Henry smiled and nodded, though she could still see clearly that something was troubling him. “I hope you will be comfortable here.”
As they walked up the great stone spiral staircase, Henry leading the way with a candelabrum, and Susanna stretched her arms out to the sides to avoid slipping as the steps were very narrow. She had never seen such architecture before, but she was filled with fear as they walked through the old passages.
It was so dark everywhere on the floor to which they had just ascended, and it smelled old. She took hold of Henry’s arm, as she looked about her in fright. The flame flickered in the draught and Henry turned left down a tall hallway. The floorboards creaked under each step they took. He stopped in front of a door.
“Pardon such a question, but have you had a bath before?” He wanted her to scrub away her old life and begin anew with him.
She blushed. “Oh, aye, but I haven’t since autumn. It’s been so cold, and they say ‘tis bad to take baths!”
Henry chuckled, for many people believed that. “I can assure you there is nothing harmful in bathing. I bathe every night,” he said, opening a door into a bathing chamber. “Here you can have as many hot baths as you wish. It is relaxing and the scent of this soap will linger upon your flesh.” He picked up a rather crude bar of soap.
“Is this why you always smell so pleasant?” she asked, smelling the bar he placed in her hands.
“I like cleanliness,” he replied with a shrug. He thought he smelled repulsive, like rotting flesh, and the constant baths were the only way to keep the stench of from his dead body at bay. “My chamber is down that corridor and to the right, but I must ask that you not go there unless you must. It is an old castle, and I wouldn’t want you to be frightened by things that we have here.”
“Certainly, I need not go there.” Susanna had no intention of disturbing his privacy, especially as he had allowed her to move into his great home. She followed him as he walked further down the passage.
“Now, this is your room,” he said, stopping before an oak door with black hinges and bolts. It creaked as he opened the door. As he did this, Susanna was hit by the strong scent of damask roses. These were the same roses that had wildly festooned the halls and floors when Henry had first set foot in Sanguinem Castle back in 1662. Henry went about the large bedchamber, lighting the new candles in the wall sconces and the candelabra on a desk by the wall. Her eyes moved around the room as Henry lit the logs on the grate. There were red roses in blue and white porcelain vases dotted around the rectangular room. The room seemed as though he had been expecting her, and he seemed to say as much back at the cottage.
She looked at him in surprise and appreciation. “You mean this is for me?”
“Aye,” he said with a sincere smile. “Everything in this room is yours, and yours alone. I must attend to some things now, but I will send up my housekeeper, Alice, shortly to help make you comfortable. If you need anything, you have only to ask, for she shall be entrusted with your care.”
“My care? Am I to have a maid?” she asked in astonishment.
“Thou, more than any woman I have ever met, deserve to be attended upon.” His memory of the over-painted tarts of his brother’s court was still firmly ingrained in his mind. Susanna was above them all, even if she was not of noble blood. She had suffered more than most, yet her heart remained good and kind.
“This is so beautiful. I have never seen such beauty in a room in all of my life.”
He smiled gently at her.
“Thank you, Henry,” she murmured, placing her hand upon his forearm. He looked at her and his eyes seemed to glow. He again wished her well and closed the door behind him as he left. Henry walked down the stone passageways with a wide smile upon his face. He was happy that she was now safe, living in a way she deserved, and with him.
She wandered about the enormous bedchamber, which Henry had said was hers, and marvelled at the beauty of the things about her. There was a tester bed fit for a queen, with thick hangings in sapphire blue, topped off with two decorative peacock feather sprays. She had never seen such splendour, let alone slept in it. She could tell that it was lovely and warm and soft — and she knew she would be more comfortable than she ever had before. Upon a dressing table made from polished boxwood, there sat a new tortoiseshell comb and an ornate silver hand mirror, a container full of new cosmetics, and a little box of face patches.
She turned her face the furniture on the opposite side of the bed. There was a walnut chest of drawers with pearl drop handles made of brass. Her curiosity increasing, she opened the various drawers underneath and came across beautiful fans, ribbons, and clocked stockings.
“Why, these are fit for a great lady!” Susanna exclaimed, abruptly feeling overwhelmed and unworthy of such precious things. She flung herself onto the bed and hid her face, believing she must be imagining it all. She peeked through her fingers and saw that everything was indeed real. She sat up on the comfortable, soft bed, and ran her hand over the exquisitely embroidered dark blue cover. Her eyes caught sight of a small purple velvet pouch. Upon this was a letter, written in Henry elegant hand, which said, simply, “Susanna.”
She broke the red wax seal and unfolded the letter, which read:
My dearest Susanna,
You have made me a very happy man by being here with me. Please use everything I have given you. Wander where you will except for my wing — Alice will show you where I mean. I had these items made several years ago, and I did not think I would find someone who deserved them. The royal jewellers made them by my commission. I would be honoured if you would wear them when I again see you tomorrow evening.
— H.
She prised open the pouch, and inside she found a lovely pearl necklace and a miniature portrait of Henry. The portrait was painted on enamel, which was on top of a golden pendant. With a background of flames, he wore only his shirtsleeves and his hair down as he normally wore it. She pressed her lips to his image and placed it against her heart as she thought of him. She looked at the miniature again. One thing, however, piqued her interest. His eyes, always that burning green-yellow, were painted so dark a shade of brown, that they were almost black. She found it odd that a painter, who could capture his likeness so well, could have made such a mistake with the colour of his eyes. But such a detail did not really matter to her, and she clutched the miniature to her breast and then kissed it again.
Henry had said that she would be looked after, and he kept to his word. As Susanna cast her eyes over the miniature of Henry in her hands, Alice knocked on the chamber door. The old woman was a kindly soul, with thousands of creases by her eyes and mouth, and age spots on her hands and cheeks. She had long silver locks, which she kept tidily under an immaculate white cap. She said that she was originally from Northampton, where she had once worked at the old Northampton Castle, which King Charles II had had demolished since they had sided with Cromwell in the Civil War. She explained how her entire family had died in the plague and she wouldn’t have known what to do had Henry not offered her employment at Sanguinem Castle, which, she added, was even greater than Northampton Castle had been. She gushed to Susanna about how her new master was the kindest of employers, and paid her handsomely. It was Alice who was entrusted by Henry to be Susanna’s dressmaker as well as personal maid. Susanna had no wish to sully the sheets with her soiled skin, so she asked if she could have a bath.
Susanna was scrubbed completely, the filth in her hair washed out, and even the dirt constantly in evidence under her stubby fingernails were cleaned away. By the time they had finished, the water in the tub was completely dirty. Alice dried Susanna’s long wet red hair vigorously with a large cloth. As per Henry’s instructions, Susanna’s old, tattered clothes were promptly thrown into the fire. Susanna was given a soft, white shift, which enveloped her like a cloud. Then, the arduous process of detangling Susanna’s hair was done with her new tortoiseshell comb. It was a lengthy procedure, but when at last she had combed th
rough all of the knots, it was time for Susanna to sleep.
Alice suggested Toby stay in the kitchens with her, and as he had always been a turn-spot dog, he would be more comfortable there. And so he was. Alice then bid Susanna good night, and softly closed the door. The young woman felt strange to have someone attend to her every need — strange, as she had been the one serving others all of her life. She tentatively climbed into the great bed, her hair now in curling papers, and she shimmied into the middle. It was a strange sensation for someone who had become accustomed to sleeping on the floor of a tiny closet, but not unpleasant. There, amidst the luxurious lavender-scented sheets and downy pillows, she soon fell asleep.
***
Susanna was awakened by the warm sunshine, which flooded the room with golden light. She could sense it through her closed eyelids, for she saw an orange glow. She stretched and yawned and swung her legs around the edge of the mattress as she made to stand. Upon the floor were pointed lady’s slippers, beautifully embroidered with peacock feather designs upon fabric of dark blue. Her eyes alighted onto the chair beside the bed, upon which there lay an equally exquisite dark blue robe, with the same peacock motifs — which had been laboriously embroidered throughout. She slipped on this robe and stepped into the slippers and trotted over to the window. It was open all night, for she loved sleeping with fresh air. She looked out and admired the beautiful prospect her room afforded her — she could see Sanguinem Wood and it seemed to go on forever in every direction she turned. Even in the height of winter, the evergreens and deciduous trees had a special beauty about them.
Alice soon came in and lighted the fire. “Oh! Miss Edmonds should be in bed, lest she catch a chill.”
“Thank you, Alice, but I’ve been warmer here than I have in many years. I have never been so comfortable before.”
The old lady smiled warmly. “I am very pleased to here it.”
“But,” Susanna continued, “do you know if Mister Stuart is here?”
“He’s in his wing of the castle, yes, but he’ll be sleepin’ at this time o’day,” she responded, continuing with tidying things around the room. “You know, these rich folk can keep strange ways, but he’s the finest gentleman I’ve ever worked for, so I care not what he does!”
Susanna smiled.
“Come now, Miss, let’s sort that fiery mane of yours.” Alice now unrolled the curling papers, which left fetching curls to surround Susanna’s glowing face. For the majority of Susanna’s hair, which had been bound in a thick plait, she used the tortoiseshell comb; starting from the bottom and working her way up, and this hair she assembled into a bun at the crown of Susanna’s head.
Once she had been dressed, Alice escorted her through the windy, dark passages and into a great hall. At the furthest side of this hall was a great staircase, which had some thirty steps, made of the same sickly green stone with which the rest of the castle was built.
“That,” gestured Alice, “is my lord’s private wing. He has given strict instructions that neither of us is to enter.”
“Yes, he did mention that in the note he left me,” replied Susanna.
***
“Mister Stuart requests your company in the drawing room,” said Alice with a curtsey and a knowing smile. The day had passed and she knew that Susanna had been ready to see him for hours. The young woman eagerly followed the maid to Henry. He was standing by the fire, his back to her as she entered the drawing room.
“Good e’en, Henry,” she greeted.
“Good—” he stopped speaking as soon as he beheld her. There she stood before him, her hair in ringlets around her face — a face that he had never before seen so lovely. She wore a light touch of cosmetics, which enhanced her natural beauty. Her cheeks and lips had been reddened, and there was even a little face patch by her lower left eye. Alice had applied all these, as Susanna had never even seen cosmetics before. Deep dimples appeared by the side of her mouth as she smiled, unable to contain her happiness.
“What think of you of this?” she asked, turning around gaily. Her new dress, of a striking shade of blue was fashionably low cut, and this plus the stays she wore shaped her breasts perfectly. The tops of her shoulders were exposed, and the white shift she wore under her dress peaked out from the edges.
She was utterly beautiful.
“I think you look very well,” Henry replied, with great approbation. He knew it was a gross understatement, but he endeavoured not to express his true feelings for her.
“Alice has pierced your ears, I see,” he remarked, observing the pearl earrings that hung from her delicate earlobes. There was a faint scent of blood lingering from this and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. The aroma was appetising in the extreme.
“Aye, and they are still sore from that,” Susanna replied, rubbing her earlobes lightly. “But everything is so beautiful, I feel like a lady. Thank you ever so.”
Henry beamed. “I am greatly contented to learn that you enjoy it all. Come, let me show you my favourite part of the castle.”
She put her hand onto his outstretch hand, torch in his other hand; he led her down the old passageway until they came to a large oak door. He gave her a mischievous grin and opened the door for Susanna. She entered the library, which over the years since he had been at the castle he had organised and restored. She looked about her in incredulity for there were racks and racks of books on each wall of the great library.
“Now you can read anything you’d like,” he said, and he enjoyed watching her delighted face. It was in this library that they would continue their evening reading sessions. From Shakespeare and Dante, to Ovid and Cicero, everything was of interest and Susanna greedily devoured the written word as a starving man a feast. As for Henry, the void in his life, the terrible loneliness he had known was no more. Susanna was the mate he had so longed for, but one he could not have fully. This torturous circumstance was a nightly agony — and she filled his sleeping days with wanton dreams.
***
Her veins throbbed, taunting him with their sweet pulsations as she inclined her head back. The naked flesh of her neck, vulnerable to attack, gave off warmth and her unmistakably sweet fragrance. Her hair, bright red and gleaming in the candlelight, lay across the feather-stuffed pillows. She licked her lips, and smiled at him, before forming these soft delights into a perfect expression of pleasure.
“Bite me,” she murmured, in the heat of her desire. “Taste me. Feed upon me, my love. My Henry…”
He could no longer fight the need. He reared up and sank his dreadful teeth into her soft flesh, her sweet and salty blood flowing over his tongue and down his throat. She moaned as he soared to new heights upon her essence, her life.
He released his terrible hold on her and arched his back, allowing the crimson fluid to travel throughout his body.
“Susanna,” he whispered, turning his gaze to her below him.
Her lifeless eyes stared vacantly into space. Her pupils had dilated. He had accidentally drained her completely.
“Susanna!” he cried, holding her to his chest.
“No!”
Henry awoke with a jolt. He was alone. His brow was beading with bloody perspiration, and he trembled. He was going mad with desire for her now, but the fear he hadn’t allowed himself to think of came to the forefront of his mind with the scintillating but horrific nightmare. These terrors of his sleeping times were of both increasing regularity and violence. It was a problem that many a vampire before him had faced: He loved her, he desired her body, but he thirsted for her blood.
***
Alice’s dressmaking skills were exemplary. She made more dresses for Susanna in the most fashionable styles of the day, and the latter took pleasure as the velvets and silks skimmed her now soft skin. Soon, they fell into a kind of daily pattern. Alice laid out her clothing for the day, combed and styled her hair, and then Susanna would wander about the old castle. There were dark corners, hidden passageways, and old objects from the past. When
she was hungry, Susanna dined in a small eating room for breakfast and luncheon, for Henry had also employed a cook and a stable boy to see to the horses. As the sun began to set, Henry would appear and he taught Susanna how to ride upon these magnificent black beasts. Dinner was served in the great dining room, which boasted a high vaulted ceiling with ornately carved wooden beams. And here, she would be served delicious, elegant meals, but Henry would never partake of any of it.
One day, as Alice tended to her hair, Susanna spoke of this peculiar aspect of Henry’s behaviour.
“’Tis very strange, is it not? That he should sleep during the day and only come to me in the evening?”
Alice took her by the hand, “What’s odd is that he does not eat.”
“Doesn’t he?” she asked, looking at the old lady in the reflection.
“Nay, or at least I have never seen him eat. He won’t let me take him a tray or anything like that.”
“That is very odd,” replied Susanna. She furrowed her copper brows in thought. Surely he must eat, for he lives and thrives.
Alice interrupted her thoughts. “But what I’ve been wondering is this: he has you, an unmarried young lady, in his home without a chaperone.”
Susanna smiled, “Do not fear for my reputation; he has never done anything reprehensible to me. My brother, the only family I have, gave me his blessing to come here.” She sighed, “But I do not feel that any of this is real. I feel as though I’ve walked into some fairy story. My life has been a life of hardship, but I’ve not complained.”
“Maybe someone up there’s lookin’ out fer you?” Alice said, pointing to the heavens.
“I have thought Henry my guardian angel for some time now,” Susanna replied, with a smile.
***
Susanna walked, Toby close at her heels, in the neglected garden that lay in the western quadrant of the castle ward, taking in the delicate fragrance of a single crimson-coloured rose she had plucked earlier. She felt tired, for she had slept little in recent days. Her dreams, since moving into the castle, had become increasingly vivid and she often awoke from them with jolt. Every one of her dreams was of Henry. Her all-consuming desire for him was, in her mind, becoming most problematic.
The Stuart Vampire Page 16
