Sat, May 19 2012
| TITLE: | The Wedding Gift |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Sherry Thornburg |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | G, Gen, Tame |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | The cast of SAJV. |
| DESCRIPTION: | |
| STATUS: | Complete |
| DISCLAIMER: | The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne is not mine, never will be and was only borrowed for my own fun and enjoyment. There may be references to shows but this is not based on or made from any of them. Aunt Ermintrude visits this story with permission of her creator Mara Greengrass. |
Two young boys came up the back stairs sneaking back to their room after a late night foraging of the kitchen. It was dark but not so dark they couldn’t find their way through the halls. Cook would likely set father on them tomorrow, but she would have to prove that it had been them. Father always sided with the children as long as there wasn’t indisputable proof. Foggs stuck together after all, even against cook.
As the boys past one upstairs room, they looked in through the slightly open door to see their little cousin Rebecca asleep. She was a cute little baby. All red copper curls and big blue eyes. Erasmus was especially intrigued with her as there were so few babies around Shillingsworth normally. She slept in a cradle at the foot of the bed her parents slept in.
There was a lot of family in the big country house tonight. Their father’s knighthood ceremony had been the day before. There had been a grand party in London directly after the King laid the sword over their father. Afterward, the family had made a long procession to Shillingsworth Magna in coaches to celebrate privately. Fogg aunts and uncles, and cousins came from everywhere to celebrate such an event. The boys were of course duly impressed with it themselves, but seeing so many relatives coming in had made it special yet again.
A few steps closer to the nursery, the boys came to cousin Jason and his wife’s room. Cousin Jason was a favorite with the boys. He was a naval officer has their father had once been. He told them the best sea stories! Right this minute, late in the night, the sounds from cousin Jason’s room were not those of pirate stories but of romance.
Young Phileas had heard complaints in the last few days from other men in the family that cousin Jason put the rest of the Foggs to shame in that department. The naval officer was nearing forty-five, had six children, and a wife that radiated happiness. At ten, Phileas was just old enough to understand what was being said, but not enough to catch the nuances behind the words. The joys of matrimony were still as much a mystery to him as they were to his five year old brother.
“Jason please, I’m trying to finish this embroidery for Elizabeth’s present. That tickles!”
“If it didn’t I wouldn’t be doing it,” a masculine voice teased. “You’ve been at your sewing long enough. It’s time for bed. Long past actually. And I so wanted to make a memory before leaving for the ship tomorrow afternoon, something to keep me going on cold nights in the middle of the Atlantic. Maybe make a little something to come home to?”
“Your terrible!” A female voice said, but not in a rebuking manner.
“Hmmm, that wasn’t your opinion the other night. As I recall you waxed rather poetic with your praise. I believe you said something to the effect of what wonders could be enjoyed when one had the same lover for fifteen years… How I knew just where and how…”
A sharp high-pitched yelp came from the room in the next moment followed by giggles. The young boys stifled their own giggles thinking cousin Jason must be tickling his wife something fierce.
The boys then moved on to their own room after a moment, losing interest. Phileas had given up his room to a guest and was sleeping with Erasmus in the nursery. He smiled as he laid down again wondering what it would be like to have a wife to tickle and play with.
The coach dipped and jerked to the right as it hit a rut in the road. The movement interrupted the memory that had pleasantly intruded on Phileas as he was nearing the age cousin Jason had been. Now he understood better what had been going on on the other side of that door so long ago.
Smiling, Phileas savored the memory with happiness and was himself happy, happier than he had been in many years. He and Rebecca were to marry in another month. The accumulation of years of wanting finally rewarded with his hearts desire. The remembrance of cousin Jason was a good one to come now, even if the time was not as happy as he would have wished. Cousin Jason was being laid to rest in the family crypt at Shillingsworth today.
He and Rebecca came to the funeral together. They rode in the fourth closed coach in the procession following Jason’s wife Lydia, their eight children, and five grandchildren. There were also about forty other family members and as many of cousin Jason’s old friends attending.
The day was typical of an English summer, rainy and overcast and had been rainy for several days. Rebecca and he wore overcoats over their plainest black formal clothing to ward off the damp. It was a testament to Jason Fogg’s life that so many were willing to brave this beastly weather to see him laid to rest.
The church roof dripped in a few places as the eulogy was read. Fogg mentally made a note to take the vicar to task for not telling him the roof needed repairs. His family had built the thing after all and it was his duty to see it kept in good repair. Otherwise the service was quite… well it was refined, respectful and blessedly short. Phileas hated funerals and always had. He was more than happy to get back into the coach, leading the procession slowly back from the old church to the manor house.
The wake would take place at Shillingsworth Magna. He and Rebecca had already seen to that. There would be food a plenty and activities for the children in attendance. The house was again to be full of relatives. It had been a logistical challenge finding room for everyone. The old manor house wasn’t small but the family had increased it numbers over the years, yet had not decreased its eldest generation by many. Foggs generally lived into their seventies at least, late eighties at best.
His own father’s early passing, Phileas had considered, had been the result of too stressful a career rather than genetics.
Going through the list again in his mind Fogg counted off fifteen small children on beds and pallets in the nursery and it’s adjoining room, not counting the four or five infants that bedded with their parents. There were twelve couples altogether staying with them. Three widows, who were life long friends, had graciously offered to share a room to help. The study had been turned into a bachelor’s barracks for six teenagers plus four young men in thier twenties. When the house reached rafter capacity, the one local inn four miles away had been similarly filled.
The coach reached its destination entering the drive and coming to a stop near the front door. McIvers came out with an umbrella to cover Rebecca as she hurried out to the house.
The brunt of the hostess duties fell on her shoulders. Rebecca took them on, Fogg thought proudly, like an army general. Rebecca was determinedly proving to all her worthiness of becoming Lady of the Manor. Days before had been spent quickly planning and arranging it all when Lydia requested the service to be held here. Servants had scurried about madly to do her bidding. Most of the live in staff had moved out temporarily to relative’s homes to make room.
In Phileas’ opinion, Rebecca had nothing to prove. She had been acting in this capacity since sixteen after all. It was her place by right even before he had gained the courage to ask her to do so formally. In fact, when they had made their announcement to the family, there had been more, “It’s about time” comments than surprised looks.
Cousin Jason had been alive and present at that announcement. He had been quite happy for them. In his child’s memory, Jason Fogg had been a strapping rakish handsome man at the prime of his life. He had the same black hair and green eyes that Phileas had but the Fogg features on his face had been somewhat softer, less angular. He had been a shorter man than what Phileas grew into, but his shoulders, Fogg thought, had been broader and the body more muscular. ‘Or maybe not,’ Phileas mused. ‘Could have just been the uniform.’
Those short months ago, Jason Fogg had been fully silver and somewhat stooped. His face had been weathered from years at sea; the eyes squinted. He had walked with a cane for balance. Jason had come to Phileas and Rebecca in turn to pay a kiss to the bride to be and pat his back.
“So I assume, young man, you are ready to take on your responsibilities now as head of the family,” the old man had said light but pointedly.
Phileas had been a bit taken aback, but had, for the sake of his other guests, not risen to the baiting. Had he not been doing so since his father’s death? ‘Granted I have dodged some of the more formal matters and made other relatives step up for festivals, reunion picnics, celebratory dinners, holidays… All right, I suppose I have been playing fast and loose,’ he admitted sheepishly.
Then he had remembered his very belligerent and careless attitude at the onset of his inheritance. The poker game; he had been determined to lose it all rather than accept anything from his father. Jason would not have known about that, but he would have noticed the way Phileas had shunned his obligations from the start.
The charitable would have given him grace for loosing his brother and father in close succession. The uncharitable, himself one of them at this point in time, would have damned him an ungrateful self-absorbed fool. ‘I let my grief over Erasmus’ death overcome better judgment,’ he had admitted freely. ‘I blasted all that guilt at father creating the argument that estranged us from each other. And though the man had most certainly given as good as he got that day, and it would have galled me no end, it wouldn’t had killed me to attempt a reconciliation before father died.’ Phileas knew he should not have allowed that argument to go as far as it had that day. He knew he should have gone to him sooner. It never occurred to Phileas the man would die so soon. ‘Father should have lived another twenty years at least.’
'Even so,' he had suddenly realized with a jolt, 'it should have occurred to me that father had not taken our angry words as a clean separation. The man didn’t disinherit me. He most certainly could have, I practically told him to.’ Yet when the will had been read, Phileas had still been Sir Boniface Fogg’s heir.
Forcing his thoughts back to the moment at hand, Phileas had then straightened his spine and plunged in. “Yes sir, I’m ready to assume my full responsibilities.”
“Excellent! Then I have something for you boy,” the older man had said as he looked into Phileas’ eyes with pride. So light hearted had that statement been that, for once, Phileas had not become annoyed being addressed as a juvenile. “It will be a wedding present of sorts. I’ve kept it waiting for you, hoping you would come to your senses before I passed on. I’ll bring it up to Shillingsworth Magna as soon as I can.”
That trip never took place. The old retired naval officer had died quietly in his study reading less than a week ago. Phileas was still curious as to what Jason had been holding for him, but didn’t have the heart to mention it to Lydia. Not now. The lady was putting on a brave front but he had caught her voice breaking several times. No, he would do nothing to upset her composure.
The day wore on endlessly for Phileas. He helped Rebecca as well as he could making rounds about the house seeing to their guests. Jessica and her husband from Scotland had come. Young Daniel had not made the trip. He had stayed at home with his new grandfather. Great Aunt Ermintrude was presently holding court in the front parlor with most of the older ladies. Fogg left that room to Rebecca to see to. The old harridan still intimidated the devil out of him, even as old as he was. Great Uncle Paul was holding similar sway over the older men with a ring of boys eight to eighteen on the perimeter. All listening avidly to old family stories Phileas had heard at least ten times each.
‘Why do I feel like such an outsider here in my own home with my own family,’ Fogg asked himself? Too many years working and living a life he couldn’t share with these people, he assumed. Phileas wondered for a moment if his father had felt the same way. They had been such a tight isolated family. For all the size of the Fogg clan, his sphere had revolved around his immediate relatives and no one else. His mother had been better at keeping them tied to the rest than his father had been. Fogg put the next thought over what ifs away before it had a chance to form. ‘I will not let this atmosphere get me any more melancholy than necessary,’ he vowed.
A light touch pulled him out of his thoughts. Rebecca was at his side. He smiled down at her tired face offering praise and encouragement for the rest of the day and tomorrow as they saw all their guests off. “Lydia has been asking for you,” Rebecca said quietly to him. “She has something to give you. She asked to see you privately in the study after dinner. Poor dear, she is exhausted by all this,” Rebecca commented in sympathy. “Aunt Ermintrude sent her upstairs to rest an hour ago.”
Phileas nodded acknowledgement. “Tonight then, if she is up to it.”
Dinner that night had been a less crowded affair than it had been the night before. Most of the family had begun their journeys home after tea. The only one’s staying over night again were Lydia and her two youngest daughters and Aunt Ermintrude.
That unnerved him. The older woman made Phileas feel like a strapling and he didn’t like it. The thought of having to be her host for another several days was enough to make him contemplate a driving need to visit Verne in Paris.
Phileas headed off to the study as soon as the meal was over. It was now cleaned of cots and luggage. He sat at the big desk his father had spent so much time at to wait. ‘There should be elbow prints,’ he thought with amusement as he looked over the waxed surface.
‘The staff had done wonders these last few days and had been sorely inconvenienced having to vacate their rooms to make space for guests,’ Phileas thought as he waited. He had already arranged bonuses for the extra work. He and Rebecca had been very undemanding to the staff in the last few years since his father’s death. Phileas visited the country infrequently preferring the excitement of the city. ‘That however was about to change,’ he contemplated, pulling out paper to write a list. ‘I need to hire on more help and . . .’
A knock came to the door as he began to formulate his thoughts. Remembering why he had come to the study, Phileas put the paper away and invited Lydia in.
“Phileas?” a stronger more authoritarian female voice than Lydia’s called out.
It was not Lydia. Aunt Ermintrude entered the room like a ship in full sail with her elliptical hoop skirts trailing her. The old bat’s face was as direct and demanding as ever, its gaze reducing him of twenty years or more maturity on contact. Her silver hair was arranged severely in a large bun at the back of her head. Her black silk dress was also severe but not unattractive. In her way, she had always been as fashionable as any of his female relatives. Maybe more so as she had once used her reputed good looks to confound the enemy during the wars with Napoleon. Phileas wasn’t sure if he could visualize her as a young beauty, but he could easily imagine her a conniving spy.
His elder smiled to him as she entered the room. Phileas had already stood in greeting as she turned and closed the door. When she turned again to address him her smile seemed stronger still. “Lydia is still overtired and asked me to talk to you. She asked me to tell you that Jason was quite pleased with you when you said you would be taking on your responsibilities fully,” she began sitting in the chair beside the desk near him. “We had all been quite concerned when you and your father had that awful falling out. Jason took over for you in most of the family duties, but he always had hopes that you would take them back in time.”
The dialog made Phileas uncomfortable but he should have expected that some of the family would know about what had happened. Ermintrude of course knew everything and Jason and his father had been close. They had served together in the Navy if he remembered correctly. “Thank you for your kind words Madam. I will do my best to honor his faith in me.”
Ermintrude smiled to Phileas again. “My faith in you as well Phileas. It was an awful thing to have happened and I was quite distressed over it, stubborn to the core both of you. But time heals these things.”
She then pulled something small out of her dress pocket. It was an old fashioned key. It was much longer than the usual, at least ten inches, and made for a double locking mechanism. A very special key, he thought considering it was made of silver and had the family crest at the top of it.
“I suppose we should get started. Jason told Lydia that you don’t know anything of this. The next generation usually takes over at age forty and you I believe were two years short of that when . . . well.”
“I’m sorry,” Phileas said perplexed. “You have me at a disadvantage. I thought I knew all the family traditions. This isn’t something I’ve ever heard of before.”
“I’m speaking of the family annuals,” the older woman explained, “the records of the family’s service to the crown. You are just the newest generation to do the crowns bidding you know. The Foggs have been quietly looking after England’s business for many generations. Your father, Jason, Paul, Sam and Ezra went before you. And before them were your grandfather, George, Michael, and me. You, Erasmus, Rebecca, Adam, Travis and Benjamin came next. And now, Harry, my grandson Gabriel and Lydia’s two younger sons Vance and Connor have joined the ranks. And you Phileas, as head of the family, are the one that keeps the annuals. Duties to the crown of the sort we have been doing over the years are not discussed or made public record. A knighthood is the only outward show of gratitude ever allowed us. Haven’t you wondered why there were so many knights in our family?
Now, lets unlock the vault and I’ll tell you where everything is.” With that, Ermintrude stood and walked to the family coat of arms on the wall opposite the desk. “Could you lift the sword on the right? It’s too high for me.”
Phileas followed her to the large wall decoration that he had examined and studied all his life. He stretched his arm upward and pulled the right hand sword halfway up out of its resting place.
“That’s enough,” Ermintrude directed.
Under the place where the lower part of the blade had rested was a keyhole. It was well camouflaged. Even without the sword in place it looked like part of the painted motif of that part of the shield. Ermintrude put the key in its place and turned it. An audible turning of tumblers came to Foggs ears. Then she pushed the key in further turning it the opposite direction. The wall swung in in front of him.
“I use to help keep the annuals with your grandfather,” Ermintrude said slipping in the doorway to the stairs beyond. It’s not all that hard to keep up. Before us, missions were logged in bound books by hand. They were transcribed from notes or reports. Your grandfather put an end to that. We keep them in file cases now. When someone goes out of service the whole of their records are transcribed then and bound by the royal print house.”
Phileas passed into the large room and sucked in his breath in wonder. There was a narrow downward stair that led to the record room. It was lined with shelves on two sides. Against a third were barrister boxes full of file cases. But what got his attention most were the antiques. The room was full of flags and battle pennants. Added to that were racks of swords, knives, shields, and suits of armor standing on display, seemingly on silent guard duty. The fourth wall was covered with paintings. All of the men and women had the Fogg stamp on their features, ancestors. Near the barrister boxes was a large cluttered desk.
Ermintrude swept the desk chair back and indicated Phileas to sit. When he did, she reached up and pulled an ancient looking box off a shelf. It was leather bound with a key lock. She put a smaller key attached to the ring the long key was on into the lock and opened it for him. Inside were two parchment documents.
“I trust you still know your Latin but I will tell you what they say anyway. Harold Fogg, our, well… ever so great ancestor was a knight in King Stephen’s service during the civil wars of the twelfth century. When Stephen stepped down for Henry II, Queen Matilda’s son, he pledged his knights to Henry. Harold further pledged not only himself, but also his family to the service of the English crown… forever. Since then, we Foggs have been in the service of whoever held the crown. And believe me, that wasn’t an easy thing when the Plantagenets and Tudors were in power. I’ve read the annuals. You could feel the frustrations of the times coming off the pages.” Ermintrude stopped her history lesson to let Phileas read Harold’s proclamation for himself along with Henry II’s acceptance.
“I didn’t know the family went that far back,” Phileas said in awe.”
“Surprised me too,” the older woman said smiling over his shoulder.
When Phileas placed the parchments back in the box, she took it back to its place. As she was doing that, Phileas noticed a stack of bound volumes on the desk. They were new. On the spine of one was his brother’s name. On the other was his father’s. “Phileas reverently picked up both. Father’s was thick, over six inches while his brother’s… Phileas’ hands started to shake as the reason for the briefness of his brother’s service record came to mind.
Behind him, Ermintrude saw him pick up the books, and his reaction to them. She very gently took them out of his hands. “There are some that are larger than this and some much shorter than your brother’s. We are all on this earth for our proscribed times Phileas,” she said softly. “You can’t change fate or the past. We keep these annuals to honor and remember.”
Phileas looked up to her as Ermintrude took away the books. He had a moments urge to take them back again. He wanted to keep both close to him, one to celebrate and the other to study. Maybe somewhere in there was a reason for his father being the way he was.
Fogg wasn’t given the chance to continue the thought. Ermintrude bid him to stand and come to the barrister boxes. Each had a name on them including his and Rebecca’s and the younger cousins she had mentioned earlier.
“We were in the process of setting your records for binding when you took possession of the Aurora and began helping Rebecca in her missions. Jason decided to keep yours open when the Queen began requesting you privately. It’s all in there.”
“How was this compiled?” He asked stunned at the notion.
“Official records, reports, diaries, in your case Jason kept tabs on what you were doing. There are written records on everything you know, even covert happenings. He, Jason, was quite proud of you, you know.”
“I’ll help you for a while until you understand how it all works, but this is yours to keep up Phileas,” his aunt continued. “My book has already been printed. You and Rebecca will take over completely soon.
Ah, mind you though, Rebecca doesn’t get to know about this for a while yet,” she admonished conspiritally. “Not a good thing to know about this until one is closer to the end of their service. Don’t want to make anyone too self conscious after all. That’s the reason for the rule about not before forty.”
“I understand,” Phileas said, and meant it. He smiled a bit as he looked over Rebecca’s cases wondering if there was anything in there he didn’t know about. It was a temptation to prowl but Emintrude wasn’t going to give him the chance today.
“Come along now. We’ve been down here long enough. If we keep behind closed doors much longer, Rebecca and that dear man of yours may break in out of concern,” his elder said smiling wickedly.
Phileas couldn’t help but laugh in return. He and this woman were going to be spending a lot of time together in the future, and it was going to eat Rebecca alive. Oddly, this shared secret put him on a new footing with Aunt Ermintrude. The old battle-ax suddenly became more likable to him.
Ermintrude placed the key in his hand when they reached the study again. He locked the hidden door and placed the keys in the safe under the desk, the safe Rebecca didn’t have a combination to. “I can go back with you tomorrow if you would like to go through it more thoroughly,” she offered.
“Thank you, Aunt Ermintrude and good night,” Phileas said bowing her out of the study as she left.
Turning back to the coat of arms on the far wall, Phileas looked at it again with new appreciation. His father had explained the symbolism of its contents to him but had never told him what those keyhole symbols in the lower left were about. And oddly enough he had never thought to ask. Now he knew.
The End