Gr8t Expect8ions

Chapter the First

The coach sat 6, 3 abreast, opposite each other. Lady Cumquat, Mr Firefly and a large wicker basket of unknown providence completed the seat opposite. On my immediate right was a space and the final seat was occupied by a young girl, unaccompanied and seemingly unphased by the violent tempest .

Here, dear reader, lies my confession for you would realise that as the storyteller I am in full understanding of the origins of the wicker basket and the young girl. However it does not suit my purpose to disclose their qualities now, in fact my tale is so much the better if I withhold this information and disclose it later. Your role then is to suspend disbelief, much the same as you would a piece of theatre or political manifesto, until such time as the dramatic reveals are played. Ultimately you will find this a more satisfying experience. So I ask you to leave me as your guide, trust in the unravelling tale and knowingly, concede that my duty to you compels me to withhold knowledge and revelation as I see fit. For now the girl remains a mystery and sensing a pause in the tempest I exit the coach to address Mr Mulvaney.

Mr Mulvaney considered me with rheumy eyes, for in our Lord's year of 1778 there was little universal eye care. and put forward his proposition:

"The roads ruined from here for a coach like mine, with this weight we'll sink to the axle in no time, I suggest you take consideration of another way forward."

"Mr Mulvaney, you have my every confidence. Please press forward with haste" and returned to the cabin of the coach. My empty words hung in the air between us. 

Luckily, Mr Mulvaney was resourceful in his own way and had us safely returned to lodgings a few hours later. The skies were clearing of the heavy cloud that has shrouded us all day as night set in and my companions dispersed to their accommodations to prepare for supper. Even the young girl, I noted, pressed hard coin into the landlord for her own lodgings. I was left with Mr Mulvaney who wore his sixty plus years lightly despite the toll of hard labour over many years, the loss of 3 small ones and the departure of his 4 sons to the new lands. With no one to hand the reins too Mulvaney kept at his profession. On such a night one was grateful for his years of experience.

I was pleased to share a moment with him to express my gratitude and make great show of slipping a shilling into the top pocket of his overcoat. He was taken aback by both my candour and generosity, muttered his excuses and sidled away. For myself I was keen to unburden myself of the letter pressed deep in my tunic and knew the storm had delayed us another 24 hours. Lady Cumquat's venture had provided suitable grounds for my departure from London, although I had been reluctant to leave my parents as their own concerns were soon to be given hearing in the great courts of St James. I assured them I could run my errand and return in good time to accompany them, that I had nothing to contribute in the meantime other than well meaning platitudes, to kindle the kitchen stove, and to top up my father's fillpot as required. in short I was very much free to engage in this journey and had found a sharpness of mind and clarity of thought having escaped the grayscape of London.

Even the company of Lady Cumquat did not discourage me. Although she spoke of seeking my opinions of her newly set gardens at the Cumquat estate I did not fall victim to the conceit that this was a genuine interest in myself. We were both working a situation to our own advantage.

Necessity dictated that I visited Chancor Manor in the midlands and Lady Cumquat's estate lay in close proximity. In the event that I needed the assistance of Mr Mulvaney, or his good word to an acquaintance in his profession, I was quite prepared to cultivate his favourable impression. In a similar way was I prepared to manipulate Mr Firefly in furtherance of my own fledgling legal career - however it remained to be seen whether he would be an asset or liability to myself.

Each of you dear Reader will bring to bear your own imaginative powers and it is the manner of the written narrative that you are all unique and correct in your own way. As Lady Cumquat was oft heard to remark : " You ain't half daft, as thick as my mother's puddin" which was her reflex response to circumstances beyond her understanding.

Lady Cumquat was the third of that name wed to the late Lord Cumquat.

Brought into Cumquat Manor as a scullery maid she had risen above her station through good fortune and conjugal enthusiasms. It was believed that she had laid with men of the Far East, men North of Hadrians wall and Europeans. She brought to the bedchamber a skill set uncommon amongst good gentlefolk and Lord Cumquat was quickly smitten.

The first Lady Cumquar had been a modest woman of intermediate means lost to childbirth. The second Lady Cumquat contributed the income of various rentals but was of a grim manner - in the playlist of life very much the skipped track.

Lord Cumquat himself was a handsome man who grew settled and spongy later in life. He found complete engagement in the trials of being a gentleman of means. For him to prioritise instruction to the household staff, choose a waistcoat or cravat, give direction for a menu or choose a carriage would consume his day fully.

How men who lived in soot and rags or the powerful found time to exercise the law or function, bring industry and resources to matters of state or business he could not conceive. His day was so full of endless decision making - breakfast in the sunroom, parlour or his rooms - that it left little time for anything else.