Wayward Wanderer

A cynic… a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.  Oscar Wilde

SCANDAL       PART 3 OF 3

“Seems like I recall that Icarus comes falling from the sky in the end?” I rebuffed Podge.  I was beginning to feel like I was being pushed into something.

“Nonsense!” Podge replied, “You will be gently lowered from the scaffolding. Now, I suggest we take a more realistic look at our pose. Let me help you remove your waist coat. It will help you adapt to you character better.”  He advanced toward me and began the arduous advance by loosing my buttons.

“This will not be necessary!” I responded. “I will consider your proposal and let you know.”

“Oh, No, my good fellow. You must get into the part. We have little time.” Podge lunged and ripped my vest open. I pushed him back, but he forced himself on me with such force that we toppled over the bear-skin rug on the the floor.  The full weight of his body was on me.

I cried, “get off me!”  I rolled him off me; rose and ran for the door. Locked!

“Open this door,” I demanded, but he was adamant and advanced like a bull. I had an immediate epiphany: I realized I was facing the demonized leach described in the gazette. This is the same treatment so many defenseless youth had been subjected.

He grabbed me and held me to him. “I will pay you to stay with me.” he pleaded.

“Who do you think I am?” I yelled. “I am not that type of person. Go find one of your boys for hire.”

“You do not understand,” he pleaded, grasping me around the waist. “I do not want to be alone tonight. Please, please stay. I will not do anything to you. Just lie with me on my bed. You do not have to disrobe.”

No matter how much I protested, his large hulk would not let go. Eventually, we fell on the rug in exhaustion. He whispered to me, “I will let you go soon.”

I guess we slept. At least, I did from the laudanum and fatigue. In the predawn morning hours, I awoke to see Podge pour me a coffee. He offered me a light meal saying it would help revive me. I adjusted my waist coat as best I could and drank from the Victorian cup.

Podge looked out the window. “I have ordered your coach. Please wait here. I will make arrangements for your return home. You will excuse me if I do not accompany you. I have another appointment.”

I watched him from the window as I sipped at the cup. A sense of relief was returning. He opened the carriage door and spoke to someone inside. This coach was fine and the horses splendid; together, they glowed in the moonlight. I grabbed my top hat and went downstairs.

Podge met me at the front door. “Thank you for enduring me, Dax, I will remember you. Your coach is waiting.” The sadness in his eyes made me pity him. I could feel his sincerity. He walked me to the coach. Opened the door grabbing my elbow and helping me inside. I turned to look him in the eyes one more time; to see if my assessment of his truthfulness had been accurate.

Once inside the coach, the driver cracked his whip and the horse began a gallop. I fell onto the rear seat. Looking up; a figure in black sat idle looking back at me. The glow from the streetlamps still flaming bright crossed his face. I was in awl—-HRH Duke of Clarence stared back at me.

To Be Continued