotion to Her service is commendable, but it’s not just that, you see, but that so-called gentleman has bandied about the accusations, insults and charges of degradation, brutality and degeneracy to the extent that were you to back down, George,” and I placed a friendly hand upon his knee, “then I’m afraid it would appear to everybody, Her Majesty included, that all of those nasty things were true … that Lord George Rotheby, of formerly good standing, would thrash another man’s wife, leave her beaten and bloody, and all because she rejected his advances.”
He whipped around, “but Jack, I didn’t…!”
“I know, I know, but try telling that to Colonel Fitzgibbon, not to mention the whole bloody court out there,” I waved elaborately toward the other room, from where the music and dancing and drinking had recommenced. “You wish to show your face in society again, George?”
He blew his nose. “Of course, Jack.”
“Well then, I’m afraid we have no choice.”
He sighed into his hands, “and I thought so highly of him. Oh, Jack, is there really no way out of it? You ought to know.” There was a flicker of hope in that poor sweet voice.
“That’s not the attitude to take right now, George, but instead you must be a man and prepare for the inevitable.” I rubbed my chin and considered for a moment. “But … as your second, I will visit with the colonel on the morrow … see what I can do.”
He spluttered tears. “Oh, I say, that would be capital, Jack. You’re a true friend.”
I arrived early at his Mayfair residence and was presented by a footman. For once, Georgette was showing at least some sense and was staying out of the way.
Fitzgibbon was seated in the room’s centre, half reclining back and covered by a white sheet as a manservant stooped over his whiskers, applying what had to be tar with a small brush. The stench in the room was appalling, some curious mix of fish, the bones of which remained on a plate upon the table, and a pot of black sludge that bubbled on a flame beside the steward, who now dipped the brush within to coat the bristles with the viscous substance.
“I will kill this bloody man for trying to rut my wife,” Fitzgibbon growled, his aid twitched away slightly as he spoke, “and woe betide any man who attempts the same.”
I suppressed a shudder.
“Why are you here, man, you come to try and talk me out of it?” He lifted his head and some black gunk dripped over the sheet. “Because you can’t! My poor wife’s been cut to shreds.”
Attempting to talk him out of it was the last thing I’d ever contemplate, in fact, I was still delighted such an opportunity had presented itself. To think of the effort I’d spent avoiding this one soldier so I wouldn’t be sent on yet more crazy adventures and that ultimately, his demise would come so easy, with barely an effort on my part and best of all, without any risk to my person. When it was done his widow would require consoling, some hard, vigorous consoling, and I’d be on hand, gallant as ever, to offer my services.
It was hard not to be distracted as the tar-covered brush went to work stiffening the right side of that crazy moustache, the left was already completed and protruded outwards from his cheek far beyond the man’s shoulder, but I concentrated and said my piece. “I came straight from his lordship, sir, and just needed to ensure the job’s still on. Might I also suggest, sir, that because you so shrewdly proclaimed the venue of your quasi-illegal activity to the entire court, that it might be wise counsel to change site. Might I suggest Hampstead Heath. Now, it is my duty to inform you that I shall be acting as your opponent’s second in this matter and has his lordship chosen one for himself, sir, so that we might set about preparations?”
“I have,” he shouted, as was his manner, the silly deaf sod, “Sheehan will act for me.”
“Ah,” now, that might be a problem. The newly gazetted Captain Sheehan spoke with a silver tongue but worse than that, he was a bit too compassionate for my liking, especially when it came to such matters. He wasn’t on Murphy’s level, of course, but he was far more capable, and I worried my Irish friend might somehow make both men see sense.
“Ah? … Ah? Is that all you have to say, Strapper?” I wasn’t fast enough to respond and he jumped in too quickly. “I’ve a mission for you.” He looked up again, disturbing his aid’s work, though this time I was sure it was to get a good squint at my clock whilst delivering this monstrous news. “When the morning’s business is done…” he continued, somewhat presumptuously, “I’ll get to the paperwork but the long and short of it is that you’re to take a small squad scouting west of Oxford and into the Cotswolds. Find out if the dead have managed to cross the Avon and if so, well, you know what to do.” He was still watching me but I’d become pretty good at remaining unreadable, especially when on the inside I was dissolving like a Paddy’s sobriety. I blamed bureaucracy and that it took many months for a piece of paper, notably my commission, to transfer from one building to another. He placed his head back against the recliner and then surprised me with something even worse. “Oh, perhaps I should call off this silly duel? Been thinking about it, see, and the man didn’t have at her in the end. Perhaps I’m being too hard on the fellow … heavier on the tar, man, it’s drooping on the right like the French flank at Waterloo. What do you think, Strapper?”
“I’d say more tar, sir.”
“I mean about the bloody duel, you damned silly fool.”
I wasn’t having this, not one bit. “Sir,” I rasped, “the man attempted to have his way with your wife! That poor woman’s covered in cuts, or so I hear, lacerations, slashes and scars. I say, but that’s some rare fancy the man has.”
He leaned forwards again and gave me a look of utter distaste. “And you’re the fellow’s second, you say?” He asked with astonishment. “How remarkable. Remind me never to seek your legal or financial advice, or invite you back, ever.”
I ignored him, as I was just finding my flow. “And have you considered the possibility that maybe they did frolic?” I was treading on shaky ground, sure, but I knew this man, as I knew military men. They like it given straight, or so I hoped. “She’s hardly likely to admit to a consensual fling in front of the entire court, is she?” I gasped as some new thought came to me. “Sir, but what if there’s one in the oven? Why, you’d face the prospect of spending the rest of your days paying for another man’s sprog and there ain’t no greater shame than that. No sir, if it were I, it’d be duelling pistols, double primed, and if that don’t finish the job then I’d have my sabre at the ready just in case.” I changed to a softer, more contemplative tone. “You’re the commander of the 11th, sir, my very own beloved regiment, and I’m sure there’s no need for a humble captain, such as myself, to remind a man such as you, hero of the Charge, and all, that it’s your solemn and sacred duty to set an example to the men. We sort of look up to you, sir, but quite frankly, with that being the case, I expected much more from my commander, who I … we’d previously held in such high esteem. What’s that now? You’re thinking of allowing some man of inferior stock to rut your wife, or at least attempt it, and to get away with it? I’m most shocked and appalled.” I shook my head. “Doubts? For shame, sir.”
He’d been propped up on an elbow watching me the whole time and even his aid had stopped to stare at me with incredulity. His moustache was thus only half stiffened so that the grey ends sagged. He looked quite lop-sided. “You forget your place, Captain, and don’t think your fame awes me, lad. You’re still the same insensitive swine who besmirched the memory of my countrymen.” He was gripping the armrest so hard his knuckles had turned white but as long as I was painting a picture for the man then that was all that mattered.
“You asked for my humble opinion, sir, so I’m giving it, for what it’s worth and after your antics, what with the entire court watching you bumbling about, I’d caution strongly against backing down now, not if you wish to be taken seriously ever again. Worst of all, sir, I’m sure you have no desire to be known as the man who sits idly by whilst his wife gets pummelled by other brutes, not to mention letting them get away with it. What kind of message does that say about you, sir? She’s a rare looker, if I may be so bold, and they’ll be queueing up yon the block if you’re unwilling to set an example and show you’re man enough to stand up for her. Why, I hear there’s a major in the Guards with his sights on your lady and he’s from money, sir, of good stock.”
Tar Face was first to arrive.
He was standing with Sheehan, the regimental surgeon and one other man beneath an oak, four figures taking cover from the small rain that dampened this early dull morning and enlarging by the second as our carriage neared.
Rotheby leaned over me to glance out through the carriage window and squinted long and hard, which was almost enough to have me fear for the fitness of his eyes but then his next words calmed me, or did they. “What’s Lord Skelmersdale doing here?”
“Who?”
“My great-uncle.”
The damned bloody aristocracy all knew each other and I hoped this new development wouldn’t hinder my plans, whoever he was. Somehow, I’d managed to contrive the thing up to this point and it would irk me some if it were all for not. This new lord wasn’t the only bystander, which was also vexing. No doubt the late change of venue had thrown most of the ghouls off the scent but still, there was a gaggle of men in top hats waiting under brollies in a clearing, and God only knew how they’d found out about it.
I’d arrived for George in my carriage a little after six, had him fed, shaved and turned out in his best, whilst trying my damnedest to deflect his pleas for advice. I didn’t want him to lose, see. I didn’t ask how he fared. I hadn’t asked how he’d slept. I remembered the sleepless night I’d had before my own duel of two years before and to give the man credit, he seemed to be baring up well. I put that down to Rotheby’s British stiff upper lip though he repeatedly dried his paws on his breeches.
The carriage halted and we exited before slowly walking over the grass into the clearing, stopping halfway, as the other party likewise stepped towards us. Sheehan led the way and despite the occasion, he still grinned when he saw me. I could see now that the fourth character was older than the colonel. Fitzgibbon had brought the sawbones, I’d brought the shovels, and I hoped that, after putting an extra merciful bullet through the colonel’s head to stop him turning, or more likely have someone else do it, we could bury him in a shallow grave on the nearby knoll overlooking the Highgate scrapyard.
The opposing group had stopped about thirty yards away, Sheehan and I made eye contact and together we stepped forth alone to meet in the middle.
“I’d embrace you, Jack, if not for the need to remain formal.” My friend looked well, if a little dishevelled. Despite his constant disappearing, Irish, he’d somehow been allowed to remain in the army.
I held out my hand, which he clasped. “A drink tonight, old friend,” I almost added to celebrate but thought better of it. I nodded towards his companions. “The old fellow?”
He glanced absently back and rolled his eyes. “He arrived just after us, alone, tired, panting for dear life. Says he was waiting at Hyde Park and when we didn’t show he dashed to Regent’s Park and then tried here. The old are wise but still, he got lucky. Why is he here, you ask. Well, Jack, turns out the fellow struck up a friendship with our colonel after we moved from Ireland, both play Bridge, from what I hear, and it just so happens he’s related to your man so…”
As I’d suspected, a mutual acquaintance. My belly began to sink. “He’s fond of my man?”
Sheehan nodded. “Spent the last fifteen minutes listening to his lamentations. He’s rather … how can I put this … cut up about things. He also happens to be rather rich, Jack.” He added in a happy tone, knowing it made a difference. In his own way, Sheehan then went on to give me the gist of the monologue. “John, says he, I implore you not to do this, I can’t bear the thought of losing either one of you, what? Just swallow your pride, walk away and in return, I’ll take care of your gambling debts. No? How about some prime Kentish land thrown in to boot? What? That’ll do it? Thank God for that, thank God for good sense. Now I just need to convince my great nephew, which shouldn’t be hard, I know the boy, you see.” He peered over my shoulder and fixed on Rotheby whilst my world came crashing down. “As for your man, Jack … seems he’s in rather a lot of debt himself.”
“What?” I blinked, such was the news. “George? In debt? He takes care of the Queen’s personal finances.”
“Whores, Jack. High-class, expensive whores,” he said, matter of fact.
“Oh, Christ.” I pinched at the flesh above my nose. “What of it then?”
“Lord Skelmersdale promises to pay off his debts and give over the deeds to the pile in Sussex. He’ll know what you mean. Apparently, it was meant for the brother, but he’s willing to alter his last will and testament to ensure there’s no death this day.” Sheehan yawned and checked his timepiece. “Just get him to nod and we can be off for a ham breakfast at Hazlitt’s, the honey roasted suckling’s to kill for.”
Plodding back, Rotheby saw my face and almost choked. “That bad? Should I be taking my position now, Jack?”
I shook my head, “they haven’t the measure of you, my friend,” I exhaled, “trying to buy your honour is about as bad as it gets … shows they’re scared, you see, and no doubt they have reason.”
He tugged on a lobe. “What … what did Uncle have to say?”
I could most likely be truthful here because after our little chat the afore night, I could hardly see Rotheby backing down now, it would be entirely disgraceful, so I passed on the message about the whoring debts and the Sussex pile.
There was a sharp intake of air and his eyes became bright. “Really, Jack, really? My uncle would do that?” He reached forwards for my wrist. “And the colonel’s agreed too? Oh, Jack, yes, please let it be true.”
I shook my head several times and blinked away the disbelief. “To the blazes with it, man, that oaf accused you of abusing his wife. You’re willing to let that stand? Are you?”
“But I’m not you, Jack, I don’t have your courage. Look, I’m more a court administrative officer, not a field one. I might have fired a pistol a few times at training back in High Wycombe but that was years ago. Besides, there’s a common enemy we ought to be getting at, not each other.” He looked up to the sky, mouthed something in praise, and seized me by both shoulders, giving a few shakes for good measure. “This truly is a gift from God. I accept, Jack, I accept the terms and that’s all there is to it.”
I threw his hands off and shook him by the shoulders in turn. “What are you talking about, you have this. Listen to me, that old man’s aim’s been squint ever since he took a tumble at the Charge, come on, George, do it for Vicky if no one else.”
He seemed not to have heard me. “Oh, Jack, but to think I arrived at this place so full of dread and that instead, I’ll be leaving not only with my life but with that beautiful house too. I’ve loved that place ever since I was a child.” He was crying, he was actually crying and I made sure to stand in the way so that the other side was shielded from the appalling spectacle. “Jack, if the colonel accepts then I accept, walk away, and no apology necessary.”
