by Edith Layton
“What was that?” she finally asked him as they walked home.
“The land I come from,” he said.
“How much was real and how much illusion?”
“You had no trouble seeing that,” he said, chuckling. “And doubtless, the longer you stayed the more you’d see. Even so, it’s odd that you wanted to leave so quickly. Most people want to stay. I imagine you were overwhelmed. Don’t worry. It gets easier.”
“Does it? I wonder,” she mused. “And so, if you had a child with me, you’d want him brought up there?”
“If he was like me, he’d want it,” he said briefly. “It would be his wish as well as his heritage.”
“Aubrey,” she asked pensively. “Just what is it that your people do?”
He laughed. “What do your people do? We live, we enjoy life, we try to make it more beautiful.”
“My people do all that,” she said. “But we also create things, invent new things, try to better our world.”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “You create wars, invent weapons, and try to own the world and remake it to suit your whims.”
There was nothing she could say to that. Eve walked on silently at his side. None of what she’d seen made sense to her now. She wondered if it had all been done by some kind of illusion, like a stage setting for a clutch of mad people, a coven of some sort.
In the last century there had been some famous titled gentlemen who had pretended to be monks at Black Masses that they held in the caves on the estate of one of their founders: Sir Francis Dashwood. They’d called themselves the “Hell-fire Club” and had secret rites. They hired prostitutes to serve them in the caves, and pretended they were despoiling virgins. Wealthy, educated people playing at foolish, wicked games. Why couldn’t there be well-bred people pretending pleasant things? Just as mad perhaps, but more benign?
Or had Aubrey somehow drugged or influenced her? Had those floral scents been opiates? But Eve had never heard of people under the influence of any drug all having the same dream. She’d heard of Franz Mesmer and his experiments in animal magnetism, and how he could control the minds of men too. She couldn’t believe that of Aubrey.
He looked down at her and put an arm around her. “You’re so pale, my love,” he whispered. “So troubled. Don’t be. You know I’d never hurt you. And Sherry won’t be hurt. But you had to see.”
She nodded. She wasn’t a scientist or an expert on legends and myths. For all she knew such creatures as she’d seen did exist and their world was real. That would mean that her husband wasn’t human. She didn’t want to believe that of him. But she did think he believed it.
She hugged closer to the blessed solid real warmth of him as they went homeward, glad of the quiet. She had to think, now, while her experiences were fresh, while she still had the courage to see the truth.
One thing was absolute. Whatever she had seen, whatever Aubrey believed it to be, real or not, wasn’t for her, and certainly not for her child. That became clearer with every step she took. Aubrey either labored under a delusion, or he might be something other than humankind. But if he was deluded, then so had she been. And she wasn’t now.
That left only the impossibility of his being alien to her and her world. Which also meant he’d been drawn to her only because he’d believed she could provide him with the child that he and his people, whatever they were, yearned for.
Her brother had been seduced or stolen for that very reason too. So she was loved. But for the wrong reason. Her heart ached. Aubrey had never lied. She’d lied to herself because she’d been so astonished by him, his beauty, his mind, and his attentions. She’d always known he was too much for her, but she’d been glad to be carried away by his protests of love.
Eve had always been clear-headed. She’d lost that facility once, when she’d married Aubrey. She couldn’t afford to again. Not now, not for a minute, not for any reason. Love required sacrifice. She knew then that she would have to sacrifice her true love for a new love. And so she’d have to leave Aubrey.
Chapter 20
“I’ll never run away from you again,” Eve assured Aubrey the next morning. “But I must go to London to see my father. A letter would be a cold way to let him know about what happened to my brother. And in truth, I don’t think I could write a convincing letter about something I myself don’t understand.”
That’s a great deal of to and fro-ing,” Aubrey said quietly, looking up from his breakfast plate. “Are you sure you are up to it?”
“I wouldn’t go were I not. This is a thing I must do.”
“You would tell him what you saw?” Aubrey asked,
“I must,” she declared. “Unless it is forbidden?” “It’s not. But I doubt he’ll understand. He’ll just think my sister is a fascinating older woman who has Sherry in her thrall,” he said, setting to his breakfast again.
“Isn’t she? Doesn’t she?”
“And what will he think of me?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I know what to think. There’s a great deal I didn’t understand.” She refused to say she hadn’t believed him, because then she’d have to say she’d thought he was mad. She still didn’t know and didn’t want to just yet. “And how can you eat eggs and toast?” she whispered in exasperation, to divert her mind. “Aren’t your people supposed to dine on nectar and whatnot?”
He laughed. “A little late in the day to ask that, isn’t it? As for the nectar? At home, maybe. Or so we say. But certainly not in this world. We’d starve. Why are you so angry this morning? For the same reason you tossed and turned all night?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
He lowered his voice, although no footman was in view. “For the same reason you told me you were too weary to make love?”
She nodded. She lifted her head and said, “I lied. I was too troubled. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about my poor father. And my brother. I have to go to London, and today.”
He looked up. “And me? If I want to come along with you? I know it’s my husbandly right, but I want to know that you’re in accord.”
“Of course,” she said. “I told you, I’m not running away.” Yet, she thought.
He looked at her keenly, and then nodded. “I’ll have the arrangements made. We’ll leave before noon.”
“There are a great many things I never bothered to ask you,” Eve said as their carriage rolled toward London. She’d been mostly quiet, thinking, on the first leg of their journey. Aubrey had left her in peace. Now as they neared their destination, she spoke at last about more than the weather and traveling conditions with him. She’d nerved herself, and now had questions she felt she must ask.
Aubrey sat beside her, his long legs stretched out. “Ask away,” he said, crossing his hands on his flat abdomen, as though it was commonplace for his wife to ask him things she should have before she ever became his bride.
“Can you fly?”
He sat bolt upright. “What?”
“Can you fly?” she asked doggedly. “It’s something magical folk are supposed to be able to do.”
“We’re not ducks,” he said, sitting back again with a suppressed smile on his lips. “We don’t have wings. Where could we hide them? You’ve certainly seen every inch of me. We can move quickly and deceive the eye if we want to, but I’m afraid we can’t fly.”
“What else can you do? Does holy water scar you? How does iron hurt you? Tell me, please.”
He sat up again, and turned to her. He took her hands in his. “Because you believe me now? Or because you want to know the depths of my madness? It doesn’t matter. Once and for all, Eve, there are things I can do to deceive the mortal mind. Many things. Once upon a time we were arrogant because of that, we toyed with humankind and thought we ruled the world. But now our kind is dying out and we’re not so proud anymore. I don’t know why we fail to thrive now, not any more than I know why humankind prospers.
“I can withstand holy water,” he went on. “I suppose the y
ears made me immune to it. I’m not sure it was ever more than fear of its effects that harmed us. Fear can kill any living creature, you know. Iron still bites. It is antipathetical to our kind; it doesn’t kill, but when I’m near it my bones feel like they’re itching from the inside, and it’s so freezing cold that it numbs my fingers. That isn’t what accounts for our scarcity, though; I wish I knew what did. Because in many ways we are more suited for life on this earth than you are. We’re stronger than your people, we can bend Nature to our will, and we live centuries longer than humankind. As to how we can affect you? The rest is simply bedazzlement, disguise, and mental confusion.
“I have already said I never had to use any spells or enchantments with you. I was lucky. You were attracted to me. I needed no help from any kind of magic. That would have cheapened what we have together. It’s no pleasure to make love to an inferior. You’ve never been that.”
“Is my brother? Does Arianna hold my brother in thrall with magic?”
He grew serious. “I think so. But I can’t interfere.”
“Or won’t?” Eve asked.
“Both,” he said. “Ah, don’t worry. It won’t hurt Sherry. Sorry to enlighten you but he’s not a blushing virgin. A few months, and then she’ll be bored with him and let him go. He’ll be himself again. He’s not being harmed in any way. All he feels is pleasure and a sense of his own attractiveness and value. When he looks back on his time with her it will seem to him like it was a pleasant dream of love.”
“And if she conceives his child?”
“That’s what she hopes.”
“Do you think she will? Do you hope she will?”
He closed his eyes for a second. “What shall I say? We speak of the future of a race. We cannot conceive with each other or with your people. But I have done. There is our hope. Whether she can, I can’t say.”
“Wouldn’t that be cruel, to have his babe and keep it from him?”
“And how should he ever know? Would it be kinder to hand him a miraculous babe he can’t hope to understand, and ask him to raise it? If such a thing happens, and Arianna keeps the child, it would be raised on silken cushions, fed sweet cream, educated and protected and entirely adored by all the folk.”
Eve remained quiet, thinking. “Whatever happens, will she really let him go? Or keep him forever to find out if he can produce a child with her?”
“She won’t keep him long. That, at least I can see to and promise you,” he said, taking her hand to his lips.
Eve sat back. “I’m weary from being up all night. It’s still a long way to London. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll close my eyes and try to sleep a little now.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
But when she closed her eyes, she didn’t sleep. And his eyes remained open, studying her intently.
“This is terrible,” Malcolm Faraday said, as he paced his study, his hands locked behind his back, his head down. “Terrible, terrible, terrible.” He was muttering, distracted and very unhappy.
He looked up at his daughter. “Not just about Sheridan. Although that’s bad enough, Lord knows. But I too think he’ll outgrow this fascination with an older female. It happens. It’s not the end of the world. But my poor girl! To have a husband who thinks he’s magical or some sort of sprite or whatever? And you appear to be on the brink of believing it too? Ah, terrible, terrible.
“Aubrey’s so clever and well bred, charming and kind. Who would have thought it? I was so happy for you! You were always beautiful to me, but you never caught…that is to say, no one ever caught your eye. And then along comes the masculine catch of the Season—of the decade—and wonder of wonders, he’s in love with my little girl. And now this! What are we to do?”
“What am I to do?” Eve murmured. “I love him still.”
“Well, I suppose he’s harmless,” her father said. “But deranged. Oh dear, oh dear. And the physician you saw last time you came to London said you should stay with him even so?”
“He said he doubted he was dangerous,” Eve said.
“Well, so do I. He’s kindly. But madness isn’t a simple thing. It sometimes grows worse as the years go on. Not just madness, but any sort of idiosyncrasy. Your own dear mother was sweet and amiable, but with a terrible stubborn streak that just increased as the time went on. If the poor lady had lived longer, who knows what would have happened?”
“Mother?” Eve asked, recalling how much under her thumb she’d been told her father had been. If her mother had lived longer, she imagined her father would have been utterly squashed. “I remember people saying she was…forceful, but surely not mad.”
“No, of course not. But she had certain ideas. She was as proud of her heritage as your Aubrey is of his. Mind, she never said she was an…” he shuddered, “…elf.”
“One of the Old People,” she corrected him.
“Whatever,” he said waving a hand as if to shoo the terrible thought away. “I told you she bragged that her ancestors were here before anyone else came to England too. She couldn’t prove it, of course, because no one could write back then, so who is to know? But you ought to have heard her go on about it. She said they were small and dark and quick, and very shy, but the true royalty of England. She spoke as though I were a peasant and she, a queen. Poor lady,” he added quickly.
Eve stared. “She sounded like she was describing Brownies, or some such. Father!” she said, a sudden hope springing to her eyes, “did she ever claim she was of…fairy stock and mythical origin too.”
“Of course not,” he said. “She wasn’t insane!”
Eve looked away.
“But now, what’s to do about you?” he asked more gently.
“I wish I knew,” Eve said.
“I think I do,” Aubrey said, from the doorway.
They both looked up, like guilty things surprised.
“Eve,” Aubrey said, ignoring his father-in-law as he came into the study. He carefully shut the door behind him. “I think I know what’s best. But I won’t do a thing unless you agree. I think your father would have been better off had he never heard a word of this. But if, in future, you decide I was wrong, you can tell him all over again should you wish.”
“Damme, but I’m not a fool,” Eve’s father said in agitation. “I’m right here before you, if you didn’t notice. What are you talking about?”
Eve looked up at her husband. His handsome face was grave, his eyes filled with regret. When he looked like this, it was hard to refuse him. And if he tried to do something to erase her father’s memory, it would be a test to see if he possessed any of the powers he believed that he did, she thought. But she never wanted to jeopardize her father to her own doubts, or to her husband’s possible violence. Because who knew what he’d do if she agreed that her father shouldn’t have this memory? She couldn’t see her own expression.
Aubrey could. Eve looked trapped. “I won’t hurt him in any fashion,” he said gently. “I won’t so much as touch him. But I think he’d feel better if I did something to ease his distress. Forgetting all that has been said just now would do it. What good does such knowledge do him, after all? But I won’t do a thing if you say not.”
Eve hesitated. She looked at her father. He looked stricken. “He thinks he can cast a spell on me?” he asked her in horror.
Now she knew what had to be done. She doubted Aubrey would hurt anyone. Even so, this would be, she thought with sinking heart, the final test. She couldn’t let Aubrey try and fail without admitting once and for all that it was all madness. If she saw him make a violent move toward her father, she’d leap at him, protect her father, and shout the house down. Whatever she decided she couldn’t postpone the outcome now. She looked at Aubrey, and nodded. “Please,” she said. “And quickly.”
Aubrey nodded. He looked at Malcolm Faraday and raised a hand toward him negligently, as though he were brushing away cobwebs so as to see him better. Smiling, he opened his lips and murmured some musical, nonsensical syllabl
es.
Eve’s father looked at him in dismay.
Aubrey fell still, with a half-smile on his lips. There’d been no flash of light, no clap of thunder. Now there was just silence.
Eve’s father still looked at him in dismay. Eve felt ill.
“I say,” Malcolm Faraday said, passing a hand over his forehead. “What was I saying? The older I get, the more I forget. Ah well, if it’s important, I’ll doubtless remember it again soon. So, my children, it’s good to see you again so soon. Tell me, have you come to tell me you’ve heard word of Sheridan? Do you have any idea of where he is?”
He noticed Eve’s startled expression as she swung around and stared at her husband. “If he’s in danger,” Malcolm said quickly, “don’t worry, I can deal with it. I may be old, but I’m not infirm.”
“No, sir,” Aubrey said. “There’s no trouble, but there is a situation. We had word from him. It seems he was coming to visit us and met a certain lady in our vicinity who caught his attention. She’s a fascinating female, a handsome older woman, and a wealthy one with a taste for younger men. He’d rather you didn’t know about such doings, and so he begged us not to tell you more. We tried to dissuade him, urged him to go back to school, but he wouldn’t be budged. I think the lady will weary of him soon, and he’ll come home a great deal wiser. What would you have us do?”
“Oh, well,” Malcolm said, his expression brightening. “Bit of dog, is he? Never would have guessed it. Well, well, well. She’s handsome, you say? And rich? While I don’t approve such things, certainly not! I don’t think he can come to much harm in a few weeks or so, do you?”
“Only as much as he’d come to if he’d gone on the Grand Tour,” Aubrey said, “and possibly less. This way, if he does go on a tour of the Continent when the war ends, there are many pitfalls he’ll avoid. He’ll no longer be an incautious, curious, randy young lad. Begging your pardon, Eve, my love, but that is the general state of schoolboys abroad for the first time, with a tutor or not. And many a young fellow has gotten more than he bargained for from hasty foreign affairs. You know what I mean, sir.”
