Like a sick animal, he obeyed the promptings of instinct, not reason. He tottered through the arcade, past the chapel and into the gardens. He made his way down to the gate leading to the Fellows’ Garden where as a fellow-commoner he was entitled to walk. The gate was unlocked. He walked very slowly along the path beside the Long Pond. It was cool and shady here, and after a while he began to feel a little better. But even the slightest exertion seemed intolerably tiring. He came to a rustic bench and sat down heavily, wincing as the impact travelled up to his head.
He did not know how long he sat. No one disturbed him. The bench was secluded, surrounded by a large box-hedge on three sides. He closed his eyes and dozed uncomfortably, enclosed in a universe of pain.
The sound of voices roused him. He opened his eyes. The voices came from the other side of the pond, from the Master’s Garden. He yawned and rubbed his head. He glimpsed two black-clad figures crossing a gap between two hedges. First came the portly and unmistakable shape of Dr Carbury himself, lumbering along like a large, tired animal. After him came Tobias Soresby, tall and hunched, his limbs moving with ungainly rapidity. Their conversation continued, the words indistinguishable.
Archdale frowned. Everyone knew that Soresby was Richardson’s pet. That automatically meant that Carbury disliked Soresby, and anyway Carbury was no friend to poor undergraduates, as a class. So what was Soresby doing strolling in Carbury’s garden? It made no sense.
Archdale dozed again. Again, a voice jerked him awake.
‘Be damned to you,’ Carbury said loudly, then his voice became a mumble, swiftly diminishing into silence.
Archdale opened his eyes. No one was there. The Master’s Garden might have been empty. Perhaps he had dreamed it. He closed his eyes.
This time he slept more soundly and for longer. When he awoke with a start, the sun was lower in the sky, and the air cooler. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Harry, I hope I find you well.’
Archdale turned his head and looked up. Philip Whichcote was beside the bench, smiling down at him. He looked offensively sober and healthy.
‘I am in very good spirits,’ Archdale said sourly. ‘Never better.’
Whichcote sat down and stretched out his legs. ‘I looked for you in your rooms but you were not there. Mepal said I might find you here. You look a little pale, I am afraid. I hope you have not been spending too much time poring over your books.’
‘Go away, Philip,’ Archdale said feebly. ‘I am not in the mood for your funning.’
‘You will be as fit as a fiddle in an hour or two, you may depend upon it. Well, your prowess last night was much admired by your fellow Apostles. The general vote was that rarely had a maid screamed louder.’
‘Where – where is she?’
‘The girl? How should I know? Gone back to London, I imagine. The reason I came was to see how you did, and to invite you to dine with me and a few of the others tomorrow. I thought we might run over to Newmarket.’
‘No,’ Archdale said, surprising even himself with his vehemence. ‘It – it would not be convenient.’
They sat in silence for a moment. Archdale privately resolved that from this moment forward, if God spared him, he would become a hard-reading man. Never had sober scholarship seemed so attractive. Never had gambling, whoring and drinking seemed so foolish, unpleasant, expensive and unhealthy.
Whichcote laughed. ‘I should have waited until later, my dear Harry. You must not get in such a taking. You will feel more yourself directly, and then I shall ask you again.’
‘And I’ll give you the same answer.’
‘You must tell Mulgrave to mix you one of his particular tonics. They would revive a corpse. Which reminds me, is he about somewhere? There is something I wish to say to him.’
‘Mulgrave? But you told me the other day he wasn’t to be trusted, and you’d discharged him.’
‘So I have. But I still need a word with him.’
‘Well he’s not here. And nor’s he likely to be.’
‘What do you mean?’ Whichcote said sharply. ‘He is always about the place like a bad smell.’
‘He is looking after Frank.’
‘He’s gone to Barnwell?’
Archdale shook his head and winced. ‘Frank’s not there any more.’
‘What?’ Whichcote gripped Archdale’s shoulder. ‘Are you saying that Frank is cured?’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Archdale moved away from Whichcote. ‘He’s not at Barnwell, though. He’s with that man that Lady Anne sent. Holdsworth. And Mulgrave’s attending them.’
‘But where are they? Has Holdsworth taken Frank back to London?’
‘I don’t know.’ Archdale’s hangover spilled over into irritation. ‘And I don’t much care.’
In the evening Whichcote laid a coin at one end of the mantelpiece. At the other end of Mrs Phear’s mantelpiece stood a lighted candle, the only one in the room. It was still light outside, and a small creature rustled among the leaves of a pear tree espaliered against the rear wall of the garden. Whichcote laid another coin on the mantelpiece, an inch apart from the first. It had been a long day, and he felt flat and weary.
‘There will be more,’ he said. ‘This is merely an earnest of what is to come.’
‘Have you enough for your creditors?’ Mrs Phear asked.
‘There is never enough for those vultures, ma’am. But thank you.’
He laid another coin on the mantelpiece, this one on top of the first, and then placed a fourth on top of the second. Slowly the columns of gold grew taller. In total, the money amounted to a down payment of ten guineas. For Mrs Phear, he knew, such a sum could bridge the difference between genteel poverty and a genteel competence.
‘We have made up some lost ground,’ he said. ‘But there is more. Can we contrive another dinner before the end of term?’
‘It is always the girl that takes the time. The next committee meeting at the Magdalene Hospital is not until the end of the month. It would not be easy to arrange before then.’
‘It is a pity. They are ready for another one. Or most of them are. And young Chiddingley burns to be an Apostle, and for that we need a girl.’
‘There’s one way.’ Mrs Phear stared out of the window. ‘What if we use the same one? Only Mr Archdale saw her.’
‘But I thought we decided that the less they knew the better, and if we use one of them more than once -’
‘That is true as a general principle. In this case, however, there is much to recommend a relaxation of the rule. This girl is a discreet little chit, I fancy. She handled Mr Archdale very well last night.’
‘What was her name again?’
‘Molly Price. She’s no great beauty, I know, but she looks well enough for the part.’
‘A flower waiting to be plucked,’ Whichcote said drily.
‘Think of the convenience of the thing – there is always trouble and risk in recruiting a new one. Also, it takes time. But if it’s Price again, I can simply tell them at the Magdalene that I have hopes of another lady who’s in want of a girl to train up into service.’
‘Still, it increases the danger, does it not? If the Price girl talks -’
‘You may leave all that to me. I will answer for her discretion. Besides, there is nothing she can say that would be believed.’ Mrs Phear’s voice sharpened. ‘Pray, sir, pass me the money. I do not like to put temptation in the way of servants.’
He scraped the guineas into the palm of his left hand and brought them to her. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will talk to the Apostles in the next day or two and give you a date.’
‘The sooner the better.’
‘That’s one difficulty disposed of, ma’am. But there’s another that may not prove so easy. I saw Harry Archdale this afternoon. He told me that Frank is no longer in the care of Dr Jermyn.’