chandlersford
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Sunday 12th
Dear Marmaduke,
So glad you could be my best man and all that, and sorry you had to leave so quickly. I did try to warn you that she was married and that her husband was the chap who sat next to you at the meal but by then it was to late anyway and her undergarments were a tell tale sign wrapped around your head as you both climbed out from under the cake table.
I do hope that a bit of fresh stake will take the swelling down from around your left eye – he really did throw a blinder!
We are both enjoying Singapore and Raffles is top notch!
You must now be in full possession of all my correspondence and fully up to date with the strange and wonderful events of these last few months. Amazing really, to think where this adventure has taken me.
Or at least that’s what I thought had happened...
Yours
P K Randolph
Dear Marmaduke,
The events of yesterday have left me with a mixed mélange of emotions. The significance of Panhandle’s startling revelation was not lost on anyone in that room and I dare say will be featured in most beautiful editorial in the society papers and most sordidly in the cheap ones.
Yesterday panhandle cocked a snoot at all those present and rendered such a crash upon the crown of Tattlers head as to render him quiet and without pompous prattlings just long enough for two things to happen.
The first, which I will paraphrase, my previous correspondence having been so long as to completely clean me out of quality writing paper.
"PK" Panhandle began, walking round the room in a very military style, hands clasped behind him, "You can marry the lady Isabelle"
The room hissed with disapproving whispers at the impertinence of a mere manservant issuing a direct challenge to the likes of Dr Clover.
"You dirty scoundrel!" Shouted Dr. Clover, "My Son cannot marry my daughter, This isn’t Lincolnshire! I don’t know what ideas you have in your little village but round here we don’t do that sort of thing! Unless you are born into..well, and then you don’t actually marry them!"
"Shut up!" shouted the otherwise lady-like Lady Clover Clover "Shut up Reg you bufoon!" Turning to Panhandle and looking at him square in the eyes she began talking. Not once did she lose her gaze as she addressed me and everyone present. "Many years ago PK, I was trapped in a marriage. A marriage that my father insisted upon, having been approached by Reg who asked for my hand. He only did so to get his hands on the Clover estate as a clause in the inheritance paperwork meant that I could not directly inherit my family wealth, but that it must pass to my daughter and be kept in trust by her father.
He knew for years that this was the case and deliberately kept you away, as any marriage would null this agreement and pass directly to her husband. He didn’t keep you apart because he thought you were related, he did so because he wanted to spend as much of the inheritance as he could before she came of age and that you being an honorable boy would not allow any part of her money to go astray.
In the meantime he struck an agreement with the loathsome Tristan who agreed to only take half as a means of marrying Isabelle."
The room was frantic with an electric atmosphere, but not one person uttered a word as they strained to hear the story unfold.
"My father also left strict instructions that she should not marry anyone from the home counties." She concluded.
"Well that’s me done for then" I exclaimed, I reside in the home counties and she actually is my sister so that twit on the floor must have his deal."
"Not so!" exclaimed Lady Clover in a strange mixture of theatrical delivery and half contained excitement. "As I was saying, I was trapped in an unhappy marriage to Reg and tricked by his scheming. But what he didn’t know, what no one knew until now, for now is the time to finally bring this to your ears despite the shame I have carried all these years. Despite my wanting to burst with the knowledge that I carry, despite.."
"What she is trying to tell you dear boy" Panhandle joined in still fixing his gaze on Lady Clover and by now holding her hands in a very Nelson Eddy sort of way. "She is saying that me and Lady Clover fell in love"!
Gods cherubim and seraphim piss through the clouds and make it rain! Duke what was this I was hearing. My own minder turned manservant had an affair with Isabelle’s mother! Man Alive!
Lady Clover finished the story. Turning to Isabelle she grabbed her hand whilst holding Panhandles with the other, a tear welling in her eyes she said simply "Isabelle, my love, this is your real father, Panhandle"
"Then we are not related!" I exclaimed grabbing her other hand, then quickly before anyone else added to this complex weave of flannel I got down on one knee "Isabelle will you marry me?"
"Yes PK I will, for my father is your father and my mother is still my mother and your father is no longer your father but at least your mother did not…you know.. with my father who is now Panhandle"
"Quite so!" I exclaimed "And you are quite bright for following that. But first I must deal with this blighter Tattler and the merry dance he has led me will in turn lead him straight to jail!"
"PK – There is more!" Panhandle said in a now more excited voice.
As you have by now established and now everyone present should know…" The crowed visibly straining forward to catch the words and make mental notes. "Tattler, not content with scheming for the hand of my daughter, also had designs on your estate, your good name and the house of Randolph to be obliterated for ever. That is why he fooled you into thinking that I was the one who had lost your estate. He also made you think that I had absconded to the America’s with Flo, a fictitious character dreamed up by him to make the story all the more convincing."
"Good God!" and a whole series of such exclamations from various people.
"Indeed, he fooled me as well. Leading to me to believe that you had been kidnapped at ransom and a look-a-like planted in your place to complete the plan. That look-a-like was intending to kill me, the only person who knew the plan. But I was always one step ahead and left a challenging trail of clues. Clues so clever that only the brilliant mind of P K Randolph could identify, follow and solve. That is how I was able to lead you back to London and uncover his evil plan.
I also called upon a number of my contacts to help you reach your destination and I hope one day we can reward them and their missions and secret order’s. Bob Minge is a personal friend of mine and I am a grandmaster of the …Well you know…By George!" He winked.
"Indeed I will reward them! Every one! And Tattler, well, anyone capable of orchestrating the theatrics of the Titanic events is a mad man, a bounder and a cad of the first order! He is clearly a master of disguise and very evil, he should not be allowed to remain at liberty for a moment longer and we should ensure that he is sent to the pokey! Preferably sharing a cell with a brutish chap!
Yet again the room was electric.
"Someone send for the Police and have that man arrested!"
I turned to the floor where Tattler had been
rendered static by Panhandles blow. But wait! He had gone!
"Damn the Newbury Bypass! He has gone!"
We searched the immediate location for a good half hour but to no avail. Tattler had legged it, high tailed out of there to live another day and scheme another scheme taking with him King Arthur’s finger! the ruddy cock!
Comments
Well Duke, my world was shaken by this shebang, even more so than finding that I wasn’t a clover. At this stage in this over dramatic British farce that was starting to resemble an Oscar Wilde play I couldn’t have cared less what the twists and turns were. All I knew was that I was doubly sure now that I could marry the lovely Isabelle. I was however a little curious to know my parentage and found myself half sobbing, sitting on a chair being comforted by Isabelle who was already making mental notes of the wedding list and how she would label the seating arrangements as a result of these new developments.
"Who is my mother?" I enquired
"Well, I don’t exactly know" Replied my mother, I mean the woman who was my mother who I shall refer to as my mother lest it become a little confusing "But I had met a chamber maid from Windsor who was keen to sort out a problem for her employer. It would appear that one of the residence of that ‘great house’ " she whispered in hushed reverential tones while looking skyward "…had had a rather indiscreet encounter while on a hunting trip in India, and it wasn’t just the tiger that got stuffed and mounted. This obviously caused a problem and the solution was for her to have the child in secret and later to have it adopted. You are in fact from royal lineage!"
The room buzzed with this realisation. My head was spinning at the thought that I was possibly an illegitimate heir to the thrown.
"The only link I have with your real mother, who’s name was not divulged to me" She continued "Is the locket of hair on a gold chain and a signet ring embellished with the initials WC. I always believed this to be Windsor Castle…"
"My Son!" Exclaimed Reg yet again.
"Oh God he’s off again" I exclaimed "Look we’ve already established this Doctor!" You are not my father! Unless you are suffering from senile dementia, my mother, or rather ex- mother was just getting to a really interesting part about the house of Windsor, you aren’t my father now shut up!" I turned to my mother and asked her to continue, eager to find my parentage would involve such a romantic and potentially financially beneficial connection and certain privileges in access to the art treasures, not to mention my betrothal to Isabelle.
"My son!" Reg exclaimed yet again, this time hugging me.
"For God sake man, pull yourself together!" I finally demanded.
"You don’t understand" He said reaching for the locket that my mother had produced to illustrate the story. "This locket was the very one I gave to… well, the lady in question, we were to be married having had a passionate affair in India. The locket of hair is hers. One day when we were to meet she sent a messenger with the words that we should never see each other again and that I should forget her. I never knew the reason for the sudden decision until now. That very reason why she should suddenly cease our plans was the very reason why I have yet again found my son, welcome home son!" He again hugged me.
"I’m finding this a little difficult to keep up with!" I exclaimed, freeing myself from his grip.
"Bastard!" Exclaimed Lady Clover.
"Cad!" Exclaimed my father.
"Beast!" Exclaimed Isabelle.
"You cheating, Casanova!" Exclaimed my mother.
"Damn the skies of Windsor Castle!" I exclaimed "If this is true, then what do the WC initials in the locket stand for?" I held the locket in the air in the style of exhibit ‘A".
"My initials" He replied, "My first name. I have not used my real first name in years, as after the dramatic events of that year, I chose to forget and reinvent myself using my middle name Reginald. My real name is Wilberforce Reginald Clover and you are the son that my brief but fruitful encounter with ‘?’ produced. Now I know why she disappeared and never made contact again, she had to cover up, for ever, her indiscretion before she entered the public eye. My son!"
"Then I am your son!" The realisation hit me like a heavy weight in the first round. "Then I cannot marry Isabelle, for she is yet again within the space of no more than 10 minutes, my half sister! You twat sir"!
Dear Duke, I realise that this exacting description is running into lengthy prose but bare with me for the conclusion is yet more fanciful. You are near the end of my correspondence and I will not hold back on the significance of this detail, once I understand it myself. The room fell quiet again except for one voice. "Well that’s that then old bean" I turned to see the scoundrel Tattler pouring himself a large drink from the decanter.
"Your lucks out and mines in, home goal. You cannot marry Isabelle, but I am totally unrelated to either of you and so will be happy to take this opportunity to…"
I was just about to interrupt the swine with a pretty smart punch on the nose when he stopped mid sentence, rolled his eyes skyward and collapsed on the parquet floor. To my amazement standing behind him was Panhandle in full ceremonial bush costume waving a large stick carved into the shape of an extremely large phallus.
"I’ve been meaning to do that for some time Sir" He said very politely. "Now you can call Lilly!" he laughed "It’s Polari for the Police Sir, it was actually the first part of the clue to alert you to his preposterous name of Omi Palone, also polari, but you got the clues out of order".
Comments
Thanks,
It's been a blast!
I believe that there are several volumes from the recently discovered diaries of P K Randolph including 'incontinent in the subcontinent' , P K Randolph and the Secret of Lady Muff-Munching', P K Randolph - Goes West', and P K Randolph and the Russian Roulette'. I look forward to hosting them on MOG in the not too distant future as soon as I get the necessary authority from the Randolph estate. :)
how very strange. i guess times haven't really changed much after all.