The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald
you see.” He looked round at the others, smiling whimsically. “Why – it was just like our accident in the first innings – when Flashy put me out.”
At that the chatter broke out, and then Elspeth was all over me, exclaiming about my poor head, and calling for salts and hartshorn. I quieted her while I regained my wits and listened to the debate: Mynn was maintaining stoutly that it wasn’t fair, running a chap out when he was half-stunned, and Felix said, well, according to the rules, I was fairly out, and anyway, the same sort of thing had happened in Solomon’s first hand, which was extraordinary, when he came to think of it – Mynn said that was different, because I hadn’t realized Solomon was crocked, and Felix said, ah well, that was the point, but Solomon hadn’t realized I was crocked, either, and Mynn muttered, didn’t he, by George, and if that was the way they played at Eton, he didn’t think much of it …
“But … who has won?” demanded Elspeth.
“No one,” says Felix. “It’s a tie. Flashy ran one run, which made the scores level at 31, and was run out before he could finish the second. So the game’s drawn.”
“And if you remember,” says Solomon – and although his smile was as bland as ever, he couldn’t keep the triumphant gleam out of his eye – “you gave me the tie, which means” – and he bowed to Elspeth – “that I shall have the joy of welcoming you, my dear Diana, and your father, aboard my vessel for our cruise. I’m truly sorry our game ended as it did, old chap – but I feel entitled to claim my wager.”
Oh, he was indeed, and I knew it. He’d paid me back in my own coin, for felling him in the first innings – it was no consolation that I’d done my dirty work a sight more subtly than he had – not with Elspeth hopping with excitement, clapping her hands, exulting and trying to commiserate with me all at once.
“Tain’t cricket,” Mynn mutters to me, “but there’s nothing for it. Pay up, look pleasant – that’s the d---able thing about being English and playing against foreigners; they ain’t gentlemen.” I doubt if Solomon heard him; he was too busy beaming, with his arm round my shoulders, calling out that there was champagne and oysters in the house, and more beer for the groundlings. So he’d won his bet, without winning the match – well, at least I was clear where Tighe was concerned, for … and then the horrid realization struck me, at the very moment when I looked up and saw that red weskit on the outskirts of the crowd, with the boozy, scowling face above it – he was glaring at me, tight-lipped, shredding what I guessed was a betting-slip between his fingers. He nodded at me twice, ominously, turned on his heel, and stalked away.
For Tighe had lost his bet, too. He’d backed me to lose, and Solomon to win – and we had tied. With all my floundering indecision and bad luck, I’d achieved the worst possible result all round. I’d lost Elspeth to Solomon and his d----d cruise (for I couldn’t oil out of paying now) and I’d cost Tighe a thousand to boot. He’d expose me for taking his money, and set his ruffians after me – oh, J---s, and there was the Duke, too, vowing vengeance on me for deflowering his tiger lily. What a b----y pickle—
“Why, are you all right, old fellow?” cries Solomon. “You’ve gone pale again – here, help me get him into the shade – fetch some ice for his head—”
“Brandy,” I croaked. “No, no, I mean … I’m first-rate; just a passing weakness – the bump, and my old wound, you know. I just need a moment … to recover … collect my thoughts …”
Horrid thoughts they were, too – how the deuce was I going to get out of this mess? And they say cricket’s an innocent pastime!
[Extract from the diary of Mrs Flashman, June—, 1843]
The most famous thing has happened – darling Harry has consented to come with us on our voyage!!! and I am happy beyond all telling! He has even put aside the Prospect of his Appointment in the Life Guards – and all for Me! It was so unexpected (but that is so like my Dear Hero), for almost as soon as the match was over, and Don S. had claimed his Prize, H. said very seriously, that he had thought the matter over, and while he was reluctant to decline the Military Advancement that had been offered him, he could not bear to be parted from me!! Such Proof of his Devotion moved me to tears, and I could not forbear to embrace him – which display I suppose caused some remark, but I don’t care!
Don S., of course, was very warm in agreeing that H. should come, once he had satisfied himself that my dear one was quite determined. Don S. is so good; he reminded H. of what a signal honour he was declining, in not going to the Life Guards, and asked was he perfectly certain he wished to come with us, explaining that he would not have H. make any sacrifice on our account. But My Darling said “No, thank’ee, I’ll come, if you don’t mind,” in that straightforward way of his, rubbing his poor head, and looking so pale but determined. I was overjoyed, and longed to be private with him, so that I might better express my Deep Gratification at his decision, as well as my undying love. But – alas! – that is denied me for the moment, for almost at once H. announced that his decision necessitated his immediate departure for Town, where he has many Affairs to attend to before we sail. I offered to accompany him, of course, but he wouldn’t hear of it, so reluctant is he to interrupt my holiday here – he is the Dearest of Husbands! So considerate. He explained that his Business would take him about a good deal, and he could not say where he would be for a day or so, but would join us at Dover, whence we sail for the Mysterious Orient.
So he has gone, not even staying to answer an invitation from our dear friend the Duke, to call upon him. I am instructed to say to all inquiries that he is gone away, on Private Business – for of course there are always People anxious to see and solicit my darling, so celebrated as he has become – not only Dukes and the like, but quite Ordinary Mortals as well, who hope to shake his hand, I dare say, and then tell their Acquaintances of it afterwards. In the meantime, dear diary, I am left alone – except for the company of Don S., of course, and dear Papa – to anticipate the Great Adventure which lies before us, and await that Joyous Reunion with my Beloved at Dover, which will be but the Prelude, I trust, to our Fairy-tale Journey into the Romantic Unknown …
[End of extract – G. de R.]
a Sixpence.
It was one thing to decide to go on Solomon’s cruise, but quite another to get safe aboard; I had to spend ten days lurking in and about London like a gunpowder plotter, starting at my own shadow and keeping an eye skinned for the Duke’s pluggers – and Daedalus Tighe’s. You may think I was over-timid, and the danger none so great, but you don’t know what people like the Duke were capable of in my young days; they thought they were still in the eighteenth century, and if you offended ’em they could have their bullies thrash you, and then trust to their title to keep them clear of the consequences, I was never a Reform Bill man myself, but there’s no doubt the aristocracy needed its comb cutting.
In any event, it required no great arithmetic to decide to flee the country for a spell. It was sickening to have to give up the Life Guards, but if Tighe spread a scandal about me it might well force me to resign anyway – you could be an imbecile viscount with a cleft palate and still fit to command in the Household Brigade, but if they found you were taking a bookie’s tin for favours, heaven help you, however famous a soldier you were. So there was nothing for it but to lie doggo until the boat sailed, and make one furtive visit to Horse Guards to tip Uncle Bindley the bad news. He quivered with disbelief down the length of his aristocratic spine when I told him.
“Do I apprehend,” says he, “that you are refusing an appointment – free of purchase, may I remind you – in the Household Brigade, which has been specially procured for you at Lord Wellington’s instance, in order to go junketing abroad with your wife, her extraordinary father, and this … this person from Threadneedle