Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (14 page)

“I respect him.”

“I know you do, dear, and so do I.”

“Do you really like him, Mum?”

“Why, of course I do. He’s become a very good friend.”

“He talked to me a little bit about Lady Margaret.”

“What did he say?” Serafina was curious, and she turned to face the boy. She saw that he had a very serious look on his face.

“He said that death wasn’t anything to be afraid of. That Jesus died and rose from the dead so that all of us who love him would go to heaven. That’s what I want to do, Mum. I talked to Dylan about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“Oh, he told me about how when he was a boy about my age he felt the same way. And he said that at some point, very soon now, I could make sure that I’d go to heaven.”

“And how did he say you’d do that?”

“It’s really simple,” David said earnestly. “You have to tell God you’ve committed a sin.”

“Just one sin?”

“No, all the sins you ever committed.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be too many for you.”

He looked at her and shook his head solemnly. “More than you might think. Anyway, he also said after I told God I had sinned and I was sorry that I should ask Jesus to come into my heart and live there forever.”

Serafina was aware that this was what Dylan believed. It was the typical nonconformist view of salvation. She was aware that other groups that were called “high church” had more rules. There were strict ceremonies to be observed. Something happened when a child was baptised. It sounded suspiciously like the child was saved, but Dylan had told her once that he had no confidence in that. Neither did she, for that matter. She knew that Dylan’s religion was simple, as was that of Lorenzo and Gyp and others she had met in that circle. As they approached the stable, she was aware that David was very quiet.

“Is that all, David?” she asked.

“He said I ought to pray and say my prayers every day, and that I ought to listen to the sermons at church. He said that one day Jesus would come knocking at my door.”

“He said that?”

“He read it from his Bible. He asked me to memorise it, and I did.”

“Can you say it for me, David?”

“Yes. Jesus said, ‘Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.’”

“That’s a very beautiful thought.”

After they arrived at the stables, Danny took the horses and said, “I’ll take good care of that pony of yours, Master David, and your mare too, Lady Trent.”

The two smiled at him and went upstairs. David went to his room, and she followed him. He went over to the heavy wardrobe, rummaged around in it, and came out with a New Testament. “Here it is, Mum.” He pointed at the verse, then said, “I hope I don’t die before Jesus comes into my heart.”

Serafina’s heart went out to the boy, and she put her arms around him. “No, you’re not going to die for a long time.”

“But, Mum, nobody knows about that. Lady Margaret didn’t know she was going to die. That’s why Dylan said we ought to have Jesus come into our lives as soon as we can.” He looked at her and said, “Did Jesus ever come into your heart, Mum?”

Serafina Trent could not answer. She ignored the question and squeezed him and said, “Let’s go see if we can find something to eat before supper.” She saw he was disappointed at her answer, but she had no other answer to give this son of hers.

A few days after the funeral, Dylan arrived at the apartment he had found for Meredith and Guin. She opened the door to his knock and he smiled at her. “It’s the delivery man. I found some good things at the greengrocer’s.”

“Come in, Dylan.” Meredith smiled. She wore a pearl grey skirt and jacket with dark green buttons. Dainty accents adorned the sleeves and lapels and the skirt hem. Delicate white lace edged with green showed at the opening of the tight-fitting jacket.

“New dress?” he said as he entered with the groceries in his arm.

“It was one of Lady Trent’s, I think. She brought some of her things to Lorenzo, and he let me have first pick. Do you like it?” She turned around and smiled winsomely at him.

“Very nice.”

“Did you ever see her wear it?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s notoriously bad at women’s fashion, I am.”

“Bring the groceries in here.” He followed her over toward a counter and set the box down, and she began to take out the items, exclaiming over each of them. “Oh, strawberries! Aren’t they lovely. We’ve got to have those right away. They’re just ready to eat. And look at this! What beautiful cucumbers. Suppose I make us some cucumber sandwiches, and then we have some strawberries. I even have a little cream, I think.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“You sit right there and tell me about the play while I fix us a snack.”

Dylan sat down in a chair and leaned back. He clasped his hands together and told her the details of theatre life, which she loved to hear. Once she turned to him and said, “Oh, I’d love to be an actress.”

“Well, you could be, you know.”

Meredith turned and stared at him, her eyes going wide. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Why, not at all,” Dylan said, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve got the looks for it. I don’t think there’s a better-looking woman on the stage.”

Suddenly she laughed. “You always were a flatterer even when we were children. Remember down by the creek when you told me I was the prettiest girl in school?”

“Nothing but the truth, it was.”

She was slicing cucumbers now, and he noticed how attractive her hands were. He studied her without appearing to do so. The sunlight through the window threw its pale gleams on the satin skin at her throat. Her lips lay softly together, and light danced in her eyes as they met his glance. He saw, beneath her expression, fullness waiting, and the fullness was a promise and a temptation that he had not expected. She was watching him, and her expression grew smooth and tight, and a disturbed breathing lifted her breast. Her glance held him for a moment, and warmth ran between them, and the knowledge of a swift and common thought suddenly connected them. Dylan was disturbed and rose to look out the window.

“Did you have any word about your sister, Angharad?”

“No, not yet.”

Her answer was brief, and he looked around suddenly. “Where’s Guin?”

“She’s asleep. Come, I’ve got the sandwiches made and the strawberries ready. Let’s take them out in the backyard. There’s a table and bench there and a fence to give privacy.”

“All right.”

The two of them carried the snack outside on trays, and there the garden was blooming in full. “Beautiful garden,” he said.

“Someone cared for flowers very much,” she agreed. “Here, put our things here and sit down.”

He sat down on the bench, and she sat beside him so close that he could smell the fragrance she wore in her hair. Her arm brushed against his lightly, and she said, “Not much of a cook, I am, Dylan, but anyone can make cucumber sandwiches.”

Dylan bit into the sandwich and said, “Fine! Fine! Nothing better than a cucumber sandwich.”

“Unless it’s an eel pie. That always sounded terrible to me, but you loved them when you were a boy.”

“I remember. We bought some once at the fair. I don’t know where I got the money.”

The two ate the lunch, and she raved over the strawberries. When they finished, he said, “You have some cream there on your lip.”

She turned to him. “I’m a messy eater. Take it away, will you now?”

He reached into his pocket, got a handkerchief, and brushed it across her lips. “There,” he said.

“You have to take care of me in every way, it seems. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

They sat there talking, and he was aware of the warmth of her body as she leaned against him momentarily. “We used to sit like this down by the river. You remember?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You remember you were too bold with me once, and I shoved you in?”

Dylan laughed. “I haven’t thought of that in years, but I deserved it.”

“You weren’t a bad boy. Just curious.”

“An impudent dog I was!”

“No, you were always a good boy. Tell me about your career.”

The two sat there, and, as always, she wanted to hear about acting and the theatre. He was aware that many women were curious about that, so he spoke for a time, drawing out many experiences.

“What about all the women? What do you do with all of them?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? That must be hard on a man. Some of them are very attractive.”

“They’re not interested in me.”

Meredith frowned. “Why, of course they are. I’ve heard they crowd around you after your performance.”

“They’re interested in a celebrity. If I were a footman, they would never look at me.”

“What a thought!” She laughed. “So you don’t give any of them any encouragement, not ever?”

“Not now. Maybe I did once, but things are different now.”

The two sat there talking, and she asked him finally, “If you’re not interested in those women crowding around you, what sort of women are you interested in?”

Dylan had thought a great deal about this, but had never spoken of it. “Meredith, all men worship beauty. Some men never see the real thing. But some men find a woman, and they see her and have her and never regret it. I’ve seen elements of a woman in many women put together. The attractiveness physically of one, the charm of another, the sweetness of a third, the strength of another. Put them all together.” He smiled here, and his lips were broad, and his eyes were steady on her. “That’s what all men are looking for.”

“That’s hard on a woman, for there would never be a woman with all those qualities.”

“I suppose not, so we all have to take what we can get.” He found himself drawn to her then and did not know how it came, but something drew him. Her hair was as black as a crow at midnight, and her mouth was wide and self-possessed. Her figure was smooth and rounded within the dress she wore, and her nearness set off its shocks within him. Without being aware of it, he suddenly put his arms around her, and she came to him, and he felt her lips come up quick and eager. It was like falling into layers of softness and softness, all of it closing around him, warm and painfully good. The feeling of it was a sustained wave to him and the same goodness without shame. And when he moved away, he heard her release a small sigh, and he saw that she was smiling. Her fingertip brushed against his lip, and she swayed against him. “You’re a man of wonder, Dylan Tremayne.”

“Excuse me.”

Both Dylan and Meredith started. Dylan twisted his neck and saw that Matthew Grant had come through a gate that led to the front yard. He jumped to his feet, his face flaming. “Hello, Matthew. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” Meredith said. Her face was angry. “You could knock at the door.”

“I did, but no one answered. I thought I heard voices around here.”

“What is it you want?” Meredith asked.

“I have come to see if you have a painting, even a miniature of your sister. We’re not getting anywhere with our search.”

“No, I have not.”

“Then could you give me a more complete description?”

“I’ve already done that.”

Matthew Grant was aware that he had behaved improperly. “Sorry to intrude,” he said. “I just thought I could—”

“The next time you stand at the front until someone comes to the door, Superintendent.”

“Of course, Mrs. Brice.”

He turned to go when suddenly Dylan said, “I’ll go with you, Matthew. I’d like to know what’s going on with the Slasher cases.”

“Do you have to leave now? Guin will be waking up soon. She loves to see you.”

“I can come back later.”

“Thank you for the groceries.” She reached out and touched his chest lightly, and he turned quickly and left the backyard, accompanied by Matthew. As soon as they were outside, Grant said, “Comforting the widow Brice, are you, Dylan?”

“Keep your nose out of other people’s business!”

Grant did not speak for a moment, and then he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I really didn’t, but we’re not finding a woman that looks anything like the brief description we have. She was rather vague about it.”

“Well, she hasn’t seen the woman in years. Her appearance has probably changed.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I apologise for intruding, and no more teasing about Mrs. Brice. All right?”

“Of course.” Dylan’s anger dissipated, and when Grant suggested that they go to a pub for a snack, he went along. He was not actually hungry, but he wanted to find out what was going on with the case.

Matthew ordered a steak and kidney pudding, and afterward some spotted dick made with suet and lots of raisins and cream. Dylan had some steaming treacle pudding with brandy sauce and scalding hot tea. As the two men ate, Grant told Dylan what he had discovered.

“It’s either someone trying to make this murder look like Lady Welles’s murder, or it’s the same man who killed Lady Welles, as I told Lady Trent.”

“Why would someone try to make this murder look like Lady Welles’s?”

“Well, it’s not unheard of. Someone starts killing people in a very rigid, routine fashion, and if a man wants to get rid of his wife, he follows that pattern. Everyone thinks it’s the same killer who’s already struck. People take advantage of the killer’s notoriety to get rid of unwanted wives and sweethearts. That’s what happened after William Palmer, a doctor, was convicted for killing several people by poisoning them.”