Reprieve

Sam focuses on time with friends in Week 31 of 1661, though the concerns further north aren’t leaving him alone quite yet…

Right now I’m staying with my lawyer cousins in Impington, near Cambridge, who have with great respect led me up to the best chamber in their house. Making merry with old friends at the Rose Tavern in the city earlier this afternoon had almost distracted me from my chief concern of the week:

I still haven’t heard from Father.

The views in Impington, near Cambridge – oil painting by PT of the Chat G

It is owing largely to that concern that I somewhat drifted through this week. Things at the office were quiet, largely thanks to the King adjourning Parliament on Tuesday.

I didn’t stay for the ceremony. I was curious to see how the King might resolve the conflict between the Commons and the Lords, the latter of whom are objecting to a Commons bill for their homes to be searched for seditious material (I wonder why?). Ultimately, I preferred to travel by water to dine with my Lady Sandwich at the Wardrobe – though I did greet His Majesty as he travelled by barge in the opposite direction.

There were notable moments. Sunday, our old friend Mrs Ramsey called around, and dined with us between church services. That evening, Elisabeth and I drank with Sir William Penn, who took Elisabeth back with him to meet his daughter Peg, recently returned from Ireland. Elisabeth was expecting a beauty, but reported to me that she is in fact a very plain girl.

Tuesday, I was involved a little in the business of England gaining Tangier as part of our Queen Catherine’s dowry. Perhaps I’ll be able to have more involvement in that one day.

More special to me in this time, though, was another chance meeting with manuscript illustrator Mr Salisbury, now so great in his profession that he is become excellent, and gets a great deal of money from it. He introduced me to his friend Mr Whore, a very ingenious fellow, and I enjoyed staying with them for several drinks at the Hercules Pillars.

Wednesday, I saw The Tamer Tamed for the second time, though this time at my favourite theatre on Vere Street. Happily, it was as well-acted as it had been last October.

And on Thursday, Elisabeth and I went to Walthamstowe with both Sir Williams and that “plain” daughter of Sir William Penn’s. There, at the home of our friend Mrs Brown, we had a merry afternoon over venison pie and plenty of gossip, and I passed six silver spoons to my godson.

I also overheard Mrs Brown’s nurse referring to Sir William Batten’s wife as “a man’s whore,” because she has her own estate from a previous marriage and so is not beholden to Sir William for her comings and goings. Elisabeth and I failed to find proof of these words, but from my own observations I believe that the story is too true.

Other than that, though, the week was mostly routine: singing lesson with Mr Goodgroome first thing every morning; off to the office; home for supper and bed.

Ah – but I finally had words with my mother, who I fear has lately been excitedly spending an inheritance from my Uncle Robert that simply doesn’t exist. I’d been putting off confronting her tattle, but I now came clean with her how things fell short of our expectations. Not easy, but necessary.

Mother has since gone to care for Aunt Fenner, who has fallen ill. Cousin Charles Glascoke is also ill, but is off to care for his brother John who is also ill. Illness abounds in our family at present!

My brother Tom gave me cause for consternation this week too. He is keen to follow in our father’s footsteps as a tailor, but only if father leaves him his house and business in London. I know not what to do with him.

So in some ways, I was glad to get away back to Cambridgeshire, where I am now. I timed my arrival by the assizes at Shire Hall in Cambridge, so I could be sure of meeting my cousin Roger for his counsel in the matters of my Uncle’s estate. That meant an overstay in Ware last night, to which I rode alongside a Quaker who regaled me with tales of how wicked he had been up until the past two years.

I had an early start to Barkway this morning, but my horse tired and I was wet with rain – so I was hugely grateful to the letter carrier who invited me to ride with him.

I hope this journey was an indicator of how things are to turn: long, arduous, but with interesting and helpful companions who get me comfortably to my destination in good time.

Still, as I said: I haven’t heard from Father all week. So I suppose the journey isn’t all over yet…

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In return for these words of mine, please pay just one word of yours. What one word sums up a concern you’ve had at the back of your mind all this week?

Speak with you again soon – and may the Lord bless you and keep you till then!