The Adelphi: Thirteen: Trotwood Finds his way.

Next day, Trotwood had another dive into the Roman Bath, and then straightway he started for Highgate.  His purpose was to find the Doctor's house.  He discovered that it was not in that part of the house where Mrs Steerforth lived, but quite on the opposite side of the little town.  After this discovery, he went back, out of curiosity, to a lane by Mrs Steerforth's, and looked over the corner of the garden wall.  Steerforth's room was shut up.  The conservatory doors were standing open, and Rosa Dartle was walking, bareheaded, with a quick, impetuous step, up and down a gravel walk on one side of lawn.  He thought she was dragging the length of her chain to and fro upon a beaten track and wearing her heart out.

He came softly away from the place, and wishing he had not gone near the house.

He approached Doctor's cottage, a pretty old place.  Doctor seemed to have expended some money on the repair and embellishments that had the look of being just completed. He was in his gaiters walking in the garden.  Two or three rooks were on the grass, looking after him and observing him closely.

He was at some distance, and so, instead of attracting his attention from behind he waited for him to turn round.  When he did Trotwood opened the gate, and the Doctor looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments.  Then his benevolent face expressed extraordinary pleasure, and he took him by both hands.

'Why, my dear Copperfield,' said the Doctor, 'you are a man!  How do you do? I am delighted to see you.  My dear Copperfield, how much you have improved!  You are quiet - yes - dear me!'

Trotwood returned his compliments and hoped he and Mrs Strong were well.

'Oh dear, yes,' said the Doctor, 'Annie is quite well, and she will be delighted to see you.  You were always her favourite.  She said so last night, when I showed her your letter.  And - yes, to be sure - you recollect Mr Jack Maldon, Copperfield?'

'Perfectly, sir.  Had he come home, sir?'

'From India?' said the Doctor.  'Yes. Mr Jack Maldon couldn't bear the climate, my dear.  Mrs Markleham - you have not forgotten her?'

Forgotten the Old Soldier! And in that short time! Thought Trotwood.

'Mrs Markleham,' said the Doctor, 'was quite vexed about him, poor thing; so we have got him at home again; and we have bought him a little Patent place, which agrees with him much better.'

So Jack Maldon was in a place where there was not much to do, and was well paid.  The Doctor walking up and down with his hand on Trotwood's shoulder, went on:

'Now, my dear Copperfield, in reference to this proposal of yours.  It's very gratifying and agreeable to me, I am sure; but don't you think you could do better?  You achieved distinction, you know, when you were with us.  You are qualified for many good things.  You have laid a foundation that any edifice may be raised upon; and is it not a pity that you should devote the spring-time of your life to such a poor pursuit I can offer?'

The question striked him at once, but he never thought of it before, he was very much under the reverses that his aunt received, and it still baffled him, that he decided to stick on to the opportunity that Agnes had shown.  So with a pretence of enthusiasm and ecstasy he replied, 

'Sir, I have already a profession.  And I can make use of my mornings and evenings.'

'Well, well,' said the Doctor, 'that's true.  Certainly, your having a profession, and being actually engaged in it makes a difference.  But what's seventy pounds a year?'

'It doubles our income, sir,' said Trotwood.

'Dear me,' replied the Doctor.  'To think of that! Not that I mean to say it's rigidly limited to seventy pounds a year, because I have always contemplated making any friend I might thus employ, a present too.  Undoubtedly,' said the Doctor, still walking up and down with his hand on Trotwood's shoulder.  'I have always taken an annual present into account.'

'My dear sir,' said Trotwood, 'I shall be twenty times happier, if my employment is to be on the Dictionary.'

The Doctor stopped, silently clapped him on his shoulder, and exclaimed, 'my dear young friend, you have hit it.  It IS the Dictionary!'

How could it be anything else, he thought.  His pockets were full of it.  It was sticking out of him in all directions.  He told that since his retirement, he had been advancing with it, and the proposed arrangements for mornings and evenings well suited.  Mr Jack Maldon having lately proffered his occasional services as copyist, rendered his papers in a little confusion.  He was not accustomed to that occupation.

Afterwards, when the Doctor and Trotwood were at work, the latter found Mr Jack Maldon's efforts more troublesome than he expected.  

The Doctor was quite happy in the prospect of going to work together and they settled to begin next morning at seven o'clock.  They were to work two hours every morning, and two or three hours every night, except on Saturdays and Sundays.

Then the Doctor took him into his house.  Mrs Strong was dusting his books, a privilege he never left to anybody else.

While they had been at the breakfast table, Mr Jack Maldon came on horseback to the gate of the house, and leading his horse into the little court, with the bridle over his arm, tied him to a ring in the empty coach-house wall, and then walked into the breakfast parlour, whip in hand.

'Mr Jack!' said the Doctor.  'Copperfield!'

Mr Jack Maldon shook hands with Trotwood. 

'Have you breakfasted this morning, Mr Jack?' said the Doctor.

'I hardly ever take breakfast, sir,' he replied, with his head thrown back in the easy-chair he was seated.  'It bores me.'

'Is there any news today?' inquired the Doctor.

'Nothing at all, sir,' replied Maldon.  'There's an account about the people being hungry and discontented down in the North, but they are always being hungry and discontented down somewhere.'

The Doctor looked grave, and said as though he wished to change the subject.  'Then there is no news at all; and no news is a good news.' 

'There's a long statement in papers, sir, about a murder,' observed Mr Maldon.  'But somebody is always being murdered, and I didn't read it.'

It was a display of indifference towards people and things around us, thought Trotwood, and he could not agree to that.

'I came out to inquire wether Annie would like to go to the opera tonight,' said Mr Maldon, turning to her.  'It's the last good night there will be, this season; and there is a singer there, whom she really ought to hear.  She is perfectly exquisite.  Besides which, she is so charmingly ugly.'

The Doctor, ever pleased with what was likely to please his young wife turned to her and said:

'You must go, Annie. You must go.'

'I would rather not,' she said to the Doctor. 'I prefer to remain at home.' 

Without looking at her cousin, she then addressed to Trotwood, and asked him about Agnes.

The Doctor told Annie, good naturedly, that she was young and ought to be amused and entertained, and must not allow herself to be a dull old fellow.  Moreover he wanted to hear her sing all the new singer's songs to him.  Mr Jack Maldon was to come to dinner.  This concluded Mr Jack Maldon left the house.

Next morning Trotwood was curious to find out whether she had been to opera.  It was known that she went to meet Agnes, and prevailed upon the Doctor to go with her, and they had walked home by the fields.

Between Doctor Strong and Doctors'Commons Trotwood was now fully occupied, but he went to see Traddles.  He was now living behind the parapat of a house in Castle Street, Holborn.  Mr Dick was almost idle now.  So, Trotwood took him to Doctor Strong and helped him to resume his company with the Doctor.  Trotwood wanted to see Mr Dick occupied with something useful, and so wrote to Traddles whether he could do anything to help him.  Traddles wrote back, asking him to meet him at any time. 

Trotwood and Dick were now at Traddle's place.  He received them friendly and made friends with Dick in a moment.

Trotwood had heard that many men distinguished in various pursuits had begun by reporting debates in parliament. Trotwood wanted to know whether he could report this debates to newspapers.  Traddles said that the mastery of short-hand writing and reading, as well as a practical knowledge of six languages, and that it might be attained by dint of perseverance in the course of a few years.  Trotwood immediately resolved to work his way to his goal.

'I am very much obliged to you, my dear Traddles!' said Trotwood.  'I will begin tomorrow.'😂

Traddles looked astonished.

'I will buy a book with a good scheme of art in it.'

'Dear me,' said Traddles, op-ening his eyes, 'I had no idea you were such a determined character, Copperfield.'

Now coming to Dick they had made another arrangement. 'But you are a very good penman, sir?' said Traddles to Dick.

But Trotwood answered, 'excellant! He wrote with extraordinary neatness.'

'Don't you think,' said Traddles 'you could copy writings, sir, if I got them for you?'

Mr Dick looked doubtfully at Trotwood.  Trotwood explained to Traddles that it was difficult for Mr Dick to keep King Charles out of his manuscript. 

'But these writtings, you know, that I speak of are already drawn up and finished,' said Traddles after a little consideration.  'Mr Dick has nothing to do with them.  Wouldn't that make a difference, Copperfield?  Wouldn't it be well to try?'

Now they made a plan to engage Mr Dick in both the activities simultaneously.  On the table by window in Buckingham Street, they set out the work Traddles procured for him.  And on another table the last unfinished original of the Great Memorial.  On the first table Mr Dick should make the exact copies of the legal documents and when he felt necessary to make the slightest allusion to the Memorial, he should fly to the second table.  And they left Miss Betsey to observe him.  This plan was a success and he began to earn for himself.

'No starving now, Trotwood,' said Mr Dick, shaking hands with him, 'I will provide for her, Sir,' and he flourished his ten fingers in the air as if they were ten banks.

'It really,' said Traddles, suddenly, taking a letter out of his pocket, and giving it to Trotwood, 'put Mr Micawber quite out of my head!'

The letter ran thus:

MY DEAR COPPERFIELD,

You may possibly not unprepared to receive the intimation that something has turned up.

Thus went on the letter in his peculiar style. It was an invitation by Micawber to his new residence which he occupied as Mr Mortimer.

Traddles and Trotwood made a visit to the place at the top of Gray's Inn Road.  It did not have enough space for the large family of Mr Micawber. The twins of twelve years were reposing in a turned up bedstead in the family sitting room where, Mr Micawber had prepared in a wash-stand-hand jug what he called 'a Brew'. Master Micawber became a promising boy about twelve.  His sister Miss Micawber whom Mr Micawber quailed 'as mother renewed her youth, like a Phoenix' was also introduced again to Trotwood.

Micawbers were preparing for a migration to Canterbury.  There he secured an employment with Uriah Heep.  'In fact, my dear Copperfield, I have entered into arrangements, by virtue of which I stand pledged and contracted to our friend Heep, to assist and serve him in the capacity of - and to be his confidential clerk.'

Trotwood was astonished and stared at Mr Micawber and the latter very much enjoyed the astonishment of the former.

Now Mr Micawber explained how he got the new employment.  'The gauntlet to which Mrs Micawber referred upon a former occasion, being thrown down in the form of an advertisement, was taken up by my friend Heep.' 

Mr Micawber found this an opportunity to educate his son for the Church.

'For the Church?' wondered Trotwood.

'Yes.' said Mr Micawber.  'He has a wonderful head-voice, and will commence as a chorister.  Our residence at Canterbury, and our local connection, will, no doubt, enable him to take advantage of any vacancy that may arise in the Cathedral corps.'  

When they came to the last round of the punch, they fell into general conversation, and Trotwood was desparate to reveal the altered circumstances of Miss Betsey.  The friends parted the family wishing them health and happiness and also success for Mr Micawber in his new career.

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