I tried to keep my story short and simple, and as neither could remotely describe it, muddled on some things. Elizabeth didn't help when she interjected questions, but my own embarrassment was the worst hindrance.
Elizabeth impatiently interrupted. "Jonathan, please stop trying to protect my sensibilities and just tell me what you mean. Was she your mistress or not?"
And I'd hoped not to shock her. I gave up and spoke plainly, making it easier for a time, until I got to the part concerning the mutual blood drinking. Bereft of all erotic description, it lost all attraction as well and sounded absolutely disgusting. Elizabeth's color faded again, but she did refrain from interruption on this. She could see how extraordinarily difficult it was for me to talk about it.
She had another glass of brandy, taking half during the fight with Warburton and finishing it when I came to my waking up in the coffin. Then I did try to spare her by passing over it quickly enough, but she fastened upon that which had left me so thoroughly puzzled.
"How did you escape?" she demanded.
"I'm not sure I know how to tell you," I answered with equal parts of truth and apprehension.
"Is it so terrible?"
"One could say that. One could also say that it is entirely absurd as well."
She pressed me, but my explanation, when it came, was met with gentle skepticism. "I don't blame you," I said. "It's not something I can easily believe and I've been through it."
For several minutes she was quite unable to speak. When she did, she had all the questions I'd posed for myself and was just as dissatisfied with my inadequate answers.
"Can you just accept it?" I asked, my heart sinking as Nora's must have done on other, similar occasions with me.
"If we lived in a time when intelligent and reasonable people still believed in witchcraft all this would be so much easier to take," she replied.
"Can you?" It was almost a prayer.
"It's not a matter of 'can' but of have to, little brother. Here you are and here you stand. But, by God, if this night ends and I wake to find I've dreamed it all, I shall never, never forgive you."
I began to smile, but smothered it. The feeling behind the mocking threat was too tender for crude levity. She'd finally reached her limit and this was her way of letting me know. I went to her and took her hands in both of mine. They were very cold.
'This is not a dream. I have come back and I will not leave again."
"God willing," she added quietly.
"God willing," I echoed.
She bowed her head over our clasped hands, whether for prayer or out of sheer weariness, I could not tell. Then she looked up. "Jonathan... do you have to drink blood as she did?"
"I'm afraid I do."
"Will you do the same things she did?"
My God, she was wondering if I'd be seducing dozens of young women in order to feed myself. An interesting idea, but not an example I intended to follow. "No, I will not do that. There's no need." I explained about my business with Roily. "It didn't hurt him and I was much revived," I added, hoping that the knowledge might make her feel better.
"Oh," was all she could say.
"Probably best if you don't think about it," I quickly suggested.
"It sounds so awful, though."
"It's not, really. Not to me."
"What will you tell everyone?"
I was surprised. "The same as I've told you."
"All of it?"
Oh, dear. Sharing the truth with Elizabeth and Father was one thing, but spelling out the details of my intimacies with Nora to every yokel in the county was quite another. And as for popular reaction to what I required for sustenance... "Yes, well, perhaps not."
Elizabeth took notice of my distress. "Never mind. We'll talk to Father and decide what to do later."
Later. My favorite word, it seemed, but becoming rather annoyingly overused.
"We must find you clothing," she continued. "I'll get you shirts from Dr. Beldon's room-"
"Will you now? And what do you plan to tell him?"
"Nothing. He's not at home tonight."
"Then where the devil is he? You shouldn't be here alone."
"I'm hardly alone with all the servants-"
"Where is he?"
"Hunting." She said this with a meaning that passed right over me.
"I don't understand."
"Right after the... services for you, he left with the soldiers to go looking for the men who shot you."
I backed away until I bumped into her bed, then abruptly sat While I'd been stumbling about, wholly occupied with my own problems, the world had spun on regardless. My life thread had been cut, knotted together, and worked back into weave again. but no one other than Elizabeth knew about it. "You must tell me everything that's happened since I..."
Might as well say it.
"... since I died."
"Oh, Jonathan."
"I know of no other way to put it, so let the words be plain and honest. It's only the truth, after all. Now tell me. I must know all that's happened."
It was Elizabeth's turn to gather her wits and decide where to start. She was usually so self-possessed that her present discomfort was painful to watch.
"Did Beldon see who shot me?" I asked, hoping it would prompt her to speech.
It did. "No. He heard the shot and saw the smoke, then turned in time to see you fall. Do you not know who it was?"
"Roddy Finch."
She stopped petting her cat and went white. "Then it's true Beldon said he thought the Finches were behind the horse theft. but I just couldn't believe that they would have-"
"Well, one of them did," I stated with no small portion of bitterness. The Finches had been schoolmates, friends, part of the Island itself as it related to our lives. The betrayal was monstrous.
"But for Roddy Finch to do such a thing?" She looked ill and I could sympathize with her up to a point, but no farther.
"For anyone to do such a thing," I reminded her. "If they catch him, he'll be hanged."
"But you're alive," she protested.
"He was stealing horses at the time, you know. They'll get him and those with him for that, if nothing else."
She groaned. "I don't want to think about it."
"Neither do I." There was no need; it was out of my hands and someone else's concern. "What happened afterward? What about the soldiers?"
"They brought you back. Both of you. Beldon was in a horrible state and weeping so hard he couldn't see. I was working with Father in the library and we saw them from the window, leading the horses in from the fields like some ghastly parade. Father rushed past me and out to the yard. God, I can still hear the cry he gave when he saw you. I shan't ever forget it."
I went to her and put an arm around her wilted shoulders, giving what comfort I could. "You needn't go on about that part. I couldn't bear to hear it, anyway. Let's get ready and go to him. We'll have to walk. If we stir up the stable lads now I'll be here all night talking to them."
"I don't mind. The air will clear my head."
With much tiptoeing, whispered directions, and the occasional misstep in the dark, we found some clothes for me, then went to our rooms to dress. As promised, Elizabeth raided Beldon's room for a clean shirt and stockings and I borrowed the rest from Father. It felt odd, pulling on an old pair of his breeches, but we were of a size now, and I didn't think he'd mind. My other boots and shoes had vanished, requiring that I use the one pair that remained, the ones I'd been buried in.
Elizabeth was very informally garbed in a dress she favored for riding. It was hardly a step up from what some of the servants wore, but she found it comfortable and needed no help getting into it. Out of habit, custom, and regard that she'd be calling upon Mrs. Montagu, she covered her loose hair with a bonnet and drew on a decent pair of gloves.
We slipped out the side door, shutting it firmly, but unable to reset the bolt. It would only be for a few hours, though. Cutting around to the front, we set off down
the drive to the road at a good pace, though I felt like running again. However badly our
reunion had begun, Elizabeth and I were together at last and one large portion of my enormous burden was lifted. Soon Father would understand everything as well and with their help...
My mind took a sudden turn down a path I'd studiously ignored until now. "Elizabeth... how did Mother take it?"
She looked at me sharply. "I was wondering if you would ever get 'round to her." "Is she all right?" "She wouldn't dare not be." "What do you mean?"
"You know how she is, all that she does is determined by how she wants others to think of her. I don't believe the woman has a feeling bone in her body."
I pressed her for details and got them. My mother had been shocked, of course, but while others around her were giving in to their grief, she was busy getting the funeral organized.
" 'Someone has to see to it,' she said, and the way she said it, as if we were all weak fools. My God, even Mrs. Hardinbrook had a tear to shed for you, but not Mother."
I shouldn't have really been surprised. I was also impatient with myself for feeling so deeply hurt. "She's a sick woman. Elizabeth."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this." I waved it off. "In a little while it won't matter." We reached the road soon enough. Elizabeth tripped on some old wheel ruts and I had her hang on to my arm for guidance. "You must have eyes like a cat," she muttered. "Or even better. I am not without some advantages." And I would have enlarged on the subject but for an interrup-tion that for an insane moment brought me right back to that hot morning by the kettle. I felt the sun's heat on my face and the air lying heavy in my lungs. Without any throught behind the gesture, my hand fell protectively upon my chest as a Hessian soldier emerged from behind a tree and ordered us to stop. A second, then a third joined him and jogged toward us, their pale faces grinning like fiends in the moonlight.
Elizabeth gave no outward sign of alarm, but her grasp on my
arm tightened.
The soldiers closed on us and one of them shouted something.
In my halting German I asked them what they wanted. An ugly brute on our left sniggered as he looked at Elizabeth, but his companions thankfully did not seem of a mind to pursue his idea. I repeated my question. It finally got through to them that I was speaking in their language. As with the other Hessians, it had a favorable effect; unfortunately, the answer I got was far too rapid and complicated for me to follow.
The same man shouted again and got a reply from someone coming up behind us. I saw him before the others did.
"Another bloody Hessian," I told Elizabeth. "I hope this one speaks English."
"What are they all doing here?"
"I got the impression they want to ask us the same question. Mind yourself against that villain on the end. He's not polite."
She made a brief nod and murmur of agreement.
The newcomer was the sergeant in charge of those who had stopped us and at first glance he seemed a sensible, solid type. He gave me a brief greeting in English that was far more tolerable than my German, then conferred with his men. I gathered from their talk that a number of others were scouting up and down this part of the road.
"What are you looking for?" I asked, when he was free to place his full attention upon me.
"Perhaps for you, young sir," he said. "There are rebels here all around. Why are you and this woman out so late?"
With all the haughtiness I'd learned at Cambridge, I drew myself up and made formal introductions. I was careful not to be too condescending, but made certain that he knew he'd gotten off on the wrong foot. His vulgar reference to my sister would have more than justified my calling him out if he'd been a gentleman, or caning him since he was not, but circumstances required that I be flexible in the matter of honor for now.
The sergeant, who gave his name as Lauder, was not impressed. "Have you any papers, sir?" "Papers?"
"Some papers to say you're who you are." "My brother's word is proof enough in these parts, Sergeant Lauder," said Elizabeth. "If you need more than that, then you are welcome to follow us and our father will be more than happy to provide it."
"Your father will have to come to see you, miss. My orders say to bring in anyone out after curfew."
'This is utterly ridiculous," I said. "What curfew?" "The curfew that has been ordered," he answered smugly, as though no further explanation were required. "I have never heard of such a-" He raised a hand. "You will come along now." "Who is your commanding officer?" "Lieutenant Nash. He will see you in the morning." "Nash? But he's-"
"But I know him," Elizabeth said at the same time. I stopped to look at her.
"He came to the funeral," she said under her breath to me. "Awfully decent of him," I muttered in return, thinking low thoughts about his judgment that the rebels had left the area of the kettle. If he hadn't been so damned optimistic...
"That is good, then," concluded Lauder, ignoring this aside. "He will be most pleased to welcome you."
I wrenched myself back to the present. "An army camp is no place for a respectable lady, Sergeant. I insist that you at least return my sister to our home-" "I have my orders."
"You have no right-"
"I have my orders," he repeated, pointedly patient. The man had turned woodenly polite, but was implacable.
Damnation. The glum look on Elizabeth's face indicated an exact concordance of thought between us on the situation.
"I'm sure Nash will sort this mess out for us once we talk to him," she said.
I sighed and nodded. I expected that he would be cooperative enough-once he got over trie shock.
Elizabeth maintained her grip on me, but kept her head high. The sergeant's moderately respectful attitude had been noticed by his men and their discipline was such that no more coarse remarks were to be heard from them. Now that the initial excitement of a successful capture had passed, they were looking more sleepy than lustful, thank God.
"What's brought you out at this hour?" I asked the sergeant. "Even the rebels you're chasing must retire sometime."
"A fanner came in to tell us of a young man who had some misfortune. Lieutenant Nash sent us to find him."
So farmer Hulton had been gossiping in the tavern. "He turned all of you out just for that?"
"It was a most strange thing to hear."
"And what was so strange?"
'The young man told the fanner his name was Barrett. Yesterday the only young Mr. Barrett in the area was shot down dead by rebels. You are here and say that you are Mr. Barrett." Now he broke his wooden facade down enough to bestow upon me a look of amused suspicion.
"Oh my God," said Elizabeth.
"Sorry, miss," added the sergeant, misinterpreting her reaction.
"There's been a terrible mistake," she told him.
He invited her to go on, but his continued amusement was
plain.
"Don't you see? That was my cousin who was killed."
"Pardon, miss?"
Elizabeth brought us all to a halt, Lauder regarding her with polite interest, me with dawning dread. What in heaven's name was she up to?
"My poor cousin, whose name was also Barrett, was the one killed yesterday," she said.
"I am sorry, miss."
"It was my brother here that the farmer met on the road."
"I see, miss."
"So there's no need to detain us."
Lauder shrugged minimally. "You must still come along." He moved on and his men herded us forward.
I patted Elizabeth's hand. It had been a good try.
She wasn't ready to give up yet. "Sergeant Lauder, I fully appreciate that you must perform your duty, but you are interfering with the king's business."
"In truth? It must be very late business."
"My brother and I were taking a very important message to our father from Colonel DeQuincey, who is on General Howe's staff."
"What message?"
"We are not at liberty to say."
>
"May I see this message?"
"It was not committed to paper, sergeant. Surely you know how dangerous it could be if-"
Lauder held up a restraining hand. "It is not for me to say, only to follow my orders."
P N Elrod - Barrett 1 - Red Death Page 26
