It was one of my more exhilarating gifts and my favorite-next to the delight of drinking Molly's blood, of course.
Skimming along like a ghostly hawk, I sped across the gray landscape only a few feet above the ground. I might have laughed from the sheer joy of it, but no sound could issue from my mouth while I held to this tenuous form. Any verbal expression of my happiness would have to wait until I was solid again.
I covered the distance in good time, in better than good time, but saw that it would be a close race, after all. Too late to turn back. Our house was well in sight but still rather far away for the brief period I had left. The grays that formed the world as I saw it in this form were rapidly fading, going white with the advent of dawn.
Damnation, if I couldn't do better than this...
Faster and faster, until everything blurred except for the house upon which my eyes were focused. It grew larger, filling my vision with its promise of sanctuary, then I was abruptly in its shadow.
And just as abruptly found myself solid again. I couldn't help it. The sun's force was such as to wrench me right back into the world again. My legs weren't quite under me, and I threw my arms out to cushion the inevitable fall. My palms scraped against grass and weed, elbows cracked hard upon the ground, and any breath left in me was knocked out as my body struck and rolled and finally came to a stop.
If I could move as fast as a galloping horse, then by heavens, this was certainly like being thrown from one.
I lay stunned for a moment, trying to sort myself out, to see if I was hurt or not from the tumble. A few bruises at most, probably; I was not as easily given over to injury as before and knew well how to-
Light.
Burning, blinding.
Altogether hellish.
Even on this, the shadowed west side of the great structure, I could hardly bear up to its force. Fall forgotten, I dragged my coat over my head and all but crawled 'round to the back of the house and the cellar doors there. They were as I'd left them, thank God, unlocked. I wrenched one up and nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get to shelter. The door made a great crash closing; if I hadn't already been keeping my head low, it would have given me a nasty knock.
The darkness helped a little, but provided no real comfort. That lay but a few paces ahead, deeper, in the most distant corner. My limbs were growing stiff, and it was with great difficulty that I staggered and stumped like a drunkard toward my waiting bed. I pitched into it, dropping clumsily on my face onto the canvas-covered earth and knew nothing more...
For what seemed only an instant.
Unlike other sleepers, I have no sense at all of time's passage when resting. One second I'm on the shrieking edge of bright disaster, and the next I'm awake and calm and all is safe. Adding to the illusion on this new evening was the welcome sight of my manservant, Jericho, standing over me holding a lighted candle. His black face bore an expression that was a familiar combination of both annoyance and relief.
"Hallo," I said. "Anything interesting happen today?"
The candle flame bobbed ever so slightly. "Half the house was roused at dawn by the slamming of a cellar door, sir. These are not easy times. A loud noise can be most alarming when one is unprepared to hear it."
Oh, dear. "Sorry. Couldn't be helped. I was in a dreadful hurry."
"So I had assumed when I came down to look in on you."
That was when I noticed that I was lying on my back, not my face, and bereft of soiled shirt, breeches, and boots. Some bed linen had been carefully draped over my body to spare the sensibilities of any kitchen servants who might have need to fetch something from the cellar stores. My hands had been washed clean of the grass stains they'd picked up, and my tangled hair was smoothly brushed out. Jericho had been busy looking after me, as usual. I'd slept through it, as oblivious as the dead that I so closely imitated during the day.
Further reproach for me to be more mindful of the time and to have more consideration for the others in the household was unnecessary. He'd made his point, and I was now thoroughly chastised and repentant. After putting his candle aside, he assisted as I humbly traded the bed linens for the fresh clothing he'd brought down. He combed my hair back, tying it with a newly ironed black ribbon, and decided that I could go one more night without shaving.
"You'll want a proper toilet before you have to leave, though," he warned.
"You speak as though you weren't coming along."
"I've been given to understand that the facilities aboard the ship may be severely limited, so I shall take what advantage I may in the time left to me."
No doubt, this advantage would be taken during the day. He got no arguments from me then. If ever a man was in thrall to a benevolent despot, that man was yours most truly, Jonathan Barrett.
Candle held high, Jericho led the way out of the cellar. We climbed the stairs, emerging into the stifling heat of the kitchen to be greeted as usual by Mrs. Nooth. She was busy with preparations for tomorrow's departure. Having decided that no ship's cook could possibly match her own skills, she was seeing to it my party would have sufficient provisions for the voyage. The fact I no longer ate food made no impression upon her; my gift for influencing other minds had seen to that. Except for Jericho, all the servants had been told to ignore such oddities in my behavior, like my sleeping the day through in the cellar. It was an intrusion upon them, yes, but quite for the best as far as I was concerned.
Jericho continued forward, taking me into the main part of the house. Now I could clearly hear my sister Elizabeth at her practice on the spinet. She'd borrowed something or other by Mozart from one of her friends and had labored to make a copy of the piece for herself, which I could only marvel over. From very early on it was discovered I had no musical inclinations to speak of; the terms and symbols were just so much gibberish to me, but I tried to make up for it with an appreciation of their translation from notes on paper into heavenly sounds. Elizabeth was a most accomplished translator, I thought.
I parted company from Jericho and quietly opened the door to the music room. Elizabeth was alone. A half dozen candles were lighted; wasteful, but well worth it as she made a very pretty picture in their golden glow. She glanced up but once to see who had come in, then returned her full concentration upon her music. I sprawled in my favorite chair by the open window, throwing one leg over an arm, and gave myself up to listening.
The last of the sun was finally gone, though its influence lingered in the warm air stirring the curtains. I breathed in the scents of the new night, enjoying them while I could. By this time tomorrow Elizabeth, Jericho, and I would be on a ship bound for England.
A little black spark of worry touched the back of my mind. Molly's concern for a safe voyage was not ill placed. The possibilities of autumn storms or a poorly maintained and thus dangerous ship or a discontented crew or-despite all assurances to the contrary-an attack by rebels or privateers in league with them loomed large before me. The night before I was too engrossed seeking the pleasures Molly offered to think much on them. Free of such distractions, I could no longer push them aside. I watched Elizabeth and worried on the future.
My initial invitation for her to come with me had been prompted by a strong wish to offer a diversion from the melancholy that had plagued her for the last few months. She'd been reluctant, but I'd talked her into it. With all the risks involved I was having second thoughts about having her along. And Jericho. But it was different with him. As his owner, I could command him to remain at home; with Elizabeth I could not. She'd been persuaded once and persuaded she would stay. The one time I'd raised the subject with her had convinced me of her commitment to come. We had not precisely argued, but she'd given me to understand in the clearest of terms that whatever perils that might lie ahead were of no concern to her and I would be advised to follow her example.
Too late to change things now. But as I'd told Molly, we were all in God's hands. I needed to listen better to myself. Sufficient unto the day is its own
evil and all that. Or night, as the case was with me.
Elizabeth finished her piece. The last notes fled from her instrument and the contentment that always seemed to engulf her when she played faded away. Her face altered from a beatific smoothness to a troubled tightness, especially around her eyes and mouth.
"What did you think?" she asked.
"You did marvelous well, as always."
"Not my playing, but the piece itself."
"It's very pretty, very pleasant."
"And what else?"
No use trying to keep anything from her; we knew each other rather too well for that. "There did seem to be something of a darkness to it, especially that middle bit and toward the end."
That brought out a smile for me. "There's hope for you, then, if you noticed that."
"Really, now!" I protested, putting on a broad exaggeration of offense. Having played the clown for Molly last night, it was just as easy to do so once more for my sister. God knows, she was in sore need of having her spirits lightened. Elizabeth's smile did become more pronounced, but it failed to turn into laughter.
Then it vanished altogether as she looked back to her music. "That 'darkness' is my favorite, you know. It's the best part of the piece, the whole point of it."
"An interesting sentiment, no doubt."
Her eyes flicked over to mine as she caught my wary tone. "Oh, Jonathan, please stop worrying about me."
"It's gotten to be a habit, I fear."
"Yes, you and Father both. I'm all right. It's been awful and I'd never wish what happened to me upon my worst enemy, but I'm sure God had a good reason for it."
"I should hope it to be a very good reason, because for the life of me / can't fathom why. You certainly deserve better than what you've been served."
Her lips compressed into a hard line, and I knew I'd said too much.
"Sorry." I muttered. "But I just get so angry on your behalf sometimes."
"More like all the time. I've worked very hard to try and let it go. Can you not do the same?"
I shrugged, not an easy movement, given my position in the chair.
"You and Father have been of great help and comfort to me, but the need is past-I'm all better now."
Was she trying to convince me or herself? Or was I hearing things that weren't there? She certainly seemed better, especially with the trip to look forward to, but I wasn't quite over the shock yet, myself, so how could she be so fully recovered?
She wasn't, then. She was lying. But I'd heard that if one lies often and loud enough, the lie eventually becomes the truth. If that was Elizabeth's solution to living with the catastrophe that had engulfed her, then so be it, and she had my blessing.
"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" she asked, standing up and shuffling her sheets of music into order.
"Quite a lot," I said absently.
"I'm glad to hear it, I'm concerned for your... happiness." She paused to smile again and in such a way as to give me to understand that she knew exactly what I'd been doing. My vague stories to the rest of the household about going to The Oak to visit and talk were but smoke to her. And probably to Father. Most certainly to Jericho.
"Very kind, but this is hardly a topic I can discuss with you."
"Because I'm a woman?"
"Because I'm a gentleman," I said, with smug finality.
She chose to ignore it. "Meaning you don't discuss your conquests with other gentlemen?"
"Certainly not. Back at Cambridge you could find yourself bang in the middle of a duel for a careless boast."
"Ah, but I'm not a gentleman and have no wish to give challenge, so you're safe with me."
"But really-"
"I was just wondering who she was."
It wasn't much to ask, but damnation, I had my principles. If Molly could keep silent, then so could I. "Sorry, no."
Elizabeth finished putting her music away. By her manner I could tell she was not pleased, nor at all ready to give up.
"Why this curiosity over the company I keep?" I asked before she could frame another inquiry.
She paused and made a face. "Oh, I don't give a fig about who you're with."
"Then why-"
"Damnation, but I'm as bad as Mrs. Hardinbrook."
Now, that was an alarming declaration. "In what way?"
Elizabeth dropped onto a settee, her wide skirts billowing up from the force of the movement. She impatiently slapped them down. "The woman worms her way around, asking a dozen questions in order to work her way up to the one she really wants to ask. What a dreadful thing for me to be doing."
"Given the right situation it has its place, usually for questions that might not otherwise be answered, but I've discovered you out, rendering the ploy inappropriate."
She shot me a sour look. "Indeed, yes, little brother."
"Now, then, what is it you really want to ask me?"
The sourness turned into mischievous caution. "I was curious as to whether you dealt with your lady in the same manner that Miss Jones dealt with you."
Whatever I was using for a mind that night suddenly went thick on me for the next few moments. "I'm not sure I rightly understand your meaning," I finally said, straightening in my chair in order to face her.
"When you're with a lady and addressing certain intimate issues, do you conclude them by drinking her blood?"
"Good God, Elizabeth!"
"Oh, dear, now I've shocked you." And she did appear to be sincerely distressed by that prospect.
"That's hardly the... I mean... what the devil d'ye want to know that for?"
"I'm just curious. I was wondering about that, and that if you did, whether or not you exchanged blood with her, and what she thought about it."
My chin must have been sweeping the floor by then.
"Of course, if this is abreach of confidence, I'll withdraw the question," she continued.
"You can hardly do that! It's been said and... and... oh, good God."
"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I thought you might be a bit upset-"
A bit?
"But I thought that since you've already told me how things were between you and Miss Jones that you would not find it so difficult to..."
I waved a hand and she fell silent. "I think I have the general idea. I'm just surprised. This isn't the usual sort of thing one discusses with a woman. Especially when she's your sister," I added. "Why have you not raised the question before?"
"When this change first came to you, you were busy... and later on, I was busy."
"With your marriage?"
She snorted with disgust. "With my liaison, you mean."
"As far as anyone is concerned, it was a marriage."
"Words, words, words, and you're getting off the subject"
"I thought the two to be somehow related."
"In what way?"
Time for less bewilderment and more truth. "Well, you did sleep with the bastard-as his wife, so there's no shame in that-and for the short time you were together, we all got the impression that he pleased you."
It was Elizabeth's turn to go scarlet.
"My conclusion is that you're wondering if other women are also pleased with their men, so you ask me what I do and if the lady I'm with enjoys it."
Her gaze bounced all over the room since she could not quite meet my eyes. "You... you're..."
"Absolutely right?"
She ground her teeth. "Yes, damn it. Oh, for heaven's sake, don't laugh at me."
"But it is funny."
And contagious. She fought it, but ultimately succumbed, collapsing back on the settee, hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. God, but it was good to finally see her laughing again, even given these peculiar circumstances.
"All finished?" I asked.
"I think so."
"Curiosity still intact?"
"Yes. No more embarrassment?"
"No more. If you speak plainly with me, then I shall return the favor."
"Done," she said and leane
d forward and we shook hands on it.
The issue settled, I twisted around to hook my leg over the chair arm again, affording myself a view out the window. Nothing was stirring past the curtains, which was a comfort. The events of the last year had taught me to place a high value on what others might consider to be dull: inactivity.
"Jonathan?" she prompted.
"Mm? Oh. As for your initial query, yes, I do consummate things in the same manner that Nora did with me. As for the other, no, I have never exchanged blood with the lady I have been seeing."
P N Elrod - Barrett 3 - Death Masque Page 2
