by Wolf, Jack
“It falls open by itself, at The Extasie,” Katherine said. “I like it very much—but it is hard to understand it.”
I turned the Volume over in mine Hands.
As ’twixt two equall Armies, Fate
Suspends uncertaine victorie,
Our soules, (which to advance their state,
Were gone out,) hung ’twixt her, and mee.
And whil’st our soules negotiate there,
Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;
All daye, the same our postures were,
And wee said nothing, all the daye.
On a swift Sudden I seemed to hear my Mother’s Voice. Its Accent was warm and brown as Cinnamon, playful and joyous as a summer Breeze above the High Chalk. I closed mine Eyes. The Poem, in mine Head, continued on. Mine Infant Face lay buried in her blue, silk-rustling Breast.
This Extasie doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love,
Wee see by this, it was not sexe,
Wee see, we saw not what did move:
But as all severall soules containe
Mixture of things, they know not what,
Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,
And makes both one, each this and that…
When love, with one another so
Interinanimates two soules,
That abler soule, which thence doth flow,
Defects of lonelinese controules.
Wee then, who are this new soule, know,
Of what we are compos’d, and made,
For th’Atomies of which we grow
Are soules, whom no change can invade.
I opened mine Eyes. For a Moment, I felt as if I had intruded upon an Intimacy. My Mother had known this Poem; she had loved it; she had read it aloud by Sunneshine and by guttering Candlelight to my Father, as he sate listening silently, unable to meet her Eye; yet unable still to unthread his own Eyes from her.
Only many Yeares of close Attention could have caused the Pages to fall thus apart. How many hundred Times since her Death had my Father opened up this Book, that he might hear again her Voice? Had she the merest Comprehension of how compleat a Change would invade when she had gone?
My Mother could have lived. Why had she chosen otherwise?
I snapped shut the Book and put it high upon my Mantelpiece.
* * *
Having dresst, I went down-Stairs to find Erasmus, with the Intention of explaining to him that as Miss Montague was now to be taken for a Walk about the Gardens, it was imperative that he compleat the Task I had yesterdaye allotted him; viz, the Acquisition of a Sett of Garments appropriate to her Sexe and Station. I found him seated at Breakfast.
He looked up at mine Approach, and smiled. “’Tis good to see you, Tristan. Do you join me?”
“No; I will break my Fast in my Chamber, as usual.” I paused, then feeling my Refusal to have been somewhat churlish, I said: “Thank you, Erasmus.”
“I was most impresst last Night by your Ideas upon your Father,” Erasmus said, before I could say another Word. “If you have any Suggestions to try with regard to his Care, as you implied you might, I should be interested to hear them.”
“Verily, I should be glad,” I replied. “But ’tis not the best Time for the Discussion; I am about—” I stoppt abruptly. I knew that Katherine was within my Chamber. I was certain of it. And yet there was some curious, subtile Warning in Erasmus’ whole Demeanour that made me to reconsider the Wisdom of my mentioning her to him again. Best I find Cloathing for her by My Self, I thought. Erasmus need not concern himself about the Business; ’twould be a waste of his Time, that is better spent upon my Father. Taking first a deep Breath, I began instead to elucidate my firm Conceit that my Father would respond more positively to Stimulation than to its Lack. I did not succeed in convincing Erasmus that I was right. However, having heard me out, he made the Suggestion that since I was in mine own Self manifestly improved, it might be helpful for us all if I were to visit my Father in his Chamber this very Noon. “There,” he said. “You shall make your own clear headed Assessment of his present Condition, which you have not yet done; and you may find that your Ideas are thereby altered.”
“I may equally well find them given Encouragement,” I said.
We parted company shortly afterwards, Erasmus heading up-Stairs to my Father’s Chamber to appraise him, and Mrs H., of my intended Visit; I to my Sister’s old Closet. Katherine might look askance at a back-fastening Gown and leading Strings, but since her Choice was to be that or Nakedness I had little Doubt that she would ultimately concur.
However, to my rational Dismay, when I came to the Point of letting Katherine go from my Chamber, I found My Self as incapable of it as I had previously been of leaving the House. My Disappointment was profound; and Katherine, perceiving from the Intensity of my Passion that mine Inability was neither Test nor Trick, eventually allowed me the Daye’s Grace and said that she would see the Gardens on the Morrow, to which I readily agreed.
“I do not wish,” I honestly told her, “to keep you Prisoner; but I think I am afraid that you will vanish like Mist in Sunnelight when you depart this Room.”
She looked at me very strange at that, and with much Anxiety, and told me in no uncertain Terms that she would not vanish, as she was a flesh and blood Human Girl; and that whoever had put into mine Head the horrible Idea that she might not be deserved the severest of Scoldings, which they would get once she caught up with them. In short, she was exceeding angry; her grey Eyes flashed like folded Steel, and for the first Time ever in her Presence, mine Heart did quail a little in my Breast. I promised most sincerely that I would let her leave my Chamber the following Morning, come what might; and then, it being near to twelve o’ the Clock, I departed about my new assumed filial Duty.
* * *
Arriving at my Father’s Door, Erasmus knocked once to alert Mrs H. The Door opened almost immediately; she must have been listening for us. She stood across the Opening, peering outwards and blinking in the hallway Light as if it were painfull to her old Eyes, and I could not help but think of the Gargoyles upon Collerton Church, keeping timeless Watch over the antient Dead.
The Chamber beyond her was much too dark for me to perceive much, for the Curtains were drawn and the Shutters closed, and the only Light emanated from the one wax Taper that Mrs H. was clutching in her scrawny Claw. Seeing me, she dippt a small, perfunctory Curtsey, and said: “Good Afternoon, Mr Tristan. Your Father is ready to see you.” Her black Eyes looked quick-sharp to Erasmus, as if seeking Guidance, and it was not until he had given her a quiet Nod that she steppt out of the Doorway and I was able to pass free over its Threshold.
The Aire within was stuffy, tho’ quite cool. I pondered with considerable Distaste what it must have been like over the Summer, and wondered at my Father, shut up now regardless of his own Will, intirely away from Light and Aire. Did he perceive the Degree to which he had come closer to Reunion with my Mother? The Instant of Death, it seemed, was all that now had Power to divide them, for both lay entombed. Yet therein I perceived a terrible Irony, for my Father was not dead, and was not, by Erasmus’ Reckoning, very soon to be so. Instead, I thought, he will persist in this dimmed Limbo, as good as dead, but neither able nor permitted to die.
If my Father be conscious, I thought, and cogent, he should by no Means continue in this daily Situation, lest he become unable to remember being alive. How can such interminable Silence be aught but a Barrier to his Recovery?
I took the proffered Candle from Mrs H., and, Erasmus closely following, moved toward my Father’s Bed.
I had expected that he would be lying down, as he had been upon that horrible Daye when I had seen him spoon-fed, but to mine intense Relief he was sitting proppt up against a Quantity of soft Pillows. He was not dresst, but wore over his night-Shirt a cambrick dressing Gown, and atop his Head a linen Turban in whose careful Application I discerned the tidy Fingers of his devoted Nurse. His Countenance appeared
askew, for the left Side of his handsome Face had been severely afflicted, and the Flesh hung limply off his Cheekbone and Jaw. His Skin was tallow white.
For the merest of Instants I felt a Stirring of Fear; then out of mine Anxiety emerged the strange Truth that this Father, however fearfull and freakish he might look, was really far less terrifying than he had been in good Health, and seemed to me all the more human for his Deformity.
“Sir,” I said, approaching my Father, as if he had been my Patient. “Sir, it is your Son. It is Tristan.”
My Father did not speak; I would not have expected him to do so even had he been in full Health; but his Eyes turned quickly upon me. For a long Second, as they lingered upon my Face, I met his Gaze; for the first Time in my Life I looked properly into those green-grey Orbs that withheld so many Secrets. Then, as always, his Attention slippt away, and hovered in its accustomed Place somewhere over my left Ear.
“You know me,” I said. “Canst speak, Sir?”
My Father blinked; a lop-sided Contortion of Distress accosted his Physiognomy. I put the Candlestick down, on the bare Table that stood by the Bed. “You understand me, at least,” I said. “Mrs H., doth ever my Father speak?”
“He cannot easily speak, Mr Tristan.” For a Moment, Mrs H. appeared somewhat confounded. “He hath Difficulty in forming his Words; tho’ sometimes he uses very short ones.”
“If he can comprehend and communicate, albeit with Difficulty,” I exclaimed, “then he remains a rational Being, and should not continue to be shut away in this Manner. He is an educated and thoughtful Gentleman. Mrs H., why do not you, in all the Houres you spend closeted at his Side, read to him?”
“Lower your Voice, Sir,” Erasmus said, interrupting. “It is my Belief that your Father’s Hearing hath become extreamly sensitive. Mine Opinion hath been that he requires total Rest, in order that the Damage that hath been done may have Chance to repair.”
“Indeed,” I said. “And hath this Stratagem achieved aught?”
“It hath, Sir. His regained Speech. Until recently he could not speak at all.”
“Probably,” I said, ignoring, in mine Enthusiasm, the plain Fact of my Father’s Paralysis, “he refused to speak, for Shame at finding himself crippled, and now hath begun to speak as a Defense against Despair; for that is what this Pitch and Stillness would inspire in me, and I am better used to suffering Illness than he, who hath never endured aught as long as I remember; nay, not even the Influenza.”
“Draw Breath, Tristan,” Erasmus said, gently, but with a warning Tone. “You shall make your own Assessment, and welcome; but do not upset your Father.”
“Egad,” I said. “I know not how I am to make any physical Assessment in such Darkness, for I can barely see. Mrs H., for God’s Sake pull back those damned Draperies and let in a little Light!”
Mrs H. looked toward Erasmus, who shook his Head. I remembered then, with a small Jolt, how he had stood up for me against Dr Oliver, when the Latter would have pursued a Path of Care that would have proved injurious to mine Health. Now he stood up between me and my Father, and I knew both that he believed that he was right and that he would never back down without substantial Change in that Conviction. But I was equally convinced of the Rectitude of mine own.
“Erasmus,” I said quietly. “There is much to be said in Favour of Containment and Rest. I do not dispute that at the Onset of his Affliction these were appropriate Treatments. But I am certain that my Father’s Recovery will now be advanced by an increasing Contact with the real World.”
I stoppt abruptly. His Recovery from what? I thought. From this Stroake, or that of my Mother’s Death?
“Well,” Erasmus said. “What Forms, Sir, do you propose that this Contact should take?”
“Lord,” I exclaimed. “I suggested Reading, which hath always been his Pleasure, so let us begin with that. Mrs H. shall select a Number of Volumes from his Library, and read to him. Moreover, there must be an End to this oppressive Darkness. Bring back the Light as gradually as you will; but bring it back, even if at first he is resistant to its Introduction. I do not ask that you be cruel, Sir; but sometimes, as you certainly remember from our Time together in the Hospitals, it is neccessary to cause Discomfort or even Pain in order to help heal an Injury.”
Erasmus regarded me thoughtfully; then his Gaze shifted to my Father. Mine followed.
That Gentleman’s Expression, or as much of it as could clearly register in Eyes alone, I perceived to be as full of Dread as had been that of Lady B.—— before Dr Hunter had begun his Operation. Suddenly, an astonishing Conception dawned upon my Faculties. My Father was afraid of me.
Verily, ’twas so; verily, I apprehended that it had been so for a good many Yeares, and I, caught up in mine own Preoccupations and distracted by my Fear of him, had never once discerned it. Yet it was so. I realised that my Mouth had fallen open. I shut it up. My Father, afraid of me? It was a compleat Reversal of the natural Order of things. Surely, I knew well that the Child ought to fear his Parent, but I had never thought that a Parent might fear his Child. Why should he?
Had the Rector feared Nathaniel?
“I think it Time this Visit ended,” Erasmus said. “Tho’ if you and Mr Hart are both willing, Tristan, you may return the Morrow, or the Daye after. I will give Consideration to your Ideas regarding the Light. But as to Reading,” he smiled, “I think that is a Task better suited to yourself than to Mrs H.”
“My Self?”
“Without Doubt,” Erasmus said. “I am sure Mrs H. doth not disagree; I very much doubt, Madam, that you have any Knowledge of Latin, or Greek?”
Mrs H. sniffed. “I should think, Mr Glass, that I most certainly do not!” From the Tone in which she answered, Erasmus might, I thought, have been suggesting that she had been a Prostitute.
Erasmus and I made our Excuses to my Father, who made no Attempt to speak, tho’ I was certain he had understood. Then we left the Chamber.
“So, Tristan,” Erasmus said, turning to me with a Smile as we progressed down the Stairs. “Tomorrow, if you will, you may begin your Treatments, and we will discover what their Effects, if any, shall be.”
Verily we shall, I thought. Upon my Father’s Recovery, and upon mine own.
CHAPTER SIX-AND-TWENTY
As the Government, unsatisfied by its Remove of New Year from March to January, had in its infinite Sagacity decided surgically to excise eleven Dates from the Month of September, the next Morning fell that many whole Dayes after the Evening preceding it. It remained, however, still Thursdaye. On this Occasion, however, the Dislocation did not disorient me one Whit, and I felt a certain Pleasure at the Thought that Human Time, at least as it was ordered by the present Calendar, was in its own Stile quite as flexible as that of the Faeries.
Katherine awoke in a tetchy Mood, and dashing away mine Attempt to share mine Enjoyment in the Mutability of the Date, demanded I tell her straightway when she should be permitted out of her Cell. When I could not answer to her Satisfaction, and warned her, moreover, that I must leave her alone again for another Houre or so whilst I helped Erasmus with my Father, she became thoroughly vexed, and raised her Voice. I tried to suppress her with mine Hand over her Mouth, but in the End I had to vow to leave her in Charge of my Keys before she would be shut up.
“Don’t worry, Bloody Bones, I will not vanish,” she said, with some Scorn. “But I can’t bear this Incarceration any longer. Merely the Thought that I might now leave the Room if I wished will ease my Mind sufficiently that I shall willingly stay and bear your Absence until you see fit to return. But then, my Dear, you must let your Household know that I am here and introduce me to Mr Glass, you must. We shall tell him I am new arrived from Weymouth.”
The Altercation being thus concluded, I returned, with Erasmus, to my Father’s Chamber, and with very little ado settled My Self to read to him by the Light of the Candle. Mrs H. departed about her other Duties and a Quietness fell. I looked into my Father’s Face and watched
with a peculiar Relief as his Eyes stubbornly refused to meet mine own and settled, as ever, above mine Ear. I opened the Aeneid, and began to sing Arms, and the Man, exiled by Fate from the Shores of Troy.
The Houre till Noon passed peaceably. I could not tell for certain whether my Father was attending to Virgil, or even to the Sound of my Voice, but I felt very strongly inclined to believe that he was, and said so to Erasmus. Mine Instinct that he would benefit from the Stimulation was encouraged. Moreover, I thought, with great Relief, I had not seen any Sign of that Apprehension that had convulsed his Countenance upon my previous Visit. It had begun to matter to me marvellous much that he should not endure any such Sentiment. I read on, well past Noon, until I heard the hall Clock chiming the three quarter-Houre. Then, I stoppt. The Clock’s Bell having restored me to mine own Century, I had suddenly become aware of another Sett of Sounds: a violent Disturbance, of a female Nature, echoing from the down-Stairs Portion of the House. Erasmus had heard it also. He frowned, and rising to his Feet, suggested that he should go down to uncover the Cause whilst I remained with my Father.
“No, no,” I said. “Whatever ’tis, it is within mine House, and is therefore my Responsibility. I shall go.”
But as I spoke these Words, the Noises below increased in both their Pitch and Volume, and of the Identity and Source of the Discord there could no longer be any Doubt. My coward Heart quaked within my Breast.
Mine Aunt Barnaby was come, the Evil I had so greatly dreaded was upon us; and she was shrieking at the top of her shrill Lungs at my poor, ill-deserving Katherine.
“Marry, shall you? Marry, you shall not! Oh, I shall see you in a Bridewell first. Thou vile Wench, thou jumped-up Hussy, thou wicked Fortune-hunting little Minx, I shall see thee dead before I let thee touch a Farthing of my Family’s Money, a Farthing, dost attend?”
