Later, they pulled the trays onto the bed and had a picnic of sorts, toasting each other, he with his claret and she with her sack. They fell asleep in each other’s arms and found the day so delightful that they repeated it at each inn they stopped at.
The innkeepers at these inns might have been scandalized that the couple arrived, ordered trays, threw the waiters from their rooms as soon as the trays were delivered, ordered them not to come back, and then were not seen until the following morning. However, they’d all had their share of newly married couples and their bordering-on-rude habits. Turning a blind eye and pretending nothing at all had been noticed was the order of the day if one wished to own an inn.
*
As Winsome andManderbey made their way to Torquay, St. John cooled his heels in Falmouth, waiting for theRomulusto set sail for Rio de Janeiro. There, he encountered Mr. Wellcurd and his daughter. Wellcurd was a tradesman from Birmingham with some sort of concern or other. St. John found both father and daughter impressed with his title and the idea that he was the new ambassador to Portugal. He also found Wellcurd the master of a very generous table and as he was short of funds this very moment, he allowed the fellow to fill him with food and drink. As he found out more about Mr. Wellcurd, he was very glad he did.
He could not recall precisely how the man had got all his money to begin, but Mr. Wellcurd was on his way to Rio de Janeiro to oversee his various investments in the mines he owned there. This was, of course, of great interest to St. John and he began to wonder if it would be too outrageous to wed the daughter of a tradesman. After all, the fellow did not have any sons. If he were to wed the daughter, when Wellcurd kicked off, the mines and all the rest of his worldly goods would fall to St. John. If there was one thing of benefit to a tradesman, it was they did not make a habit of engaging in entails. And then to think, all the work of finding a likely spot, buying the land, and digging the mine had been done for him. It was rather ideal.
Mr. Wellcurd was a boastful and rather irritating individual but according to him, the riches that were to be had in Brazil were astounding. Diamonds, emeralds, and topaz as far as the eye could see. And, though he was exceedingly uncouth, when they returned to England, Wellcurd could be left behind in Birmingham from whence he came. Nobody in St. John’s sphere need ever set eyes on the man.
As for the daughter, she was pretty in the usual way, though there was not much going on between her ears. She laughed too loud, which must be a habit dropped. Her manners were middling and mustbe improved. Her mode of dress spoke too loudly, all too-bright colors, rather like her temperament. And yet, she did have that one irresistible attraction—the precious gem mines that would one day be his.
The thing was settled in a rather unorthodox manner. Once aboard ship and being in close quarters and St. John having his own stateroom, he did meddle a step too far with Miss Wellcurd.
That might not have made his decision for him. However, Mr. Wellcurd had discovered it and insisted they wed, else he’d pitch St. John over the side of the ship on a dark and moonless night. Considering Mr. Wellcurd’s general outlook on life, St. John did not doubt he’d do it.
After sixty days at sea, they reached Rio de Janeiro. St. John had not had a clear idea of what he expected, but he was soon disabused of his more fanciful notions. It was deadly hot, the heat exacerbated by the water that seemed to hang in the air. The court was stuffy and boring, and nobody much cared to be impressed that he was the ambassador from England. It seemed the Portuguese ambassador did business with the English Crown directly and nobody was inclined to include him in any negotiations.
Things went downhill from there when it was discovered he must wed in a Catholic church. He’d needed a dispensation from one of their absurd bishops to be allowed, which struck him as the height of stupidity. It rankled that he was viewed as some sort of heathen for not vowing his allegiance to Rome.
He went through with it, all along keeping his eyes on the goal—mines brimming with precious gems. He’d acquired a rather tedious bride and he was well sick of her loud laughter before they’d even got out of the church, but she was his ticket to untold riches.
Finally the day arrived when he and Wellcurd were to set off on a journey to see the mines. They began on horseback, and in the beginning he did enjoy the silence away from his bride’s raucouslaughter. He was surprised to discover on that first night, though, that there was no inn to retire to. In England, there was always an inn somewhere nearby. Here, it seemed a tent was all that was on offer.
After three days of traveling forward and camping overnight, they reached a river and boarded a boat with a local guide. From there, they spent ten days drifting down sluggish tributaries and St. John thought he would go mad over the slow progress. The heat was unbearable and the one time he’d dipped his hand into the river he yanked it out again with a fish attached to it. The boatman had to club it on the head to get it to dislodge its terrible teeth. Coming as no surprise to anyone, a festering wound was the result.
Just as he was primed to suggest they get out and walk, as it might be speedier, they merged onto the main channel of the river. Rather than go too slow, now they went too fast. The boatman explained in Portuguese that “there were rains.”
How much could it possibly rain?
He wished he’d never asked that question as he soon found out. It was not an English rain, as there did not seem to be separate raindrops. It was a solid blanket of water and did not let up for days. Each hour that passed seemed to enrage the river further until it was a maelstrom of swirling eddies and tree trunks that had been recently ripped up from their roots flying by their boat. They were tossed in the most offensive manner possible, and St. John really could not say how they came out of it alive.
He’d thought that must be the worst of it, but Wellcurd had failed to mention that the last five days of the journey must be done on foot through the jungle.
St. John realized that very first night that the jungle was not meant for man to be wandering round in. He was aware that there were peoples who lived somewhere in it, but he could not for the life of him figure out how or why. The sounds at night were terrifying and he was haunted by the distant shrieks of unknown animals. And then, was ajaguar silently watching them until all were asleep? Would he be dragged off in the middle of the night, never to be heard from again?
During the day, one had to examine every move lest one step on a deadly snake, of which there were many varieties. Crossing deep streams was problematic, what with the electric eels, caimans, and the previously met piranhas. The guide, in some effort to cheer them up, told them that the streams they were crossing were probably too shallow for bull sharks to bother with. Sharks in the jungle. Apparently, there were even frogs lurking about who could take down a man if one were so unlucky as to even touch their skin.
It felt as if the whole place was one murderous lunatic out to kill him. Despite his worry over dying, eventually he felt his spirits rise. Wellcurd told him they were mere hours from the glorious mines.
And then they arrived. St. John had sunk to the jungle floor. There was an encampment with a few desultory men lounging around, and a foreman with a very downtrodden look about him. There were several deep holes in the ground but St. John did not see the sparkle of emeralds, diamonds, and topaz.
Over the years, that mine would produce a handful of emeralds, just enough to keep paying the men to keep digging. St. John returned to England with a hand that never did work properly after the piranha had got hold of it, and a wife who would harass him with her loud laugh for the rest of his days.
While St. John was busy ruining his life in Brazil, Mr. Wicket left the confines of Grosvenor Square. His debts were now paid and he returned to his lodging. The Crown was eager to reengage his services, and he was eager to get back to doing what he did best.
However, the past years had taught him some hard-won lessons. Through intense bargaining, he negotiated a much more suitable rate of pay. It was such that he saved up and bought himself a house in Cheapside. He would eventually marry a lady who, despite his cadaver-like appearance, found his career quite dashing. A knock onthe door in the middle of the night or a sudden trip of some weeks duration only served to send her romantic imagination soaring. She did not know particularly what her husband got up to during these forays, but she liked to imagine he was saving the Crown at every turn.
Mostly, he was just slinking around and listening, as he always had done. Though, he did not wish to disabuse his lady of her grand ideas. One time, he’d had a nasty fall while getting out of a carriage and developed quite the lump on his forehead. If his dear wife wished to imagine he’d been in a deadly fisticuffs, who was he to say he hadn’t?
He on occasion spotted one of the Nicolets while they were in Town. However, they never spottedhim.
Winsome and Manderbey had a lovely time making their way to Torquay. Before they left Stanwell, they’d stopped in a little bookshop and sought out the most dreadful gothic novel the proprietor had for sale.
The man had never had anybody come in to ask for his worst book, but he was happy to oblige. He’d been trying to unloadThe Awful Happenstances of Grimwood Hallby an idiot of a fellow named Richard Roydon for quite some time. Each time he came close, the would-be buyer read the description and put it back on the shelf. Why would they not? The duchess was down the well, then not down the well, then in a cave, then inexplicably down the well again. This sort of pap might play in London, but the ladies of his own town would not be caught reading such drivel.
Manderbey was delighted with it, as it was so badly written that it gave him the opportunity to throw it over his shoulder and leap at his bride before they got further than a page or two.The Awful Happenstances of Grimwood Hallbecame an institution of sorts in their marriage. Over the years, even inquiring into where it was would set something off between them.
