Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 1: Flashman, Royal Flash, Flashman’s Lady. George Fraser MacDonald
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the daughters: Agnes, buxom and darkly handsome – she would do. Mary, buxom and plain – she would not. Grizel, thin and mousy and still a schoolgirl – no. Elspeth was like none of the others. She was beautiful, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and pink-cheeked, and she alone smiled at me with the open, simple smile of the truly stupid. I marked her down at once, and gave all my attention to Mistress Morrison.
It was grim work, I may tell you, for she was a sour tyrant of a woman and looked on me as she looked on all soldiers, Englishmen, and men under fifty years of age – as frivolous, Godless, feckless, and unworthy. In this, it seemed, her husband supported her, and the daughters said not a word to me all evening. I could have damned the lot of them (except Elspeth), but instead I set myself to be pleasant, modest, and even meek where the old woman was concerned, and when we went into dinner – which was served in great state – she had thawed to the extent of a sour smile or two.
Well, I thought, that is something, and I went up in her estimation by saying “Amen” loudly when Morrison said grace, and struck while the iron was hot by asking presently – it was Saturday – what time divine service was next morning. Morrison went so far as to be civil once or twice, after this, but I was still glad to escape at last to my room – dark brown tomb though it was.
You may wonder why I took pains to ingratiate myself with these puritan boors, and the answer is that I have always made a point of being civil to anyone who might ever be of use to me. Also, I had half an eye to Miss Elspeth, and there was no hope there without the mother’s good opinion.
So I attended family prayers with them, and escorted them to church, and listened to Miss Agnes sing in the evening, and helped Miss Grizel with her lessons, and pretended an interest in Mistress Morrison’s conversation – which was spiteful and censorious and limited to the doings of her acquaintances in Paisley – and was entertained by Miss Mary on the subject of her garden flowers, and bore with old Morrison’s droning about the state of trade and the incompetence of government. And among these riotous pleasures of a soldier’s life I talked occasionally with Miss Elspeth, and found her brainless beyond description. But she was undeniably desirable, and for all the piety and fear of hell-fire that had been drummed into her, I thought there was sometimes a wanton look about her eye and lower lip, and after a week I had her as infatuated with me as any young woman could be. It was not so difficult; dashing young cavalrymen with broad shoulders were rare in Paisley, and I was setting myself to charm.
However, there’s many a slip ’twixt the crouch and the leap, as the cavalry used to say, and my difficulty was to get Miss Elspeth in the right place at the right time. I was kept pretty hard at it with the militia during the day, and in the evenings her parents chaperoned her like shadows. It was more for form’s sake than anything else, I think, for they seemed to trust me well enough by this time, but it made things damnably awkward, and I was beginning to itch for her considerably. But eventually it was her father himself who brought matters to a successful conclusion – and changed my whole life, and hers. And it was because he, John Morrison, who had boasted of his fearlessness, turned out to be as timid as a mouse.
It was on a Monday, nine days after I had arrived, that a fracas broke out in one of the mills; a young worker had his arm crushed in one of the machines, and his mates made a great outcry, and a meeting of workmen was held in the streets beyond the mill gates. That was all, but some fool of a magistrate lost his head and demanded that the troops be called “to quell the seditious rioters”. I sent his messenger about his business, in the first place because there seemed no danger from the meeting – although there was plenty of fist-shaking and threat-shouting, by all accounts – and in the second because I do not make a practice of seeking sorrow.
Sure enough, the meeting dispersed, but not before the magistrate had spread panic and alarm, ordering the shops to close and windows in the town to be shuttered and God knows what other folly. I told him to his face he was a fool, ordered my sergeant to let the militia go home (but to have them ready on recall), and trotted over to Renfrew.
There Morrison was in a state of despair. He peeped at me round the front door, his face ashen, and demanded:
“Are they comin’, in Goad’s name?” and then “Why are ye not at the head of your troops, sir? Are we tae be murdered for your neglect?”
I told him, pretty sharp, that there was no danger, but that if there had been, his place was surely at his mill, to keep his rascals in order. He whinnied at me – I’ve seldom seen a man in such fright, and being a true-bred poltroon myself, I speak with authority.
“My place is here,” he yelped, “defendin’ my hame and bairns!”
“I thought they were in Glasgow today,” I said, as I came into the hall.
“My wee Elspeth’s here,” said he, groaning. “If the mob was tae break in …”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” says I, for I was well out of sorts, what with the idiot magistrate and now Morrison, “there isn’t a mob. They’ve gone home.”
“Will they stay hame?” he bawled. “Oh, they hate me, Mr Flashman, damn them a’! What if they were to come here? O, wae’s me – and my poor wee Elspeth!”
Poor wee Elspeth was sitting on the window-seat, admiring her reflection in the panes and perfectly unconcerned. Catching sight of her, I had an excellent thought.
“If you’re nervous for her, why not send her to Glasgow, too?” I asked him, very unconcerned.
“Are ye mad, sir? Alone on the road, a lassie?”
I reassured him: I would escort her safely to her Mama.
“And leave me here?” he cried, so I suggested he come as well. But he wouldn’t have that; I realised later he probably had his strongbox in the house.
He hummed and hawed a great deal, but eventually fear for his daughter – which was entirely groundless, as far as mobs were concerned – overcame him, and we were packed off together in the gig, I driving, she humming gaily at the thought of a jaunt, and her devoted parent crying instruction and consternation after us as we rattled off.
“Tak’ care o’ my poor wee lamb, Mr Flashman,” he wailed.
“To be sure I will, sir,” I replied. And I did.
The banks of the Clyde in those days were very pretty; not like the grimy slums that cover them now. There was a gentle evening haze, I remember, and a warm sun setting on a glorious day, and after a mile or two I suggested we stop and ramble among the thickets by the waterside. Miss Elspeth was eager, so we left the pony grazing and went into a little copse. I suggested we sit down, and Miss Elspeth was eager again – that glorious vacant smile informed me. I believe I murmured a few pleasantries, played with her hair, and then kissed her. Miss Elspeth was more eager still. Then I got to work in earnest, and Miss Elspeth’s eagerness knew no bounds. I had great red claw-marks on my back for a fortnight after.
When we had finished, she lay in the grass, drowsy, like a contented kitten, and after a few pleased sighs she said:
“Was that what the minister means when he talks of fornication?”
Astonished, I said, yes, it was.
“Um-hm,” said she. “Why has he such a down on it?”
It seemed to me time to be pressing on towards Glasgow. Ignorant women I have met, and I knew that Miss Elspeth must rank high among them, but I had not supposed until now that she had no earthly idea of elementary human relations. (Yet there were even married women in my time who did not connect their husbands’ antics in bed with the conception of children.) She simply did not understand what had taken place between us. She liked it, certainly, but she had no thought of anything beyond the act – no notion of consequences, or guilt, or the need for secrecy. In her, ignorance and stupidity formed a perfect shield against the world: this, I suppose, is innocence.
It startled me, I can tell you. I had a vision of her remarking happily: “Mama, you’ll never guess what Mr Flashman and I have been doing this evening …” Not that I minded too much, for when all