Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [158]
Mary couldn’t refuse to meet any of these people. She knew she and the men were dependent on public opinion to get a pardon. But it was painful to keep on telling and retelling the story, and have people raking up things she would rather forget.
James loved it all, especially the grand ladies who kept returning to visit him. Mary knew they didn’t really care about his plight. Visiting Newgate was a diversion from their otherwise dull lives; it was exciting to go somewhere so dirty and dangerous. James turned on his Irish charm and he flirted with them, telling them shocking things they could repeat in whispers to less daring friends over afternoon tea. In return they brought him food, new clothes and books. He had also made a start on writing an account of their escape which he hoped he could sell for enough money to go back to Ireland and breed horses.
As for Nat, Bill and Sam, they felt important for the first time in their lives. They too had women admirers, and as each day passed they seemed to need Mary less.
Then there was Mr Boswell. Mary liked him – he was clever, entertaining and very kind – but she didn’t know what he wanted of her.
James Martin had made it his business to find out everything about the man, and some of it was a little frightening. While he was a famous and much admired writer, and mixed with the aristocracy, he was also a rake who drank heavily and consorted with whores. He might be a good and loving father to his children, but it was said he neglected his wife, to the extent that he hadn’t gone home to Scotland when she was dying. He wasn’t even considered a very good lawyer.
Mary thought he was similar to Will in character. He gave the impression of great capability, of intelligence and daring, just as Will did. Of course Mr Boswell was much older, well-educated and a gentleman, but if she could strip him of his years, his book learning and fine clothes, he and Will had a great deal in common. He talked of friends in high places, but were they really friends or just passing acquaintances? He boasted, too, of cases he’d won in courts, and of his success with women, and how he was a descendant of Robert the Bruce.
But Mary could smell drink on him, whatever time of day he visited her, and the redness of his complexion was a sure sign he over-indulged in it. Drink had been Will’s weakness too, and she couldn’t forget the part it had played in their downfall.
Yet during Boswell’s visits Mary believed in him totally. It was so easy to, for his melodious voice with just a hint of a Scots accent was easy on the ear. He painted a new world for her of dinner parties, ladies’ gowns and country houses. He made her laugh with his vivid descriptions of people he knew. Yet for all that showiness his kindness was apparent too. He hated injustice, he had real understanding of weakness, especially in women. He loved children, he wanted a fairer society, and schools for the poor.
While he was with her, the room felt warm and full of light, his conversation stimulated her, she felt hopeful. But the moment he’d gone, the shadows came back. What did he really want with her? Somehow she couldn’t quite believe that he was doing so much just out of kindness. He had to have a motive, people always did.
Early in August, just over a month after they’d arrived in Newgate, he came to see her, this time in a small room downstairs in the prison which was furnished with a table and chairs.
‘Dear me, it is so hot today,’ he began, wheezing from the exertion of his long walk to the prison in the hot sun and wiping his brow with a handkerchief. ‘I am off on holiday tomorrow. To Cornwall, my dear, but I have put things in hand on your behalf and it is my belief we shall