This post brought the introduction of the Squire. Below, the story continues.
While our Squire had been bestowing his evening blessing on his land, his household had received a quite unexpected visitor. “The young sir just helped himself to the fireside, and took a glass of your port besides. As I didn’t think it right to toss him out, I’ve let him be, but I don’t like to see the young lads take advantage of you, sir.” Ever on guard of his master’s consequence and privacy, Joseph could be counted on to halt those whose encroaching ways presumed an intimacy with the Squire; the young men of the neighbourhood, however, conspired with the Squire himself to elude Joseph’s defences.
And so it was that on this night, when Squire anticipated tranquility, rabbit, and the company of a long-awaited book, he found young Matthew Gage sitting at his fire, sipping his port and sniffing appreciatively at the aroma of roasted rabbit in the air. He’d wrinkled the evening paper too, Squire noticed with chagrin. There was a great deal he could forgive army-mad juveniles – he’d been one himself, after all – but it really asked too much of a man to share his newspaper with someone who mangled it in such fashion. That Joseph was put out was very clear. Like most faithful retainers of longstanding, he had a way of communicating his opinions without resorting to words; which ability could at times disconcert his master.
Now, in order to offset the slight aloofness of Joseph, Squire entered his snug study and smiled at the young man sitting with such self-assurance in another man’s private room. That confidence must be the country-bred habit of believing one man equal to another -- if both worked equally hard. Not that Matthew was known to work hard for his bread, but he was willing to lend his weight when needed.
“Good evening, Matthew. I see you’re already quite at home, so I won’t offer you a drink. Does your father know you indulge in spirits?” While Squire sometimes sounded gruff, one needed only to note the twinkle in his eyes to know he was not really a harsh man. Military life had taught him decision and leadership, but he was by nature ever ready to see the joke; at this moment, the joke was the lad – all of 14 years old – sitting at his leisure by the fire, sipping port and looking for all the world as though he were about to light a pipe.
Matthew grinned at the older man, and drained his glass before getting to his feet and extending his hand in welcome. “Well sir, leastways he never said directly that I couldn’t. I enjoyed the port, and I don’t deny it, but I’ll admit to you I took it to annoy the stuffed shirt who didn’t want to let me through your door. I was just wanting to have a chat with you sir.”
This of course was the signal to invite his guest to stay for dinner, which Squire obediently did, not entirely regretting his lost solitude and book. During his short time in Milpond he’d come to like the people, and never minded when they showed up at his door ‘for a chat’. It was bound to be an entertaining evening.
Joseph unbent enough to share the information that “Dinner is served, sir. I’ve taken the liberty to provide lemonade for Mr. Gage.” Squire very nobly controlled his grin in order to preserve the dignity of both men, merely acknowledging Joseph’s announcement with a nod of his head, and with another directing Matthew to precede him into the dining room.
Pleased, he noticed that cook had provided well: there was plenty of rabbit for two. He settled in to enjoy his meal with deep contentment, and waited for the boy to reveal the real purpose for his visit. ‘Just a chat’ usually turned into a favour of some sort, such as the use of Squire’s barn as a shelter for the hunting dogs he planned to train and sell as a way to ‘make his fortune’. As he knew Matthew had experience in neither hunting nor dog training, Squire was able to resist the heady promise of riches and declared his barn off limits to the enterprise.
When glasses had been drained and plates were scraped clean, the men pushed their chairs back from the table in order to slouch with comfort. Getting down to business seemed to be taking longer than usual this night, so a direct question seemed to be in order. “Now, Matthew. What great plans have you got for my property this time?”
“Oh, none at all, sir; it’s not your land I’m interested in. Well...not this time anyway.” This was said with a grin, revealing to Squire that Matthew did indeed have schemes, but was willing to wait for a more propitious time to advance them. “It’s nothing really, only I was wondering, Sir, if you happened to have an old uniform around the place that you would be willing to let me have? You see, Thomas Redknapp and George Giggs have fathers who served, while my own dad was a farmer. When we act out the battles, there’s me in my usuals, while they drill in proper uniforms. I’d dearly like to see their faces when I show up next time in an officer’s colours with them dressed as enlisted men.”
“Matthew, there’s no pride to be had in a man’s rank unless the man has honour and courage. Those qualities are found in the enlisted ranks as commonly as among the officers. It doesn’t do to measure a man based on his rank or status. ” Realizing he was in danger of delivering a lecture, he answered the question: “I don’t believe I’ve kept anything from those days, but I’ll set Joseph to see what he can find laying about in the attics”
“That’s very good of you, to be sure. I’ll call back in a few days, shall I? I’ll leave you to your peace now, and I think you for a truly delicious meal. Good night!”
And so Squire was left to his pipe, his long anticipated books, and the opportunity to reflect on the goodness of his life on the land.
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