Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (45 page)

“Samuel, tomorrow you will immediately see to having them removed from the property,” she said. “This is intolerable. Next thing you know they’ll be begging for food.”

“It’s more likely that they shall simply take it where it stands in the fields,” he said.

“Then you will find a way to prevent that. They’re here to fight the rebels, not steal from the King’s loyal subjects. If they want food, they can take it from the seditionists but not from us.”

“I’ll do what I can, Marie.”

“Indeed you will.” Argument with his wife was both aggravating and futile, so once more my father refrained from doing so. She turned a cold eye on me. “And this time you will help him, Jonathan Fonteyn. You’ve no illness or injury to excuse you from an honest day’s work. This constant shirking is to end. I didn’t spend money on your education for you to lie about the place doing nothing. What would people think?”

I considered that other people would find my apparent inactivity to be wholly uninteresting, but kept that opinion to myself. “I’ll do what I can, madam,” I said, assuming Father’s acquiescence. It seemed the wisest course.

Her expression was such as to indicate she found my response irritating, but not to the point of upbraiding me for it.

Dr. Beldon came in just then. “Your man is going to be all right, Mr. Barrett,” he told me. “There’s some extensive bruising and a couple of cracked ribs. He is in discomfort and will be for some time, but he should make a full recovery.”

“Thank heaven for that. And thank you for your kind help, Doctor.”

“To be sure, I am only too happy to—”

“That’s another mistake that should be corrected,” Mother interrupted.

Beldon cut himself short. He’d had much practice at it in her company. The toady in him dictated that he tender absolute respect and deference to his benefactress. Were it not for Mother’s good will, Beldon and his sister would still be in strife-torn Philadelphia. Though the war seemed to be encroaching upon our island haven as well, it was still better to be here than there.

The corners of Mother’s mouth turned down more deeply than usual as she looked at me. “If you’d sold that pretentious creature off and hired a proper English servant as I told you to do,
none
of this would have happened.”

I took in a sharp breath and glanced at Father. He shook his head ever so slightly and I relaxed. That particular conflict had long been put to rest. Jericho was my legal property now, not Mother’s, so she could not dictate his disposal; she spoke only to hear the sound of her own voice. She was overly fond of it, I judged. There was no reply I could make that would not bring about a lengthy repetition of my countless shortcomings from not listening to her advice in the past. I cast my gaze downward in the hope she would take it as tacit agreement and cease.

“Well,” said Father, standing up. “There’s naught to be done about any of this tonight, so let’s try to forget about it for a few hours. Marie, would you partner me at cards against the doctor and Mrs. Hardinbrook?”

Good God, but he
was
anxious to distract her to make such a proposal. “Not yet, Samuel. I’ve some news of my own.”

He tried to put on a friendly, interested face, and almost succeeded.

Mother’s idea of news often turned out to be disappointingly trivial.

“I received a letter today from one of my cousins in Philadelphia. She says that conditions there are perfectly horrifying. The streets are awash with traitors, and their treatment of loyal subjects is a disgrace. She has wisely accepted my invitation to stay here until things are put right again.”

“Really?” said Father, sounding a touch faint. “Which cousin might that be?”

“Cousin Anne Fonteyn, of course,” she said impatiently, as though Father should have somehow divined her thoughts and known.

“Cousin Anne?” he echoed.

“Yes, my father’s youngest brother’s daughter. You
know
her.”

“Yes, I seem to recall . . . .”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Samuel, if you don’t remember her, then say so, I can’t abide it when you dither like that.”

Father’s expression froze.

Other men might roar anger at such insult from their helpmates, or even be reduced to violence, but Samuel Barrett bore up in silence.

Elizabeth’s gaze met mine, silently communicating her anger and sympathy for his plight. I could almost hear a refrain of her previous night’s declaration:
she’s getting worse.
To some extent I could agree with her, but though that Mother was not worsening, only growing less inhibited in expressing her casual cruelties. It was when those expressions were questioned that she became truly unreasonable.

“They’ll be here any time, now, I’m sure,” Mother continued.

“They?” asked Father.

“Anne wrote that she was not traveling alone, as it’s much too dangerous. I expect she’ll have some servants with her. My other cousins are choosing to remain in the city.”

Thanks be to God for His mercy
, I thought.

“I don’t want her to think that we’re a tribe of uncivilized savages. All will have to be in readiness for her arrival, including getting rid of those soldiers.” She made them sound no more threatening than an inconveniently placed wasp nest to be smoked out by one of the groundsmen. “I won’t have them running about as though they owned the place. What would people think?”

“For a woman with such keen concern over the opinions of others, one would hope she’d have an equal regard for those of her own family,” I later confided to Elizabeth when everyone had gone.

“Oh, bother it, Jonathan. The woman has no regard for anyone but herself.” Elizabeth had taken her favorite chair near the settee. She’d found a piece of string somewhere and curled and uncurled it around her fingers.

“The woman?”

Elizabeth paused to wearily rub the back of her neck. “I’ll call her ‘Mother’ to her face, but don’t expect me to maintain any pretense in private. She’s no mother to me beyond the fact that I lived in her womb for some months before finally escaping.”

“Good God!”

“No need to be so shocked, little brother, for have you not had the same thoughts yourself? I see that you have.”

“Perhaps not so crudely put—”

“I know and I’m sorry, but that woman angers me so. Were a stranger on the lane to treat me as she does, I’d have nothing more to do with her, yet we have to put up with it day after day after day, and it’s far more dreadful for poor Father.” She twined the string around one finger tightly, turning the unadorned remainder red from the constriction.

“At least he’s able to find solace with Mrs. Montagu. I think that’s why he proposed an early card game.”

“Yes, get the evening’s torture out of the way so he’s free to leave. I’m glad he has Mrs. Montagu; she must be of considerable comfort to him. I wish she could be our mother instead. In a way she was for all those years that that woman lived away from us. But she’s Father’s solace, not ours. I wish I could find some for myself.” She unwrapped her finger and studied the ridges the string had impressed into her flesh.

“What do you mean? Take a lover?”

“Take a . . . .” Her mouth sagged. “Oh heavens, Jonathan, of course not! What are you thinking?”

My face went hot at this all too earthy evidence of my university education. Whyever had I said that—and to my own
sister?
I’d have given challenge to any man who’d even barely hinted . . .” That’s the problem, I wasn’t. Please forgive me.”

She turned thoughtful, though. “No need, I can see where you came up with that, and were I that sort of woman, I might consider it, but since I’m not, I shan’t.”

“Mrs. Montagu is a perfectly respectable lady,” I murmured.

“Of independent means and with her own house, things which are denied me. What were you thinking this time?”

“If I answered that,” I said glumly, “I should have to ask you to kick my backside. Rather hard.”

She laughed briefly, as I’d hoped she would, but sobered after a bit. “It’s just not fair. Men can follow all sorts of interesting pursuits, but women must be satisfied with babies and running the house and doing what men tell them.”

“Were you a man, what would you do?”

“Want to turn back into a woman, but as a woman, I should like to go to Cambridge as you did. I could study law or medicine, but perhaps not the clergy, as the work is much too hard: sermons every week, tea parties and having to be nice to everyone, including people like
her.
”

Mother. “What makes you think law or medicine is any less toilsome?”

“It’s not, I’m sure, but I’ve a better head for it. I see how Father enjoys what he does; he plows through his law books like a farmer in a field and he’s brilliant at it. I’ve also watched Dr. Beldon. He may play the toady for a place at the table here, but he’s a good physician. I wonder why he doesn’t set up his own household; he could easily support himself.”

“It’s too much to do. If he’s busy running his own house, he might not have time for his practice.”

“Then he should marry money. There must be
some
woman out there who enjoys housework.”

“I hardly think wedlock is anything he’d care to try.” I leaned back on the settee and put my feet up on the arm of Elizabeth’s chair. “For a man of his nature, he’s better off simply hiring a housekeeper.”

“Has he been any problem to you?” Elizabeth had an understanding of Beldon’s preferences. They mystified her, but she ignored them.

“Not at all. He’s a gentleman.”

“And extremely fond of you.”

“I’m aware of that, dear sister. However, it is not within me to return his regard in a like manner. He understands that.”

“It’s rather sad for him, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Your boots want a polish,” she said after a moment’s idle study, having apparently forgotten her length of string along with Dr. Beldon.

“Another time.” One of the footmen could do that. I’d see to it Jericho got his proper rest. Only fair, considering what I’d learned. Head cradled back in my clasped hands, I shut my eyes and sighed with vast contentment. “It worked, y’know.”

“What worked?”

“Your idea about my sleeping in the barn.”

She shifted, her voice full of alert interest. “Really? With all the excitement about the Hessians, I forgot to ask. No bad dreams?”

“Not a one. I had no sense of the passage of the day—that’s what left me so confused, else I might have handled things differently when I woke up. Apparently I slept straight through, utterly oblivious.

“That’s excellent news, but what will you do for tomorrow? You can’t go back to the barn.”

“No, I can’t, but the experiment was a success, and from that point perhaps I may determine why it was successful. What quality is there about the barn that allowed me to find true rest?”

“Darkness?” she suggested.

“I have that up in my room.”

“Fresh air? I know there’s none once Jericho closes the shutters and windows and puts up the blankets to block the sun.”

“That’s something to consider. I could try sleeping in the basement today, plenty of air there every time the door opens. On the other hand, I do not breathe regularly, so why should I require fresh air, particularly when I am in a state that so perfectly imitates death?”

She tapped one of my ankles. I opened my eyes. Her own were sparkling with intense thought. “Consider this: where would you be had you not come back to us?”

“Out in the barn?”

“No! I mean where would you be if you hadn’t come back? If you were still—”

Ugh. I hated to think about that.

She answered for me. “You’d be in your grave. In the
ground.”

“My body only. I should hope and pray that my soul might be more happily lodged in heaven.”

“Exactly. But both your body and soul have returned to the earth. Might we consider that between your death and return that some sort of compromise is required?”

“What are you leading to?”

“Well, just look at it. The only time you obtained any rest has been in the barn, on the
bare earth
of the barn.”

“Surely you’re not asking me to return to my grave?” I found the idea to be not merely repugnant, but enough to make my bones go watery.

“Absolutely not!” She seemed to find the idea as abhorrent as I did.

“Then—oh, yes, I think I perceive it now. You’re recommending that I simply sleep on the ground, preferably in some sheltered, sunless area. But I’ve already proposed to sleep in the basement.”

“With the scullery boy tripping over you and getting a fright like those Hessians? No, I’m thinking that you might take a quantity of earth with you when you go to bed this morning. Instead of going yourself to the grave, take a bit of the grave with you.”

“That’s horrid!”

“But it does have a kind of logical progression. And it’s worth a try. Why don’t you like it?”

The sheer morbidity of it raised the hair on my neck, but I couldn’t offer that as an excuse. “B-because the idea of pouring a bucketful of earth onto the fresh, clean sheets of my bed and then cheerfully wallowing in it for the day is hardly appealing.”

“Jonathan, you ass, put it in a sack first!”

“Oh. Well, I would have thought of that eventually.”

Her mouth curled to one side, indicating that she didn’t quite believe me.

“I’ll think about it,” I promised, which satisfied her, though her mouth remained twisted, albeit for a different reason.

“Move your boots, would you? You stepped in something awful and I’m tired of smelling it.”

I shifted my feet from her chair arm and sat up. “So you don’t think I should sleep in the basement?”

“Only if you insist. You’d have to have a little ‘talk’ with Mrs. Nooth, though, perhaps with the whole kitchen staff.”

“No, thank you. The last time I did so much ‘talking’ I got the most hideous headache for my trouble.” Headache . . . that reminded me of something. “Do you know aught of this cousin who’s about to inflict herself upon us?” It occurred to me that in the sense of self-protection I might have to exert a little influence over her when she arrived.