Chapter 2: A helping hand

Devizes. May 4th 1832
Next morning the bargemen returned, the horse was harnessed to the barge rope and off we set to travel the sixteen miles of lock free canal from Devizes to Wooten Rivers lock.
A cook, who was quartered on the other barge, came aboard and prepared a sustaining breakfast, although Mimi was quite capable of doing the work. However, Janine the cook, was an expert on using the rather antiquated cooking appliances on a barge.
She was a handsome woman of some forty years of age, who by her demeanor was not averse to a quick tumble between courses, not that I intended eating from her table. But I would wager a certain Corporal in Lieutenant Graveney’s troop had bowled another maiden over.

Humphrey and Gerda joined us at breakfast, but all was not well between the two. Humph looked down in the mouth, and Gerda looked dissatisfied and frustrated. Later that day, as the barge made a smooth, silent, passage along the canal, I discovered the reason.
The twins had asked to ride on the barge horse, which the horse holder was only too pleased to agree. Gerda and Mimi joined the twins on the towpath -- I believe Gerda and Mimi were eager to have a woman-to-woman talk -- and thus left Humph and I alone on deck.

“I failed to give Gerda...”
“I can guess what the trouble is Humph, there is no need to go in to details.”
He held his head in his hands. “Even using other means was not sufficient to send her over the edge. It has happened to me before with other women, but this time it cut me to the quick. I have developed a feeling for Gerda not present in the other females I have probed, tumbled, and galloped. We have other things in common other than a delight in fornication, although after last night I wonder if she thinks we still have that in common.”

I went to my campaign trunk and withdrew a bottle of Professor Potter’s Potent Prowess Providing Potion.
“A draught from this bottle will soon have you back in the saddle, so to speak. I, Boris Crossley, and Callum Keane can vouch for the efficaciousness of the potion.” I handed Humphrey the bottle. “I can see you are greatly enamoured with Fraulein Gerda, as no doubt she is with you. Professor Potter will give you the vigour and the stamina to fully demonstrate your feeling for her in an unequivocal manner.”
He took the bottle and read the label. “If this does what you say it does then I cannot thank you enough. Before my failure last night I was minded to install Gerda as my mistress. If I were single I would marry the girl, I am that smitten.”

I admit to being surprised by his statement. Humphrey Appleby was an experienced cocksman, the sort of man who kept a firm hold of his emotions, yet here he was professing his love for a woman – girl – young enough to be his daughter. Then I thought of Callum and Claudette – another unlikely pair to have found each other.
“How long have you been married, Humph?”
“Twenty five years, but I have not had carnal knowledge of my wife for at least twenty three of those years!”
I sensed there was a story coming, and poured Humph and myself a tankard of Marlow Old Peculiar. The Navigator, a canal-side tavern in Devizes, stocked the amber nectar and I had purchased a gallon to share with the barge crew and Humphrey. As we made our way along the canal, appreciating the ale and the view, Humphrey told me something of himself, and why his wife had remained unplumbed, at least by him, for so many years.

As I surmised, Humphrey Appleby had been born in Leicestershire, not far from the town of Melton Mowbray, famous for pork pies and Stilton cheese. The Applebys were gentry, Sir Crispin Appleby (Baronet), being the Master of The Quorn Hunt. The family could trace its roots back to a captain of archers present at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, which accounted for the traditional forenames of Appleby males. Crispin for the saint, Henry for the King, Humphrey for the King’s brother who fought upon St Crispin’s Day, and Edward for the Duke of York, killed at the battle.
Both of Humphrey’s brothers, Edward and Henry, were older than he was and had sons to carry on the Appleby line, thus Humphrey was content to remain a bachelor and have many liaisons. Unfortunately, when Humphrey graduated from Cambridge aged twenty-one Sir Crispin decided Humphrey should marry Phoebe Frobisher. The Frobishers were near neighbours of the Applebys; Arthur Frobisher had attended Winchester with Sir Crispin, been with him at Peterhouse College in Cambridge, and both had served in the 17th Regiment of Foot.

Humphrey and Phoebe did not actually dislike each other –there was no feeling of any sort between them. Nevertheless, being dutiful children they obeyed their fathers’ decree and married. The marriage was not blessed with offspring, or success. For the first year of the marriage Humphrey galloped Phoebe morning noon and night, using all the techniques taught him by Polly Perkins, and honed to perfection by his many mistresses. No child was forthcoming.
In such cases the woman is always blamed for the lack of progeny because of her ‘barrenness’. Phoebe informed Humphrey he was welcome to gallop any likely female servant young enough to conceive, and any resultant child Phoebe would claim as her own. It was not unknown for such activity to be carried out in gentrified circles.
Humphrey duly set about galloping parlour maids, housemaids, kitchen maids, and milkmaids. Another six months passed without issue, and Humphrey realised he was the barren member of the marriage.
In a fit of magnanimity he suggested that Phoebe take a lover and produce a child, which he would acknowledge as his own.
Phoebe, who was quite fond of galloping, even when ridden by Humphrey, went through the young males of the neighbourhood, and the household male servants --particularly the outdoor ones; stable hands, gardeners, gamekeepers and the like – but even after fornicating with most of the young men in Melton Mowbray and surrounding areas there was no issue.