Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  “I can have him fetched for you,” he offered helpfully.

  “Not necessary, sir. I’ve no wish to disturb him for something so minor.

  “But he’s not at all engaged—”

  “That’s quite all right, sir,” I said firmly, hoping he would accept the hint. Happily, Elizabeth smiled at him and told him not to worry so.

  He bowed and declared himself to be her most faithful servant, which inspired the other two to gainsay him by assuring her that they were better qualified to such a post by reason of their superior rank. One of them informed Elizabeth about the dates of their respective commissions in order to prove his case for being the senior officer. So exacting was the calculation that even an hour’s difference was enough to secure one’s superiority of rank. After that I lost the thread of the discussion until she touched my arm, giving me a start.

  “Are you bored?”

  “Not at all. Where’d your suitors go?” I was mildly confused to note that her earnest gallants had quite vanished.

  “Suitors? Really, Jonathan, they were only being polite.”

  “If they paid you that much attention on land you’d be . . .” I nearly said “betrothed,” then recalled with a wince that any mention of matters to do with marriage would not be at all a joke to her. I covered the near faux pas by making another grab for the rail, as though a movement of the ship had interrupted me. “. . . be the envy of every girl on the Island.”

  She smiled, affectionately, and by that I understood she’d seen through my ruse. “Those gentlemen have gone back to their duties. The captain caught their eye, raised his chin and they suddenly remembered things they had to see to. It was very funny, didn’t you notice?”

  “Not really.” I must have lost time staring out at the gray sea, which was hardly an arresting sight for one raised on an island. Whatever was the matter with me? I was as sluggish as a bear in winter.

  She put a hand to my forehead. “A bit warm. Is the chill yet with you?”

  I shrugged, indifferent to her obvious concern. “Just the misery in my stomach and a spinning head. I was all right when I woke up, but it’s returned. Maybe that’s why I slept later than usual.”

  “You look as though you could use more rest.”

  “No need for concern, I shall seek it out,” I promised, working to rouse myself lest she continue on the matter. The topic of my wellbeing had worn rather thin with me. “I found Father’s surprise in the hold,” I said and explained how I’d come across Rolly.

  She brightened. “Oh, I wished I’d been there to see. I’d promised to let him know everything.”

  “You can tell him that I was extremely happy. I plan to as well if I can bring myself to write in a steady hand on this vessel. I thought a large ship like this would make for a smoother passage. The sea’s not that rough.”

  “It’s better than when we first set out. I’ve not been even a bit ill, for which I’m most thankful. The other, less fortunate passengers are slowly coming ’round from its effect. Lieutenant George said they all get used to it sooner or later. I hope you’re next, little brother.”

  “As do I. Was I much missed from the table today?”

  “Since you were never there to start with you could hardly be missed, though the captain and Mr. Quinton both asked after you. Even when you do recover, you won’t want to look too healthy or people will wonder why you’re not eating with them.”

  “Excellent point. I suppose I could be busy with some occupation or other. Tell them I’m involved with my law studies and will take meals in my cabin. Jericho can find some way of disposing of. . . of the extra food.”

  “Jonathan?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t seem to wake up tonight. I don’t remember the last time when I’ve felt so sleepy.”

  “Then pay mind to it and go to bed if it’s rest you want.”

  “But so early? I mean, for me that’s just not natural anymore.”

  “Perhaps the constant presence of being over water is especially tiring for you. You said as much the night before when I left you in Mr. Quinton’s company.”

  “I suppose I could lie down for a while. Jericho should be done by now.”

  “Done with what?”

  “Oh, ah, whatever it is he does when I’m out of the room. The workings of one’s valet are a mystery, and every good gentleman understands that they must and should remain so.”

  “It seems a one-sided thing. I always know what the maids are about when it comes to their tasks in my room.”

  “So it is with ladies, but ’tis different for men, and such are the ways of the world when it comes to masters and valets. Believe me when I say that I’m comfortable in my ignorance.”

  She fixed me with a most solemn look. “Get some sleep, Jonathan.”

  I gave a little bow, mocking the recent efforts of the now-absent officers. “Your servant, Miss Barrett.”

  “Lots of sleep,” she added, eyebrows imperiously high.

  That was enough to carry me back to the cabin. It was empty of Jericho’s presence but not of his influence. My recently discarded clothes were gone and the bed was tidy again. What a shame to have to destroy such order.

  Before collapsing, I rooted in the traveling box for something to read, but only for a moment. My eyelids were already closing. It was damned peculiar, but giving up the struggle, I dropped into bed. There had been times in my life when sleep had stubbornly rejected me, so I was grateful for this swift ease into the lands of Morpheous.

  At some point I became aware of another’s presence, but it was a dim and easily ignored incident.

  Jericho, probably. No matter. Elizabeth could see to whatever problem he might have.

  He came back. Shaking my shoulder again. A lot.

  I snapped an inarguable order to let me sleep and burrowed more deeply into the pillow.

  The next disturbance was more annoying. Elizabeth was calling me. Being absolutely insistent. And loud. That was hardly ladylike.

  Couldn’t seem to respond. Not even to her. What a nuisance, but it could wait, I was tired. How was a man to get any rest with all that row?

  Now she was all but bellowing right in my ear. I ignored her easily enough, even with her shaking me like a rag doll, but then she grabbed one of my ears and pinched and twisted it most sharply.

  Ow. Ow. What the devil . . . ?

  My head jerked away from the pain, and I snarled something or other. It must have been forceful enough to put her off further attempts, for no more were made. I was finally left alone, left to enjoy my sweet, restorative oblivion.

  * * *

  The seasickness was quite gone when I next woke. The combination of my home earth, the extra rest and last night’s fresh blood must have done it. Of course, it might not be a permanent thing, for had it not returned when I’d taken a turn around the deck? Best that I stay in bed until I was sure of my sea legs.

  I made a kind of grumbling sigh and stretched. God, but I felt stiff, strangely so, like a piece of crumpled paper trying to flatten itself out. I seemed full of a thousand creaks and pops.

  And I was slow. Heavy. I’d not been this lethargic since that time I was forced to hide from the day buried under a snow bank. At least I wasn’t cold now, just moving as though half frozen. I was . . . numb.

  My hands. Yes, they were flexing as I wished, but I had little sense of their belonging to me. I made fists and opened them, rubbed them against the blankets, seeking sensation. There, that was better, I could almost feel that. Must have slept wrong, had them under me or . . . .

  Arms were numb, too.

  Legs . . . face . . . everything.

  But wearing off. Just had to wake up a bit more. No need for alarm. Being at sea made for changes. I wondered if it was the same for Nora when she traveled. She never mentioned any difficulty, but then she’d
been rather short on a lot of information.

  “Jonathan?” Elizabeth’s voice. Thin, with an odd mixing of anguish and hope. The room was dark, or my eyes weren’t working properly. I rubbed them. Difficult to work my fingers properly when I could hardly feel them.

  She said my name again. Closer this time. Her voice rising as though in alarm. I hoped we weren’t in any difficulty.

  Had trouble clearing my throat. Coughed a few times before I could mumble anything like an answer. Blinked my eyes a lot, trying to see better. The room was foggy as well as dark.

  Elizabeth’s face hovered over mine. “Do you hear me?” She spoke slowly, as one does to another who is the worse for drink. “Speak, Jonathan, do you?”

  “Mm.”

  “Do you know me?”

  What was she on about? “Mm, mu . . . niz . . . beh.” It was the best I could do with a mouth full of cotton.

  “Oh, God!” She dropped her head on my chest and began sobbing.

  What in heaven’s name was going on? Why was she acting like this? I touched her with one hand. She rose up and seized it, holding it against her wet cheek.

  “Miss Elizabeth, please have a care for him.” Jericho this time. He loomed over her, and I could tell he wanted to lay a hand on her shoulder to give comfort, but class and custom forbade such a familiar childhood gesture.

  She kept weeping.

  “Please, miss, you’re not helping him this way.” His gaze darted between myself and Elizabeth, and he appeared to be just as upset, barely holding it in.

  I had not been frightened before. His tone and manner were strident with unease. Jericho was ever and always playing the role of imperturbable servant, but now he was clearly afraid, and that pierced right through my heart. And as for Elizabeth’s reaction, I reached out to him.

  “Wha . . . ss . . . .”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Jonathan.” His assurance was so hasty and sincere that I knew that something awful must be happening. Was the ship sinking? I tried to sit up, but my apathetic limbs were as much of a hindrance as Elizabeth’s close presence. “Lie still, sir. Please.”

  There was little else I could do as he got Elizabeth’s attention at last and persuaded her to better compose herself. She soaked a handkerchief swiping her tears and blowing her nose. I looked to him for some clue to explain her behavior. He smiled at me, trying to make it an encouraging one, but creating a less than positive response instead. His face was drawn and hollow and . . . thinner? As though he’d not eaten well for some time. But he’d been perfectly fine last night. What in God’s name. . .?

  With Elizabeth no longer wailing upon my breast I was able to raise up on my elbows. We were not in the tiny cabin anymore. This room, while not palatial, was quite a bit larger. The walls were straight, not curved, the ceiling much higher. Why had I been moved? And where? I could not recall any such chamber on board.

  “Forgive me, I couldn’t help myself,” said Elizabeth. “It’s been such an awful time.”

  “Whaz been?” I slurred. Coughed. Damned tongue was so thick. My voice was much deeper than normal, clogged from sleep. “Whaz maa’er?”

  “Nothing’s the matter now, you idiot. You’re all right. Everything’s all right.”

  I made a sound to inform her that I knew damned well that everything was not all right.

  “He doesn’t understand, Miss Elizabeth. He’s been asleep.”

  And it was past time to shake it off. With heroic effort, I pushed myself upright and tried to drag my legs from the bed.

  It was a real bed, too, with fresh linen and dry blankets, not at all like the one in the old cabin. Had we taken over the captain’s quarters?

  I coughed and worked my jaw, rubbing my face. Yes. That was better. Feeling was returning once more, thank goodness. I could actually tell that my bare feet were touching the cold boards of the deck. Bare? Well, of course Jericho would have readied me for sleep. It was remiss of me to have made extra work for him by falling into bed with all my clothes on.

  Another stretch; this time things popped along my spine. God, but that felt good.

  Jericho and Elizabeth watched me closely.

  “Wha’ iz the ma-matter?”

  “You’ve been asleep, sir,” Jericho patiently repeated.

  “Wh’d’f it?” Worked my jaw more. “What-of-it?” There, now I could understand myself.

  “You remember nothing of the voyage?” asked Elizabeth.

  “What do . . . you mean? What ’f the voyage? Something happened to Rolly?”

  “No, he’s fine. He’s safely stabled. You?”

  Stretched my neck, rubbing it. “Not making much sense, Sister.” I saw that, like Jericho, she was also drawn and tired-looking. Circles under the eyes, skin faded and tight over the bones. “Are you well? What the devil is wrong here?”

  “For God’s sake, Jonathan, you’ve been asleep!”

  Was that supposed to mean something? Apparently so. Something most dreadfully important to them both.

  “More than asleep, sir,” Jericho put in. “You know how you are during the day. It was like that.”

  “What was like that? Will you please be more clear? You’re saying I slept, yes. Is it that I slept the whole night through as well as the day?”

  “More than a night, Jonathan,” said Elizabeth. “Much more.”

  I abruptly fathomed that I was not going to like hearing what Elizabeth was about to say. “More?” I croaked.

  “You slept through the whole crossing!”

  Oh, to be able to laugh at that one. But I could not. Other noises than laughter issued from me, unintelligible, but nonetheless conveying confusion.

  “You went down to your cabin to get some rest on our second night out,” she said, speaking carefully as though to prompt a poor memory in a slow child.

  “Yes, you told me to.”

  “You never woke up from it. You just wouldn’t, and when you’re that way, it’s as though you’re dead.”

  “Never woke up? Whatever do you mean?”

  “You slept the whole voyage! You’ve been asleep for over two months!”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no-oo . . . that’s impossible.”

  Their expressions were sufficient to gainsay my weak denial.

  “Impossible. . . .” But I had to only look around to see that we were in a building, not on a ship. My own body confirmed as much. Gone were the raised hackles, the illness, the constant pressure inside and out. There was a small fireplace set in one wall, and its dancing flames warmed the room. Definitely not something you’d find at sea.

  Nightshirt trailing, I boosted unsteadily from bed and staggered on stilt-stiff legs toward a small window. The glass was chill and opaque with condensation. I fumbled with the catch and thrust the thing open. Cold wind slapped my face, bringing the scent of sleet, mud, coal smoke and stables. I was on an upper story of a building taking in the view of its courtyard. An inn of some kind. Vaguely familiar.

  The Three Brewers. The inn I’d stayed at while waiting to meet Cousin Oliver for the first time four years ago.

  “This just cannot be.” But the proof remained before my eyes, mocking my denial.

  “Jonathan . . ..” My sister’s tone had taken on patient reproach. She could tolerate confusion, but not willful stupidity.

  I stared dumbfounded at the prosaic scene below. Beyond the inn, past the lower roof of its opposite wing, were trees, other roofs and church steeples stretching miles away into a cloudy winter night.

  True, true and true. We were most definitely, most undeniably, yet most impossibly in London.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LONDON, NOVEMBER 1777

  “It was perfectly horrid, that’s how it was,” Elizabeth said, her voice a little high. She was still upset but visibly working hard to control herself. Though the cris
is was past, having lived with it for so long she must have grown almost used to the strain. When the strain suddenly ceased . . . .

  “I’m sorry, I truly am. If I’d any idea that—”

  She waved her third sodden handkerchief at me and told me not to be foolish. “Of course, you’d have said something, warned us, we all know that. But it’s been such a wretched ordeal, and now that it’s over I hardly know what to think or do.”

  “Tea,” Jericho firmly stated. After assuring himself that I was fine, his concern shifted to Elizabeth’s well-being. “A large pot of strong tea is what’s wanted.”

  “With lots of brandy,” I added to his departing back. Would that I could have some for this shock. Two months? How could two months of my life have slipped away?

  “You have no memory of any of it?” she asked.

  “My last recollection was talking with you by the rail, going below and dropping into bed. As far as I’m concerned, that happened last night.”

  She shook her head and kept shaking it.

  “I don’t disbelieve you, Elizabeth, it-it’s just hard to take in. Tell me all that happened, maybe that will help.”

  “Where to start . . . ?” She closed her eyes a moment, then rested her gaze on me. “First, I’ll say that I am very glad that you are all right. You’ve no idea what we’ve been through.”

  “Then for God’s sake enlighten me.” I sat on the bed again, wrapped in my dressing gown and wide awake, if considerably taken aback. By now it had penetrated my skull that my mysterious lapse had been a singularly unpleasant ordeal for Jericho and Elizabeth. Better to concentrate on them than myself. It was less demanding.

  She gave a long sigh, then took a deep breath. “On the third night out Jericho tried to wake you, but you just refused to do so. I’d told him that you’d been very tired, and he let you rest a few more hours, then tried again. Nothing, except for a few grumbles, and you kept on lying there, not moving at all.”

  “I’m sorry.”