Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (112 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Edmond instructed the footmen on guard to ignore everything Clarinda said or promised on penalty of a prompt discharge from service and the pain of a sound thrashing that he would administer personally. Either threat was enough to ensure a close observance of his orders; together they had the effect of inspiring a formidable dedication to duty. When I first approached and made known my intention to visit the lady, the fellows were thrown into a painful dilemma. Passing on Clarinda’s correspondence—that is to say, the note to me slipped under the door along with a penny bribe—was one thing, but they had no idea what to do about visitors. Another bribe to grant me admission was out of the question because Edmond possessed the only key to the room. It would seem my one choice would be to confront him and ask if he might grant his consent to this call.

Well, that was one course of action I wasn’t keen to follow. Clarinda was asking much if she expected me to go that far for her. She probably wasn’t aware of the business of the solitary key—that or she anticipated conducting a conversation through the locked door. Hardly wise, considering the footmen would hear all and be only too glad to share a detailed recountal with the other servants. Perhaps she would think I’d simply order them out of earshot. Indeed, I could do so, but possessed no enthusiasm for crossing Edmond’s orders.

With a grimace for my own weakness, I chose the lesser of several evil options and quietly persuaded the men on guard to avail themselves of a short nap they would not remember taking. I borrowed one of their candles and stalked up to the storage room door, pausing before it to reflect that this was also a not very wise action. However, it would be easy enough to cause Clarinda to forget anything inconvenient. I vanished, candle and all, and resumed solidity on the other side.

Oliver’s description was accurate; it was a depressing little closet: cold, dark, and with a chamber pot smell to it, but not totally bare. A narrow bed with several blankets had been crammed in, along with a small chair and table. The latter held the leavings of her latest meal, paper, pen and ink and several candles, though only one was currently lighted. Unlike Ridley, Clarinda could be relied upon not to try burning the house down, though I wasn’t sure I would have given her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Edmond based his trust on her acute sense of self-regard, and he knew she’d not attempt anything that might miscarry and endanger her own skin.

She faced the door, apparently having heard me outside with the footmen and had composed herself to receive, standing in the small space between the bed and the table, hands folded demurely at her waist. Still wearing yesterday’s black mourning clothes, her dress was the worse for wear with some tears and dried smears of mud, so the suffering dignity she strove to affect was somewhat spoiled.

Of course, she could not have possibly expected me to make the entrance that I did, but before she could do more than widen her eyes in reaction, I bored into their depths with my full concentration.

Forget what you’ve just seen, Clarinda,
I whispered into her mind.

Her mouth popped open and she swayed backward one unsteady step as though she’d been physically struck. Had I been too forceful? Bad business for us if that proved true. Fear of the dire consequences made me turn away from her until my composure was restored.

When I had nerve enough to look again, I saw her shake her head and blink as she regained her balance and her senses. Until this moment I’d taken care not to examine my feelings about her; now came the realization of just how strong they were and how dangerous they could prove. If I held mere anger in my heart for Ridley’s actions, then Clarinda’s had inspired white hot fury. With all this night’s preoccupations I’d managed to thoroughly bury it, like heaping earth upon a fire. But instead of smothering the flames, the burial had only served to preserve, if not increase, their heat. I couldn’t trust myself to keep my temper under strict control with her. No more influencing for me; that state brought the true wishes of my deeper mind too close to implementation for comfort.

“Jonathan?” Her voice was none too firm, but I found it distinctly reassuring. It would seem that no permanent damage had been done to her mind if not her body. The fight last night left its mark on her. Her jaw was bruised and swollen where I’d struck her unconscious. Until then I’d never before raised a hand against a woman. In all honesty, that singular occasion did not weigh on my conscience.

“I got your note,” I said in as flat and discouraging a tone as I could summon. It wasn’t difficult.

“Thank you for coming.”

“What do you want?”

“I—I want nothing. That is to say—”

“Clarinda, you didn’t ask me up here without a reason,” I said wearily, putting my candle on the table.

She snapped her mouth shut.

“Just speak and have done with it.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes steady. “Edmond said that you were well, that when I shot at you I’d missed.”

At two paces she had not missed, but I’d been able to vanish for a crucial instant, and the darkness and flash of the powder served well to cover things.

“I thought he might have lied to me. I am glad to see he did not.”

“Are you?”

“You can believe what you like, Jonathan, but I never wished you harm.”

“Oh, indeed?”

“What was done was done only to protect my child.”

“And what rare pleasure you took from it, madam, trying to murder his father. Remember I heard everything you said at the time.”

“That was a sham for Thomas Ridley’s benefit. All of it. If I hadn’t pretended such for him he would have killed me on the spot.”

“You were most convincing.”

“I
had
to be!”

“Of course.”

Her hands formed into fists and dropped to her sides. “I can’t expect you to understand, but I did want you to at least know why I was forced—”

“Clarinda,” I said in a clear, cold voice. “If you want to waste the effort telling me this rot, that’s your business, but I have better diversions to occupy my time. I am not a fool and neither are you. I recall exactly everything you tried to do last night and how close you came to success, and nothing, no distortion of truth, half-truth or outright lie from you will change that memory.”

That stung her good and square. Were we in another place, she’d have probably slapped me soundly and marched out. Here all she could do was stand and stare and fume. Not that it lasted long. She recovered beautifully,. Her fists relaxed and she assumed a rueful expression.

“Very well, no more pretense. Is it possible that with you I may be able to speak the whole truth?”

A cutting reply concerning my sincere doubt that she would know how hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back and gave a brusque nod.

She may have seen or sensed my skepticism, but chose to ignore it. “Edmond doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” She’d just correctly read one of the other reasons behind my abrupt manner. I should have to take extreme care dealing with her.

“It seemed the tactful thing to do for the moment.”

“No doubt. He’s a formidable man.”

I offered no comment, though I could easily agree with her on that point.

“He said that you’d seen Richard.”

“Took me by last night.”

“Did you like the boy?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Another sting for her, which was something of a surprise. I thought her beyond all tender feeling.

“It does matter. I’m afraid for my child. Our child.”

“In what way?”

“I’m afraid that because of what’s happened Edmond might do him harm. He could punish Richard for the things I’ve done.”

Clarinda was shut away in a most disagreeable spot with only her own dark soul for company, so hers was a reasonable fear, but not one I seriously harbored. Edmond could be unpleasant and gruff, but my feeling was that he would never purposely harm the boy. Elizabeth was even more sensitive of such matters and would have mentioned something had she the least misgivings about Edmond’s attitude. Even so, I had an excellent means of dealing with him to guarantee Richard’s well-being.

“I’ll see that the child is safeguarded from harm.” Instinct told me to continue to preserve a cool and indifferent front before her, but she was perceptive enough to see through it.

“You do care for him, don’t you?” she asked with a hint of rising hope.

It seemed better not to answer, though my silence was answer enough.

“I’m glad of that. What I say now, what I ask now, is not for my sake, but for the sake of that innocent child. You’re a part of this family, but you haven’t lived long with them, you don’t know them as I do. Richard will need a friend. Will you look out for him?”

A fair request, and certainly for something I’d be doing regardless of her intercession in the matter. “I shall do what I can. What about your other son?”

She looked away briefly. “He’s lost to me. He’s away at school; his life has been ordered and set out for him. Edmond saw to that. Edmond and Aunt Fonteyn.”

“Whom you murdered.” Edmond and I worked as much out between us—that Clarinda had killed Oliver’s mother—but I wanted to know for certain.

Clarinda’s lips twitched in a near smile. “If you think I regret helping that evil old harridan along to her place in hell, then please do reconsider. You—any of you—could get away from her. I could not. It was an ill day for me when I married her favorite brother and worse still when I gave him a son. She was always there, interfering, sharp as a thorn, and never once letting me forget who controlled the money”

The Fonteyn money, inspiration and goal behind all of Clarinda’s trespasses. “And just how did your first husband die?”

“What?” The apparent change of subject first puzzled her, then she divined the reason behind it. “For God’s sake, do you think—”

“I don’t know what to think, so it seemed best to make a direct inquiry.”

“He dropped dead from a bad heart,” she answered with no small disgust. “I had nothing to do with it. A pity his sister did not follow his example, else life would have been easier for all of us.”

“Then you married Edmond?”

“I needed his protection and he needed my son’s money, but what a farce that became with the lot of us still subject to Aunt Fonteyn’s whims. When Richard was born, sooner or later she’d know Edmond was not his father, all of them would know, and then what would happen to us? She’d have put me out on the street quick enough or packed me off to Bedlam and done God knows what to my baby.”

I didn’t see Edmond or even Aunt Fonteyn for that matter allowing things to go so far. The offensive prospect of a scandal would have mitigated any judgment she made once her initial outrage passed. Clarinda had the intelligence to know and play upon that weakness. No, she’d ever been after the family money; it was just that simple.

“So you got the likes of Ridley to be your protector, to be subject to
your
whims.”

Various thoughts clearly flickered back and forth behind her eyes, too fast to interpret. She paused a goodly time to search my face and finally shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said with genuine incredulity, then softly laughed.

There was a sound to make my skin crawl. The room seemed to shrink around us. “I think it’s best that I don’t.”

“Or you might have some sympathy for me? For what my life has been like? Don’t bother yourself.”

“As you wish.”

A baleful silence grew between us, filling this dank and chill closet to the ceiling like smoke. There was no room in it for me. My questions were satisfied; therefore I had no need to remain. I made to pick up my candle.

“No, wait!” Her hand shot out to seize mine. Because of the restricted space we’d been close enough to easily touch, but had managed to avoid it.

Five years past I’d been eager to touch her. Just last night, before I knew her true face, I’d fought off the lure to do so again only with the greatest difficulty. I saw her still as a beautiful, desirable woman, but any craving I’d ever fostered for her was now stone dead.

I shook her off. “I’ll leave the candle if you like.”

“It’s not that. I have one more thing to ask of you.”

Tempting as it was to point out that I owed her no favors, I waited for her to go on.

“Jonathan, do you know what Edmond has planned for me? What he will do once we’re home?”

“He has not communicated that information to me, nor is it my business.”

“He’ll have me shut away in a room that will make this seem like a palace.”

“There are worse spots, madam. Would you prefer Bedlam or Bridewell?”

“You speak that way because you’re angry, but please, try to see through my eyes, just for a moment, I beg you.”

Again, I waited.

Outwardly, she calmed herself, but her heartbeat was loud to my acute hearing. I sensed that the earlier talk and questions about Richard had never been a real concern for her but a useful means to sound me out; was she finally coming to the real reason why she’d asked me here?

“There may be worse places, but I can’t think of a single one,” she whispered. “I am to be shut away forever and ever. I will be completely alone. After tomorrow, I will never see the sun or even the warmth of a candle flame again. It will be always dark and always cold. He’s promised as much. Those are his very words.”