“I know the young Peterson has a great love of the sea and goes sailing every chance he gets, and hates to stay at home, but aside from that I know nothing more. Horace Bitwater is a different sort all together. Scholarly sort, very involved with his research even though he graduated early. I hear he maintains a professional relationship with several Universities, giving history and sociology lectures when asked. He enjoys a rather close relationship with his mother, consulting her first in everything he does. In fact he probably asked her what she thought of the idea of asking you to dance last night, as well as coming to Westwind today.”
“That is a rather close relationship. Does he not have a father?” I asked.
“No, the elder Bitwater died a few years ago. They had Horace, their only offspring, very late in life I’m afraid. I know that Horace’s father was 52 when Horace was born, his mother being 40 something. I’m sure his mother clings to him out of loneliness.”
“You seem to know so much about the people of this city even though you yourself, as you say, do not interact much with them.” He nodded.
“True. I make it my business to know about people’s character other than what is printed in the society pages. You see Claren, where I was born and grew up as a young man was very different than say, where you were raised. My circumstances were far from ideal and I had a great deal to learn. Some of the lessons I learned were of a very harsh nature, but lasting ones. It might have given me a negative outlook on life and people, one that I may have passed on to my son.” I was always curious when he spoke of himself or Etrigan. I wanted to know everything that I could about them both.
“Speaking of my son, Mrs. Whitby informed me he ruined your dress last night? He is harassing you again?” Something told me not to tell him the whole truth. I felt a physical sensation of a great metal plate being placed over my heart, as if warning me not to tell him my true feelings of last night’s encounter. When I did not answer right away he stopped abruptly and cast a critical eye upon me and I remembered that I was still in his debt. I was not there to live an idle life, going to parties, purchasing clothing and to live a life of ease. I was there to befriend his son, or attempt too, this is what Mr. Lowood had requested of me.
“No, I dirtied it myself I’m afraid. Your son had nothing to do with it. He has not played any jokes on me in the last three or four days.”
“Is that so? Then things may be looking up. Please do not think me overly harsh Claren when I question you about the young men who came here. I just want what is best for you and I don’t care for people who may be poking about for information on you. You are in my care, my responsibility. Whatever would I do if something unfortunate should happen to you?” Something about that last sentence, the way he said it, did not sit well with me.
“I understand and I am forever grateful to you for taking me in like this and always being more than generous with me.” I said to him while trying to look him in his eye which for some reason, he purposely avoided and seemed suddenly uncomfortable.
“No need for further gratitude Claren. It is my duty and all that.” He added dryly. Naza had caught up with us and began racing around in front of us in sheer delight. Mr. Lowood smiled turning his attention towards my wolfhound.
“She has been so much more happy since the vet removed that splint. Just look at her dashing about!” He let out a low whistle to call her back to us. She stopped suddenly and looked back at us panting in happiness. I noticed her eye was trained on something behind us in the trees.
“Come on Naza old girl, let’s get back before Mrs. Whitby thinks we do not want lunch.” Mr. Lowood called out to her. She made a mad dash back towards the house as if she remembered the special “stew” that was made for her every day.
I turned and cast my eye to the trees where Naza had been looking and saw Etrigan. He stood in the cover of trees watching me and his father walk back to the house. How long he had been watching I had no idea. All I knew was I was surprised to see him out in the daylight. Something told me not to mention Etrigan’s presence to his father.
I did not see Etrigan for several days after. I know that he knew I had seen him but he had not acknowledged me, just continued to gaze with his dark eyes. I could not read his look from that distance; therefore I could make no attempt at reading what he may have been thinking. People give away so much by the unintentional looks on their faces or the way they hold themselves. I had always been a quiet observer of my parent’s friends. I could sniff out haughtiness or callousness, disinterest or admiration. It was a sort of game I played with new people that I met, to see if the impressions that I received from their body language alone was in line with their personality. If I was right, I would mentally congratulate myself, if I was wrong, I would study the person more in depth, secretly of course. As it so happened, there were only a few times in my life that I was wrong or had a hard time getting a reading at all from a person. One such individual I now resided with, Mr. Lowood. Mr. Lowood always seemed to be making kind gestures and saying caring things, but there were times that I felt that he was not being sincere. He, at times seemed to be at odds with himself as strange as that may sound. I sometimes never knew if he was going to offer me his arm and treat me as a daughter, or speak harshly to me for no reason.
Etrigan, up until last night seemed to have a honest dislike for me. At least it was straight forward and I knew what to expect. In all honesty, my dealings with Etrigan had left me confounded. His constant bitterness and cruel tricks he had played on me (those had stopped since) left me wanting to run away from Westwind. Yet the kindness he had paid me, the comfort he had given me the night of the Winter Ball that was something that touched a deep part of me. A part that I had kept as hard as I could after my parents died, my heart. I thought back on my first feelings when I had met him by accident running after Naza. Surprise and curiosity from me and surprise and rejection from him, yet I felt no malice in his rejection. Like an animal that had been beaten, it growls when someone first shows it kindness. Not that I thought him as an animal. But he was rather like a shy, distrustful creature one would chance upon in the woods.
Something had been awakened within me, I longed to see him again, to speak with him on what I had hoped was now different terms. Now that he displayed a different side to himself, that was the side I found worth getting to know. I could not just march up to his room, his sanctuary, and begin speaking to him. I didn’t want to push him too soon, too hard. I knew what that felt like when my parents were pushing Kurten on me. I cringed thinking about that devil and shook my head back and forth slightly to rid it of his image. I replaced it with a much more appealing image, Etrigan’s image, tall, graceful and full of dark beauty. He had done it once before and now I only had to wait again till he came to me.
The days continued to pass with no sign of Etrigan, though I did feel his eyes upon me when I took Naza out for her daily walks. At first I would catch him peeking down at us from atop Westwind, behind the gargoyles and battlements. He did this for several days. I began to walk Naza out farther and farther away from Westwind where I was sure he could not see me. I had hoped to draw him out further. This plan worked, and I soon began to feel his presence nearby. Of course I was taking a chance that he would revert to his mean spirited behavior, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I could sometimes hear him rustling in the trees that he perched in or running on foot to catch up with us. He now came out in the day but made sure not to be seen by us from the sky or on the ground. He was quite adept at stalking my dog and I.
Even though he did not speak to me, I smiled inwardly knowing that he was following my hound and I closely. At first it seemed he took great pains not to be heard as he followed five or six feet behind us, moving behind trees and ducking behind bushes. But as the days passed and December drew to a close, the leaves had all but fallen to the ground. Dead and brown, they made cracking and crunching noises as the three of us walked. Etrigan was now walking behind us with only t
hree feet separating us. If I had suddenly stopped at any time, he would have run in to me. I was always careful not to turn around to let him know I was aware of his presence. Naza seemed to be aware of our curious game and never acknowledged his presence on the walks our curious little trio would take. She always took point, with me following her and Etrigan behind me.
As peaceful and familiar as it was, this strange and silent little arrangement could not go on forever. Even though I was patient and wanted to give Etrigan his space and gently draw him out, I too was lonely. Mrs. Whitby would talk to me when she got time, often to try to offer me “motherly” advice about this or that but she was usually busy with the housework. When I would attempt to help her she would shoo me away with her apron.
“What would the master think if he saw young Miss scrubbing floors? Dear me, he might fire me! Or he might think you do a better job of it and fire me anyway!” She would say with a startled look upon her face. So I tried not to be idle and took up painting, which I did poorly, and crocheting which I also did poorly. I read, which I enjoyed, but I always felt awkward asking Mr. Lowood permission to borrow one book after another. The library seemed to be his personal sanctuary rather than his bedroom, so to intrude into the library would be akin to intruding into his personal bedroom chambers.
Invitation to luncheons and art gallery openings arrived constantly from Horace and Dekker but were never replied to. I had sent a separate reply to each young man as to my answer for the Celestial Ball which I found out was a masquerade ball. I let them know I looked forward to seeing them again and would get to work finding a costume. But as for other social events, I had to decline for now.
I felt as though it would be asking too much to constantly go out socially while Mr. Lowood wanted to remain at home and Etrigan was still hiding from me. Dekker and Horace both visited me several times while Mr. Lowood was out. Their visits always seemed to coincide with Mr. Lowood leaving to go in to town. Only later did I find out that Timothy, the young groomsman and Mrs. Whitby’s grandson, had been paid handsomely by both Dekker and Horace to send word to them when Mr. Lowood was due to go out. Mrs. Whitby had just served cake to my guests when I commented upon the remarkable coincidence that brought them to Westwind each time Mr. Lowood was out. Their dual guilty looks made me instantly suspicious. I put my tea cup down.
“Why do you look so, Horace?” I asked the weaker link of the two.
“How is that Claren?” Horace asked fidgeting nervously and taking a sip of his tea. Casting a quick glance at Dekker, I saw his gaze immediately had been diverted to a spot on the ceiling that he now found terribly interesting.
“Horace? What is it that you are not telling me?” He put his tea cup down as his hand trembled slightly, making it clatter against the saucer.
“I am afraid I am guilty of duplicity Claren. I was so desperate to see you, but always get the…the feeling that my visits are not wanted here at Westwind by your Uncle.” He looked down and to the side, now weighted with guilt and awaiting my judgment.
“Yes, go on.” I prompted him having no idea what he was about to say.
“I paid the young groomsman money to let me know when your Uncle would be out of the house for several hours. Please do not blame him, I intimidated him, then made him take the money. I only wanted to see you, without your Uncle.” I could not imagine Horace Bitwater intimidating anyone and forced myself to stifle a giggle. Dekker took this opportunity to display his flair for theater. He placed his plate of cake down and jumped up pointing an accusing finger at Horace.
“You under handed cad! Using your money to buy your way in here! Why, I never heard of such a diabolic thing. If I was Claren, I would turn you out of my house at once.” Horace and I stared in disbelief at Dekker’s outburst, but Horace, knowing Dekker’s nature much better than I, simply smirked at him.
“And how much did you pay, Dekker, my old friend?” Dekker smiled and sat back down on the couch.
“Apparently not enough since whenever I arrive, you are here first!” The three of us broke into stifled giggles at the revelation. On the outside it may seem as though Horace and Dekker disliked each other, but having known one another since school, as I later found out, gave them a sort of bond. While in competition with one another, they truly bore no ill will against each other. This made their bickering a bit more tolerable, just a bit. We three laughed good naturedly until we heard a loud pounding directly on the ceiling above us that seemed to be coming from my room. I knew what, or rather whom it was. Since Timothy and Thomas were sure to be outside with the horses and Mrs. Whitby would be in the kitchen, and Mr. Lowood was out, that only left Etrigan. I wondered if he had heard us laughing and was showing his disapproval to me.
“What was that Claren? Did a servant drop a piano?” Dekker asked incredulous.
“It was rather loud wasn’t it? Do you think the ceiling is sound?” Horace asked somewhat nervous as the three of us looked upwards.
“I’m sure it’s nothing gentlemen. However I do have to say we should probably cut our tea time short today.” Horace stood up and walked over in an urgent manner to where I was sitting.
“Please don’t be vexed with us Claren for paying the groomsman. He is a nice little chap and really didn’t want to do any harm. I really did have to twist his arm in a fashion, to get him to agree, and really my main reason was to see you since you never answer any of the invitations I send you, and when I ran in to Dekker, he also said that you never respond, so I figured I had to do something so I came up with this plan…” Horace was speaking so fast his words came out in a jumble of saliva and gasps of breath. Dekker jumped up and placed a rough hand on Horace’s shoulder pulling him back and away from me.
“Calm yourself man! You’ll drown the poor girl before you’re done with your tome of words!” He handed Horace a handkerchief then looked at me apologetically.
“I think this time he might need it more than you do Claren dear.” I smiled feeling a little sorry for Horace. I would soon get used to Horace’s over excitable manner and made it a habit to carry around handkerchiefs for this sole purpose. Dekker placed an arm around Horace.
“Well old man, they are playing our song,” Dekker said as he looked up referring to the ceiling, “unless you want us to check on it for you Claren? I dare say I can’t imagine what would cause such a ruckus.”
“Oh, no I am sure its fine. The wind must have knocked something down from my mantle. Thank you though.” I stood up and walked them both to the door where they each in turn shook my hand.
“We shall wait patiently and silently for the Celestial Ball.” Dekker called out as they walked away.
“Yes Claren, I look forward to the Ball as well.”
They both did well and did not send me any more invitations to social outings or show up unexpectedly. I was surprised to find that to a degree, I missed their company, but I knew that it was just a filler for whom I really wanted to speak and get to know.
As it so happened the very next day, Naza and I went out on our daily walk, with Etrigan following closely behind. I found myself running conversation starters through my head, mostly ones that referred to the large noise that I was sure he had made in my room the last time Dekker and Horace had visited. However, I changed my mind since I did not know if it was their presence that vexed him or perhaps he had just been snooping about in my room while I was occupied. After my guests had left, I had raced up the stairs and down the hall to my room to catch the winged culprit in my room. I found the door ajar, but the room untouched and empty of any presence, so I certainly could not accuse him now.
We three walked noisily through the dead leaves when Etrigan must have stepped on a rather large branch that made a loud snapping noise. Both Naza and I stopped and whirled around instinctively as Etrigan looked down at what he stepped on, raising his foot gingerly. He held his foot in midair while looking down at the now broken branch, while a slow blush rose from his neck to color his cheeks as he was
aware I was looking at him. He looked up at me clearly embarrassed and in the swiftest of movements, hid behind the thinnest tree. He looked so comical trying to hide behind this slender tree, that I could not control my laughter. Naza ran up to him to put her nose in his hand to tell him the ruse was over, we knew he was there the whole time. He stared at me a few seconds then slowly began to smile, then to chuckle. His smile pierced my heart.
From that day forward he would meet us for our walks, no longer following us, but side by side. I grew to look forward to every day that I could see and talk to him. Our conversations at first were hesitant but gently probing into one another’s background. It seemed as though he felt the same way I did, wanting to know about me without pushing. Sometimes his gruff manner would come back to the fore front but I found that if after he said something that displeased me, if I stayed quiet, he would usually correct what he said himself. While perhaps lacking the social refining other gentlemen did, he was very intelligent and well read. He had read all of his father’s books in the library and been schooled early on by his father.
His Black Wings Page 15
