"Greek. Care to try some?" I wandered back to my chair and offered her the book I was working from.
She considered the offer, but turned it down. "Will you be seeing Mr. Rapelji tomorrow?"
"Yes, if I can get this finished. He'll probably put me over the coals as usual."
"Oh, may I come along and watch?"
"Yes, you may and very welcome. With you there it won't be so horrible."
"What exaggeration. You know he never even raises his voice."
"It's the way he doesn't raise it that bothers me."
She laughed a little, which was good to hear. "Perhaps he will find something interesting for me to do as well. I absolutely do not want to be here tomorrow. One thing I did hear through the wall was Mother making plans to visit some of the neighbors to introduce that woman. She said I'd be coming along. Nice of her to let me know about it, don't you think?"
"We can be gone before breakfast," I assured her. "Rapelji won't mind feeding us."
"Thank goodness. I'll wager that Mother wants to look the men over hereabouts in hopes of matching me up with one Ugh!"
"Don't you want to get married?"
"Someday, but not to any man that she would pick."
"She picked Father, didn't she?"
"Huh. If Beldon is anything to go by then her tastes have changed."
"He's not so bad," I teased. She made a face at me. "He has pretty manners."
"So does my cat."
"The funny thing is that I did get the impression that he would like to be friends."
"Fine. You can be his friend. I'd sooner marry Mr. Rapelji."
"Or your cat?"
She laughed right out loud at that one and I joined her, joking about what her cat would be likely to wear when they went to church.
"Of course, you'll have to have a lot of cream for the wedding breakfast," I went on. "For the cat's side of the family."
She added a comment of her own, but I couldn't make it out for her giggling and asked her to repeat it. She struggled to take in the breath to do so, but in that moment my door burst open with such force that it cracked against the inside wall. Elizabeth choked with surprise and rolled upright to see better.
Mother stood on the threshold. Her eyes were wide with incredulity, her mouth torn downward with shock. She looked from one to the other of us, unable to decide which deserved her immediate attention. Elizabeth and I stared back at her with shared confusion.
"Is there something wrong, Mother?" I asked, rising.
Her mouth flapped several times. It might have been comical but for the raw fury contained in her. It did not remain there for long.
"You two... ," she finally gasped out.
"What is it?" I stepped forward, thinking she was ill. She looked feverish enough.
"You... filthy... filthy... unnatural wretches."
"What's the matter with her?" Elizabeth asked. "Mother?"
I put my hand out. "Come and sit down, Mother."
She slapped me away. "You miserable, depraved creature. How could you even think of such a horror?"
Elizabeth shook her head at me, a sign to keep my distance, and to communicate her own puzzlement.
"Mother... ," I began. But she came at me, her hand opened wide, and slapped me right across the mouth with all her strength.
My head snapped to one side, my whole face ablaze from the stinging blow. I fell back, looking at her without comprehension, too startled to react yet.
She struck me again with her other hand, fairly rattling my head. Tears started from my eyes from the pain. Another strike. I backed away, suddenly aware of the invective flowing from her. None of it was too coherent, broken as it was by her hitting me and the intensity of emotion within. Her temper tantrum this morning was but a shower compared to this gale.
Elizabeth was off the bed by now and shouting at her. I put my hands up to guard myself and tried to back around toward the door and escape. Elizabeth got between us and took solid hold of Mother's arm. Now they were both shouting.
Then Mother hit Elizabeth. Not with an open hand, but a closed fist.
Elizabeth cried out and spun away, her hair flying. She fell against the bed, then dropped to the floor. Her next breath was a bewildered, angry sob. Mother loomed over her, shifting her weight to one foot. Before she could deliver what would have been a vicious kick to my sister's stomach I was reaching for her. I caught both her arms from behind and dragged her away. She screamed and squirmed and her heels flailed against my shins.
"What is it? Oh, dear, what is it? Marie, what is happening?" Mrs. Hardinbrook dithered in the hall, adding her foolishness to the din. Mother paid her no mind as she thrashed about. She'd used up her words and much of her breath. Hideous little animal grunts escaped from her clenched teeth.
I hoarsely shouted Elizabeth's name, breathless myself. She shook herself and found her feet, moving slowly, and holding her face. She was dazed, but had sense enough to keep clear. Stumbling toward the door, she ran into Mrs. Hardinbrook, who didn't quite know what to do with her.
"Get some help, you fool!" my sister bellowed, pushing her away. The woman squeaked fearfully and fled.
"Elizabeth?"
"I'm all right," she stated shakily.
"Harlot!" Mother shouted at her. "Filthy, unnatural harlotV
Elizabeth gaped at her, then her eyes darted to my bed, where she had been giggling hardly a minute past. "Oh, my God. She can't mean that."
Busy as I was, the realization of what she was talking about took longer to dawn upon me. When it did, Mother took advantage of my total shock to twist from my grasp and round upon us. Her carefully made-up hair had shredded into a tangled mess framing a beet red face. Her eyes were fairly popping with rage. She looked absolutely and utterly demented.
"You shameless creatures! It was a cursed day that either of you were born that you should come to this. You dirty, disgusting..."
"Mother, you are wrong! You don't know what you're saying."
She could have scorched me with those eyes. "I know what I saw, you unnatural thing."
Elizabeth came in to stand next to me. "She's incensed, Jonathan, don't try to argue with her."
"That was ever and always the excuse," Mother snarled."/ don't know what I'm talking about! Is that it? Is that what you'll say? This disgrace is upon you both. You'll be the ones locked away. Dear God, I should have seen this coming and been here to prevent it." She looked past us. "It's your fault, Samuel. You raised them as you would and see what has become of them. I swear, if any filthy bastard come of this unholy union I'll drown it myself. Do you hear me? I said, do you hear meT
As one, Elizabeth and I followed her gaze, looking toward the doorway of my room. Standing there, still wrapped in his traveling cloak, was our tardy father.
He regarded his wife in a calm manner and nodded soberly. "I hear you, Marie," he said in a gentle, well-controlled voice.
Elizabeth and I began to rush toward him, but he swiftly brought up one hand, a sign to remain in place. He did not look at us but at Mother.
She glared back. "And where have you been while this wickedness has been going on? Or have you been a part of it? Have you?"
He declined to answer that one, his eyes shifting briefly over to me and back again. "Library. Both of you."
We gratefully fled. In the hall we met Beldon hurrying along with a black case in hand and his sister in tow. He was dressed for bed, but had thrown on a coat and shoved his bare feet into some shoes. Neither spared a word for us, though Mrs. Hardinbrook paused as though sorely tempted. But she went on to be with Beldon and thus watch whatever might come next. She was welcome to do so.
Partway down the stairs we encountered the first of the servants roused by the row, a sleep-drugged maid. I ordered her to the kitchen to brew up some strong tea. She tottered out of our path, her face coming awake with questions. I ruthlessly confiscated her candle.
The library was cold, but the fireplace had been swept
and readied for tomorrow. I knelt and busied myself with the tinder, bringing it to fiery life with the candle flame while Elizabeth sank onto a settee.
"Are you hurt?" I asked.
Silence, and then an eloquent sniff. She rubbed her swelling and now wet cheek with an impatient hand. "Are you? Your face..."
"Stings." I began to shake all over. A piece of kindling dropped on the stone hearth. "My God, Elizabeth."
"I know. It's impossible. She's impossible. We can't live like this." Elizabeth hated crying and I hated watching her fight it. I left the fire and sat next to her, an arm around her slumped shoulders. It was as much for my solace as hers.
With only the one candle and the embyronic fire, the library was filled with shadows. I'd seen it like this many times, foraging down here for a book when the house was asleep, but never with such a heaviness in my heart. I was afraid. I was in my own house and afraid. It was not a child's fear of the dark, or even of that time when I'd fallen down into the kettle, or of a hundred other times and incidents. Those fears pass quickly and may eventually be laughed at; this was of an altogether different kind. It would not go away so easily, if at all.
"Why did she ever have to come home?" I muttered.
Elizabeth had recovered somewhat when the maid turned up with the tea. I had the girl pour; neither of us were steady enough to do it without dropping the pot.
"What's going on up there?" I asked her. I'd heard a lot of rushing about and voices.
"They're all taking care of Mrs. Barrett, sir. Mrs. Nooth is with her and so's that Dr. Beldon. Mrs. Nooth said she'd had some kind of a fit." The girl waited, perhaps hoping to glean more information from me. I disappointed her with a nod of thanks and a clear dismissal.
" 'Some kind of a fit'?" Elizabeth echoed sarcastically when we were alone.
"That seems to describe it well enough."
She pulled herself straight and reached for one of the cups. "I can see us describing it like that from now on. What are we going to do with her? Lock her in the attic? Or will we build her a little block house and hire someone to feed her through a slot in the door?"
"It won't come to that," I said.
"Better that than to go through this night again. I didn't hate her before, Jonathan, but I do now. What she said... what she
thought... is unforgivable. It's twisted and horrible. I won't put up with it."
"But-"
"This is more our house than hers when you think of it. She had no right to come here and do this to us. We were happy until she came."
True. All true.
Elizabeth put down the cup, her tea finished. It must have been scalding, but she was too upset to notice. "Father will have to do something. After all this, he will have to do something."
We fell silent for a while. I went back to building up the fire. The chill of the room-and of other things-was seeping past my skin and into the bones.
Father came in just as one of the logs began to properly blaze. As one, Elizabeth and I ran to him for the embrace we'd been denied earlier. It was something we'd done as children and now we gladly returned to that simple and much-needed comfort. He smiled and his arms opened wide.
"Is that tea I spy?" he asked after a moment.
We loosened our grip and Elizabeth glided over to pour. He made a side trip to a cabinet and brought out a bottle of brandy, adding some to each cup.
"I think we all need this," he observed.
He'd shed the cloak at some point, but still carried some of the outdoors with him in his manner. His riding boots were stained with old mud. He'd been wearing them, I remembered, when he'd taken his morning walk with Mrs. Montagu. Such previous pleasures driven aside by tonight's pains, he looked tired. Older, [realized with another chill. But instead of being burdened by age, he was a man aged by a burden. His wife.
"Well?" he asked. "Which of you wants to talk first?"
Elizabeth stepped in. "Where's Mother?"
"In her room. That fellow with the popping eyes gave her a dose of laudanum to calm her down. He and that silly woman are sitting in with her. Said he was a doctor. Would he be Beldon, then?"
"Yes. The woman is his sister, Deborah Hardinbrook."
Father had heard enough about them from Mother to need no further introduction. "Proper little pair of toadies, but they seem to be making themselves useful for the moment. Now, please, tell me what happened."
Between us we managed to garble up the narrative enough for him to raise his hand in protest.
"Jonathan, your turn," he said firmly. "Pretend you're in court."
It was his way of reminding me to present all the facts, but as simply as possible and in good order. I did my best. Elizabeth added nothing, but nodded agreement as I spoke. When I'd finished, our brandy-laced tea was all gone.
Father sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. It was his own, tied back with a now-wilted ribbon. He wore a wig only when engaged in court business or seeing a client. "A pretty mess," he concluded. "Are you badly hurt? Elizabeth?"
She shook her head. I did the same. The sting had faded, though my cheeks still felt tender to touch.
"But it might have been worse," I said. "If Mother had kicked her as she'd intended..."
Elizabeth dropped her eyes. "We must do something, Father."
"Indeed," he said, neither agreeing nor disputing. He stood and paced the room a few times. On the last round he checked the hallway for any listeners and closed the door before coming to stand before the fireplace. It was unlike him to behave so. I saw it as more evidence of how Mother's presence had changed life for us all.
"There is other news, too," I said.
"Tell me."
"She wants me to go to England to study law."
Father only nodded, which was a bit disappointing to me. "What else?"
"She wants to sell Jericho and hire on an English servant to take his place."
This was news to Elizabeth. "That's horrid."
"I told him I'd sooner run away to sea and take him with me."
Father gave out with a chuckle just then, but quickly smothered it. I'd sounded foolish, but just then we needed some foolishness. Some of the shadows looming over us seemed to drop back.
"But Jericho said that I'd be arrested for stealing him," I added.
"I see. Then Jericho is a most level-headed young fellow. Well, you need not worry about him being sold. Since I bought Archimedes with my own money, both he and his son are my
property. Your mother can't sell either of them without my permission, and that is something I shall happily withhold. If she wants an English servant for you, she may hire one, but he will have to take his orders from Jericho."
I blinked with surprise, but Father was serious. We knew enough about the household hierarchies to know that no man of the type Mother would be looking for would accept work under such conditions. Elizabeth smiled at me, new hope and cheer blooming on her face.
Father's own smile came and went more quickly. "England,"
he sighed.
"I don't want to go, but she said that it's all been arranged." 'Then I've no doubt that it has. Cambridge, I suppose. Yes,
she's mentioned it before and no, I did not know that she'd
pursued it this far."
"Why?" I asked. "What is it she wants? Is Harvard not good enough for her?"
'That and many other reasons, laddie. Tell me everything you
know."
I summarized this morning's conversation, leaving in Mother's tantrum, then went on to her lecture in the afternoon. The latter was little more than a sketch because of my condition at the time.
"She seems to have everything well in hand," was his comment when I'd finished. "It looks like she's been cooking this up with that bloody sister of hers for some goodly time."
"Aunt Theresa?" The name was not unknown to me, but unfamiliar on the tongue.
"Hmm." Father went to his desk and shuffled at the papers
1 to
p, plucking one from the pile and bringing it back to the tetter light. It was the same one Mother had been studying is morning. "This is it. You've been accepted at Cambridge; wording to this, your studies are to begin at the Michaelmas term. How like her to leave it there for me to just 'find.' "
"She also waited until you were away before telling me. She d it on purpose, I think-"
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