Mr. Timothy: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

surprised me by stepping outside the written word altogether and offering her own supra-textual commentary.
    --Oh, he should never have let the one savage go, Tim. Mark my words, he'll regret it.

    Or else:

    --Isn't it amazing when you think on it? Hasn't poked a woman in twenty years! I shouldn't wonder if he buggers Friday before long.
    In the face of such a discriminating intelligence, there is less and less for a tutor to do. Mrs. Sharpe's brain works largely independently now. The letters whir in and out, the cogs grind them exceeding fine. Her writing has come along nicely, too: she now produces a handsome, if tentative, cursive. And so my interventions are now confined to correcting the occasional pronunciation or defining the overly latinised adjective. Dr. Johnson, I tell her, might serve her purpose just as well as I, but she won't hear of it. Insists I have a calming influence on her.
    I suppose a bit of calm might be a fair exchange for room and board. Although it does occur to me that, as Mrs. Sharpe's official bookkeeper, I might try to bring some order to her finances. The very idea is abhorrent to her.
    --Christ, that's why I keep George around! You don't want to deny a man his employment, do you?
    George is, in fact, the only one who knows the true nature of our arrangement. Which is not to say he approves. Whenever he sees us passing into Mrs. Sharpe's back room, he twitches away from us, as though we were the despair of England's future. At other times, he is more vocal. During one of our sessions, he opened the door on us, as if by mistake. Stood there in a transparent attitude of surprise, the candlelight flickering in the open chasm of his mouth.
    --Oh, my, look at us. Will it be Shakespeare next?

    He dropped his head to one side.

    --A fine Romeo and Juliet you'd be. Brings tears to my eyes, just imagining it.

    At which point, Mrs. Sharpe, reverting to the child she must once have been, squealed:
    --George, d'you know Shakespeare had an e at the end of his name? Just like moi ! This, I believe, is the mark of a true scholar: to be unfazed by the world's skepticism. The one thing she can't abide is the thought of her girls finding out. She fears it will cost her some of the sovereignty she has built up over the years. Of course, she's perfectly capable of enforcing that sovereignty when the need arises. I once saw her box the ears of an employee who had refused to lick a vice admiral's scrotum. And when she learned that one of her girls was privately blackmailing a married barrister, Mrs. Sharpe sent the girl packing before another half hour had passed:
    --If there's any extortin' to be done, it's I as will do it!
    And yet she can be very good to her girls. She will not allow them, for instance, to be punished for anyone else's pleasure (although they may freely inflict punishment when called upon to do so); whenever a customer indicates such a preference, she refers him to Mrs. Lee's on Margaret Place. I am told that one gentleman was so very persistent on the subject that Mrs. Sharpe herself agreed to be spanked with a pillow--but only while clothed, and only while standing. As soon as the gentleman had taken five passes at her, she snatched the pillow from his hands and informed him that he owed her five pounds.
    Thus, between Mrs. Sharpe's general good nature and her occasional royal edicts, none of her girls would ever dare cross her. Or even speculate openly about what she and I do during our daily sessions. They assume, probably, that I am Mrs. Sharpe's concubine. At least, I have seen them wink at one another as they ask me leading questions. Iris is the boldest in this regard. She will open her eyes wide and inquire:
    --Have you seen the madam's cherries about?

    Iris has never truly forgiven me for that first night--I can see I was a pique to her professional pride. She wastes few opportunities to get her own back.

    --Mr. Timothy, wasn't Lord Byron quite the swordsman?

    On this occasion, I