Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (86 page)

He babbled on and she began to smile again. I called a serving lad over and ordered their supper. That task finished, I assumed another, more important one: the whole point of our long journey.

“Oliver, have you any news of Nora Jones?”

By his initial expression I saw that he had none. He glanced once at Elizabeth and shifted as though uncomfortable.

She correctly interpreted what troubled him. “It’s all right, Jonathan’s told me everything about his relationship with Miss Jones.”

“Oh, uh, has he, now?”

“So you may speak freely before us both.”

With that obstacle removed, Oliver squared his shoulders and plunged forward, addressing me with a solemn face. “Sorry, but I’ve not heard a word on the lady. I’ve asked all around, called on everyone who’d known her or had her to a party, but nothing. The Warburtons saw her last and that was just before they left Italy to come home for the summer. She was a frequent visitor with them while they were there; they had quite a high regard for her. Seems she was always kind to poor Tony, spent time with him and read to him a lot, which went very well with his mother. She said he was often a bit improved afterward.”

“But they’d no idea of her whereabouts?”

“Mrs. Warburton had reckoned that Miss Jones would be returning to England as well and was surprised as any when she did not, what with her attachment to Tony and all.”

Not the news I’d been hoping for, but not unexpected after my exploration of her empty house. “Have you spoken to her neighbors lately?”

“I took supper with the Everitts only last week—they live next door on the left—and they’ve not had the least sight of her. Even spoke to one of their footmen when I’d learned she’d given him a special vale to keep the lamp in front of her house charged with oil and lighted after dark. He had nothing to say, either.”

“Probably because he’s been lax in his duty.”

“Eh?”

“I went by there last night and found it singularly deserted. I’d have noticed a lighted lamp.”

“So that’s where you’d got to,” said Elizabeth. “Jericho told me you’d made some sort of expedition, but he couldn’t guess as to how your clothes had gotten into such a state.”

“Oh, ho,” said Oliver. “Having adventures, were you?”

“Misadventures, more like,” I answered. “I happened to have gotten splashed with beer by a careless drunkard, that’s all. Next time I’ll hire a sedan chair if I want to go anywhere. You said Tony was improved?”

Another glance at Elizabeth.

“I’m also acquainted with Mr. Warburton’s plight,” she assured him.

He gave a self-deprecating shrug and continued. “Yes, much better than before. The Italian holiday must have helped. He still drifts off while you’re talking to him, but not as much as before. Sometimes he can even hold a conversation, as long as it’s brief and fairly simple. He enjoys a carriage ride when the weather’s nice and going to St. James’s Park. His body’s healthy enough, but his mind . . . a most curious case. I’m his physician now, you know; I’ve a keen interest in nervous disorders, and Tony is my favorite patient.”

“I’m happy to know he’s in your capable hands,” I said. “The poor fellow didn’t ask for what happened to him, whatever that was.” Though he’d certainly brought it upon himself with his murderous attack on Nora and me. He’d failed only because of Nora’s extra-natural abilities, but she’d lost control of her temper and that was the cause for his present condition. Nora deeply regretted her action against him and had no doubt sought to make amends, but where was she now? Why had she ceased to see Tony when he was apparently recovering? Was she afraid of that recovery? I couldn’t imagine her afraid of anything, but if he began telling the truth about what happened that night . . . .

“I’m thinking of trying a course of electrics on Tony,” Oliver was saying.

“But I thought such things were for parlor games,” said Elizabeth. She’d participated in such at a party once at the DeQuincey house. Some clever fellow had set up a strange metal ball that gave off sparks like tiny lightning bolts. Metal wands were passed out to the guests, who were invited to touch the ball with the wands. Those who did so were treated to a sharpish twinge, and their reactions subject to much laughing amusement from those gathered around. A lively game, to be sure.

“There’s use and misuse of anything in the scientific arts,” Oliver stated, for once looking properly somber as befits a physician. “Heaven knows the town is full of quacks, but I’ve seen favorable results on many hopeless cases by the use of electricity. I’ve almost got his mother talked into it. A few years ago she was eager enough to try earth baths for Tony, but now when I come along with something that may really help, she becomes the soul of caution. I suppose it’s because she remembers me during all those times Tony and I dragged ourselves home at dawn drunk as two lords.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her brows. “Earth baths?”

“Oh, yes, it’s very popular, supposed to draw out bodily impurities or something like that. I went to one establishment to see for myself, but the moment they found out I was a doctor, they refused me admittance. Claimed that I’d be stealing their secrets. I might well have done so, if they’d been worth the taking. What I did was simply to go to another place offering the service, claim an imposition and go inside for a treatment.”

“Which involves . . . ?”

“They, ah, have you in a state of nature and then bury you up to your neck in earth for as long as is necessary for your complaint. It’s quite an elaborate operation, I must say. You don’t expect to go into an otherwise respectable-looking house to discover several of the rooms looking like a street after the ditch diggers have had their way with it. Imagine whole chambers piled high with ordinary dirt. Thought I’d walked into some kind madhouse for gardeners. Wonder what their landlord makes of it, though they probably pay him well. The only evidence I saw of any kind of ‘drawing off’ was how they drew off money from their patients.”

“And you expect your electrics to be superior?”

“Most anything would be over that, but yes, I have great confidence that a judicious application of electricity in this case would effect a change for the better.”

“One can hope and pray so,” Elizabeth said. She looked at me.

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” I added. I hardly sounded sincere in my own ears or to hers since she knew the truth of what had happened to Tony, but Oliver accepted it well enough. One could hope for Tony’s recovery, but not if it proved calamitous for myself and Nora. On the other hand, if Tony’s wits were about him, he of all people would not want to discuss how he’d come to lose them in the first place.

Their food began to arrive and our talk moved on to more happy subjects.

* * *

The evening was highly successful. Elizabeth took to Oliver as though he were a second and long misplaced brother and not a first cousin she’d never seen before. He had her laughing at his jokes and of amusing stories and gossip of the town, for which I was exceedingly grateful. I hadn’t seen her sparkle with such an inner light for so long I’d forgotten what she’d been like before tragedy had crashed into her life.

We kept our revels going as long as we were able, but the wine and excitement had its way with them. The signs of fatigue set in and not long after midnight Oliver announced he needed a bed more than another bottle of port. Elizabeth also expressed her desire to sleep, and we gave her escort upstairs, bidding her good night at her door before going across to my own room.

Jericho had taken pains to do some cleaning, or to have it done, so despite the intrusion of our baggage into every corner, the chamber was more livable than before. I made introductions and he gravely bowed, assuming the near-royal dignity he wore as easily as his coat. Oliver was highly impressed, which was a relief to me. As we were intending soon to encroach ourselves upon him, it was important that everyone, including the servants, got along with one another. I told Jericho what had been planned, then asked my cousin if there would be a possible problem between his valet and mine.

“Don’t see how there could be since I threw the chap out last week,” Oliver responded.

“Heavens, what did he do?”

“What didn’t he do, you mean. Said he knew how to barber, but he was the ruin of two of my best wigs. Told him to give my favorite yellow velvet coat a brushing, and the fool
washed
it in vinegar. ‘Enough of you,’ I said, and out he went. He had a confident manner about him, that’s why I took him into service. Acted like he knew everything, but he had less brains than a hedgehog.”

Jericho nodded sympathetically, his gaze sliding toward mine, one eyebrow rising slightly for but a second.

“Perhaps Jericho can fill his place until you can secure another man,” I said, obedient to this silent prompting. “Then he can help you with interviews. He is an excellent judge of character.” And he would also see to it the next along knew his place in the household hierarchy. There was no question that Jericho would be running things.

“That would be damned kind of you. You don’t mind?”

I professed that I did not if Jericho did not. He, in turn, said he would be most honored to be of assistance.

Oliver was well-pleased. “As matters stand, I could use a bit of help. I’ve only got the one scullery and a lad who comes in with the coal,” he confessed.

“What? In that big a house?”

“Well, it’s bloody hard to get good help, though the city’s full of servants if you can believe the notices they post. But I’m busy with my calls all day and haven’t the time. I was rather hoping your sister would take things in hand and get me set up, if she had no objection to being the lady of the house.”

“I’m sure she won’t, but how long have you been without a proper staff?”

“Couldn’t really say,” he evaded airily. “You know how it is.”

No, but I could deduce what had happened. On his own for the first time he’d found it difficult to get established and dared not ask for help from his family or friends. Word would filter back to his mother and she’d upbraid him for incompetence in addition to the thousand other things she upbraided him for on a regular basis. In our four years of correspondence, he had also filled quite a lot of paper up on the topic of maternal woes.

“We’ll have things sorted out soon enough,” I said, directing a quick wink at Jericho.

“Excellent!” Oliver dropped into a chair and propped his feet on the table. I followed his example and we grinned at one another for a moment. “God, but I’ve missed your company. Can’t wait to go drinking and whoring with you again—that is, if it won’t interfere with your search for Miss Jones.”

“We’ll sort that out, too. Perhaps if you found her bankers . . . .”

“Already tried that. She hasn’t any.”

“No bankers?”

“Went to everyone in this city and Cambridge. No one had ever heard of her. I also tried the agent who sold her the London house. She’d paid him directly in cash, no bank draft. Then I asked around for her solicitor and finally found him last spring, but he had no knowledge of her whereabouts or how to contact her.”

“Good God, but her solicitor must know, of all people,” I said.

“Apparently not. She’d contact him when she wanted something done, and he’d only say she moved about a lot. I think he was over-guarding her privacy; he was a dreadfully proper man, but there was no way to press him without getting myself arrested. I did leave a letter with him to forward to her. I also wrote care of the Warburtons, but they said they never got it. The Italian post, if there is such a thing, would likely explain that. I am sorry, I know this is frightfully important to you.”

“You did your best.” I thought if I had a chance to speak to the solicitor that I’d get what I wanted from him. My influence was enough to break down any resistance to talk.

“There’s good reason to hope that she’ll turn up soon enough.”

“Indeed?”

“The coming holidays. There’s going to be all sorts of fetes going on next month and for the new year, and you know how she enjoyed going to a good party.”

I had to laugh. His unabashed optimism was enough to infuse me with fresh hope. “You may be right.”

“Now I’ve a few questions to pose,” he said, raising his chin to an imperious height so he might look down his nose.

“Question away, Cousin.”

“About Elizabeth, don’t you know, and this Norwood business. My mother had gotten a letter from yours saying that Elizabeth had married the fellow and was now Lady Norwood, but she can’t be because there is no Lord Norwood, and all I know about it is the chap was killed and in your last letter you told me for God’s sake not to ask her about it or refer to it in any way, that it was very complicated and you’d tell me everything once you were here. I await enlightenment.”

“But it’s a long tale and you’re sleepy.”

“I’m only a little drunk; there’s a difference.”

True. He looked quite awake and expectant. “I hardly know where to begin. . . .”

But eventually I determined a place and filled his ears with the whole miserable story. Jericho brought in tea halfway through, but Oliver was so engrossed he never touched it.

“My God,” he said when I’d finished. “No wonder you wanted it kept quiet. The scandal would be horrible.”

“The facts are horrible enough without worrying about trivial gossip, but for Elizabeth’s sake we decided to be less than truthful about them. What did my mother write to yours?”

“Only that Norwood died an honorable death fighting the rebels. Or so she told everyone.”

“Good. That means my mother gave her the official story, not the truth.”

“Just as well.”

Sadly, we deemed it necessary to maintain the lie of Norwood’s heroics before our neighbors at home. Better that Elizabeth be thought of as the widow of a man who had died defending his family and king, than for her to endure the torment of pointing fingers and whispers if the truth came out. Though Norwood’s foul deception was no fault of her own, it is human nature to think she might have somehow brought it upon herself.

As things stood, Elizabeth had put up with a great amount of whispered speculation over why she’d discarded her married title for her maiden name, but with our relocation to a new home, the whole thing could be buried and forgotten along with Norwood. But by God, after going over the story again I wanted the bastard resurrected so I’d have the satisfaction of killing him myself.