CHAPTER SIX
MORE FASHIONS
At the shop; the tailor showed Defoe a wide array of materials to pick from and he couldn’t make up his mind. “What do you think Charles?” he asked.
“Something distinguished, methinks sir.”
“As yes, distinguished.” Defoe picked out a royal blue color.
“But sir,” protested the tailor, “it looks remarkably like your old garments!”
“Hmm,” said Defoe, “it does, does it. It’s just right then!”
“Aye, but sir,” the tailor entreated, ‘your wife especially wanted you to be dressed in something very special for this ball.”
“It is special,” said Defoe, “it costs a very pretty penny. Charles, let’s go.” He waved at the youth who gave him a grin.
“Mrs. Defoe is going to be upset,” Charles opined.
“Ah, fashion,” Defoe waved his hand like waving at a fly, “posh.”
Charles was still grinning. “Where to Milord?”
“Methinks a little trip to the University of Edinburg would be in order. I have a friend I want to see there.”
“As you wish Milord.” Charles picked up the reins and with a clicking sound got the horses going.
“It’s about me lad in service,” said Defoe evenly, “he wants to study law.”
His professor friend looked at him suspiciously. “And by all that is mighty, why would yea be bothering the likes of me about this?” Ferguson queried amiably. He and Defoe had shared many a pint together discussing religion and politics.
“Well, it’s like this. His father doesn’t want him to go to school; he wants him to join the family business and run it so the old man can retire.”
“What’s the old man’s name?”
“Higgins on High Street. They sell glassware and wool.”
“Aye, I know the place well. The old bastard is well off and could easily afford to send the boy. He will just be wanting the company tis all. The lad is very charming and the customers love him, especially the ladies. Higgins wants the boy to help him make more money.”
“But don’t they have other children?” asked Defoe.
“Aye, sure they do. A bunch. In fact there are two other lads not much younger than Charles who could do the job just as well. It’s just the old man favors the first born is all.”
“Hmm,” the two of them sat in the professor’s small office and pondered the question.
“Maybe….”
Defoe looked up expectantly.
“Maybe if, if….it was a request.”
“A request?”
“Yes, a special request from someone that Higgins really respects and admires. A request to use to boy’s service, and by which will also require some additional educational training. If it was that kind of thing; I don’t think Higgins could possibly refuse.”
“So,” Ferguson continued, “you need to locate one of your high placed Whig friends who needs a special assistant and get him to request to use Charles.”
“But that means I lose him as my man!” protested Defoe.
The professor put up his hands in a questioning way. “Do yea want to help him or not?”
Defoe sighed. “Ah me, just when you get someone good….” he thought to himself.
“I will ask around at the next ball to see if there is anyone, got to be I’m sure.”
“Very good then,” replied Ferguson “but talk to me first. It has to be someone Higgins will accept.”
Defoe nodded and went out slightly depressed. He really liked Charles and considered him as sort of another son by this point, just not as loud as his sons. Charles drove a quiet Defoe home.
Several months later, Defoe was able to prevail on John Gordon, the 16th Earl of Sutherland that he indeed did have need of a young energetic clerk who should also attend classes in law at the University of Edinburgh on his off days.
Ferguson had arranged it with Higgins who was reluctant to pay the money but so overwhelmed with the request from someone like the Earl of Sutherland, he just didn’t know how to say no. Charles was beside himself with joy and couldn’t stop thanking Defoe enough.
“Pish,” said Defoe, “I only introduced you to the man is all.”
“I dunno,” said a shrewd Charles, “methinks there may have more to it that just that.”
Defoe shrugged his shoulders, a look of perplexity on his face and admitted nothing.
“You will promise me, though,” he demanded, “we will get together for a pint so I can hear all the latest gossip.”
“Of course, Milord.” Charles suspected there was a bit more to Defoe than met the eye. The man certainly did seem to spend an awfully lot of time shut up in his study. Still, he liked Defoe and felt he was a force for good and was happy to help.
His last day there, Defoe shook his hand with regret and wished him well. “Be in God’s hands Charles. Study hard and do well.”
“I will Milord, I will,” Charles promised most emphatically. “Me younger brother Paul, taking me place, will do just as well for you.”
Defoe nodded, unconvinced. Charles turned to leave and saw the man once again climb to steps to his study, his shoulders slumped down. He seemed sad.
“He’s a bit of a puzzle that one,” Charles thought to himself. Mrs. Defoe and the children were all crying all over him and making his leave. They all chattered and babbled at him until the last moment he was in their sight.
Upstairs, Defoe was back on the island.