Fleury from ‘Standish’

Interview with Padraig Fleury – Boston 1824

from “Standish” by Erastes

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Standish-Erastes/dp/1933720093
I’ve searched for this man for a long while, in the underworld of New York, in the gambling dens of New Orleans. I’ve been dirty and scared in my pursuit of him through the more unpleasant places in this young, vibrant and sometimes terrifying country. So to find him here, apparently wealthy and living in some luxury in Boston was a surprise, and, because of the danger Mr Pádraig Fleury has put me in, I’m a little annoyed to find him in such a luxurious mansion. In such an opulent bedroom. But it makes me curious.

He’s wearing nothing more than an oversized shirt (which I suspect is not his own) and a pair of stained breeches (which I suspect, are). We are silent until a servant places a large decanter of some blood red wine and two over-sized crystal glasses on the table beside my host and is dismissed.

Fleury pours us drinks and then looks at me. “You’re here to pry, I assume, by your letter. So pry.”

“What are you doing in this place?”

“Here’s as good as any.” His voice holds most of his Irish brogue, although I suspect he turns it on more for effect when necessary.

“What made you leave England?”

“Ah, now. That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s rather the point, Mr Fleury, or may I call you Pádraig?”

“NO.” He’s instantly angry and I see the violence hidden behind the charm I’d heard so much about. “No, ye may NOT. Only one man in the world has the right to call me that, and he ain’t you. It’s pronounced Porig, by the way, not that it matters.” He takes a large drink of the wine and the charm is back, like a mask. It’s rather disarming. “Fleury. Everyone calls me Fleury.”

“So, Fleury. Will you tell me why you left England in such a hurry?”

He runs a finger around the rim of the glass. “Let’s say that His Majesty would have wanted me back in prison if I hadn’t.”
“Back in Newgate?”

His eyes darken. “Yes. Temporarily, at least. And wouldn’t I be dancin’ at Beilby’s Ball at the earliest opportunity?”

“Beilby’s Ball?”

He makes a face while holding his hand over his head. “Hanging, me bucko. Hanging.”

“Oh. Didn’t they try and hang you before? I’d read that somewhere….” I rummage through my notes.

“You’d have read it in the Newgate Calendar, I’ll wager. Yes, they had me all strung up and on the scaffold and I was givin’ me last speech and I affected the crowd so much, they remitted me sentence to four years.” He was grinning.

“Is that true?”

“It’s written down, isn’t it? Doesn’t that make it true, sure?”

I hesitate, remembering all I’d read about his previous lover, Ambrose and his lover, Rafe Goshawk, one of the richest men in England. “Not necessarily.”

Fleury roars with laughter. “No. Of course it ain’t so. I’ve the gift of the Blarney, that’s true, but not enough to stop them from stretchin’ my neck. T’was a grateful Lord who remembered young Fleury from another time and place. Pulled a few strings, as it were, before they pulled them on me. Don’t you go tellin’ people that, now. I’ve a reputation to keep.”

“What made you take Ambrose Standish under your wing, in Newgate?”

There’s a very long silence. He looks me full in the face and I get the feeling that he’s deciding whether the payment he’ll get will be worth it, or whether a knife in my heart might be better. Finally he seems to come to himself. “Have you met Ambrose Standish?”

“No. I was hoping to interview him, perhaps, when I got home…”

“Ye’d better not. That boy has had enough to deal with. Well, now, if you haven’t met him, I’ll forgive you – and I’ll wager you like a pair of warm breasts to lay your head on at night, rather than the firm flat planes of a man?”

I nod.

“I thought so. Well then, you wouldn’t see what I saw. Granted he was half starved and he’d been beaten around a bit and he wasn’t the cleanest he’d ever been but… He looked like an angel who woken up in another country and had lost all hope of finding his way back to his own.”

“You felt sorry for him?”

“Not once in my life,” Fleury says. “Ambrose has a core of steel, and I found that out pretty soon, let me tell you. Stubborn and strong – strong and wilful. Newgate didn’t break him – it nearly killed him – but it didn’t break him. I was drawn to his beauty as many others were – and they would have done more than look had there not been Fleury around to protect him – but it was his bravery and generosity and sweet-natured bloody minded obstinacy that kept me by his side.” He takes another long drink in silence.

“You loved him.”

“More than I can say, lad.”

“Then, why…”

“That’s enough. Change the subject or get out.”

I change the subject, seeing the anger flash again, bright as summer lightning. “May I ask you about Rafe Goshawk?”

“I hardly know the man.” His answer is too quick.

“My sources say that you met him a good few times, in prison, and once afterwards.”

He’s quiet again for a moment, his eyes unfocussed. “Rafe Goshawk is everything the news sheets say him to be. Handsome, compelling, powerful – and yet he’s so crippled and blinded by his past that he doesn’t know when he’s well off.” Fleury’s voice is different again, bitter and dark. “He could own the world and it would never be enough. The boy can’t see that.”

“Did you like him?”

“Not one bit. I saw what he was, and what he’ll always be, no matter what that lad believes. What he’ll ALWAYS be. Do yer hear?”

I realise that he’s more than a little drunk, and his anger isn’t melting away into charm any more. I decide it’s time to beat a retreat, I’ll learn nothing else here. As I stand to take my leave, the door opens and a young man enters, blond and slender and attractive in a wasted sort of way. The newcomer is lavishly dressed – the owner, or the son of the owner of the house, I’ll wager. He stands just inside the door, with his arms folded and I know I’ve outstayed my welcome.

I look back at Fleury and his eyes are dark as the night sky and it almost hurts to see his expression. “Well, now,” he says to me softly. “No pity. There’s no standing still, is there? We all have to exorcise our own demons in our own way.” He walks towards the young man and they leave the room together, leaving me feeling more alone than I’ve ever been.