To the Rescue

Sir Riley Fenwick paced back and forth wringing his hands. “Hurry up, Ole Chap! We'll never find her again if you take all day getting your shirt back on.”

“Don't despair, Mate. In this crowd she can't be moving very fast. Help me tie this confounded cravat. The least this boxing venue could have done is provide a mirror back here if they expect a gentleman to strip to his bare chest to participate in a match. How is one ever supposed to go out in public again half undressed?”

“Don't need to get fancy, Carlton. We're not headed to a ballroom. Do a simple mail coach tie and let's get out of here. We'll look for a mirror in one of the many market tents. Surely, someone is selling gilded-frame mirrors. They have everything else at this market fair. I'll help you out just so we can get going. I don't want to lose the most beautiful lady I have ever seen because you have to be in pink of fashion.”

“Maybe you need to look at yourself. That shiner is starting to glow. Sorry, I didn't mean to hit you so hard but you froze up and didn't duck.”

“I caught a glimpse of that Lady Charity and was mesmerized. The way she stood over me waiting to see if I was okay tells me she felt the magic, too.”

“Don't forget she was on the arm of another man. You think he'll step aside so easily? Not likely. We don't even know her full title. Who's going to introduce you? She'll be impossible to track down with the season coming to a close. We're on a wild-goose chase here.”

“Don't remind me. Already feeling like I'm going to croak. Did you get a good look at that swell? Puffed up and pompous! Looked to be a Merry Andrew if you ask me. That ridiculous elaborate white wig with the tiny three corner hat and humongous plume. What color would you call that plume? Do birds really grow feathers in rainbow colors? He was totally an unsuitable suitor for such an exquisite, incomparable beauty as she. Surely, it had to be an arranged match. She can't possibly love him. Besides it is obvious he is so much older than she. I have got to at least find her to ask if she is happy. Otherwise, I'll stay dicked in the nob and won't be able to shake the blue-devils. Let's go!”

“I suppose you fancy yourself as some nonpareil equal to her beauty and stature.”

“You got lucky with that punch that knocked me out. Usually I can hold my own in any sporting match. I got distracted. We'll have to have a rematch in fencing next time.”

“You're on. Where to first?”

“Follow the cobblestone path. We came from that way and so did they because we first saw them at that high striker strongman game. Remember? He couldn't get a rise out of the puck. So we'll go the other way. Keep your eyes open. Can't miss that plume of color!”

Back out on the promenade the two young bucks first popped into a tent displaying elaborate furnishings and checked their appearances in an ornate mirror. Passing inspection in their properly tied neck cloths, brocade waist-coats, long-tailed black jackets and top hats they hurried pass performing dogs in tutus rolling barrels and jumping through hoops, pantomimes, bag-pipe players and a sword swallower.

“Did that bloody bone box really swallow a sword? Or have we been bamboozled? How does he keep from cutting his own throat?” Sir Carlton slowed down to watch in awe.

“You'll have to quiz 'im later, Whipper-snapper. Lot's more turf to cover.” Riley pressed on. “You check that tent, I'll take this one.”

“Fortune teller there. What did you find?”

“Faro game. Another time maybe when I have a spare tanner.” Sir Riley was getting more distraught. “She couldn't have gotten very far. That aging chaperon tagging behind would have slowed them down.”

“Maybe they took a breather to get some of the delicious smelling fair fare.”

“Don't get side tracked. After that boxing faux pas and all this rushing around I could almost cast up my accounts merely thinking of more food. Keep looking. That bigwig has got to be visible somewhere.”

“Is that another one of those barbecues over there. See all the smoke. Let's check it out.”

“Fire breathers and flame throwers! What a showcase! They are twirling fire-lit batons! Tossing them in the air and catching 'em!”

“And look! There's the plume down front!” Sir Carlton tugged on Riley's coat sleeve calling his attention to the audience.

“By Jove! We found them! Now what is our course of action? How do we get an introduction?”

“Maybe we can confront him pretending we know him from University days. We thought he was one of our professors. He would have to deny it and tell us his name. Courtesy would dictate he introduce us to his companion. Right?”

“You are not so addled-brained after all, Carlton! But they are engrossed with the entertainment right now. We'll have to catch them as they are leaving. Might as well enjoy the show.”

As they started watching a flaming baton flipped up in the air raining down sparks. One errant ember flicked out into the front row and landed atop a bouffant white wig topped by an enormous colorful plume. Suddenly, the whole head was ablaze. Stunning everyone it took a second to realize what was happening.

The fireball started screaming and running around in circles trying to beat out his hairdo. One of the performers swung into action picking up the nearby bucket of water and dousing the beleaguered guest. The flames sizzled and died. The coxcomb was last seen chugging out the theater tent with a full head of steam.

Carlton gawked at Riley. Riley gawked at Carlton.

“I think we have a fair young lady to rescue, My Friend.” Carlton urged Riley forward.