Joshua and Rupert were best friends. Ever since school when Rupert was ribbed for being ‘foreign’ (grand parents were French emigres who left before The Terror really got started, they got out with plenty of money) and Joshua for being a scholar. Scholars got to the school by being clever, not by having money and influence. He wasn’t exceptional, but he was definitely brighter that Clement Danes, second son of Earl Waukford; Clement had been expelled from three other (more renowned) schools. He was a nuisance to both teachers and pupils; a good thrashing made no difference to his behaviour. Joshua and Rupert banded together for mutual support. Life was never comfortable at the school, people like Clement Danes did not ‘respect’ strength, they challenged it; and they did not get bored of picking on weaklings. There was only one, temporary, solution; best him in a fight and he would retire for a day or two. When Mr Angers – the head – announced that Clement Danes had regretfully had to leave (subtext: been expelled again), the whole school got detention for cheering.

When they left school, Rupert naturally went up to Cambridge; Joshua would have benefited hugely, but did not, he went into business and when Rupert left with his moderate degree, Joshua Tindall & Co. was already doing quite well in various enterprises; to know that one would have had to take a particular interest since Joshua Tindall did not advertise his investments.

Rupert had made new friends at University, but not abandoned his best one. One of his new friends was acquired by the sidestep of rescuing his sister. Eugenie and Sarah were visiting their brother Michael; when he had to attend a lecture or seminar or something equally boring, they decided to hire a punt. It looked easy. Ten minutes later, Eugenie had her feet on the flat boat, her hands clinging tightly to a pole buried in mud and her body suspended over open water and at an unsustainable angle. Mr Amadeau arrived in the nick of time, navigating his punt between pole and Miss Eugenie’s feet, enabling her to fall, albeit clumsily, at least onto dry wood rather than into a muddy river. Rupert tied the two ships together and steered them expertly to the shore; where Michael, heir to Lord Uphrese, was now waiting, bemused, amused and confused. A good friendship was forged over tea, and Rupert fell in love with Sarah.

Eugenie was twenty-one; she recognised that she was reaching the end of the natural period when men would throw themselves at her feet. And they had, just not the kind of men that she wanted. The closest she got was Baron Hinchcomb, and his son! Hinchcomb was an ancient and respectable title, and the man who held the title was forty seven, which was not (quite) over the age to be considered for suitors (she had had two offers from men of sixty! They were tempting in that they might die soon, but she could not bear the idea of a wrinkly old man on top of her), but she was conflicted by the fact that she would be his third wife, so any children would be far down the inheritance stakes. His eldest son was also courting her at the same time; and she was minded to accept him – until the baron heard and told his son he would be entirely disinherited if he married ‘that stuck up bitch of a whore’. She was mortally offended by the comments (which she heard about from a maid), and would have married the son simply out of spite, but the son ran a mile. Eugenie was well built. That is to say her bust was clearly very impressive. She always dressed carefully to reduce it, but make it obvious that she had done so. Not overly tall, but she could be described as ‘willowy’ by many. It was not because she was thin, but because her walk was (as the poet Maximillian Sanpot was reputed to have written about her) ‘walking like an aspen shaking in the breeze, her elegance and beauty brings me to my knees’ (he wasn’t a good poet).

Her sister Sarah was eighteen. Their brother had been born between them and was clearly the apple of their father’s eye. Sarah was less showy than her sister. Her breasts were still growing, slowly, but they were not likely to ever reach Eugenie’s delightful and delicious size. Her waist was thinner and that emphasised her hips because she could draw her waist in so far with corsets. She was, however, cursed (as she saw it) with freckles which marred the pure whiteness of her face. She covered them up when she could, but using lots of make-up made her look more like a painted actress (her father had said she looked like a ‘painted streetwalker’ when she was fifteen and had tried to completely cover her skin with white lead. She hated him for a year, but using less of the poisonous face powder might have saved her life); so she lived with it. This – the freckles – was the reason she had not been inundated with male suitors (she had had two female ones! Which had been something of a surprise to a girl who knew nothing of such things), and so was both the reason that she was available when Rupert met her, and actually the reason he fell in love with her. He loved her natural, healthy, country look combined with a figure that was that of ‘a Greek goddess’.

Eugenie was never going to look at a mere foreign noble of questionable birth, but her sister was more willing to consider such a person acceptable. Eugenie was looking to marry up, not down. Their mother took some persuading that Rupert was high enough up the social tree to be considered worthy of a chance. He was invited for shooting weekends, did not disgrace himself with the other members of the party, and the chase was on. Catching a good spouse was always a combination of hunter and hunted. The female was hunting for a good partner, birth was essential, money was preferable, kindness appreciated, faithfulness and love were optional. But she had to appear to be the hunted prey to the man. The man was hunting for (as a wit once put it) a hostess in the drawing room, a manager in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom; she should look like a goddess, have brains (but not too much), and be an innocent in matters of sex (but not too much). He had to feel he was doing the hunting, but he was being lured to the trap by sweetmeats.

Michael enjoyed Rupert’s company, they played cricket well, rugby better, and rowed for their college. The academic work came down the list of accomplishments. In their first year, actresses played a significant part in their lives too; then in that fateful second year, Rupert fell for Sarah and opted to no longer look for pleasure in probably pox-ridden loins of young chorus girls; Michael fell for a young actress who his family would never accept, and that proved a long term rift with his family. A description of the protagonists might help the reader picture the scenes.

Joshua was dark; dark hair that hung about his head was complimented early after leaving school by a beard and moustache. He had more of a look of someone from the Levant than someone whose ancestors had resided in the Poulting Triangle of the three towns of Poulting, Sandglass and Richmond on Sitting for all of their traceable generations. He once surmised that they were descended from Roman soldiers from the Asiatic conquests, who had stayed on after the Roman occupation collapsed. Tall and well built, he was also careful – both with money and action. His style of cricket was not flamboyant and energetic, he could sit at the crease steadily making runs all day. His sports teacher recognised his skill, few others did; but the statistics at the end of the year always showed that he was in the top three run scorers. He had something that could be described as Saturnine good looks. He and Rupert were no competition to each other in that department.

Rupert was blond; at school he had appeared a Greek god to many a younger pupil. Rupert never had trouble with his scrags (pupils designated to perform menial cleaning jobs for old pupils), they always wanted to work for him. He was sporty in a showy kind of way. His style of cricket was more popular with the masses of pupils who came to watch matches. He might score a four off every ball in an over, or he might be out for a duck. He would appear in the top five run scorers, never the top three, but somehow he would be awarded the Blue because people remembered his innings. Several of the boys had sisters who would have swooned to be looked at by him, several of their mothers too. In fact several of the boys would have willingly been bum boys for him, but he never looked for that style of relief from the tedium of boarding school.

Naturally, Rupert selected Joshua as his best man. “Something of the Jew in that young man of Rupert’s” had been Lord Uphrese’s summation after meeting him. Uphrese was not particularly class conscious, but he was conscious of the influence – as he saw it – of the Semites. He was not a fan of Benjamin Disraeli: “He might pretend to switch religions, but as far as I’m concerned, he is still a damned Jew.” was his intemperate observation there. He was not asked to join the Cabinet. Still, in this he was not so different to many at the time; even Mr Dickens and Mr Trollope were known to use caricatures of Jewish people as a short hand for untrustworthy or underhand personages.

Still, Uphrese was not an unwelcoming host, he still offered Joshua his best brandy prior to dinner, discussed the current political situation (and found a slight warming to this man when Joshua informed him that he “wouldn’t trust Disraeli as far as he could throw him; but then again sir, that goes for most of them”). His wife and daughters were less keen, but this was a class thing. As the likely chief bridesmaid, Eugenie was to be escorted in to dinner by Joshua; Uphrese would escort his daughter Sarah, Rupert would escort his future mother-in-law. Eugenie was aiming to ensnare one Lord Langdon and was not happy to be escorted by a mere middle class ‘Mr’. In the pre-dinner reception of the various guests, Joshua found himself talking to an attractive young lady; they skirted round the lack of introductions by doing it themselves.

“I am Clare, Clare Uphrese is my adopted name.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Clare. I am Joshua Tindall, Rupert’s best man to-be. I was not aware there were three daughters. Forgive me.”

“No, entirely understandable. I am ... I am not Lady Uphrese’s daughter.”

“I am intrigued. Oh look, the rain has stopped, I would so like to see the rose garden. We have thirty minutes I believe.”

So Clare offered to escort Joshua to the rose gardens, which are rightly famous for their heady scents. In thirty minutes, he had obtained much of the young lady’s fascinating life story. She was not embarrassed by it, it was well known and she knew it was easily found out. Having sired a son and two daughters, Uphrese considered his job done, so when the Crimean War erupted, he was first into the saddle. He had a moderate war, his charge of the Leicester Lancers was neither as famous as The Charge of The Light Brigade, nor as disastrous. Perhaps its lack of fame was the result of the lack of disastrous losses. Or perhaps it was because they mistakenly charged French guns instead of Russian ones. His other claim to fame was to take up with a young nurse who had travelled out with Mrs Nightingale. Normally such liaisons were strictly forbidden, but Mrs Nightingale turned a Nelson Eye on this one because Major-General Uphrese also made men available to act as medical orderlies when the need arose, and even helped build a newer, cleaner and more sanitary hospital for the wounded. Florence Nightingale recognised that having one nurse on her back in a General’s tent was a price worth paying to get the new hospital. She was very pragmatic in some ways.

Naturally Emigine Smyth-Patterson, a middle-class daughter of a middle-class respectable family, fell pregnant. She was shipped home. She would have been safer having her baby in the new more disinfected premises in Crimea than in the single parent charity home in East London. Her parents wanted nothing to do with their wicked daughter – whose actions in opening her legs and thereby getting Uphrese to support better hospital conditions had probably saved many many lives. The mother was named on the birth certificate, and so was the father. So when mother and daughter both got sick and Emigine died of cholera, her family wrote to Lord Uphrese.

Emigine was ‘a stunner’. In a nurses uniform, she was one to brighten the heart of a dying soldier when she mopped his brow. She was even known to undo the top two buttons of her uniform so, leaning over as the man slipped away, the last view of life he had was the valley between two delightful, slightly wobbling, mountains. Several men died in great pain but a smile on their face. Clare was of the same mould – in shape at least. She was sixteen, so not yet fully grown, but her breasts were already worth a fantasy or two by the footmen (a servant can be forbidden to touch the ladies of the house, but in the privacy of their bedrooms they might dream). Her skin was pale and her bottom round. Her face was almost elfin, with a dazzling smile. Being less well brought up in the polite way of behaving, she did not know that ladies do not offer broad smiles to men. It made several men wonder about making her a mistress; but never wife because she would inherit little or nothing from the family.

Uphrese did one of the few noble things in his life; he insisted the baby came to live with him and his family. The birth certificate was unchanged, but ever after she was Clare Uphrese. Her new ‘Mama’ was less keen. Her sisters took to calling her cuckoo, her Mama told them off, but often smiled when they made ‘cuckoo’ noises.

Not that she said this herself, but Clare acquired three accomplishments from her treatment. She was the prettiest of the three girls, that can hardly be said to be something for which she was responsible, but it was true. She had long blonde hair that fell in curls about her face. It was true that she made the best of it, when the time came for her as an adult (fifteen) to start wearing it up, she always allowed one strand to hang down near her face, like an errant lock of hair. It had precisely the effect intended, implying a young lady with the hint of a waywardness that any young buck would find attractive. She was also intelligent, and put it to good use. The other two were probably of similar intelligence but recognised that men do not always relish a partner who is more intelligent than themselves. She had learnt numbers early on and was good at helping her mama with the accounts. Finally she was ... sly would be the wrong word. She never sought to get others in trouble, but she recognised that her wits needed to provide her with more support than they did her sisters.

When she was twelve, a visiting bishop asked the three girls which character from history they would be. Boudica perhaps, or Queen Elizabeth? When it was Clare’s turn to answer, she chose “Cordelia, I know she is no historical character, but she is the ideal.”

“Why so?”

“She loves her father too much to faun on him, she is honest to a fault, she is true to herself.”

“Cordelia had two sisters, so have you.”

“Oh sir, I could not comment on that.” An answer that pleased Uphrese mightily; luckily his daughters did not know the Shakespeare play at all. Two days later a pony arrived for Clare, he was so pleased with his daughter’s response. She named him Cuckoo, and would never say why. Some, but not all, of this was made known to him on his walk round the garden. When they returned, the gong was just being sounded. He bade her farewell and walked to offer Eugenie his arm. She very pointedly and publicly refused him, she sniffed like there was a smell and strode into the dining room alone, leaving plain Mr Tindall standing. She was her mother’s daughter. There was nothing to be done; then he noticed that Miss Clare had no-one to accompany her. Lady Uphrese often ‘forgot’ to provide an escort for ‘Cuckoo’, she had accepted the girl into their house, not without misgivings, but she would not accept her as her own. Her place at the table was half way up, far below what a daughter of Lord Uphrese might expect.

“Forgive me, Miss Clare, I notice you have no-one to accompany you; I seem to have mislaid mine. Might I have the inestimable honour?” he said and offered his arm. She could have taken the similar arrogant high ground and none would have blamed her; but of course she did not. She gave a little curtsey and took his arm and walked in at his side. It was a blatant show of independence for which she would pay – there might be no hot water free for a bath, or some such spiteful action; but for tonight, she was a lady. He escorted her to her chair, made great play of helping her chair in; something a servant would usually do, such actions not being expected of a guest. It gave her more honour.

He moved to what he took was his own place, and then was invited to move up beside Eugenie. As the Best Man, he was in a place of honour. He bowed to the lady and sat. She affected to barely notice him, and he affected to care not in the least and engaged the vicar’s wife in a conversation. He appeared quite fascinated in the details of cultivating flowers of various types (something that Rupert knew he cared about not one jot) for display in the church.

None of the guests or hosts knew him or his life. He had branched out and bought a small cobbler shop. Instead of the dingy windows and dark wood frames, he had replaced the centre of the main window with a large single sheet and the frames were all painted bright blue. Not some deep Royal Blue, but a bright blue the colour of the sky, with several coats to give a deep lustre. It was the shop boy’s first job (even before making the tea) to wash the windows and frame every morning. Above it said ‘Skinthorpe – Master Cobbler’ not Joshua’s own name, but the name of the skilled man who would make the shoes. Under it, to Mister Skinthorpe’s embarrassment, it said ‘the perfect shoe for your perfect foot’. It was all flummery, Skinthorpe said, Joshua agreed and then asked if it was not true that he was the best cobbler in the town. “I believe I may be, sir”

“So half of what I say is true. As to the perfect foot, if your shoe fits it, then it is the perfect foot for that shoe. It is all advertising, but look.” he pointed to the grocer who was advertising ‘Johnson’s famous elixir for a better life’ “I’ve never heard of it, so it isn’t famous, and it is just sugar water, I’d lay a pound to a penny’. Here he was wrong, it contained ingredients that were highly addictive and would in time become illegal; but it did make one feel better when under the influence. “All is pretence.”

He had Mr Skinthorpe make a magnificent shoe – just one – in bright yellow leather with red trimming. It took centre stage in the window.

He had started by dealing with the lady customers himself. Young women, drawn by the bright display. Their mothers, who had always used ‘Smith, Cordwainers’ or ‘Jackons and Son’ were persuaded to enter, and then found themselves subject to flattery “two sisters with such dainty feet.” and sales techniques “If I could only persuade such lovely feet to wear my shoes, I would be prepared to supply them at cost for the joy of seeing them worn.” Naturally he inflated the price so he could lower it. Mr Skinthorpe took on a second apprentice as the work built up. Ladies, young and not so young, found themselves allowing a young man to hold their feet and slide shoes on. It was all a little risque but in perfect taste and decorum. Sometimes young women opted to wait as a lady before them found her bunion bound feet gently caressed. It set the heart racing. Soon a second shop was obtained; if they would buy shoes from him, then why not dresses. The latest from Paris; daringly low cut gowns on young ladies that Mr Tindall would stand in front of (clearly admiring the view) and suggest to matronly mothers that a small panel could be inserted to make it more acceptable to the ‘those less open minded and perhaps less innocent’. But he had been granted a view that none of their suitors would see unless and until they had completed marriage vows.

His small colony of shops expanded to an empire across the area. Women hoped he would be present in the shop when they called, but if he was not, he had trained helpers. Even the women were carefully trained to provide just that hint of sexuality in their dealings. The men were told that even a whiff of scandal would be enough to remove them. They were all handsome, and spent several weeks in less public tasks as they trained with the female shop assistants. They learnt how far up a lady’s leg it might be acceptable to hold. The women shop assistants enjoyed being the model for the training. One did marry a young shop manager; another had to after the hand (and more) had clearly travelled well past the acceptable place to where pregnancy resulted. It was acceptable, because essential, to touch a lady’s ankle, but no further.

The one thing he did not do (aside from allowing his hands to travel where they should not on occasions) was put his own name on the shops and then the small factories that he acquired. He was content to be successful, he did not wish to be seen as overly controlling of the local and then regional economy. Therefore, the Uphrese family were unaware that the foundation garments the ladies were all wearing were designed, manufactured and sold by Joshua’s businesses. He was amused to realise that he could know precisely what the pompous Eugenie was wearing next to her skin (since he had access to all the sales books).

Even Rupert – whose father had provided a small but increasing allowance; was unaware that his best friend had, in the few years since they had left school become a very successful businessman with few debts and much property. It was just that the property was largely in towns rather than estates.

By the end of the visit, it was plain that Joshua and Clare were a love match. But, despite her being born on the wrong side of the sheets, and not to be left any inheritance to make her a worthwhile catch for an impoverished noble, both Lord and Lady Uphrese were of one mind – such a match was impossible.

Joshua was common – he was a commoner, it was true. To ‘Mama’ that was the same thing. Joshua was a Jew – nothing would shift Papa from that view; facts were not as important as opinions. Joshua was on the make – what did he hope to make since Clare would come with nothing? She was told that it would not be encouraged. The other two daughters were not encouraging either, to have a common, Jewish, grasping low life as a brother-in-law was not what they wanted and would do them no good in their marriage and society aspirations.

But Clare understood that this was her best chance, she laid her plans. She wrote secretly, and he wrote back. A servant proved a sympathetic ally; naturally she hoped that success would bring rewards. She was right to hope this since she was taking a large risk to help.

Joshua had to be invited again, as was Rupert; this time to the London house. “Clare, you made no reply to my entreaty.”

“How should I reply? I cannot marry unless father gives permission. Therefore I cannot consent ... but, dearest Joshua, I remember brother Michael regaling us with a story that they read in their Latin studies at school. Are you familiar with the story of the Sabine women?”

“The Ra- oh, yes, I am indeed” He stopped himself in time from referring to the Rape of the Sabine Women. He realised that Michael’s salacious tales would have certainly been of interest to sheltered young ladies. Michael had indeed told his sisters all that he had learned, and all that he had surmised: how the Romans had been a male-heavy population of disreputable types. Because they needed women (Clare had interjected “But why? Women cannot fight.” and the older sister had delighted in explaining later the detail of what a man might do to a woman), the Romans had raided their neighbours. The term ‘rape’, their Latin teacher had endeavoured to explain, was probably a mistranslation; they were abducted. It mattered little, after abduction came the rape. Michael expanded on how brothers might share a wife and keep her busy all night; or how a bold warrior might take three sisters and bed them all. The girls relished the gory details of young women like themselves being forced into sex with hairy warriors still in their armour – which was unlikely and impractical of course.

“I read further into this in father’s histories. It appears that the Sabinites – is that right? - tried to fight and take back their women, but the women told them to stop. They were no longer virgin maids, they were many of them expecting children. Therefore, if they were returned, there would be no perfection, they were ... tainted. They should therefore stay and their fathers’ should give permission for weddings. And so it happened.”

“I see.” He had no idea why he was being told this. He looked blank; but he knew there must be a reason.

“Think, my love.”

That night he did. The light dawned. If she was – tainted; if she was taken and deflowered; if she was to give herself ... no, he would have to take her. He would have to be the evil doer and she the innocent victim. When he saw her he suggested he could not, in all conscience, do such a thing. She replied that he needed to decide how much he wanted to be with her, and stalked off. ‘Women!’ He thought to himself, ‘If I had come up with such a plan she would have been hugely offended; but if I say I am unhappy about the prospect of, well of raping her, she stalks off saying I don’t love her enough.’... “Josh, how goes it, my dear friend.” Rupert was in an unusual mood.

“I’m well, how are you Rupie?”

“Oh, well, I’ve been worse, I’ve been better. Fact is I’m getting ready to explode and have no idea how to stop. I’ve tried long walks, cold showers, cold showers and long walks. Even tried reading a book, but they all have beautiful heroines just waiting to lose their purity.” He did not know of books other than these; genuine uplifting novels were not on his reading list.

“What? What ever is the matter?”

“I love Sarah so much, I am head over heels about her. I adore the very ground she walks on. I have promised not to look at any other for, umm satisfaction. Miss Malone – [a very pretty young entertainer from the Red Wheel Music Hall, with a habit of wearing skirts that showed her garter] – came and sat on my lap and suggested I give her a champagne breakfast ‘after’. I had to tell her that I could only give her such a breakfast ‘before’ else I not give her one at all. If you understand me.”

“I do, but, well is that healthy for you?”

“I fear not, I may soon have to resort to the sin that young Carruthers was so frequently beaten for; I have no desire to. But I do have desire.” The head had emphasised how awful Onanism was, the boys naturally had to research the word.

“What about a young boy? Would that not avoid the promise?” Rupert gave him a withering glance. “Sorry, old chap.”

“I did say to dear Sarah that since we were engaged, we might, canoodle a little more. I mean I suggested she could help. She refused point blank, she said that ‘bedroom antics are for married couples’. I don’t think she knows what alternatives there are.”

“She must, surely she must? Do not girls discuss such things? She must know of hand relief? Or mouth? Or the other hole? None would need reduce her maidenhood before the nuptuals.”

“How can I ask ‘oh S, dear, do you know you can wrap you lovely strawberry lips about this rod of mine to give me pleasure?’ If she knows, she is refusing and will be offended; if she does not know then she might be shocked and appalled. Damn it! What can I do? Oh, sorry old chum. Here’s me bemoaning my fate and you have troubles of your own. How’s the campaign? I have tried to persuade Uphrese and his snobbish wife, but they won’t budge.”

Joshua explained the possible plan that they were hatching up. Rupert shook his head. “Can’t see it. Can’t see it. As far as the good lady is concerned, Clare is not a big loss, but she would be an embarrassment to the family if she married some common tradesman – no offence.” None was taken, they were really good friends and did not need to sugar pills. “Uphrese himself might see some advantage; though I’m pretty sure she gets nothing when he pops his clogs anyway; if he could disown her because of her terrible choice of illicit partner, he might see that as a win. The trouble is she is such a looker that she would make an excellent mistress for some high born chinless wonder. That would be acceptable. To him I mean, not to Clare or you! No, I think that if you got her up the duff then they would ship her off to a nunnery in somewhere like Inverness and you’d never see her again. Sorry only five out of ten for that plan. Still, shows the lass has gumption. I love Sarah to bits, truly, but I don’t think she’d come up with a plan like that. Actually, I wonder if Clare is more intelligent than you, you should watch that.” Rupert Amadeau was of the kind (the majority) who thinks a man should be more intelligent than his wife. Joshua said nothing, he thought Sarah and Rupert were about even on that score.

Still, he did have his good days. He chased down Joshua the next day. “Do you like military strategy? They were both standing under the famous painting by D.M. Terrington ‘The Charge’. They both looked up at it involuntarily. It was supposed to depict the Charge of the Light Brigade. As the baron told people, it was actually a representation of his own celebrated charge (which is why the guns are so hidden in smoke, since they are French, not Russian), few people believed him. “Well, no matter, come on, the devilled kidneys will all be gone. Anyway, there is a concept of ultimate deterrent. Similar to Pyrric’s Victory but a precursor to it. The idea is to present to your enemy so overwhelming a threat of retaliation that any attack would be foolhardy.”