Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  Perhaps I should wait a bit before seeking out a house, on the chance that he would want to help in the choosing. Much of his law practice had been occupied with the details on the buying and selling of property and boundary disputes. I’d welcome his vast experience. Damnation, but there would be a thousand decisions to make. The place might even require extensive furnishing. Elizabeth would be of excellent help there. Furnishings. . . .

  “I was just thinking, dear Sister. . . .”

  Her glance towrad me was sharpish. I only used that particular form of address when I wanted something and well did she know it.

  “Do you think you could teach Richard to play the spinet?”

  “I could try, if I had a spinet upon which to teach.”

  “I was planning to get you one.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. But isn’t he a bit young, yet?”

  “Oh, it’s never too early to learn. They say that fellow Mozart started just as young, and he ended up playing before all the royal courts.”

  “Mozart was born with musical talent—what if Richard takes after you?”

  “Then I’ll teach him to ride horses instead, and you’ll still have a fine instrument. Tomorrow I want you to run out and find the best spinet in London and have them cart it over right away. But that aside, I miss hearing you play.”

  Her expression softened. “Why, thank you!”

  “And get a carpet, too.”

  Now did her expression abruptly pinch into blank perplexity. “A carpet?”

  “Yes, a nice big thick one, the thickest you can find. I promised Mrs. Howard one for the nursery and said the three of you could go shopping for it tomorrow. Richard should have a say in the choosing, too, I thought.”

  “How kind of you to find so many enjoyable things for me to do,” she said dryly.

  “Not at all. I suppose you’ll need to take measurements or something so it will fit. You’ll find a measuring stick up there, unless Mrs. Howard has given it back to Jericho. I was teaching him about fractions—Richard, that is, not Jericho—with it. Perhaps you can find a carpet for Mrs. Howard’s room, too. An excellent woman, we’re so lucky to have her, and I want her made as comfortable as may be.

  “Heavens, Jonathan, I don’t even have a carpet for my room!”

  I waved a careless hand. “Then indulge yourself at my expense.”

  “Don’t worry, I will,” she muttered darkly.

  Dear me, but I knew that look. Time for a bit of placation or I’d have another pillow in my face. “Well, I’ve gone on quite long enough. Why don’t you tell me everything you did today?”

  Elizabeth sighed, apparently exasperated by this latest sudden change in subject, then composed herself to give a summation of the day’s events. As with Jericho, it had become a regular custom between us for her to tell me the news I’d missed while lying oblivious in the cellar.

  “Well, to start with, Charlotte Bolyn has invited us to—”

  “No, no, no, I don’t mean that rot! Tell me all that happened with you and Richard.”

  She picked up the cushion and once more—and with considerable force—managed to strike my nose dead on.

  * * *

  In an effort to preserve my battered countenance from additional damage, I decided to intrude upon Oliver’s ruminations, hoping he wouldn’t be too far gone in study for a bit of company. Upon hearing my knock he grunted something that might loosely be interpreted as an invitation to enter. I took it as such and pushed the door open.

  His own sanctuary was part study, part consulting room, to be used on those occasions to interview patients when he was not out making calls on them. His practice wasn’t a busy one, but he kept himself active with it. Most of his patients were from within his broad circle of friends, and being of a gregarious sort, he often as not paid visits as much to socialize as to render aid. Unless his services as a physician were actually required, he never charged for those visits, claiming he was content enough with the distraction of agreeable company. This made him popular, but it was just as well for him that he had income inherited from Grandfather Fonteyn or he’d not be living in his present comfortable circumstances.

  At the moment he was very comfortable, indeed, having pulled his favorite chair close to the fire and treated himself to some port while reading. Like Elizabeth, he had a respectable stack of The Gentleman’s Magazine nearby and held one in his hand.

  “Hallo,” he said, looking up. “Is the house still standing?”

  “Was it too much row?”

  “Not at all. You should have heard us earlier when Richard and I were playing hide-and-seek. I was just wondering whether the walls were still intact after the races.”

  “Intact and like to stay solid,” I said, easing into another chair. “But we’ll be more stately tomorrow night if you like.”

  “Please say you won’t. I grew up being forced into stateliness and can’t recommend it. Let the boy laugh and shout his head off; I like that kind of noise. The reason I came here was to keep from getting trampled.”

  “Sorry.”

  He dismissed my contrition with a wave. “And because I feared you’d invite me to join in and I might not have the will to refuse. The little brat already tired me to the point of swooning once today. Once is more than sufficient.”

  “He did?”

  “Well, perhaps not quite a swoon, but I was pretty blown. Don’t know how Nanny can keep up with him. Paces herself, I suppose.”

  “She and I had a nice little talk about this and that,” I said. “She managed, during that talk, to throw a sizable rock into my tranquil pond.”

  He squinted. “Sorry, but I don’t quite follow.”

  “Because I’ve not yet explained.”

  “Then please do so, Coz.”

  I did so, recounting to him Mrs. Howard’s objections to raising a child in the city.

  “Then you think young Richard would be better off in a rustic setting?” he asked.

  “It didn’t seem to hurt either of us or Elizabeth.”

  “True enough. It may have been hard going for me with Mother, but Nanny saw to it I got my share of fresh air and exercise. You’d also be limiting his chances of getting the pox, too.”

  My dormant heart gave a sudden and sickening lurch. “Pox? Good God, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  His normally jocund expression was now as gloomy as that of a judge. “And well you should. I’ve seen too many young souls carried off before their sixth year from that curse, and pox aside, there’s any number of a hundred other things that—”

  Another lurch in my chest. It felt like a great ball of ice was rolling around inside.

  I wanted Oliver to stop talking, to stop filling me with fears I didn’t want, but as hard as the facts were to hear, they were inescapable. “He’ll have to be inoculated,” I whispered.

  “Oh, yes, certainly that. I know a good man for it, grinds ’em through a dozen at once.”

  “What?”

  “He’s got a big house he’s turned into a sort of inoculation mill. Has in a dozen children at a time. They stay for about a week for a bit of purging and bleeding to purify their systems, then he makes the inoculation. They’re down sick from the cowpox, of course, but he keeps them bedded up and cared for until they’re ready to go home, say after about two weeks. He’s very good, very successful.”

  I recalled my own ordeal had not been quite so involved and said as much.

  Oliver frowned mightily, then his face cleared. “Oh, well, that’s because it was a few years back and on the other side of the world. There’s been a lot of advances made since, y’know. You won’t find ’em practicing any wild colonial experimentation here in England! But there’s no hurry. The lad needs a little time to grow. Elizabeth made a point of hiring servants who’d already had it, so things should be safe
for now. Just make sure it’s done before you send him off to school.”

  If I send him off, I thought. At the moment, the idea of hiring a private tutor looked much more appealing. Many other boys, myself included, had not suffered from such schooling in the safety of one’s home.

  So many plans. So many responsibilities. That ball of ice would turn into a leaden weight and take up permanent residence if I let it.

  Always move forward, laddie. We’re all in God’s hands and that’s a safe enough place as any in this world.

  “Jonathan?”

  I’d been staring at the fire and gave a start.

  “Don’t come all over melancholy on me. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. It’s just a bit of a jolt, don’t you know.”

  “I know, and I’m glad to hear it. Means you’ll do something when the time comes.”

  “Upon my honor and before God, you may be sure of it.”

  “Excellent. There’s nothing that breaks my heart more than hearing the parents wailing away because they’d forgotten or had put it off until it was too late.”

  “You won’t have that with me.”

  “Excellent.” He tapped his fingers along the spine of the magazine in his hand. The silence that settled between us thickened like a sudden patch of fog. I didn’t care much for it and he seemed not to, either. He cleared his throat. “About this idea of moving to a country home?”

  I gratefully seized his opening for a change of subject. “Mrs. Howard recommended Fonteyn House, but I’ll have to find some other place.” I clarified this statement by mentioning the probable situation once Father and Mother arrived in England.

  When I’d finished, he was in full agreement with me, adding, “But whether or not your mother takes up residence there, you still wouldn’t want Richard shut away in Fonteyn House. It’s much too dark and drafty, but there will soon be changes. I’ll be making a deal of those when things settle. Changes, that is. Dress up the insides, knock a few holes in the walls and put in more windows and damnation on the window tax. Once I’m done you won’t know the old pile. But as for your having a place of your own—”

  “There’s no hurry yet. I’m thinking I’ll wait until Father’s here.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish, but I was going to say I know of a perfectly fine house standing empty that might suit. The land’s been fallow for years, but that can be fixed. There’s room for your cattle and whatnot, and it’s just a few miles north of the city. The house will need a bit of work; it’s been empty a long time.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Oh, one of Mother’s grand imperial orders, y’know. The estate belonged to my late father. Seems when he died, she closed it down hard and fast, wouldn’t even rent it out.”

  “Strange to do that.”

  “Consider her nature, old lad. Y’see, the whole lot was my father’s, free and clear, and in accordance with his will it was to come to me when I came of age. But she shut the house up and let the property go, thereby making sure it would eventually become worthless. I remember her sending Edmond around with an offer to buy it from me a day or two after I turned one and twenty.”

  “Which you turned down?”

  “Not exactly. Edmond didn’t say it in so many words, but he gave me to understand that her offer was much too low and that I should hang on to the deed. I didn’t at first know what he was up to, but twigged to things after she sent him on a second visit and he managed to discourage me again. Mother had been going on about how she was doing me a favor by trying to take the place off my hands since it was essentially a ruin, so I went out to see things for myself. It seems that Edmond had been less than honest with her.”

  “In what way?”

  “Oh, whenever a storm came through, he’d tell her another shutter had dropped off or there was a new hole in the roof. The truth was he’d made it his business to keep the place in tolerable repair. The doors and windows hang straight and close snug, and it’s dry as a drum inside. The land’s overgrown and that gives it a forlorn, ruinous look, but otherwise everything’s sound.”

  “And Edmond did that for you?”

  Oliver nodded. “He took a dreadful risk over the years. I mean, he’d have been out in the street quick enough if Mother had ever taken it into her head to pay a visit to the old Marling hold. He must have hidden the expense of repairs and the taxes from her in some clever way. Edmond’s as intimidating as a bear with the gout, but deep down quite a decent chap at heart. We should all have such a fellow handling our business, don’t you think?”

  “Great heavens, yes. Makes you wonder what other little secrets he’s got hidden away.”

  “I’ll be finding out soon enough, I’m sure. Before he packed himself and Clarinda off home the other day, he said he’d have to soon sit down with me to go over the accounts. Seems there’s a lot of legal nonsense that needs my attention now, and I can’t put it off much longer. Anyway, if you want to look the place over some night—”

  “Certainly, I’d be most happy to do so.” What a painless way to find a home. By keeping the business within the family I wouldn’t have to wait for Father’s arrival to avoid any purchasing pitfalls. “If it takes my fancy, then we can work out some sort of rent—or were you thinking of selling?”

  “I was thinking of neither.” He sat well back in his chair, lifting his chin slightly to peer down his nose. “If you want it—well, then—for the price of the yearly taxes you may have it!”

  For a yawningly long moment I was in complete distrust of my ears. “What?”

  He repeated it, grinning like an ass and most certainly because I must have looked exactly like one myself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  He’d utterly stunned me. That was the only word to describe my feelings when the whole import of his proposal sank in. For some considerable period I could do nothing but gape, inspiring a good deal of amusement in him.

  “But I couldn’t,” I objected in a faint voice when recovery asserted itself sufficiently for me to speak.

  “And why ever not?” He still grinned.

  “It’s too magnificent a kindness.”

  “Don’t be sure of that until you see the place—it might not suit, y’know. But that aside, it’s my property and I can do whatever I please with it. Besides, I know damned well such an arrangement would have sent Mother into an apoplectic fit, so that’s yet another good reason for me to do it.”

  I argued a little more, but not too dreadfully hard. A firm and outright rejection of his generosity in the name of good sense would have been rude and hurtful, of course, but I found myself willing to let him have his way. It was a magnificent gift, but if it proved to be too much so, then perhaps Edmond and I could argue him into something more equitable for all concerned. I had no wish to cheat my excellent cousin out of his rightful incomes. For now, deeply moved, I warmly and sincerely thanked him; he clapped his hands, practically crowing, then sat forward and told me all he could remember about the house and lands.

  It was a sizable place not that far to the north and east of Fonteyn House, but not that close, either. There were fields and woods in the generous acreage, overgrown and running wild by now, at least one clear running stream, and several buildings. Edmond had seen to the care of the house, but Oliver wasn’t as certain about the condition of the barns and stabling. The house itself had been erected not long after the Great Fire of the previous century.

  “Was it involved in that in some way?” I asked, fascinated.

  “What, you mean burned up and then put something in on top of the ruins? No, nothing like that. The property’s not even close to where the destruction happened. The story is that one of my Marling ancestors liked the look of the new buildings going up in London at the time and decided to have one of ’em for himself. Found a fashionable architect for the job
and. . . .”

  The more he talked the greater waxed my interest and the more eager I became to see the place. Though it promised to involve a lot of work to make the house livable and get the land producing again, the prospect of undertaking such a project was enormously appealing. Now could I understand my father’s youthful wish to cross a wild and dangerous ocean to a new land in order to create a place of his own.

  In my case it would be going to an old land, but still virtually a foreign country from the one where I’d been raised. That had a compelling appeal as well, for I’d ever been intrigued by the history of my English ancestry. Who knows but that some famous battle or great event might have taken place on the Marling lands in ages past. Oliver expressed a degree of doubt over this speculation, but that did not dampen my enthusiasm. Even if nothing more exciting than a bit of sheep-herding had ever occupied the property over the centuries, what is commonplace to the local is exotic to the newcomer.

  When Oliver’s store of description ran out, we resolved to visit and give the place a thorough inspection within a week if the weather cooperated.

  “I’ll probably go earlier to have a look ’round in the daylight,” he said. “Shan’t get much out of it at night I’m afraid, no matter how many lanterns I carry. Are you sure you’ll be able to do as well?”

  “As well if not better, especially if the sky is clear.”

  He shook his head. “Amazing business, your condition. That reminds me, I was meaning to ask if I might draw off a bit of your blood.” Again, I found myself gaping at my cousin. “Good God, whatever for?”

  “For the purposes of scientific research, of course. A friend of mine has one of those microscope things, and I thought it might be interesting to use it to peep at a sample of your blood and compare it to that of another’s, see if there’s anything different between the two.”