Curse Of The Blue Tattoo Part 10

"Well, no, not by the music, but by the display of flesh."

"Ah. Well. Let's get to that, shall we? How did you know that it was indeed a female knee that you did spy, and not a bit of light-colored cloth, or a petticoat or, say, a slip?"

"No, Sir," says Wiggins, reddening. "It was indeed a knee, plainly wisible wight below the dwawers and wight above the stockings!" He nods his head decisively.

"Very well, Constable, we will accept that you glimpsed her knee. Now, would you say that what she was performing was a simple country dance, one that you would see being done by simple G.o.d-fearing country folk at a country fair and not the same kind of performance one would see in a bawdy house?"

"Objection, Your Honor. That calls for speculation on the part of the witness," says the white-wigged cove who introduced the constable.

"Sustained," says Judge Thwackham. "What's your point, Counselor?"

"I am merely trying to show that this simple country girl, far from her home in England and not knowing our ways, was merely engaging in a bit of good fun and had no desire to whip men into a fever of base desire with a display of wild and licentious dancing." Mr. Pickering turns around and grandly gestures toward me. "I mean, look at her, Your Honor. Does that look like a temptress?"

I take my cue and put on my poor little beggar girl look from back in my London days. I work up a few tears to course down my cheeks. I drop my head and look up through my lashes at the judge.

The judge puts his chin in his hand and rubs it, and it looks like he might be thinkin' kind thoughts of me. "Hmm. I'm sure the knee in question is probably quite scrawny considering the rest of her..."

Mr. Pickerings gonna win this! It's gonna be all right! I'm gonna- The white-wigged man on my left, the one that clearly don't mean me no good, clears his throat and says, "Tell me, Constable, did the accused have anything on her person when she was arrested?"

Uh-oh Constable Wiggins, with an air of great importance, walks over to Goody and takes something from her and then comes back to stand before the judge.

"She had this up her sleeve, Your Honor!" He holds up me s.h.i.+v, the blade all s.h.i.+ny 'cause I'd just sharpened it and the carved c.o.c.k's head with its red c.o.xcomb lookin' all rascally on the hilt.

There is a gasp from the Court. I look over at Mr. Pickering and he's slowly shakin' his head and lookin' like he's just had his feet kicked out from under him 'cause I forgot to tell him about my s.h.i.+v. All is lost, now.

Judge Thwackham picks up his hammer with a look of pure thunder and d.a.m.nation on his face and rumbles out, "A poor, simple, good-hearted country girl, eh?" The hammer starts to come down, "I find you-"

All bein' lost anyway, I grabs the railing in front of me and vaults down to the floor below and there's gasps from the Court and shouts of "Hear! Hear!" but I plows ahead and goes up to the judge's bench and falls to me knees and clasps me hands in front of me face and looks up at him high above me and pleads me own case.

"Please, Sir, please don't have me whipped as I didn't know I was doin' wrong 'cause I'm a stranger here, bein' a poor orphan girl what's lately come from sea and left here with no friends by her mates who don't want her on board with them no more 'cause they found out I was a girl and they put me in the school and Mistress Pimm's gonna kill me anyway, so why do it twice, Your Majesty, why not just let her do it and-"

"What? What's that you say?" shouts out the judge, a look of amazement on his face. Suddenly, everyone in the Court has their eyes riveted on me.

I don't know what he means, so I press on. "...and I had the knife 'cause all sailors have-"

"No, no!" he bellows. "What did you say about Mistress Pimm?"

"Oh," I say, and settle back on my haunches. "I've been apprenticed to the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, where they're gonna make a lady out of me..."

There is quiet ... then a snicker, then a chuckle, then fullblown laughter in the Court. Even Judge Thwackham is now smiling jowl to jowl. "Oh, my joy," he says, beaming down at me. "After all these years I finally have one of Pimm's girls in my court and on a charge of Lewd and Lascivious Conduct yet! Oh, there is surely a G.o.d in Heaven and he is a just and righteous G.o.d and oh how this is going to put the old harpy's nose in a twist!"

He chortles some more and then says, "My daughter-in-law, too. Just wait till she hears! She was one of Pimm's girls and she never lets us forget it with her nose in the air and her grand and haughty ways! Joy! Pure unadulterated joy!" The judge pounds his fist on the desktop, his eyes squeezed shut in glee. "And, Brown, isn't your wife...?"

"Yes, Your Honor," replies the delighted Brown, which is the cove with the wig that's tryin' to get me convicted. "And Mr. Smith's daughters are Pimm's girls, too. We are all looking forward to great fun with this." The man with the quill smiles and nods vigorously.

"Glorious, just glorious," says the judge. "Just wait till the Governor gets wind of this. His wife and his daughters, all three of 'em, the poor man. One still in attendance, too."

After a few more har-hars the judge calms himself and turns back to one particular Pimm girl.

"So how shall we make a proper example of you, then, hmmm..." I swear he giggles in antic.i.p.ation. As I knows that all this jollity may not extend to me, I figures I better get back in my hands-clasped, eyes-supplicatin' condition and I does it, throwin' in a little lower lip quiverin' for good measure.

Judge Thwackham lifts his hammer and brings it down and intones, "I find you, Miss Faber, guilty of the misdemeanor crime of Lewd and Lascivious Conduct, and I sentence you to an even dozen strokes of the cane..."

I start keening and I lean forward and put my forehead on the floor. Oh, to have my back bared and beaten b.l.o.o.d.y for public scorn!

"...such sentence to be suspended on the condition that I never, ever, see your face in my courtroom again!"

Mr. Pickering comes over and takes my arm and brings me to my feet to face the judge.

"What ... what? What does he mean?" I ask, all shaking and scared and confused.

"You are not to be beaten, Miss. I'll explain later. Thank the judge," whispers Mr. Pickering in my ear.

"Thank you, my lord," I manage to say.

"Save your thanks for the Lord above," he says, "if you manage to survive Mistress Pimm's wrath, which I sincerely doubt. Constable!"

Constable Wiggins looks up expectantly.

"I want you to take Miss Faber back to the school personally and I want you to walk. It is not far and it will do you both a world of good."

"Beggin' Yer Honor's pardon," says the vile Wiggins, "but I must report that the female did try to escape twice during her arrest and confinement."

"Very well, Constable, we must be careful, then. Therefore, I want you to take her back to Mistress Pimm..." He pauses and smiles and looks about him with a glow on his face and then says, "...in chains."

Wiggins leads me out of the court and takes me to a room and wraps a length of chain around my crossed wrists and threads a strong lock through the links and snaps it shut. The chain is about six feet long and he takes the other end and heads out, leading me like a dog on a leash. He takes his stick and he puts on his hat and we are out in the suns.h.i.+ne.

The air is cool and it makes me feel better. Mistress is gonna whip me up one side and down the other, but that's nothin' compared to a public beating, so I am thankful and will take what comes. I resolve to be good in the future.

I am grateful, too, to see that Mr. Pickering has joined the little parade in my honor up Court Street on our way to Beacon Hill. He comes up and walks alongside me, his slight smile still in place. There are some common and low types who jeer at me as we pa.s.s and his presence makes me feel safe and gives me comfort.

"I shall go with you to the school and explain to your headmistress what has happened and maybe it will go easier for you."

I thank him and say that I don't have any money right now but I will have someday and I will pay him for his services then 'cause he did a really good job and got me out of a beating.

He nods and chuckles and asks, "Was that what you sailors would call 'The Full Waif Broadside' that you pulled back there in Court? It was quite a performance."

'"Twarn't no performance," I sniffs. "I was scared half out of my wits."

"Well, whatever it was, it worked. Judge Thwackham doesn't usually let people off with a suspended sentence."

We trudge along in silence for a bit while I thinks things over.

"Mr. Pickering," I finally say, "would it be too much to ask if you would look into how much money my mates have stashed for me at this school? In case I should want to pull up and leave, that is. Then I could pay you what I owe you."

Mr. Pickering considers this for a while and then says, "I will do that, Miss Faber, but I must advise you, as a friend, that Mistress Pimm's school enjoys a very fine reputation and you would be well advised to stay there for your full term. I suspect that you do not know that you are going to school with the future wives of judges, senators, governors, and even, it is not too far-fetched to suppose, presidents. And as your attorney, I must point out that it might be very difficult to pry that money out of Mistress Pimm's fist, you being both a minor and a girl." He pauses to gaze smilingly upon the black-wooled sheep we are pa.s.sing. "Still, I will inquire into it for you."

"Thank you, Sir," I say, and then my stomach gives a lurch as I see we are approaching the school. As we draw closer, I can make out faces pressed against all the windows. Oh, Lord.

"Perhaps," says Mr. Pickering to Constable Wiggins, as we begin to mount the stairs, "you could release her here and I could..."

But the constable will have none of it. He fixes Mr. Pickering with a beady eye and says, "I have my orders, Sir, and I will carry them out to the letter." And he drags me up the stairs such that my arms are pulled out before me so that all can see the chains around my wrists.

Wiggins reaches the door and gives it a good pound. I don't want to look up at the faces in the windows, so I look down at the stone doorstep.

Presently, the door opens and Mistress, herself, steps out. "What is this, then?" she asks. My knees turn to jelly.

Constable Wiggins puffs up and says, "This hewe female was awested and conwicted by the High Couwt of the State of Ma.s.sachusetts, Judge Hiwam Thwackham, pwesiding, of the cwime of Lewd and Lacsiwious Conduct, to wit: singin' and dancin' and distuwbin' the peace of the stweets of Boston and in the bwazen showing of a female limb, beggin' youw pawdon, Ma'am, and I am hereby wemandin' hew into youw custody if youw name be Mistwess Pimm!"

Mistress just stands there lookin' at me.

"Constable, you have done your duty most admirably," I hear Mr. Pickering say, "now if you would just release Miss Faber, I believe your job here is done."

I feel Wiggins mess with the lock and then I feel the chains fall from my wrists. Before he leaves, the constable comes up by my ear and says under his breath, "I will see thee again, giwl, and it will be tied to the stake you will be and the sentence will be cawied out in full because I knows ye for a bad 'un in spite of all this schoolgiwl talk. You can twust me on that, as I am the one what swings the wod!"

He gathers up his chain and heads on down the hill. His words chill me, but not so much as the look on Mistress's face. She drills me with her eyes.

"Disgrace ... to ... my ... school..." is all she says, but it is enough to shake me to my bones.

"Mistress Pimm, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a misunderstanding here," says Mr. Pickering, with a helpful tone in his voice, but I know it ain't gonna wash, and after a moment he realizes it, too, and sort of trails off helplessly. "It is my hope that she is not to be beaten too harshly as she really didn't know..."

Mistress snaps her head around and looks at Mr. Pickering as if he were a particularly vile fish head that had been thrown on the steps and left to molder and stink there. "Thank you, Sir. Good day to you."

Mr. Pickering need not have worried. Mistress does not beat me. No, she does something far, far worse.

I follow Mistress into her office and put my toes on the white line and then flop over on her desk and flip up my skirts and I starts in to wailin', "Mistress, it wasn't like that at all it was like-"

"Be still, please," she says with a coldness in her voice that I don't find rea.s.suring at all, "and stand up."

I hesitate. She's not going to beat me? What...

"Now!" she hisses, and I jerk up straight and stand there quiverin' with my hands to my sides.

Mistress comes around to face me. "Take off the dress," she says, evenly. "Now."

I am confused and scared. "What? I don't underst-"

"By your actions you have brought disgrace upon my school and all the good and worthy people in it. I do not want the symbol of this school on your back for one more second. You defile it by being in it. Take it off. Now!"

I start to pull my dress up over my head and the tears come. I blubber, "I'm sorry Mistress I'm sorry I'll never do it again I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"Sorry is not enough, Miss Faber. It does not erase the disgrace."

I hold my dress in my hands and stand clad only in my camisole and drawers and stockings and wait for the next blow.

"You will join the downstairs staff. You shall work for your room and board. The money that was placed with me for your tuition will be put up as a dowry for you until a suitable match can be made. Now follow me."

I feel like I have been slapped hard in the face. I don't move, I can't move, I can only hang my head and let my chin fall to my chest, tears of shame and disgrace falling from my eyes and onto the front of my slip.

Mistress sees this and says, "I am sorry, child, but we both know you don't belong here. It was a mistake. Now, follow me."

We leave her office and every door has faces looking out at me walking down the hall in my undergarments with my school dress clutched to my chest, Mistress leading the way. I think I see Amy's stricken face in one doorway and Clarissa's triumphant face in another. I don't know. I am beyond knowing anything now.

She leads me down the stairs to the kitchen, where Peg is standing at the stove before a steaming cauldron. She turns as Mistress says, "This is Jacky Faber. She will be joining your staff. Get her fitted out with the appropriate clothing immediately. Acquaint her with her duties."

With that, Mistress turns and leaves.

I stand there in front of Peg and I close my eyes and start sobbing and jerking there in my misery and she says, "Come, girl, it ain't so bad down here, you'll see. We've got a right jolly bunch of girls and it'll be all right, you'll see, you'll see."

She comes to me and puts her arm around my shaking shoulders and I bury my face in her chest and she says, "Hush, now, girl, hush. Hush now, hush."

Later, I'm given clothing and Peg takes me up the stairs and past the cla.s.srooms and past the dining hall, where I hear the chatter of the ladies having supper, and then up the stairs and down the hall and past the door to the dormitory and up another flight of stairs to the attic, which is to be my room. Peg tells me that the attic room is kept for when the school has serving girls that come from the outlying farms, but all the serving girls they got now live in town and don't sleep over so it's just me in here now. I have a bed, a chest of drawers, a table, and a chair. A candle in a holder. I see that my sea chest and my seabag have been brought up. Peg leaves me to settle in.

I hang up my new serving clothes and then I kneel on the floor next to my sea chest and fold up my school dress and I place it carefully inside so that the folds lie just right. I was so proud of that dress.

After a while, I can hear the ladies down below at their prayers, just before lights-out. Two nights ago I was there with them and now I'm not.

I warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.

Chapter 10.

James Emerson Fletcher

Number 9 Brattle Lane

London, England

September 28, 1803