Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (67 page)

“You’re quiet again,” she said.

Time to make an effort, I thought, and assumed a sadly serious face. “Well, I . . . had a question for you.”

She caught my tone and put aside the sewing once more, giving me all her attention and bracing herself for whatever was to come.

“Tell me, when you write letters will you sign yourself ‘Elizabeth’ or ‘Lady James Norwood’?”

She cheerfully threw her thimble at me.

* * *

The spring lambing had been good, despite the best efforts by the army commissary, and it looked like we’d be having if not a profitable year, then at least a comfortable one. Nash kept himself busy, ranging farther afield searching out the Island’s bounty, but under my “tutelage” he’d turned into quite an honest fellow, actually paying the farmers for their goods. Mind you, it was a terrific wrench against his basic nature, so he was never too comfortable whenever he saw me coming. The lukewarm smile he wore when I walked into The Oak’s common room tonight was the best that could be expected given the circumstances.

I hailed Nash like a long-lost friend and asked if I could have the pleasure of buying him a drink. Several of the regular customers, hoping to take a share of my generosity, soon crowded in to give their greetings. Eternally parched Noddy Milverton placed himself right next to me without my having to trouble to arrange it.

Nash accepted the offer and somehow the others were included, and they drank to my health.

“Anything in the post, Mr. Farr?” I asked.

“A few things did chance to come in today,” he said, fetching them. Chance indeed, for the post was now sporadic at best. He lay a string-tied packet before me and I made use of my penknife to cut it open. Had my heart been beating, it would have been audible from my surge of hope. But the hope was short-lived and the dashing of it was not unnoticed.

“Nothing from England?” sympathized Farr. He knew from my almost nightly visits to his place that I was expecting an important letter from there.

“No.” Some things for Father from Hempstead, some for Elizabeth, a note for Beldon from some Philadelphia crony. My disappointment was acute. Noddy Milverton took the opportunity to swiftly drain my ale and continue his simple-minded innocence.

“Sorry, Mr. Barrett,” said Farr. “The next time then.”

“I hope so.” I asked for and got the latest gossip. There had been a raid at Sands Cove, with stock carried off in whaleboats. A valuable bull had been part of the haul, and the unhappy owner was both enraged and sickened that his breeding animal was probably already hanging from a hook in some distant butchery.

“What’s to be done about it?” I asked Nash, rather unfairly putting him on the spot in front of everyone.

But he’d heard that question often enough and was ready for it. “All that can be done. The men up there watch the coast like hawks, but they can’t be everywhere at once.”

“There oughter be a way o’ stoppin’ ’um,” someone put in.

“There is. The army is doing its best to track down the traitors across the Sound. Once order is restored you’ll be free of trouble soon enough.”

No one was encouraged by this pronouncement, but they’d not get anything different from him and knew better than to try. Most retired to other parts of the room, grumbling a little, but not to the point of rudeness. Nash was content to ignore them.

“This raid at Sands Cove,” I said in a lower voice. “Any familiar faces there?”

He knew I meant Ash and his lot. “The descriptions were too vague to be sure. The fellows were definitely from Connecticut by their talk, according to the farmer. The rest of his family had been badly frightened, but he—well, I’ve rarely seen a man so spitting mad before. Thought he’d burst a blood vessel from it.”

He must have been angry indeed for Nash to notice, having himself so blithely annoyed quite a lot of people with his collections. I made no comment. “Then there’s been no fresh word on any of them?”

“None.”

As there seemed little point in continuing the conversation, I bade him a polite good evening and retired to one of the chairs to listen to the other men’s gossip. Nash, I thought, glimpsing at him from the corner of my eye, looked relieved. It must have been hard on him, always being vaguely uncomfortable about me and never knowing why.

The talk was more of the same, but leavened with a curse or two directed at the troublemakers. Occasionally the British army or the Hessians were the targets of their ire, but only in the lowest of tones. I fell under the eye of Mr. Curtis, who gestured for me to come closer, which I did. Room was made and I sat next to him.

“Well, Mr. Barrett, is that reward you’re offering still good?”

Months ago I’d put up a sum of money for the arrest of my kidnappers. So far no one had been able to claim it. “It is.”

“Real money?”

“In gold. What do you know?”

He didn’t quite answer the question. “Just wanted to be sure of it in case we ran into ’em.”

My brows went up. “You think there’s a chance of that?”

He and the others were amused. “I reckon we might see a new face an’ it wouldn’t hurt to be wise about it.”

“No, not at all.”

More amusement and I joined them, albeit grimly now that I understood what they were about. Connecticut had its raiders, and so now did Long Island, and I was sitting with a few of them. It was a clear night, with a bright full moon, though, else they’d already be out trying to repay the many insults our neighbor across the Sound had thrown at us. I could imagine both sides unknowingly passing each other in their whaleboats the next time conditions for a stealthy crossing occurred.

“Mr. Curtis, I was wondering if you’d heard anything about raiders coming in from Suffolk County.”

“I’m not as near there as you are. You’d know more’n me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but you have been blessed with a sharper ear than most. I thought some word might have come your way.”

He shook his head. “What’s your idea?”

“It’s something Mr. Nash just said about the thieves he missed catching.” I won a smile from them at Nash’s expense.

“What ’uz that?”

“He said they must have been from Connecticut from their talk, and it seemed to me to have two meanings, that they either spoke of the place or the place itself was in their speech. An accent.”

“What of it?”

“Well, I was recalling how those men spoke to me, and I don’t think a single one of them had a Connecticut accent.”

“It don’t mean that they weren’t from there, though. Lots of folk have had to move around with this war on.”

“Perhaps so. But it was a windy night back then and even after the wind had died, the sea would be no friend to anyone in a boat trying to make the crossing. I was thinking it might be easier for them to row along the shore for a few miles until they were deeper into Suffolk County.”

“I’m no whaling man, but it makes sense to me. What’ll you do about it?”

“There’s not much I can do, except pass the word on to Mr. Nash and hope some good comes of it.”

“Then good luck to you both, I’m sure.”

Now the laugh was at my expense, I took it good-naturedly, knowing full well the seed had been planted. If any of them heard a whisper, I’d know about it. I wished them good luck in turn and took my leave.

* * *

Even after spending some time with (and money on) Molly Audy, I was home again just before midnight, and startled to see lights still burning in the music room. I peered in the window. Mother, Mrs. Hardinbrook, Beldon and Lady Caroline were at cards. Beldon and Lady Caroline were yawning their heads off. This was the latest I’d ever seen any of them stay up to play, but Mother was quite addicted to the games. If she insisted on another hand or two, she could count on Mrs. Hardinbrook to enthusiastically join in, dragging her brother along. Lady Caroline played, I thought, to be polite.

The rest of the house was dark and quiet, with everyone else presumably in bed. Father wasn’t home, having departed for an overnight trip to Hempstead, though I knew him to really be at Mrs. Montagu’s. I wished him well. No doubt he’d left a stack of work for me in the library, but it wouldn’t hurt to delay my start on it for a while. Molly had, as usual, put me into a mellow frame of mood and mind; I was content to stand outside and watch.

And wait.

The game went on, with Beldon and Lady Caroline growing more sleepy by the minute. Even Mrs. Hardinbrook started to droop. Mother was quite alert, though, her movements crisp. There was a certain nervousness in her manner, but that was familiar to us all. She had been staying up later and later over the months, asking for just one more hand, or continuing a conversation beyond its natural close. I don’t think she slept well; for I’d heard her pacing in her room at odd hours. Beldon gave her sleeping draughts when she asked for them, and though she drank them straight down, they must not have been doing her much good.

Now she looked to be trying the patience of her staunchest supporter, for when the hand was finished, Mrs. Hardinbrook made a great show of weariness and rose. Beldon lurched to his feet as well, then Lady Caroline. Mother remained seated and I felt an unexpected stab of pity for her as she looked up at them. She seemed . . . lost. I hadn’t forgotten how she never let herself be alone if she could help it.

It was probably awful for her, but there was little I could do about it. I had other things to concern me.

Beldon escorted Lady Caroline from the room. They’d likely go straight up to their respective beds. Excellent. Mrs. Hardinbrook lingered, putting the cards away and offering one-word replies to anything Mother said. She put out all but two of the candles, taking one for herself and giving the other to Mother.

I pushed away from the window and, fading slightly, willed myself to silently drift around the house toward the back. It was still a clear night, but this side was in deep shadow, so I thought I could risk such behavior. The late hour was much in my favor as well; all the servants would be asleep, even the lordly Mr. Harridge. I let myself rise up to a second floor window, faded completely and sieved through the shutters. There was a moment of brittle discomfort as I crossed the glass barrier of the window, then I was floating free in the hallway.

Waiting still, but not for long.

A door closed down the hall and around a corner. Mother’s. Now Mrs. Hardinbrook would come along to her room. I went solid and saw that I was right. The glow of her candle announced her approach. She didn’t half give a jump when she saw me standing by the window.

“Oh! Mr. Barrett, whatever are you doing there?”

“Just making sure the window is bolted. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“One certainly can’t. Well, good night.”

“A moment, please, I had a question for you.”

That also surprised her, for I never spoke to her if I could avoid it.

“Yes, what is it?”

I stepped closer into the light so she could see me.

It didn’t take long. I’d had plenty of practice with people like Nash. I got her attention, saw her brightly empty face grow a little emptier, and that was that.

“I want you to cease being so cruel toward Elizabeth. You know what it is you do and you know it is wrong and hurtful. There are to be no more idle remarks to sting her. Do you understand me?”

She whispered that she did. The candle began to tremble. I took it away before she dropped it.

“There’s no room in this house for spite. You can be civil or you needn’t say anything at all. Understand?”

“Yes. . . .”

Unpleasant woman, but perhaps less so now. “That’s kind of you, then,” I released her from my influence. “I shall bid you a good night, Mrs. Hardinbrook.”

She blinked several times and became suddenly puzzled at how her candle had jumped into my hand without her noticing. I didn’t bother to explain, but gave it back with a little bow. Disturbed, she scuttled into her room and shut the door. I turned away, only just managing to keep my laughter silent. Though I’d not mention it to her, this was one of my wedding gifts to Elizabeth. With all the other things claiming her attention, she could do without Mrs. Hardinbrook’s sly and hurtful observations. After the wedding it wouldn’t matter, but at least until then there would be a bit more peace in the household.

I turned to go to my own room—

And stopped dead cold.

Beldon stood at the corner, holding a candle high in one hand, with a book in the other.

Damnation.

He’d probably been on his way to the library and had obviously seen and heard everything. I knew that what I’d said to Mrs. Hardinbrook had been innocent enough if a trifle rude, but it might still be taken as an odd exchange. From the look on his face, he’d correctly interpreted it in that manner. He stared and stared and stared, not moving, hardly breathing.

I stared back, not knowing what to do or say until the long silence began to pile up between us, thick and dreadful, and I came to the reluctant conclusion I’d have to influence him as well to make him forget what he’d seen. But he never gave me that chance. He whipped around heading for his room. Heart in my belly, I went after him.

“Dr. Beldon,” I whispered, putting some urgency, not unmixed with exasperation, into it.

He surprised me again by stopping cold in the hallway. He did not turn to face me, but did wait, back stiff, for me to catch him up. When I was even with him, he gave every evidence of acute discomfort.

“Doctor—”

“Mr. Barrett—”

Knowing ahead of time that I would certainly have the last word, I indicated for him to go ahead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not intend to intrude upon your conversation with Deborah.”

“You what?” An apology?

“I should have said something when I passed by, but I thought it best to . . . well . . . .”

That’s when I abruptly realized that his reaction was not that of fear, but rather tremendous embarrassment.
Well-a-day.

“Deborah,” he continued, “often forgets that we are your guests. She’s not a clever woman. That is to say. . . I’ve tried to talk to her, but she’s never been one to listen to me.”