When they stepped onto the Edmonds Farmland, Henry saw the cottage, the gnarled trees, the barn, and he carried her down the path lined with an old fence. He knocked loudly at the door, and soon enough, Belinda Edmonds answered. She was a strikingly pig-faced, ugly woman, he thought instantly, and he did not like her beady, cold, little eyes that looked at him with suspicion and surprise.
“Good evening, Madam,” he said curtly. “I happened upon this young lady in the woods, and I have taken the liberty of bringing her home. She has had a rather difficult time this evening, and she needs rest and comfort. May I take her to her chamber?”
Belinda was gobsmacked — she had never seen so handsome a man in her life, and so articulate, too! Why, he sounded as though he was a great lord. She completely ignored Susanna, and said, “Why, come in, Sir. Aye, please do leave her in her bed and then we can have a little chat about where you come from.”
He bowed his head slightly, and ascended the stairs, Susanna still clinging to him.
“Which way is your bedchamber?” he asked.
“’Tis here,” she replied, gesturing to the small closet.
“You must be joking,” he whispered, turning to face the suffering young woman in his arms, who promptly shook her head. He opened the door and, sure enough, there was a heap of straw upon the floor that served as her bed. Henry felt awful, for he had more rooms than he knew what to do with back at Sanguinem Castle. This poor young woman deserved a real bed, and a chamber of her own.
He gently placed her on the floor and covered her with the sheets and blankets. He took his coat and said goodbye to Susanna, who soon fell asleep.
Henry quietly walked down the stairs and found Belinda waiting. She had pinched her cheeks and bitten her lips for more colour, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. Her black and crooked teeth jutted out like tusks, and he was instantly revolted.
“Would you not care for a mug of ale, Sir, by the fire?” she asked, gesturing towards the tester chair she had placed by the hearth.
“I am afraid I am pressed for time, Madam, but I would be much obliged if you would give me your word that the young lady will be looked after.”
“She is, after all, my sister-in-law, Sir, and I look after my own.”
Henry narrowed his eyes as he looked at Belinda, her great snout turned up towards him. Certainly, he thought, you look after your own kin, aye, but you do not regard Susanna as such.
***
In the weeks that followed, Susanna’s body began to recover and, at the same time, she began to sense a presence around her. Some unknown thing, yet whenever she looked around her, she saw nothing. She knew she was probably mistaken, for there was no reason for anything or anyone to follow her. And yet, she could not shift the feeling that she was being watched; that someone, something was always there now.
She remembered the horrible demon-beast in the forest, snarling, hungry for her. She was frightened that she would encounter it again, that this time it would eat her, leaving her to rot in the forest, alone forever!
Her feeling of being watch was well justified, for the amorous vampire had been observing her for some time. Susanna was at the forefront of Henry’s mind. He constantly thought of her, wished to know more about her, and above all else, he wanted to speak to her. He continually hesitated to do the latter, for he did not wish to bring her into his world of darkness. He felt drawn to her for the same reason that prevented him from killing and feeding upon her one month before.
He watched from the shadows, and in doing so, learned a great deal about the daily movements of Edmonds Farm. Henry looked through the window and finally saw Susanna’s brother, Samuel, in his bed as Susanna fed, bathed, and spoke with him. Her kindness and love for her brother shone through, and he could see how much joy she brought to her brother’s otherwise unhappy life.
He observed how Susanna was often cooking in the kitchen. She bent over the steaming pot of stew, and stirred the contents with her large wooden spoon. Toby sat sprawled out before the fire, enjoying the rest and digesting the cut of mutton that Susanna had given him earlier. The winds howled outside, and the draught from a hole in the pane of glass in one of the windows whistled continuously. Susanna’s hands were already red raw from overwork, but she kept on working.
Henry observed with pity that Susanna seemed to live in a perpetual state of fear, for she grew immediately nervous whenever Belinda drew near. He also observed Peter Winthrop, at last, and his ungentlemanly manner towards Susanna behind Belinda’s back. He did not then know the full extent of Peter’s malice, but nevertheless, Henry wished him dead.
Susanna was truly lovely — not stunning in the way that Lady Margaret or Barbara Villiers had been, but with a more subdued, natural, warm kind of beauty. Her wavy golden-red hair was pulled tidily back into a white linen cap. Her eyes shone like jewels — which reminded him of the stones in his mother’s jewellery. She had but the normal attire of a country peasant — brown coarse fabric for her stays and skirt, the sleeves from her cream shift rolled up past her elbows as she worked. In spite of her impoverished clothing and the cuts and bruises, which were now healing upon her face, that dead organ — his heart — seemed to stir, to feel.
She unbound her hair from another arduous day’s work, and the coppery-red hair tumbled out of her cap and down her shoulders and back like a waterfall. She took off her soiled white apron, wrapped a moth-eaten brown cloak about her shoulders. Next, she slowly moved up the wooden latch, opened the door, and closed it softly behind her. She always crept out of the house in this manner.
She scurried across the recently mown fields and headed towards the darkness of the forest, her luscious golden-red hair bouncing up and down. Henry followed stealthily behind, like her shadow in the night. Deeper and deeper did she go through the densely packed oak and lime trees for some time until they came to a clearing. He could hear her heart beat increasing, the blood coursing ever more swiftly through her veins as she ambled carefully through the ferns towards her secluded grotto betwixt the Black Stones where he had first encountered her.
Chapter 13:
A Dark Romance
Henry remembered it all clearly…
He had caught the scent of an injured human, possibly dying, and he had followed the trail through Sanguinem Wood with the greatest of speed. His hunger had grown the closer he was to his intended victim, and he snarled as he entered the clearing that contained the Black Stones. He skulked around, sniffing here and there, and followed the increasingly strong scent to the middle of a formation of large rocks. Large ferns hid the entrance, but he could see that some of these had been trampled on, and blood stained some of the leaves. The injured person was within.
He snarled again and jumped through the weeds, landing by a small fire. It was then that he saw her, standing upright, clutching an axe, one of her eyes swollen shut and various cuts and bruises upon her flesh. The vulnerability in her eyes, the fear, the trembling of her hands made the axe wobble and she fainted away, hitting the back of her head on the floor.
He could have drained her then and there, ending her pathetic existence; but something, and he knew not what, had prevented him from doing so. The monstrous hunger receded, and he changed back into his human form; his compassion outweighing his dark appetite. He saw the little bottle of herbs on the floor and, guessing what such an ointment was for, decided to apply it to her many lacerations. As he gently dabbed the greasy balm onto her gashes, he noted that she had been weeping, for her eyelashes were damp with tears. He felt a strong sense of pity wash over him as he looked down upon her.
Their subsequent discourse had only served to increase this emotion in him. Delivering her into that awful house in Coffin’s Bishop had made his pity turn into deep concern for her well-being. The flame-haired woman had touched Henry’s tormented soul in a way that no one else ever had, and thoughts of her consumed him.
***
Days and weeks went by in this manner, for Henry was
too hesitant and unsure of whether he would be able to resist feeding upon her should he converse with her again. Winter’s chill had already begun, but Susanna continued to rise before dawn in order to milk the cows and feed the livestock. It was at this quiet time of the day, before Belinda was up and ordering her about, that she had time to think about things. In the past, this would not have been good; for she tended to dwell upon the troubles she had known. But things were now different. She remembered her kind saviour, whose skin was as cold and hard as a winter’s night. She smiled as she let herself remember his handsome face, his sweet scent and his quiet chivalry. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Did he think of her as she thought of him?
She hummed as her worn hands slid up and down on the udders, the milk squirted out easily into the pail. Henry knew he had to speak to her again for he could no longer be content with mere observation. He made his move and gently, quietly, flew behind her, landing softly upon the hay-strewn floor. She kept on working, alternately patting the cow tenderly and humming what he supposed was a song of her own invention.
“Good morrow.”
His voiced shocked her out of her reverie, and she jerked around violently, falling off her stool and onto the ground with a thud.
“Oh! Mister Stuart!” she said, a smile instantly spreading across her face. “I did not hear you come in! What are you doing here?”
“I must apologise for startling you.” He immediately offered her his hand.
“Oh! ‘Tis nothing, I can assure you. I was only daydreaming.” About you…
She gazed up at him. His long black, wavy hair fell upon his richly embroidered green surcoat. She took in his long, rosy-cheeked face and his stunning green-yellow eyes, with their thick, dark lashes. He was even more beautiful than her memory of him. He was tall, too, and his calves were perfectly proportioned encased in their white stockings. He wore square-toed black leather shoes, which held a brass buckle on each top, the likes of which she had never seen before. He wore a fine linen waistcoat of black fabric, and his cravat was of equally good quality.
“I am well, I thank you.” She finally took hold of his hand and gasped as soon as her hot little hand touched his cold, hard flesh.
“Lord! You are very cold,” she whispered, noting the temperature of his hand.
“I do not feel cold,” he replied truthfully. The warmth from her little hand, and the very act of her reaching out to him, exhilarated him.
She paid no heed to this remark and continued, “You must come inside the cottage at once. The fire in the hearth makes the whole kitchen so cosy, you shall see. My sister-in-law should still be asleep, so it would be no trouble.”
“That is very kind of you.”
She looked up at him, and blushed shyly as she shrugged her shoulders. “You saved my life, Sir, asking you to come in from the cold is the least I can do.”
“Well, then, I accept,” he said with a smile.
“Just, please keep your voice down. Belinda would flog me to high Heaven if she found I had a man in the house; even though I think she took a shine to you when you carried me back last time.”
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he replied with a smile. She made to pick up the milk pail, but he courteously picked it up for her and followed her quietly out of the barn. Susanna slowly lifted the wooden latch and let them into the kitchen, where she already had the fire going. She seemed nervous and flustered, for she kept dropping things around the room.
“You seem frightened of me,” he whispered. “Please do not be — I have no wish to harm you.”
She meekly looked up at him. “Forgive me, Sir, but I have had some unfortunate experiences with men that have rendered me frightened of them all now.” Her gaze darkened, and she shuddered at the series of horrible memories that were forever in her mind.
“I would sooner harm myself than harm you. I would very much like to see you more often. Would friendship with me frighten you?”
Susanna looked at him with her lips parted, wondering what she should say.
“And what would your friendship mean?”
She was worried that he wanted to have his way with her, as the boys had done in the barley field. Although she liked him, she was afraid of having another child again. She was afraid of what the villagers would do to her this time. She was terrified of being hurt, perhaps worse, this time. At the same time, her gut told her that Henry was different, and that not all men were the same.
“Precisely what it means,” he replied. “I wish for us to be friends; and as a friend, I have come to see how you are. I am pleased to see that your injuries are healing.” The cuts on her lips were now silvery white scars. Her eye was well now; only a little puffiness and yellow-coloured bruising remained on the eyelid. He could now admire the warmth that shone from her amber-flecked hazel eyes.
“I am much better now, I thank you,” she replied, as she demurely looked towards the floor. There was a brief silence, filled only with the crackling and popping of the fire blazing away in the hearth beside them. Henry regarded his female companion, his supernaturally heightened senses studying every aspect of her being. He could hear the thumping of her heart; he could sense her excitement of having him near. It was an intoxicating sound, that of her happy, healthy blood surging through her veins. Only one taste…
She arose suddenly, and walked to the table by the window upon which she had bread rising. He shifted uncomfortably on the stool he sat upon. He was disappointed with himself for having momentarily thought of drinking Susanna’s blood.
“You said you wished you knew how to read. I have been educated more than most, and I would be honoured to teach you.”
She turned around quickly, light flashing in her eyes and a bright smile sweeping across her face. “Oh! Do you mean it? You would teach me how to read?” She wiped her flour-dusted hands upon her apron.
“Aye, nothing would give me more pleasure,” he replied, with another little smile.
“Oh, thank you!” she responded, eagerly throwing her arms about his. Then the black cloud came back to haunt her, and she quickly regretted her hasty actions. “But, what would you want in return for such generosity?”
“I would enjoy nothing more than to simply have the pleasure of your company,” he replied, reassuringly, “And perhaps, if I may be so bold, you can sing for me.”
“How did you know that I sing?” she asked, suddenly terrified. “It is forbidden to sing or make any kind of music here. Oh! Please, please, don’t tell anyone that I do, I beg of you, Sir.”
Henry shook his head. “Have no fear, for I shall do no such thing. But, hear me, I pray. Coffin’s Bishop is a very strange place, for the prohibition of such innocent diversions is not the way of the world. Music and book-reading are two of the greatest enjoyments a person can have in life.”
“And dancing?” she asked, almost breathlessly.
“Dancing is indeed a most popular pastime, one in which every young lady should partake.”
She looked at him, her hazel eyes full of hope and fear, for she had never been able to trust anyone other than her brother, and they arranged to meet that evening within the Black Stones.
***
Henry visited Susanna every night in that special place between the Black Stones in the forest. There, he would teach her the alphabet, and she slowly began to learn to read. Once the lesson was over, she would sing for Henry — songs that she made up, songs that she had never before been able to sing for anyone else. He listened to her mellifluous voice, and saw how happy she was when she sang. Soon, he brought her gifts, a new book, which contained a collection of poems by John Donne. She struggled through these and in them, found such words of love and beauty that she never have imagined.
Every night they became closer, and he soon fell hopelessly in love with her. And although they were becoming very close, he kept from her his strange and terrible secret. He was perpetually afraid that she would not be able to bear his presence once
she knew what he was. He desired her company too much for that. He was determined to keep her from his loathed self for as long as possible. He wished to God to make him less selfish, to make him go back Sanguinem Castle, and live forever without the touch of love upon his dark and wretched soul.
Having known that Belinda had gone to visit one of her friends in the village for the evening, Henry decided to visit Susanna at the cottage. As he drew near, he smelled the food she was preparing. The scent of the leg of lamb, which was now roasting over a roaring fire, was slightly repulsive to him now. He remembered how the smell used to make his mouth water with appreciation and anticipation. The little spit dog, Toby, panted from his exertions on the wheel that rotated the spit. Henry knocked on the door and Susanna jumped up in alarm, fearing it would be Peter. As soon as she saw it was Henry, she beamed with joy and then blushed at the many feelings he alone could conjure within her breast.
She bade Henry to take a seat, which he did at her father’s oak table. He slid his hands over it, admiring its remarkably fine craftsmanship. He commented on this, and she said her father had made it in his happier days when her mother was alive. Their discourse together was ever thus, of the most perfectly amiable understanding. It had been some months now since they had first met, and in that time, they had never found a subject on which to argue.
Henry turned an admiring eye to everything she did. Susanna took the turnspit dog out of the wheel for a rest and gave the little beast some water and a few slivers of the lamb. Toby hungrily ate each savoury morsel and reared up on his hind legs to beg for more. She laughed and cut him off a little more. Henry looked at the tender way in which she treated the animal, and felt such warmth towards her that he was surprised it didn’t make his heart beat anew.
“Are you certain you do not want any? I have not yet had the pleasure of feeding you,” she said, with such an eagerness to please, that he ignored the consequence and replied, “Of course I will try some, thank you.”
The Stuart Vampire Page 14
