Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (135 page)

I’d been reluctant to part with her this morning, and unwilling to let her go home unescorted, but she’d insisted, saying she above all people in the city was safest from its dangers. In that I knew her to be wholly correct, but it was still a wrench to say good-bye and let her walk away. Perhaps this was a test of my promise not to infringe upon her freedom.

If so, then I failed miserably, for tired as I was, I took to the air and spied on her progress.

It was brisk, for she had ever enjoyed a good walk in the past. She was stopped not once, but several times by men. Obviously an unescorted woman was easy game for such predators as roamed about during the darkest hours of the night. But each time she encountered one of these miserable brutes, she spoke fearlessly to him. He would then step out of her way, allowing her to continue on without so much as a backward glance for him. Obviously she was adept at influencing them, else she’d have come to grief long ago.

I did nearly go solid again when three drunken villains spied her and lurched across the street to cut her off. She’d never be able to influence that many at once, or so I assumed, and prepared myself to dive to her rescue and explain things later. But by the time they got to her, she was, quite literally, no longer in sight.

From my high vantage I tried to find her again, but my vision was limited in this form. I’d only taken my eyes from her for an instant when I’d seen the trio first notice of her. By the time I looked back, she was gone. This confused them as much as it did me, until I understood that she must have vanished to avoid them.

Well and good for you, Nora
, I
thought, headily relieved I did not have to play the hero, and feeling foolish that I’d dared even this much. The lady could take care of herself and had done so for better than a century without any help from me. I went home.

Just before retiring to the cellar for the day, I’d left a note in the consulting room addressed to Jericho instructing him not to come by in the evening, that I’d be over directly upon my awakening. A second note for Elizabeth and Oliver promised them I had news, but it was still not safe to return. Someone apparently found and delivered my missives, for Oliver’s home was again a silent place when consciousness returned to me at sunset. I quickly dressed and had a thorough look ’round the street for unsavory loiterers. None were to be seen, but whether that was good or ill remained to be discovered. A short walk convinced me I was not being followed, and taking a quick turn in between some buildings where I would not be observed, I vanished and floated high. The wind was fresh and in the right direction; I rode it like an eagle to Fonteyn House.

“You like it there at Oliver’s?” I asked my son.

“Yes, sir.”

“What about this place?”

“It’s all right, but you weren’t here.”

I hugged him tight, dangerously close to choking on a lump in my throat. “Well, thank you very much. Tell me what you did today.”

“We went rabbit hunting, but didn’t catch any, and then I played steeplechase.”

“You want to play it again?”

“Yes, please!”

“All right, time to mount up.” After a number of complicated moves, involving turning him upside down and sideways—much to his delight—I finally got him on my back. He clamped his arms hard around my neck, and I took solid hold of his legs, then we were off.

Fonteyn House, being much larger than Oliver’s, afforded us a longer, more interesting course to follow. At his whim we galloped through the lengthy halls, chased a few of the more nimble maids and some of the younger footmen, and otherwise won our combination race and foxhunt. We ended up in the nursery. Mrs. Howard’s supervision of that area was as competent as ever, for the room was in good order, warm and—remarkably for this house—cheerful. Several candles were alight; certainly they were the most helpful in chasing off the shadows. In the middle of the floor lay the square of carpet Richard had insisted on bringing along. Some toys were scattered over it; I noted with a glad heart the painted wooden horse among them.

Richard was anxious to show me something, else we’d have had a second circuit of the house. As soon as I’d put him down, he pushed the toys out of the way and told me several times to watch him. I put on an attentive face and obeyed.

Crouching on all fours at one edge of the carpet, he tucked his head down and rolled forward, heels over head, making a complete turn. He looked at me expectantly. I applauded and told him he was very clever, and if he would be so kind as to give a second demonstration that I might admire his performance once more. He immediately obliged.

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.