“Well, let me see if I can remember that far back. A full long number of years ago that was. Hmmm, well, my Mr. Miggs, he was a big ‘un, all full of fire and hops—because he always liked his ale—even when he was just a young man. We got hitched and the neighbors and our folks gave us a fine party and then Mr. Miggs lifted me up into the cart and off we went, to spend several days at my aunt’s house over in Fowey. Ah, but Mr. Miggs, he just couldn’t wait to get us to Fowey and to a bed. No, he—”
Meggie, mesmerized, held up her empty glass. Mrs. Miggs filled it to the top, then her own. She looked thoughtful.
“Come, tell me. What happened, Mrs. Miggs?”
“Mr. Miggs stopped the cart, patted that big mare on her rump, then jerked me over his shoulder and carried me into a field of wildflowers.”
“That sounds terribly romantic.”
“It was February.”
“Oh.”
“Aye, it was so cold I can’t believe now that Mr. Miggs managed to get himself upright, if you know what I mean.”
Meggie didn’t, but nodded just the same. She drank more champagne; so did Mrs. Miggs.
“Aye, he hauled me into that field, then yanked off his coat and laid me on it. Of course the coat wasn’t big enough and my lower parts were on the bare ground. It was over in under a half a minute and I was just lying there on my back, looking up into that cold gray sky and wanting to kick him. He looked like a blissful ass, just lying there on his back, maybe he was even whistling, I forget. I didn’t say a word to him. Instead, I got up, walked back to the cart, leaving him there panting and grinning like an idiot, so happy and pleased with himself. I yelled to him that he was a selfish pig, and then I drove away.”
Meggie was vastly impressed. She applauded after she’d carefully set her champagne glass down on the wooden table. She sighed, then said, “He might have been too rough, but he did get it done, didn’t he? That first time?”
“Aye, he got it done, all right.”
“Unfortunately I can’t leave my husband. I can’t imagine that our driver would be willing to leave his master here. We’re in a carriage pulled by two horses, and unfortunately I don’t know how to drive two horses.”
Mrs. Miggs nodded. “Have some more champagne.”
“Then what happened, Mrs. Miggs?”
“Mr. Miggs had to run after me even as he was pulling up his pants, hobbling about, looking like a fool until finally I slowed down that big old mare so’s he could climb in. The dear man never tried to do that again.”
“Was it better in Fowey?”
“Oh yes. You see, Mr. Miggs had learned his lesson.”
“So you’re saying that I must tell Thomas what’s what?”
“Aye. And you must ask him why he behaved as he did. Perhaps it’s some sort of tradition for the men in his family—well, I’ve never heard of it and that’s a fact, but men being men, it’s difficult to know what they hold dear and necessary.”
“I will ask him, but you know, I would rather do something like you did, Mrs. Miggs. You took action, and that was well done of you. You taught Mr. Miggs what was what right then and there. You didn’t give him the time to roll over and snore.”
“I doubt he could have slept, it was powerful cold in that open field.”
“That doesn’t matter, it’s a mere detail. Here’s to you, Mrs. Miggs,” Meggie said, and both women drank deeply. “What should I do to my new husband? I must show him that what he did was reprehensible, after I’ve gotten all his manly reasoning from him.” Meggie rested her chin on her hands, thinking hard. She said after a moment, “I mean, perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to hit him over the head with the champagne bottle. I might kill him. I really don’t want to hang. Also, my father is a vicar and that wouldn’t look good to his bishop or to his congregation. Ah, Bishop Arlington even conducted my wedding ceremony. He would be profoundly distressed.”