Evelyn held her breath.
“Help?” she squeaked.
The lithe creature reached out and took hold of her dress, and she watched in horror as he climbed her skirt. In a second, he was out of sight, moving up her back and clawing at her neck. Her brain struggled to accept the sensation of his knees, fingers, and toes as they pressed against her, the weight of him so very present and so very terrifying because he was so very real.
This was it. He was going to bite her, and she was going to die.
Goodbye, world.
She screamed. She couldn’t help it. It just came, and she released it without thinking. This alarmed the monkey, who also cried out and clung tighter to his victim. Evelyn tried to shake him off, but to no avail.
In sheer panic, she mindlessly began to run.
She emerged, disheveled and screaming, into the clearing, where she garnered the attention of every person present.
“Get it off me! Get it off me!” she begged, her arms flailing in an effort to dismantle the creature without giving it time to grab and bite.
Nearby, Josephine ran to Lucius and gave him a little push in Evelyn’s direction, and Evelyn, whose sight was not trained on any particular thing, caught Lucius’ eye for the tiniest fraction of a moment.
“Lucius!” she cried in desperation. “Help me!”
Help her? Help her? How was he to help her? What experience did he have with monkeys?
“Do something, Mr. Flynn!” Adele demanded. “You must do something!”
What a mess. Lucius could not argue with a widow. It just wasn’t right. But why was no one else stepping in? There were men all around, staring from a distance, themselves too frightened to get any closer. Surely there was someone better equipped for battling this creature than he.
Where was Brock Donnigan? Certainly a little monkey was nothing compared to a crocodile.
As for the guides and porters, they stood their ground and watched with amused expressions.
Lucius looked at them pleadingly. This was their dominion! Could they do nothing to control this situation?
“Lucius!” Evelyn screamed again.
Damn it. He had promised he would protect her.
With a little yelp, Lucius Flynn plunged into the fray. He possessed no strategy, only blind nerve. As he quickly drew closer to the young woman and her attacker, he closed his eyes and began to bat at the air.
“I’ve got you!” he announced excitedly. “I’ve got you!”
And indeed, purely by accident, Lucius’ palm smacked against the creature and knocked it to the ground. At the first sensation of contact, Lucius opened his eyes and gave a surprised but victorious cry.
“Aha! Back, you beast!” he gallantly declared, his courage buffered. He swung his foot and kicked at the confused animal, who ran frightened into the bushes.
Evelyn checked herself, hardly able to believe she was free. She watched after the creature, then turned to its assailant.
“Lucius!” she cried once more. Overwhelmed with relief, she took two steps towards him and flung her arms about his neck.
“Thank you!”
This series of events was a bit too much for Lucius, and his heart raced from the excitement. His mind was still on the monkey when Evelyn threw herself at him, and he did not even realize what was happening until she was already letting go, for Evelyn reclaimed her reserve the moment she realized she had lost it.
They had shaken hands on their wedding day, but that sensation was nothing like this. Her arms around him were so pleasant he was loath to watch them unfold and disappear.
“Thank you,” she said again.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Of course,” he replied. “It was nothing.”
They awkwardly stood apart from one another. Evelyn raised a hand to rearrange her hair, which had become quite frazzled, and Lucius cast another glance towards the bushes, lest their prisoner reemerge.
He was alarmed to see he had.
The monkey had crept out from his hiding place, and Josephine went to him with an outstretched hand.
The spectators held their breath.
“Josephine, no!” Evelyn and Lucius cried at once.
“It’s all right,” someone else announced. All eyes turned to this new voice, which belonged to the English-speaking guide.
“The worst thing you do with monkey is show aggression,” he told them. “You make loud noise, you run away, you show teeth, you show aggression.”
Corporately, everyone curled their lips over their teeth.
The creature studied Josephine’s hand, sniffed it, and placed his own within her palm. His mouth twitched as he emitted a happy little sound and climbed onto the girl’s shoulder.
“He is friend,” the guide said. He pointed to Evelyn. “He like necklace.”
Evelyn’s hand went to her throat, where she wore a locket.
“My necklace?” she repeated, bewildered. “You mean that was all he wanted?”
“Monkey is… how you say? Pesky. He like shiny things. He want to touch.”
Evelyn turned to Lucius.
“He didn’t want to hurt me,” she told him.
Lucius shook his head and laughed.
“You’d never know it by the way you reacted.”
“How was I to know his intentions?”
“I thought you knew everything.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Not all things,” she replied.
When Josephine had convinced her spectators that their visitor was harmless, she took her new friend to meet Bartholomew, who nervously clutched at his mother. The monkey reached out and took a fistful of the child’s hair, which he leaned in and sniffed, then grew disinterested. Instead, he turned his curious gaze on Adele, who recoiled and took a step backwards.
Josephine nodded reassuringly, but Adele was frightened.
“I do not wish to touch him, Josephine,” she told the girl. “Please. Take him away from me.”
Josephine offered a pleading look.
“Please don’t look at me like that, child.”
Perched on Josephine’s shoulder, the monkey regarded Adele with interest. It was evident he wished to explore this new territory, as he extended a hand towards the older woman in request.
“I think he wants to be your friend,” Evelyn said. “Give him a go, Adele. He’s really not all bad.”
Lucius snorted, remembering the way Evelyn had frantically returned to camp, with the poor animal clutching at her collar in fear.
“What?” she asked Lucius. “He didn’t actually hurt me.”
Adele shook her head once more.
“How can you be certain he won’t bite?” she asked with trepidation.
“He is friend,” the guide repeated. “You see? He make introduction.”
Indeed, it seemed as though the little monster was asking Adele to shake hands.
Adele glanced down at her son.
“What do you think, Bartie? Should I take his hand?”
The child looked undecided at first, then nodded, his lips curving into a confident smile.
Adele sighed.
“All right then. Let’s give it a go, shall we?”
Timidly, she offered a quivering finger to the animal. He eagerly grasped it, and Adele yanked free in alarm. She shivered as she watched him study her smell by sniffing the hand with which he had touched her.
“Look how smart he is,” she murmured in awe. “He is learning my scent.”
“Brilliant,” Lucius agreed.
“Well,” Adele resolved, “if we are to be friends, then he must have a name.”
She studied the monkey, who regarded her with the same curious eyes that had acquainted him with Evelyn. Again, he offered his hand, willing her to accept it.
“What shall we call him? Hm?” she asked the onlookers. “Any suggestions?”
Everyone looked thoughtful for a moment, for none of them had ever named a monkey, nor had they
dreamed they would ever have an occasion to name a monkey. It was all a bit much for them to take in at the moment.
“Hildebrandt!” one of the men finally suggested.
Adele looked displeased.
“Heaven’s, no,” she said. “Hildebrandt is certainly no name for a monkey.”
“Napoleon!” another shouted.
At this, Adele actually wrinkled her nose.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “Absolutely not. Give me something a little more English, if you please.”
Lucius laughed.
“How about Winston?” he asked.
“Winston?” she repeated.
The monkey opened his mouth once more and began to chatter happily.
“Oh!” Adele exclaimed. “I think he likes it!”
There were some chuckles around the clearing, though the men remained careful to keep their teeth hidden.
Adele worked up her courage a second time and took the monkey’s hand, though now she did not allow herself to let go.
“Winston,” she said to him. “Pleasure.”
Winston launched himself onto Adele’s arm and lighted upon her shoulder, where he perched contentedly and began to play with her hair. His tail curled around her face and tickled her nose, to which she shrieked gleefully and began to giggle.
Those who knew about the poor woman’s situation watched with unabashed joy, for their hearts were warmed at the sight of her smile and the sound of her laughter. Josephine’s green eyes swam in tears, while Lucius whispered to Evelyn.
“Have a look at that bonny lass. It seems as though Winston knew she needed a bit of cheering up.”
“Aye,” Evelyn replied, her palm pressed against her heart. “I haven’t seen her smile that way since before she lost Mr. Whitfield. Perhaps our dear friend is going to be all right after all.”
* * *
A short time later, Brock emerged from his wanderings and the company pressed on in hopes they would reach the Washington Hotel before nightfall. Their newest member, Winston, was only too happy to join them, for he found favor with Adele Whitfield. The funny pair bounced along the path together, content in each other’s presence. The creature thought Adele’s shoulder to be a capital seat, and busied himself by playing with her earrings and sorting through various strands of her hair. Every few moments, the woman’s cheerful laughter could be heard.
Brock Donnigan was impervious to the goings on around him. He cared nothing for conversation and could not be induced to speak a word. For once, he had no stories to tell, no directions to give, no commandments to issue, and no expectations to voice. His brooding did nothing to appease Evelyn, who sensed he was only trying to make her feel guilty. She felt nothing of the sort, but instead wondered why she was, somehow, surrounded by men who intermittently sought to manipulate her emotions by sulking. Lucius had not made her feel any less superior by ignoring her on the Steam Rose, and Brock would not be satisfied in his childish attempts to make her seek forgiveness. She did not want his forgiveness. She wanted him to grow up.
Lucius, however, was in a fine humor, for today was turning out to be a series of splendid affairs. He had received a thorough cleansing from the rain, his horse was well tempered and docile, lunch was a fine meal of flat bread and bananas (which sat very well with his sensitive stomach), and he had rescued Evelyn from what could have been a dreadful situation. Granted, she had not really needed a rescuer, but no one knew that at the time. Should another opportunity arise, Lucius could be counted upon to offer his protective services once more, for he had not really fulfilled his promise. After all, Evelyn had not been in any real danger, but at least he had passed the test. His confidence was alleviated. He felt ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
To top it all off, Brock was reaping all the sordid profits his malevolent connivance had sown, being subjected to Evelyn’s sharp punishment of disdain. It was a beautiful thing, Lucius thought gladly, and it was nothing the rascal had not merited of his own volition.
Despite their wishes, the sun answered only to itself, and it saw fit to descend below the horizon before they arrived at the Washington Hotel. When they finally arrived they could see very little, as all around the establishment was awash in the shadow of night, but the sound of rowdy men could be heard laughing and shouting merrily from within. The hotel was a simple, elongated hut built of logs, situated in a clearing at the top of a hill.
The party eagerly dismounted their animals and followed their senses indoors, where the smell of food and the warm glow of lanterns allured them.
Winston, who was also hungry, decidedly remained out of doors and began a search for whatever might assuage his grumbling belly. Regretfully, Adele watched him disappear into the trees, and at her dejected expression, Evelyn came alongside and slipped an arm through Adele’s.
“Come inside, Mrs. Whitfield. I am sure our friend will return in the morning.”
“Do you think he has gone home?”
“I believe the whole of this jungle is his home, and he is only too obliging to see us through it.”
The company entered the inn and was greeted by the sight of numerous faces, many of which had become familiar in the course of their travels. Brock sought a place near a couple of antisocial ruffians, among whom he felt entirely at ease, while the rest sat wherever a seat presented itself. Lucius located the men who had placed bets on the donkey carcass and quickly informed them that he had won, for the bones had been picked clean by scavengers. Grumbling, the others paid their dues, and Lucius was much obliged to receive them.
The smell of supper was pungent and mouth-watering. The food had not yet been served and the guests found themselves looking longingly towards the kitchen in anticipation. To keep from growing too impatient, they busied themselves with cards and songs, accompanied by ale and brandy that flowed without end.
One man leaned towards Lucius and asked what he would have to drink, to which Lucius remorsefully replied, “ah, I’m afraid I cannot indulge tonight, my friend.”
Evelyn, who sat within hearing distance, cast a glance in Brock’s direction, then leaned across the table to speak to her countryman.
“Mr. Flynn, might I have a word?”
Lucius looked at her curiously and, he must admit, a bit hesitantly. Had he said something wrong?
“Yes, Miss Brennan?” he asked, slowly.
Evelyn smiled.
“I believe you’ve earned your share of indulgence tonight. Have a pint on me, would you? I promise I won’t tell.”
The room was full of noise, but Lucius was quite certain he heard her correctly.
His face split into a grin.
“Why, Miss Brennan, you’re not growing soft, are you?”
She tossed her hair in defiance.
“Of course not. But any servant who pleases his mistress deserves a reward.”
“I thought you were my servant.”
“You pledged yourself to me, remember?”
“Then alas, we are both servants, one to another.”
“Let us be Lord and Lady,” Evelyn winked. “Just for tonight.”
Lucius laughed.
“Then by the gods,” he said, “we must both have an ale, in celebration of our great accompaniment to each other.”
“You delivered me from the clutches of a demon.”
“And you lifted me up from the tomb of the sea.”
“Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After what seemed like an eternity, the food was brought out. As the dishes were set upon the table, a silence settled upon the room. Suddenly, the travelers were not quite as ravenous as they were a moment ago. They studied the entrée with a sense of confusion, which gradually turned to horror.
Whispers followed the silence as each man leaned towards his neighbor.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Surely you don’t think it’s
a-”
“Sssh! Don’t say it. I can’t bear it.”
“But it must be! It looks so much like a-”
“I said sssh!”
“This can’t possibly be what’s for supper.”
“Smell it.”
“What?”
“I said smell it! See if it’s what we’ve been waiting for.”
“Dear God.”
“What is it?”
“It’s definitely what we’ve been anticipating.”
“But bloody well not what we were expecting!”
“Why in God’s name would they serve us a-”
“Sssh!”
Adele Whitfield kicked away from the table and left the room in a hurry, with Josephine and Bartholomew in her wake. The others watched after her and were sorely tempted to follow.
The guides and porters looked around, wondering what all the fuss was about. They began to cut into the entrée and serve themselves, shaking their heads at the others.
One man pointed to the English-speaking guide, whose fork was positioned at his lips.
“Hector, what is this madness?”
“Heh?”
“How can they serve us this- this- thing?”
Hector looked genuinely confused. He decided to take a bite and mull the question over.
At the sight of him eating, someone promptly fled the room and vomited outside.
The others waited for an explanation.
Finally, the guide shrugged and said, “you no like monkey?”
Everyone wondered if they had heard correctly.
“Monkey? This is a monkey?”
There were a few nervous chuckles, then the room exploded with laughter.
“By Jove! It’s only a monkey!”
“Dig in, fellas!”
With relief came sudden abandon, as the men were hungry and eager to eat. Their previous assessment of the entrée was eased, along with their dismay when they discovered the true origin of the meat; for served the way it was, skinned and skewered, it looked very much like something else entirely.
Hector turned to the man beside him.
“I no understand,” he told him.
The man swallowed.
“Why, we just thought this little feller was a baby.”
Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Page 21
