The Mermaid in the Basement

by Gilbert, Morris

  “It must be hard to say no when an attractive woman comes to you.”

  “It takes grace.”

  “Grace?”

  “Yes, you have to get grace from God. It takes grace,” he said, “as a man fills his cup under the waterfall.And I look on women as rather dangerous anyway—like tigers, beautiful but with deadly potential. I read once a story about a girl who was so beautiful she could fade the purple out of cloth and tarnish mirrors with her looks.”

  “She must have been quite a woman.”

  “Yes. The Talmud says that if a woman walks between two men and no appropriate prayer is said, one of them will die.”

  “So you have to pray to God to protect you from women.”

  “And from almost everything else,” he said. “Look, David’s coming back. I expect we’d best get you back home again.”

  “It’s been a beautiful day. Thank you, Dylan. Tomorrow we’ll see the maid and search for the tobacconist.”

  “Right, you.”They turned to face Dora and David, both of them talking excitedly about the animals that were on exhibit.

  “Can we go fishing when we get home, Mr. Dylan?”

  “No, I have to go to work. I have to make a living, you know.”

  “Maybe we can pay you so you don’t have to go to work.”

  Dylan laughed suddenly.“That would be great.”He turned to Serafina, humour dancing in his eyes.“How much do you feel a broken-down actor is worth?”

  “You’re not broken down!” David protested.

  “No, you’re not indeed,” Dora said. “It’s been such a wonderful afternoon! I’ve almost managed to put Clive out of my mind. He’s always there.”

  Dylan said, “God is going to do a work for your brother.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Dora whispered, her eyes pleading.

  “Yes.”

  David said, “I want to see the elephant again, Mr. Dylan.” He took Dylan’s hand, and the two started off. Dora and Serafina watched them until they fell behind enough, and Dora whispered, “He’s such a kind man—and so good with David! He’s just what David needs, a man to pay him some attention.”

  Serafina could not answer for a moment, but finally she said, “Yes, and I hope he’s the man Clive needs too.”

  “It’s amazing how he’s come into our lives at just the right time. It’s almost like a miracle, isn’t it?”

  Serafina said, “He would agree with you, I’m sure.” She watched the tall form of Dylan Tremayne and the well-known and loved form of her son, David, and did not speak.

  THIRTEEN

  The family had gathered for breakfast, but Serafina was not hungry. Rising from her chair, she moved across the room toward the open window. She looked out on the lawn as the heavy scent of wildflowers wafted inside.

  It was a fine April afternoon, and the windows faced a long lawn set with trees sloping down to the brook. The willows made a cavern of green and reflected like lace on the barely moving currents. Roses covered a nearby pagoda, its white lattice arches visible through the leaves. As she stood there, Serafina was unmoved by the beautiful day. Her eyes fell on the blossoms of the garden with their riotous colours, and the brilliant flair of tulips caught her eye. The lupines were beginning to bloom, tall columns of pinks and blues and purples, and a dozen oriental poppies had opened, fragile and gaudy as coloured silk in a bed right below the window. Something like mild shock ran along Serafina’s nerves as she realised that the beautiful day and the magnificent flowers brought her no joy. She could remember times when this sight had brought her a keen pleasure, but now it was nothing but an attractive scene.

  From somewhere deep in her imagination, a thought came to Serafina—one of those unsought fragments of memory that formed part of her thinking process. She had read a book once about Iceland, and had seen drawings of the natives. She remembered vividly one of the pictures—a woman dressed in furs, her square brown face seamed with age and weathered like an old block of wood. She was sitting cross-legged in the snow, obviously enjoying her crude meal greatly. That savage woman living on the very edge of death probably was enjoying her life at that moment more than I am now, even with all the conveniences that money can buy. Serafina was grieved at the thought, for it was the sort of imaginative process that she had tried for years, under her father’s tutelage, to root out of her mind.

  The memory disturbed her greatly, and she closed her eyes for a moment, aware that the others in the room were talking about Clive’s plight.When she forced herself to open her eyes, she saw that David and Danny were beneath a large yew tree, digging a hole. Even from where she stood, she could see the dirt on David’s face as well as the bright smile he flashed at the groom, and she wondered what future lay before this son who, in one sense, was all she had in the world. The future was always a darkling place for her, one she thought of as little as possible. Although she was not a Bible believer, she had heard a verse of Scripture once that said, simply, “Give not thought for the morrow. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” It had somehow taken root in her mind, and she had accepted it as one of the rules of her life.

  As she watched David throwing dirt in arcs over his head and Danny Spears laughing at him, a cold touch of apprehension came over her. Parents can do only so much for their children. Sooner or later they’ll go their own way and make their own choices—and parents must stand and watch helplessly.

  She heard Dora say, “Father, I’m so worried.What are we going to do about Clive?”

  The note of panic in Dora’s voice pulled Serafina around, and she studied the face of her younger sister. I was so much like her at her age. She’s not a brilliant girl, but she has a sweetness that I once had —and lost somewhere along the way.

  “We’ll just have to do the best we can for him,” Septimus said. His voice, usually strong and vigorous, was weak and held a slight tremor.

  Serafina looked at his face and noticed lines that were not there before.

  He seemed to have aged very suddenly, and the thought frightened her. Her father had always been there for her. He had been her tutor, her teacher, her friend. She had never thought of him as being an old man, but now she saw the early signs of old age in his face, and the unsteadiness in his hands.He’s always been so certain. He’s always been able to solve problems in his work, but this is different. I wonder if life will ever be the same for any of us in this house.

  Serafina glanced around the room.None of them except Aunt Bertha had been able to eat. They had consumed much of the tea, but it was Bertha who fed a steady stream of bacon and fairy cakes into her mouth. She also dominated the conversation with her loud voice. Suddenly she turned to Serafina and said, “Well, you’re certainly not doing the family’s name any good.”

  Serafina was accustomed to Aunt Bertha’s charges, and she asked simply, “What are you talking about, Aunt Bertha?”

  “Talking about? What am I talking about?” Aunt Bertha popped another fairy cake into her mouth and chewed it vigorously. Eating did not appear to have any effect on Bertha’s speaking process. She could eat steadily and talk rapidly at the same time. “I’m talking about that actor you’ve been running around with all over town .You’re going to ruin the family name!”

  Serafina did not bother to answer, but Dora’s face suddenly flushed pink. “Our family name isn’t in good standing now, Aunt Bertha. At least Mr. Tremayne is trying to do something for poor Clive.”

  “What can he do? He’s an actor.” Bertha spoke these words as if she had said, “He’s a leper,” for in her mind lepers and actors were on the same plane. “He’s a fortune hunter as well. He’s after your money, Serafina, and one more thing—” She picked up a thick slice of bacon and, instead of taking a small bite, shoved the whole thing into her mouth. Serafina often thought she looked not like a woman who was eating for enjoyment but like someone storing food away for a future need. “It’s him and those actors he lives with who dragged Clive down.”

 
“That’s not so, Aunt Bertha,”Dora said hotly. She was a quiet, sweet-tempered girl, but whenever anyone attacked one of her family, a small tigress seemed to emerge.Her eyes flashed with anger as she said, “At least he’s trying to help us, and he’s not a fortune hunter.”

  At that instant Louisa entered the sitting room and announced, “There’s a Sir Aaron Digby come to call. Are you at home, sir?”

  She put the question to Septimus, but it was Bertha who answered. Her black eyes snapped, and she said vigorously, “Of course we will see him! Show him in at once.” As soon as Louisa left the room, Bertha turned to Dora. “He’s come calling on you, Dora. He’s been trying to court you for weeks now.”

  “I’m not in the mood for Sir Aaron,”Dora said. She started to rise, but Bertha arrested her with a sharp command. Her voice seemed to freeze Dora where she was, overtaking the young girl.“He’s come to call upon you, and I will expect you to show the proper grace. He’s quite taken with you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him,” Dora said. But before she could even rise, Louisa entered and said, “Sir Aaron Digby.”

  The man who entered was somewhat under average height and wore the latest fashions. His face was full, and his eyes were close together, which gave him a squinty appearance. He bowed and said, “Good monring. I hope I’m not calling at a bad moment.”

  “Why, of course not, Sir Aaron,”Aunt Bertha gushed. “We’re just finishing breakfast. Sit right here and try some of these fresh fairy cakes.”

  “Thank you,” Sir Aaron said. He moved across the room in rather mincing steps, sat down, and said, “I trust I find you well, Dr. Newton.”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “And you, Mrs. Newton? But then you are always well.”

  “Thank you, Sir Aaron,” Alberta said. She was watching the man curiously, for he had appeared in their lives some time ago in a rather minor way. He had called twice and had asked permission to take Dora to a concert and then to a ball. Both times permission had been granted, but Dora showed no enthusiasm for his advances. “I’m very well, thank you.”

  Sir Aaron took one of the cakes, bit off a tiny fragment, and chewed it thoroughly. “Very fine,” he said. “You have an excellent cook.”

  “She’s been with us a long time,” Septimus said.“What have you been doing with yourself, Sir Aaron?”

  The visitor gave the usual reply to such questions, and then he turned and put his eyes on Dora. “I must tell you how very much I enjoyed dancing with you at the Union Ball.”

  Dora dropped her eyes, and her voice was barely audible. “Thank you, sir. It was gracious of you to ask me.”

  “Not at all! Not at all! I know you all have been under considerable distress. I can’t say that I know how you feel, for no man would until he’s gone through something similar. I’m sure that you’re all carrying on as well as possible under the dire circumstances of your son’s problems.”

  “We do the best we can,” Serafina said firmly. She had disliked the man from the beginning, although there was no reason for it. Scccrty-two years old and had been married, but his wife had died recently. Digby’s wife had had money, and it had been rumoured that he had run through it with rather amazing speed. He also had two daughters living with him whom none of the Newtons had met.

  “I think,Miss Dora, it would be good for you to get out, make yourself take part in activities. As a matter of fact, that’s the occasion for my visit.”He smiled at Dora and leaned forward slightly. “There’s going to be a Wagner concert this week. I know how much you like the music of Mr.

  Wagner, and with your parents’ permission I would like to escort you. It’s next Wednesday afternoon at the park.”

  Dora said immediately, “I thank you, sir, but—”

  “Of course she will go,” Bertha interrupted.“What a thoughtful thing for you to do, Sir Aaron.”

  “Not at all. It will be my pleasure.”

  Sir Aaron stayed and talked to Septimus for some time, but it was obvious that his attention was directed toward Dora. Finally he got up and came to stand before Dora. “I will be here to call for you at one o’clock. Until then I remain your servant, Miss Dora.”

  He turned and left the room, and Bertha at once began speaking vehemently to Dora. “You sat there like a block of stone, Dora! What is the matter with you?”

  “I—I don’t like him.”

  “You don’t like him? What is there not to like? He has money. He has a title, and he’s obviously interested in you.”

  Dora looked up, and her lips were trembling. She had no ammunition to use against Aunt Bertha, but whispered, “He’s twenty years older than I am, and he has two daughters almost as old as I am, and besides,” she said again, “I don’t like him.”

  “Nonsense! You sound like a green girl. Don’t like him, indeed!” She turned and said forcefully, “Septimus, I think it’s time for you to take a firm hand. Dora must learn that she should be guided by her family.”

  Serafina stood helplessly by, and finally Dora got up and mumbled, “Excuse me,” and half ran from the room.

  Septimus was the mildest of men, but there was something like exasperation in his voice when he said, “Bertha, I think you should be more gentle with Dora.”

  “Well, I see you’re not in the least grateful for what I try to do around here! You don’t care enough about your daughter, and that’s your problem. Why, if it weren’t for me, Serafina would never have married Charles.”

  The woman could not have said anything that pained Serafina more. She knew, indeed, that Bertha had been the prime mover of her marriage to Charles. It was she who had introduced them and had constantly filled her mind with how wonderful it would be if she could just become his wife. She would become the Viscountess of Radnor! She gave her aunt a cryptic look, then turned and left the room. She heard Septimus say, “I’ve been a bad father . . .”A moment’s anger struck through Serafina. She had an impulse to turn around and confront Aunt Bertha, to tell her that her marriage counseling had led one of Septimus’s daughters into one of the most terrible experiences possible. She knew, however, that it would be hopeless, and going to the laboratory, she sat down at the desk. She had been working long, arduous hours on the cypher in Kate Fairfield’s journal, but with no success whatsoever. She had been highly interested in cyphers at one time and had learnt the basic form for them, but this cypher was such that the usual methods would yield nothing.

  She looked up as her father entered, his face tense and his jovial expression wiped completely away.

  “I feel so helpless, Daughter!”

  “We all do, Father.”

  Her father whispered,“What can I do, Daughter? What can I possibly do?” Serafina saw tears in her father’s eyes, and the sight shocked her to the core of her being. She had never seen her father weep. They were not a demonstrative family, but impulsively Serafina rose and went to her father. She put her arms around him, and he clung to her as if he were the child and she the parent. Serafina held him and thought of several times when she was a child and had had nightmares. It had been Septimus who appeared at night, put his arms around her, and comforted her until she went back to sleep. She had awakened the next morning to find that he was still there, and she still remembered those times as some of the most notable moments in her life as far as her father was concerned. But even as she comforted her father as best she could, a thought seemed to whisper into her mind. Yes, but who will comfort me?

  Dylan had brewed a pot of tea and was allowing it to steep when a knock at his door made him look up with surprise. “Who can that be, I wonder?” he murmured. Moving across the room, he opened the door and saw Viscountess Serafina standing there. “Well, good morning,” he said, smiling. “It’s a good surprise you brought me this morning. Come in, Viscountess.”

  Serafina stood there for one moment, and the sight of Dylan’s smile, his athletic form, his coal black hair with the slight curl brought an instant thought. He’s probabl
y the best-looking man in England. The thought irritated her for some reason, but she stepped inside and said, “I had no way to tell you I was coming.”

  “No problem, ay. Here, I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea. Why don’t you sit down and share it with me.”

  Serafina sat down and, glancing around the room, was impressed with the neatness of it. On the night they went to Kate Fairfield’s, she hadn’t taken the time to look around, but now she was curious. It was not a large room, and the walls were crowded by at least a dozen paintings that stirred her. They were modern impressions of sunlit landscapes, blurs of water lilies all in blues and greens with flashes of pink, and trees beside cornfields. All of them were highly individual experiments in art and were obviously the selection of a man who had very definite opinions about what constituted beauty in art.

  “I like your paintings,” she said.

  “Thank you. They’re done by a friend of mine.”

  “Perhaps you could take me to see him sometime. I might be interested in purchasing his work.”

  “Well, actually it’s a young woman who does the paintings.”

  Serafina was surprised for no reason that she could identify. “Well, that doesn’t matter,” she said. “It might even make it more interesting.”

  “We’ll do that.”

  As she sipped her tea, Serafina was aware that Dylan was studying her countenance. He did not do it covertly as many men might have, but faced her squarely, his trim shoulders set, his eyes steady, and she wondered what he was seeing. “Sorry I am to see how the trouble is wearing you down, Viscountess,” he said finally.

  She was caught off guard by his observation. In the mirror, she had seen little outward sign of the pressure brought by Clive’s problem. “It’s been very hard on all of us.” She hesitated, then said, “I saw something today I’ve never seen before.”

  “And what was that now?”

  “Something I saw in my father.We were talking about Clive’s imprisonment, and Father had tears in his eyes. He could barely speak, but he whispered, ‘What can I do, Daughter? What can I do?’” Serafina dropped her eyes and added, “I’ve never seen my father cry before.”