Pas de Deux

Richard Easton organised a meeting between Cummings and Ballinger. Richard was there as an impartial adjudicator. Henry told me later that Richard Easton had heard part of Cummings conversation and that as a result he concluded that Antonia could be said to be in jeopardy of sexual harassment. I don't know what else Richard had on Cummings but it was obviously enough to get him to agree that the tour stopped there and then. Their hotel bill would be paid and reservations for the whole company to return to London were made. The following evening Henry, Antonia and I dined with Jake and Richard. Richard was not forthcoming on how he had managed this. "Simon, Cummings was out of his depth." Was all he cared to say. " He had visions of becoming a promoter and entrepreneur, but neglected to look at the details required for such a tour. I am sure that you have guys like Cummings in England, so let's just say that the bad eggs are not indicative of the whole race." He turned to Antonia. "And speaking of bad eggs. It would appear that you and Simon are getting married. So is there a streak of insanity in your family that you should make such a bad decision?" The smile on his face told her he spoke in jest.

"The same streak that got me into dance, I suppose. Si is my Galahad. He has been so since I was eleven. He just seems to turn up when I'm in trouble and rescues me. It seemed like a good idea to keep him around."

"I knew the English were crazy." Richard returned.

Jake joined the conversation. "Talking about being crazy. Richard has a hankering to play the old course at St. Andrews." Jake told us. "God alone knows how many balls he will slice there, so I have to go along to keep count. You had better let us know when and where the wedding is. We'll try to arrange our trip at the same time. We could drop by on our way up to Scotland leaving our wives in London..."

"With plenty of credit cards." interposed Richard.

"Yeh with plenty of credit cards, and we'll go and find out how many balls we can lose on the old course."

Henry coughed indicating that he had something to say. "If Miss Berwick and Simon are willing, I would extend hospitality to them to plan the wedding at Holland Hall. There's a rather pretty Chapel in the grounds. It would be perfect for a wedding."

I knew about the Hall and it was a very gracious place indeed. It was in North Essex, close to the county border of Suffolk. "Henry." I replied. "That is so generous of you. May we talk about it?"

"Of course my boy. Think about it and let me know, one way of the other."

Antonia and I took a walk to discuss this generous offer. It seemed to be perfect as our respective families, although living close when we were young had moved to different parts of the country. So there wasn't a place that either of us would really refer to as home territory anymore. Antonia wanted to know how much Henry would charge us for the use of Holland Hall. "If I know Henry he will not charge us anything." I told her.

We were strolling alongside the hotel's swimming pool which was not being used at that time of the evening. The evening chill brought a warm mist from the water. With the underwater lights glimmering through the mist it was a magical scene. Our heads were so close together as we spoke that neither of us noticed the figure walking towards us. It was only when we heard his words that I realised we had been disturbed by Edgerton Cummings, who was not in a good mood. "Ah, how sweet, the two lovebirds together. You interfering Limey bastard! You have cost me a load of money." If anyone had cost him a lot of money it wasn't me, nor Antonia. Perhaps he should look to himself or even Richard Easton. Antonia was on my right side and I moved slightly to get her behind me. I was going to say these things when he swung at me. It was a wild punch, and I automatically ducked my head. I played rugby from my schooldays and into university and it wasn't unknown in the scrum for a punch or two to be landed. As hooker my head was a convenient target, so I and many other hookers adopt the Boxer's stance. Head down and chin ticked in. Any wild punch would then land high on my forehead where the skull is thick. That's where Cummings wild swing landed. My reaction was automatic I'm afraid. My right fist crashed into his cheek bone. I shouldn't have hit him as he was obviously emboldened by drink, so his toppling over into the pool was not entirely unexpected. What wasn't expected was his inability to stay on the surface.

"Oh shit." I exclaimed as I realised that he could drown. I slipped off my shoes and tore my coat off handing it to Antonia. I dived in and grabbed Cummings. I caught hold of him and at the same time realised I had hurt my hand. I hauled him to the side and hands reached down and pulled him out. Those same hands then reached down and got me out. The hands belonged to two security guards.

Between gasps I managed to croak. "You got here quickly."

"Yes Sir. We watched it all." He pointed to the CCTV cameras. "The police are on their way."

"Surely there's no need for the police?"

"It's the hotel policy, sir. You were attacked so we have to call the police department. The incident has been recorded." Antonia shocked at first at what had happened became the carer very quickly and was impatient to get me back to my room, after all I was standing there in soaking wet clothes, and there was a chill. She argued with the security guard even as he unfolded a foil blanket.

"If he stands here soaking wet until the police arrive he will catch a cold. Let me get Simon back to his room and into dry clothes." The guard had put the blanket over my shoulders, but that wasn't sufficient for Antonia she wrapped it securely around my body tucking it in wherever she could.

"Of course, Ma'am. May I just get your name and room number, sir?"

With that information provided I was allowed to go. My nurse urging me to walk more quickly. Cummings wasn't so lucky as the guards took him away to await the police. Once we got to my room I looked at my hand. It didn't look bruised but I could see my little finger standing out at an odd angle. I palpitated it and with no sharp pain experienced I diagnosed a dislocated rather than a broken finger. Antonia looked and ran to the telephone.

"What are you doing?" I enquired, knowing full well what she was doing.

"Phoning for a doctor."

"Antonia. I am a doctor."

"You can't treat yourself, can you?"

"It's dislocated. It's not a problem." I grasped the finger between the thumb and first finger of my left hand and pulled, guiding the finger back into its proper place. Antonia went white and acted as if she would be sick. I sat her down and persuaded her to put her head between her knees. She soon recovered and I showed her my hand which now looked completely normal, although I knew it would colour up soon with bruising. "See! It's ok."

"Oh Si. When I saw you do that I felt the pain. Not much of a nurse am I? She smiled.

"Well as a nurse perhaps you could help me get these wet clothes off." She was eager to help with that.

I stood under the hot shower for quite some time, getting heat back into my body. Antonia let me warm up and then smiling seductively started to take her clothes off when there was a knock at the door. With an expression of disgust she re-buttoned her blouse and went to answer the knock. Two minutes later she was back. "It's the police. They want a statement from you."

"Ask them to wait. I'll be just a couple of minutes." I shut off the shower, dried myself quickly and put on one of the towelling robes the Marriott was thoughtful to supply.

Making the statement was simple, as I described what had happened. The policeman had already viewed the recording and my version of events tallied in every detail. He was phlegmatic when I told him I wouldn't make a complaint. "No Sir. I didn't think you would. After all he came off worse." I could see Antonia wanted to tell him about my dislocated finger. I shook my head at her. When the patrolman had gone she asked why.

"It was my fault. In the heat of the moment I didn't close my fist properly."

"Does that matter? He hit you first."

"Antonia. Cummings is probably going to be hit with a lot of expense. He's booked other theatres and orchestra's which will levy cancellation charges. He's probably paid for advertising which is dead money now. If retribution is required I think that that is enough. Besides that his manoeuvring has brought you and me back together much earlier than we thought. For that alone I should possibly be thanking him."

With Antonia's help I got a large plaster from my travelling first aid kit and bandaged the relocated finger tightly to the ring finger and palm. It would help stop any swelling and protect the joint as it repaired itself. Antonia had to return to her room and I took the opportunity to take some Tylenol. If I had told her that there was some pain I would have one seriously worried fiancée on my hands. Antonia had taken my key-card so when she banged the door open, dragging her case behind her I was not too surprised. "Moving in?"

"Yes. I have not slept well for these last few weeks and decided that was because I didn't have my man beside me. Also I want to be here in case you are in pain."

"So where's your naughty nurse uniform?"

"I'm wearing it under my clothes, it's called skin."

Her naughty nurse uniform fitted her well and I spent quite a lot of time examining it manually and by mouth. Then I needed to take her temperature and without a thermometer I used what was to hand, Antonia had used her hand to warm it up and ready to use. She seemed to like the process so in order to make sure we did it again. At last Antonia had enough and rolled over on her back. "Give me a few minutes." She whispered. "Then we can start again, I have missed your loving." I was quite happy to start again, however within that few minutes she had asked for, Antonia dropped off to sleep

We had breakfast with Henry the next morning. The altercation with Cummings was the major part of our conversation and Henry nodded sagely when I remarked that I wasn't pressing charges. "I understand, Simon. Best to put it all behind you." He then asked Antonia when the company was leaving.

"The day after tomorrow I believe."

"Hmm. Simon and I are leaving tomorrow. Miss Berwick I can get you onto our flight. Would you be happy about that?"

"That would be fantastic."

"Leave it with me."

"Thank you so much, Sir Henry. Oh and it's Antonia.

"In that case Antonia, drop the Sir."

Henry always travelled first class, and Antonia and I were astonished when we presented our tickets to be told we had been upgraded to first class. For both of us this was a different world. There were only fourteen seats in the B.A. first class configuration of the Boeing 777-400, and only nine of them were occupied on this flight. The in-flight food was superb and according to Henry the wines were excellent. I, of course drank mineral water. Antonia was quite tired and the flight attendant asked if she would like the seat in the bed position. Startled Antonia nodded and soon the seat was down, soft pillows and a light cover were provided and very soon she was lost to the conscious world. Henry suggested that he and I could take a beverage at the bar. "Simon, have you thought about taking up my offer of Holland Hall?"

"Yes, Henry. We talked about it last night. It's very generous of you."

He shook his head. "Not at all. It would be good to see the place with lots of people. It's pathetic when the only one there is me and the staff. Besides it would give the Vicar something to do."

"May we come and look over the Hall before making a decision?"

"Of course. I assumed that you would wish to do that."

CHAPTER NINE

Holland Hall was perfect. We had no sooner arrived than Antonia was nodding her head in total agreement. The Hall was one of those very old English country houses and exhibited styles from Tudor through to Art Deco. Even explaining it to someone who had never seen it would leave them aghast at such a discordance of styles, yet it worked. It had matured over five hundred years growing into the land and being succoured by the land. Suffolk and Essex were not hilly counties except in the north of Essex and the south of Suffolk. Even then they could not be described as hills, being mere undulations in the geography that became referred to as hills because they were a feature in an otherwise relatively flat landscape. Holland Hall had been built with the hills behind and a view stretching far away to the coast at Harwich. The edifice that Henry had referred to as a Chapel was an understatement. A simple construction but with a full aisle and tall stained glass windows, moderately tall steeple and most importantly a completely renovated organ. The Church was just two hundred yards from the house, a packed gravel path leading from the house, through the gardens to the portico of the Church. Antonia determined that if the weather was good she would walk that two hundred yards to her marriage. The Hall had accommodation for our immediate families and the local pubs could take the overflow. Those attending from the ballet company would drive up for the day; London was only an hour and a half drive by the motorway.

Over the next few weeks Antonia would visit the Hall frequently, sometimes with Henry making plans for the wedding. I wasn't asked to help in this work so was quite happy to let them get on with it. Becky turned up on more than one occasion, sleeping on my couch and then disappearing with Antonia to various shops and Holland Hall.

My cousins had flown in four days before the wedding and Antonia and I met them at Heathrow holding between us a large placard with the words 'Welcome to our colonial cousins'. Apart from saying hello with hugs and shaking hands, Kent and I managed no more conversation as Amelie and Maxine delighted to meet Antonia were immediately in conversation, telling her how much they had enjoyed her performance in Boston. The men in the party were relegated to bit parts, merely having to agree with whatever Amelie, Maxine or Antonia were saying. The words 'yes honey', 'sure sugar' and 'yes my love' were the extent of our contribution to the conversation. Kent, Jackson, Maxine's husband and I looked at each other with that long-suffering expression that all husbands know, picked up the luggage and followed. I had hired a twelve seat mini-bus so having stowed the luggage our driver took us into London to the hotel they had booked. They were full of questions all the way. Enquiries such as where was the House of Commons, Buckingham Palace, Nelson's Column, the list went on and on. Our driver turned as we sat in the inevitable traffic jam. "Sir and Madam. If you wish, I would be happy to take you on a tour. I have a cancellation tomorrow, so I could take you round all the sights."

"Gee. That would be great. What do you say, Honey." Kent said.

"How much?" Asked Amelie, who it would appear was the practical one of the two. The driver thought and looked at me, knowing that I lived in London.

"Would two hundred be acceptable?"

"Pounds?" Amelie looked at me and I nodded. The driver wasn't ripping them off. You can get a guided tour of London for about ninety pounds per person. So the driver was offering them a good price.

"Ok. Pick us up at nine-thirty tomorrow."

Two days later I met them at the hotel and we drove in convoy to Holland Hall. They in their hired car and Antonia and I in mine. As we turned into the drive at the Hall I noticed that they had stopped. I backed up and got out. Kent was busy taking pictures and Jackson was panning round with his camcorder. Amelie and Maxine just stood and looked. "Is this for real? It looks like a film set."

"Yes it's real. Sir Henry's family have lived here for over four hundred years."

"Wow!" That was Maxine. She went on. "Do we have to curtsy to Sir Henry?"

"Good Lord no. He would be very embarrassed if you did. Anyway isn't it in your constitution you don't bow to anyone? Something about there will be no nobility?" She shook her head. "Henry doesn't go in for formality; he will probably tell you to call him Henry." I added.

Henry did tell them not to use the title, gave the ladies a short tour of the house, and then let them loose in the garden. Kent, Jackson and I were in the library with an old map of England and I was showing Kent whereabouts our family had lived. "There!" I pointed. "Linton. Just south of Maidstone. According to the eighteen fifty-one census a William Easton farmed there and employed four men and a boy."

"So would that be a large farm?" Asked Kent.

"Probably about three hundred acres." Henry had just joined us and provided the answer.

"Oh not so big then?" Kent seemed disappointed.

"Oh no." Henry replied. "Don't confuse American size farms with England. That would be quite a good size farm for the time, working with shire horses and just four men. In today's values it would be worth something like four to four and a half million pounds."

"Right." Kent mused and then turned to me. "So what has happened to it?"

"I don't know. In later censuses there was no mention of any of our family in that place. They had simply vanished."

"How could that happen?"

"Primogeniture." Announced Henry.

"I've heard of that." Kent stated. "But wasn't that to do with titled people?"

"The idea was introduced for the Gentry, but was adopted by quite a few landowners. It was a disastrous idea." Henry was firm in his conviction.

"Why do you say that, Henry?" I enquired of him.

Henry took a seat before he explained his ideas. "Primogeniture gave everything to the first born son. The land, the title if there was one and the capital. Second and third sons could expect nothing and daughters were married off with a small dowry if they were beautiful and a larger dowry if they were not. Primogeniture denied a daughter from inheriting the property in her own right, although it could be passed to her husband. For the first son, life was easy, he was going to get everything so he need not try, he could live an indolent and lazy life without worry. Second and third sons had to make their own way in life, so they were the ones who went out into the world becoming colonisers, soldiers and merchants often making their own fortune. You could say the unintended consequence of primogeniture was the British Empire. The firstborn who inherited didn't need to do or learn anything. Consequently they made very bad decisions and over generations frittered away the capital and the land. Of course if your forefather in Kent fathered daughters who couldn't inherit under primogeniture the land would be entailed away to the nearest male relative. He may not have the same surname; he may have had no interest in the estate and sold it. There are many reasons why the land passed out of the Easton family. Primogeniture was a very bad policy, because very often it placed all the capital into the hands of one who had no aptitude for management or thrift."

"So that could have happened to the Easton family in Kent?"

Henry shook his head "I would think that probably the land was entailed away because there was no son. There may have been a son, but early death was prevalent then. Simple diseases killed and we as a nation had the habit of getting involved in wars as well. So survival of sons was problematical " That was food for thought.

I mentioned to Kent that I had been to the village once. "If you decide to go to Linton while you're in England look in the churchyard there. You will see some graves of your ancestors. It's quite a weird feeling to see your family name on gravestones that old."

"We'll go there after your wedding." Declared Kent.