Between Ourselves by Donald Smith

Author:Donald Smith [Smith, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Publisher: Luath Press Ltd
Published: 2013-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

EDINBURGH

January to March 1788

THE JOURNAL

HAVE SENT MY life in sheets to Clarinda. I had intended to place it in her hands but changed my mind at the last. Nancy is a different prospect in the flesh, quite different from my previous brief impression in company. She was of course en pleine toilette, with abundant curls piled high, curbed only by a blue silk ribbon – a graceful spray of lace behind. The hair is blonde, deep, fair to the roots. Cheeks and lips delightfully full, eyes alight beneath lush curving lashes. A dainty dish to tempt any gourmand; yet she was tense, and pleading a headache.

We were enfin à deux. Very proper yet confidential, old friends and correspondents. She steered the conversation in literary directions, while my remarks were personal, yet discreet. How could we come to know each other better, now that the Rubicon of meeting had been crossed? I was glad to remember my epistle to Dr Moore and promised to send her a copy: ‘How remiss not to have forwarded it before.’ She promised to consider a reply, but in the meantime gave me more verses. I expressed due appreciation. We were genial, at ease grazing on safe pastures, and parted promising to write soon. No pressure or presumption on either side.

I was meditating another meeting, and how to suggest it, my letter scarce begun, when a note arrived from – Miss Nimmo’s brother, the Excise Officer. It was a reply to mine of some days since, saying he is now ready to conduct my formal interview. So I hastened to obey, gathering up my best coat, my crutch, and my certificate of bachelorhood. No man ever appeared better qualified.

Nimmo was correct yet friendly. We shall see what comes of it, if anything. When he signs my examination, I shall write to Graham of Fintry. That gentleman is my best remaining hope of some preferment beyond the plough.

Tired after all this unwonted exertion, I stayed in to cultivate anew my best confidante. These pages are needed more than ever. The next few weeks may prove decisive in this poor wandering fellow’s earthly pilgrimage.

Up with the lark; breakfast in the kitchen accompanied by Betty’s ministrations. Nimmo’s signed examination came round – wholly favourable. Do I owe this to the good sister Nimmo or simply to plain honesty? Wrote immediately to Fintry. When Lear asks Kent why he wishes to be in his service he answers ‘because you have that in your face I could like to call master’. This is the substance of my appeal: I solicit his patronage to be admitted an Officer of Excise.

I have the papers in due order; I have no wife (two children living, but not reckoned by His Majesty’s Customs), propriety of conduct as a man, and fidelity to duty. Above all, this may be my only chance of a sufficiency outwith that miserable struggle for bread, which would have sent my father into the maws of imprisonment had death not swallowed him first.

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