Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  After many additional exhibitions of this new skill, he started to look somewhat red in the face and dizzy, so I asked if he would teach me how to do it as well. This struck him most favorably, and he was soon issuing orders like an army sergeant. I had to position myself just this way, put my head down just that way—he was quite the expert. Finally I was allowed to roll forward. My long limbs being an impediment to such games, I tumbled over with a less than graceful form and crashed flat on my back with a thud. The noise impressed Richard, so I added to it, wailing that I’d near broken my spine, and I’d never achieve his expertise at this game. He said I only wanted more practice, so with many a groan I tried again, finishing with even more noise.

  “Jonathan?”

  Still on my back with my head toward the door, I had a topsy-turvy view of Elizabeth looking down at me. Oliver stood behind her, craning his head over her shoulder to see.

  “Hallo, sweet Sister and most excellent Cousin! Oof!” Richard had thrown himself on my stomach.

  “He’s gone mad,” Elizabeth pronounced in solemn tones. “Not stark staring, but God have pity on us all the same.”

  “Not mad, just somewhat delirious. Oh, you’ll tickle me, will you?”

  Richard giggled, again digging his fists into my ribs, responding with more laughter when I threatened to pinch his nose off. Fearlessly, he thrust his face forward, daring me to do my worst. I told him it was no sport that way, stood up—with him clinging to one of my legs—and stumped about the room complaining about my astonishingly bad limp. When I was on the carpet once more, he slipped free, laughing, and started to bolt off, but I caught him ’round the waist and lifted him high, which was well received.

  “You’ll upset his stomach with that larking about,” Elizabeth cautioned.

  “I’m fine!” Richard yelled, rather muffled as his petticoats engulfed his face. By now I held him by his heels, and his arms dangled loose toward the floor.

  “Can you walk on your hands?” I asked.

  In answer, he put his palms to the floor and, letting him have just enough of his weight to feel it, I paraded once around the room. “Excellent, laddie! I’ve never seen better.” Reaching the carpet, I eased him down until he lay flat, red-faced and puffing. He’d catch his breath in a minute, then we’d start all over again.

  “What about the Mohocks?” Oliver demanded during the respite. “What happened last night? Did you see Arthur?”

  “I saw—well, this isn’t the time or place to tell you what happened.”

  Oliver, interpreting this in the worst possible sense, went pale and grim. “Good God.”

  “No, I don’t mean—that is—I’ve much to tell you but not about what you think. I just can’t say anything until—”

  “Quite right,” agreed Elizabeth. “You’ll get no sense from him until he’s had his nightly dose of Richard.”

  “I’ll come to the blue drawing room as soon as I can,” I promised.

  “Soonest, if you please,” she told me with an arch look.

  Of course they’d be eaten through with curiosity having waited all night and all day for some word from me. The note would have only stirred them up rather than satisfied. Damnation. I hated having this matter encroaching on my time with Richard.

  Time. . . .

  No. That was yet too dark a topic to think about. Nora was right to live within the short increments of a single night. Considerations of future sorrows could wait until their arrival; best to cherish the present while it was here.

  Unfortunately, the present was all too brief. Having little else to do that day, Elizabeth and Oliver had spent most of it keeping Richard fully occupied, or so he informed me when he recounted some of his adventures at rabbit hunting. He’d summoned quite a burst of dash at my coming, but was fast losing hold of it, particularly after a second bout of tumbling over the rug. As an alternative to the exercise, I offered to read aloud from his collection of chapbooks. One of the maids turned up with a cup of ass’s milk with honey for him. Mrs. Howard, who had made herself scarce so we could play unimpeded, must have ordered it.

  The girl stared at us closely, nearly upsetting her tray while putting it on a table.

  “Have a care,” I said, schooling myself to patience. She’d likely noticed Richard’s resemblance to me and my own to him and was having trouble dealing with it. Well, Edmond had warned me about this sort of thing. I wearily wondered if I’d end up influencing every servant on the estate just to spare us the complications of gossip. The maid finally scuttled out, with many a backward look.

  “Tastes different,” Richard said, looking dubiously into his cup.

  “That’s because it’s from the country. The asses here eat better fodder than their city cousins, so their milk is bound to be different. It’s not sour, is it?”

  “No. Sweet.”

  “The cook must like you then and put in extra honey in your honor.” I found a chair, settled him on my lap and read as he drank. Both worked a charm; by the time I was a quarter through the reading, he’d nodded off in my arms.

  Though I should have rung for Mrs. Howard and popped him into bed, I lingered a bit, holding him. His breath was warm and light on hand, his little heart beating slow and strong beneath my fingers.

  He was so precious, a pearl of great price. More than that, priceless.

  In every sense of the word and beyond, until words failed, he was the dearest of all the treasures a generous God had ever bestowed upon me. Precious, for his own sake alone, but also for being my son, the only true legacy of my life as a normal man, if not also the most heartbreaking; for if my acquired agelessness proved true, then in all likelihood I would long outlive him. Ahead of me lay the awful prospect I would outlive everyone I loved. Nora’s gift was not a mere mixed blessing, but could also rightly be called a curse.

  She tried hard to make that clear to me last night.

  Once Nora was over the happy surprise of the boy’s existence, she went sober again, finally divulging afresh the grim inevitability of pending heartache.

  “Why are you so anxious to sadden me?” I asked her.

  “I’m not, but I’ve lived through this without knowing any of it and have ever regretted my ignorance. Now that I know better, I do all I can to treasure the time I have with those I love and urge you to do the same. Life is so damnably fleeting, and not everyone is able to see how carelessly they squander their little portion of it. Empty mundanities crowd their days, their thoughts, their actions, and before they’re aware of it their lives are spent and gone forever. I never waste time in futile argument over trifles, but rather cling to the joys I can share and give however great or small they may be. Never, never forget how long your time is compared to the brevity of others.”

  So I held my son and there and then said a humble prayer of gratitude for Richard’s life, a plea for his continued health and happiness, and asked to be given the wisdom to provide both to him to the best of my ability. My eyes had misted over by the time I got to the amen. Sniffing, I rose and gently lay him on his bed, then just watched him sleep for a while. The rise and fall of his breast, the soft patter of his heart, the pure translucence of his skin, held me in thrall until Mrs. Howard came back from wherever she’d gotten to and asked if all was well.

  “Exceedingly well,” I answered. “Fell right to sleep on me.”

  “He had a busy day what with the rabbit hunting with Mr. Oliver and Miss Elizabeth. They didn’t find any, but I think it was more for the exercise and to pass the time than to put anything on the supper table.”

  “I shall have to thank them for looking after him. I should like to hear about the rest of his day, but it will have to wait ’til later.”

  “Yes, sir. Will we be returning to Mr. Oliver’s house soon?”

  “As soon as may be. I thought you liked it in the country, though.”

  �
��Indeed I do, sir. If we could stay on here until your father and mother arrived from the Colonies it would suit me well enough.”

  But it would hardly suit the rest of us to be deprived of Richard’s immediate company. On the other hand, if the Marling estate could be made livable, Mrs. Howard would have her country home within a few months. I kept this news to myself for the moment. Mentioning it would lead to more conversation, and I needed to be elsewhere. I wished her a good evening, pressed a light good-night kiss on Richard’s brow and hurried downstairs.

  * * *

  The next hour was an interesting one for Elizabeth and Oliver as I broke the news of Nora’s return. Elizabeth jumped up to embrace me, for she saw I was in a mood to rejoice, and Oliver grinned and pounded my back in congratulation. Then did they sit again to ply me with a thousand rapid questions, and I did my best to give good replies.

  “In Bath all this time?” Oliver shook his head, bemused. “She must have been living quietly indeed. A number of our circle goes there for the waters. Strange none of ’em saw her.”

  “Not so strange when you consider she’s only up at night. It was Mrs. Poole who took the waters, and she’s not as noticeable as Nora.”

  “What was the lady suffering from?”

  “Nora didn’t say. There was so much else to talk about . . . ”

  And I talked about it to them—leaving out, of course, the sprightly dances Nora and I had enjoyed on the hearth rug. I also left out the business of not aging, thinking it better to introduce that subject at another time. Having barely taken it in myself, I was not prepared to rationally reveal the details to others. Perhaps Nora could be persuaded to tell them, since she knew more of it.

  “What did Nora think about Richard?” Elizabeth asked after I got to that point in my tale.

  “Oh, she’s pleased about the whole business, Thinks it’s wonderful, seeing how things are for me now.” Thus did I delicately allude to my infertile state.

  Elizabeth understood, briefly tucking in her lower lip. “Is—is she unable to bear children?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Sad is an inadequate word for it. That poor woman.”

  “Unless one considers that I’m something of an offspring of hers” I added.

  They did, to which Oliver said: “Very ‘something of.’ Coz, if the achievement of this condition is as rare as she says.”

  “We’re hoping your medical knowledge might be helpful in explaining why this is so.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “You do expect a lot from me . . . but I’ll do all I can, of course. What did she think of Clarinda, though? I mean about the boy’s conception taking place while you and Nora were still . . . well . . . you know.”

  “She was not jealous, if that’s what you’re worried about. At most she only questioned my taste. But I told her I was very young at the time, after all.” Unspoken was her reply that I was still very young.

  “That’s a relief. You’ve enough complications in your life already. Did you tell her anything about our recent troubles?”

  “Seeing how closely they’re connected with Richard, I had to tell her everything about them.”

  “What does she think of it?”

  “That it’s perfectly horrible, and she’s all for my clearing the mess up as quickly as possible. She’s offered to help if she can, but at this moment I don’t see how.”

  “She knows plenty of gentlemen in the city. Some of them could secretly be Mohocks, y’know, and have useful information for us.”

  “We discussed that possibility, but she hasn’t seen any of ‘em since she left for Italy all that time back. Her offer to help is more in the line of lending any aid from her household if we need it. Fonteyn House is ably defended, but it would harm nothing to have some extra eyes and ears about the place until this business is done.”

  “Excellent idea. When shall we see ’em?”

  “I hadn’t really settled that with her, but I can go by and talk with her later.” Indeed, I was most anxious to see her again. Last night had been a true wonder, but we had much lost time to make up.

  “When will she be coming for a visit?” asked Elizabeth. “Did you tell her how much I wanted to meet her?”

  “Yes, I did, and she was a bit taken aback by it, too.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “This condition of being a ‘vampire,’ as she calls it, has made her shy about revealing it to people. Times were when one could be burned at the stake for taking such peculiar nourishment, so you can understand why she’s wary. To hear that you not only know of it, but fully accept it is quite much more than a mere novelty to her. It may take her awhile to get used to the idea, but she expressed an interest in meeting Richard, so it shouldn’t be difficult to persuade her to a visit.”

  “We’ll have a late tea with her or something,” she said, “with the two of you having your own preferred drink in a separate pot.” Oliver made a slight choking sound, but she ignored him. “Where is she staying?”

  “At her London house.”

  “But I thought it was deserted.”

  “Not anymore. As soon as she got my note, she came up from Bath in her coach with a few of her people. They’ll have the place opened and aired by now, perhaps not to the point of receiving guests, but they should have the worst of the cobwebs swept away.”

  “Admirable, most admirable,” said Oliver, who was starting to squirm in his chair. “But while I don’t wish to belittle the importance of Miss Jones turning up, I shall burst a blood vessel if you don’t give us any news about the business at hand. Did you talk to Arthur Tyne?”

  Lest his growing agitation do him harm, I quickly imparted what I’d learned, namely about Arthur’s hasty disappearance. “He must have got the wind up once he saw the story of Ridley’s murder in the papers,” I added. “He’s probably halfway to France by now.”

  “If he has any sense,” said Elizabeth. “What about the Mohocks? Did you see Mr. Litton?”

  “Not a sign of them; I was interrupted by Nora before I could visit the chap. Oh, yes, Edmond came by just before I left to see Arthur.”

  “Did he? You have had a busy time of it. What did he want?”

  I told them of my conversation with our justifiably ill-tempered cousin at the coffee house. “He said I could talk to Clarinda to see if she knew more than she was telling. I promised to come by tonight.”

  “Will you be influencing her?”

  “Only if necessary,” I hedged.

  Elizabeth did not approve of this talent, handy as it was, and she knew what I was trying to avoid discussing with her. “I rather think it will be necessary, so do be careful, Jonathan.”

  “Do you want company?” asked Oliver.

  “Not unless you plan to keep Edmond entertained while I interview his wife.”

  “Up. Hadn’t thought of that, but I’ll do it if you—”

  I waved him down. “No need to make such a noble sacrifice just yet, Coz. I’d be glad to have you along, but he was reluctant enough to let me in, and for the both of us to turn up might be more than his temper will bear. Besides, Edmond could heap you with questions neither of us is prepared to answer just yet, if ever. I should be much easier in my heart not to have that possibility as a distraction while I’m talking with Clarinda, and very much easier knowing you were on watch here, keeping everyone safe.”

  Happily, additional persuasion was not needed. He was more than pleased to play the guardian and endure another long wait at Fonteyn House rather than spend even a minute with the grim Edmond. At my request, Oliver called for someone to ready a horse for me. Though I could travel easily enough to Edmond’s by the same means I’d used to get to Fonteyn House, it seemed wiser to use a more mundane form of conveyance. My recent travel combined with last night’s endeavors with Nora had left their physical impression, and I was yet a
bit weary despite a full feeding I’d made after coming back from following her. Later, I’d have to make up for it. Neither of us would benefit tonight if I appeared on her doorstep in less than perfect vigor. To fill in the wait, I asked Elizabeth how the day had gone.

  “Most agreeably,” she said, and I was treated to an engaging summation of the rabbit hunt. It cheered me mightily, until I realized it was yet another activity I could never share with the boy. Deeply frustrating, but I swallowed it back along with the dark feelings of regret and disappointment. At least I was here and able to share some things with him and not long dead and moldering in the churchyard at Glenbriar.

  Blessing and curse. As there was no escape from either, I’d have to accept both.

  * * *

  All the horses in Oliver’s stable in town had been taken away to the safety of the one at Fonteyn House, including my beloved Rolly. He was full of himself tonight, prancing about, hardly able to hold still enough to mount. Once in the saddle, reins firmly in hand, I had better control over him, but was not adverse to allowing him to have his head for a short canter to the gates. The two footmen posted on watch there obligingly opened them, allowing us to pass through. If they had any wonder for how I’d gotten inside in the first place, I heard nothing of it. I waved once to them, clucked at Rolly and let him stretch his neck.

  Floating high over the land is one thing, but it’s no substitute for the shivering exhilaration of riding a horse at full gallop. Your life is in your hands, completely dependent on your skill, sense of balance and sheer luck. A misplaced hoof, an unexpected concavity in your path, a startled bird flying up in your face—these and a hundred other lurking dangers can make for an easy disaster. Rolly and I ignored the lot and sped recklessly down the road, my laughter hanging in the air behind as we cut through the cold night. He was a splendid animal and not for the first time I blessed Father for putting him aboard the ship that had taken me to England.