Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (19 page)

“I’m sure I would have appreciated that very much.”

The two women sat there, but as they did, something was nagging at Serafina’s mind. It was something that Meredith had said, and she put it down for study later on.

The two women had run out of small talk, and finally Serafina said, “I usually go up and sit in on the play times that Dylan and David have. It’s quite a lot of fun for me to watch. Shall we go up?”

“Oh yes, that would be nice.”

The two women ascended the stairs, and when they got to the large room that had once been a nursery, they heard Dylan’s voice, melodious and pleasant and filled with excitement. The two moved inside, and neither David nor Dylan paid the slightest attention. As they took their seats, Dylan flashed them a warm smile and then turned back. “Another story that I’ve always liked is about a wicked king called Sennacherib. He was king of Assyria. He was a powerful king with an enormous army, and he sent word to Israel that he was coming to destroy their country and make slaves of them all.”

“Did he do it?” David asked.

“You wait and listen, Master David Trent! A good storyteller never gives away the end.”

“Is der a girl in de story?” Guinivere piped up in her two-year-old treble voice.

“No, it’s not so much about little girls. That will come later.”

“What happened, Mr. Dylan?”

“Well, the king of Israel was a very good man named Hezekiah, and Hezekiah knew that his army was so small he had no chance at all against the king of Assyria. So what he did was decide that God would have to help him. When King Hezekiah heard this huge army was coming, the Bible says right here”—he pulled a Bible from a table and opened it up—“‘And it came to pass, when king Hezekiah heard it, that he rent his clothes, and covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of the
LORD
.’ And he began to pray that God would save Israel.”

“Didn’t he get his men ready to fight?”

“No, they were helpless, Master David, but he sent his servants to see one of God’s great heroes, a man named Isaiah. And when the answer came back, Hezekiah was very happy.”

“What made him so happy?”

“The prophet Isaiah said, ‘Thus saith the
LORD
, Be not afraid of the words that thou hast heard . . . Behold, I will send a blast upon him, and he shall hear a rumour, and return to his own land; and I will cause him to fall by the sword in his own land.’ You see, God has promised that he will take care of problems.”

“Does God always take care of our problems?” David asked, curiously leaning forward, his eyes bright.

“Sometimes he lets his people go through terrible times, but Hezekiah continued to pray. He prayed a beautiful prayer, and you’ll like the ending of this story.” Suddenly Dylan shifted his gaze, and his eyes met Serafina’s. He was smiling slightly, and Serafina knew what he was thinking.
He knows that I was very unhappy when he told stories like this at one time, but David’s so excited.
She smiled back at him suddenly.

“The army of the king of Assyria came, and they literally surrounded the whole city of Jerusalem, and everyone said, ‘We’re all going to die,’ but Hezekiah knew better because he had the word of the Lord.”

“And what happened
then?” David demanded.

“Well, let’s read it from the Bible. It says here in verse 36 of the thirty-seventh chapter of Isaiah, ‘Then the angel of the
LORD
went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred and fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses.’”

“Hurray!” David shouted.

“Hurray, indeed, or amen, as we would say now.”

“What did the king of Assyria do?”

“Well, the next verse says, ‘Sennacherib king of Assyria departed, and went and returned, and dwelt at Nineveh. And it came to pass, as he was worshipping in the house of Nisroch his God, that Adrammelech and Sharezer his sons smote him with the sword.’”

“I’m glad. He was a bad man.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Anutter one! Wif boys
and girls
,” Guinivere said.

“All right,” Dylan laughed. “I’ll tell another story. Once there was a little girl who looked just like you do . . .”

Serafina listened as Dylan told a fanciful story, knowing that he was making it up, and she marvelled again at his imagination. She glanced at Meredith, who was staring at Dylan with the most peculiar expression.
Why, she’s in love with the man already! Maybe she was his childhood sweetheart, but it looks to me as if she is ready to take up where they left off.
The thought disturbed her so much she could barely listen to the story as Dylan unfolded it.

Meredith, Guin, and Dylan stayed for dinner. It was a simple enough meal, but the family were all there, including Septimus, Alberta, Dora, and Serafina’s brother, Clive. Everyone was fascinated by Meredith Brice. Clive whispered to Serafina, “She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dylan fell in love with her.”

“Don’t be foolish! She’s just an old friend,” Serafina said crossly.

“Wish I had old friends that looked like her.”

“Be quiet, Clive. You’re so ridiculous.”

Later on, when the men had gone into the smoking room, Meredith was left alone with Serafina once again. She said abruptly, “I’m going to have to find work soon.” She turned suddenly and said, “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Lady Trent?”

“About what, Meredith?”

“About needing to find work.”

“I’ve always worked.”

“But your family has always had money. My family didn’t always know where the next meal was coming from. Dylan’s was the same. I think that makes us close together. It must be wonderful to have everything you could possibly want.”

Serafina stammered, “It—it’s not like that, Meredith.”

“What do you mean? You could buy anything.”

“You can’t buy peace of mind or peace of heart. You can’t buy love. There are things that are not available at a local shop.”

Meredith shrugged. “Well, of course, I suppose that’s true.”

“Believe it or not,” Serafina said, and her voice fell as she spoke, “life can be hard even for those who have place and money.”

Meredith stared at her as if Serafina were speaking a foreign language. “That’s hard for me to understand . . . Anyway, I think I have a career. At least a job.”

“Oh, in a shop?”

“Dylan thinks he can get me a place with his company.”

“You mean as an actress?”

“Yes, isn’t that wonderful? He says I look better than most of the actresses and that he can teach me how to act. We’re going to spend a lot of time together working on this. I hope you don’t mind if I take him away from you.”

There was a meaning in this sentence that lay below the words themselves, and Serafina saw that Meredith Brice was staring at her in almost a feline fashion. There was something under the softness of the woman that seemed predatory, and Serafina found that it made her nervous, even apprehensive—not for herself, but for Dylan Tremayne.

“I think you’re jealous, Serafina.”

“What are you talking about, Dora?” The two sisters were having breakfast the morning after Dylan had left with Meredith and Guinivere. “Jealous of whom?”

“Of Meredith Brice.”

“Why should I be jealous of her?”

Dora took a spoonful of strawberries lathered with rich cream and ate them before she answered. “Why, you must see that the two are quite taken with each other.”

“They’re old friends, Dora.”

“I know. Childhood sweethearts. Meredith told me. She said Dylan gave her the first kiss she ever had.”

Serafina picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth without answering. Dora studied her and asked, “Doesn’t that make you jealous?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Dora was an interested enough girl in the ways of the world, and she knew her sister very well. “I think,” she said, “you’ve fallen in love with Dylan.”

“Don’t be foolish! We’re just good friends.”

Dora turned to face Serafina. She reached out and put her hand on her arm. “I think it’s more than that, and listen. You know more than I do about things like this. But if you love Dylan, you’d better let him know it, or that woman will get him.”

Dora’s words stayed with Serafina all day long. When she tried to put her mind to solving the identity of the Slasher, the thought would come back to her. She could almost hear Dora’s voice saying again,
“If you love Dylan, you’d better let him know it, or that
woman will get him.”
She found this thought extremely disturbing, but also could not seem to drive it from her mind. She went about her work that day, and when night came she still, in her bed, could hear the sound of her sister’s voice.

TWELVE

R
achel, I wish you would clean this floor properly! Look at it! It’s a mess!”

Rachel Fielding, the head housekeeper, looked up in surprise. She was a beautiful woman of fifty years who had lost her husband years ago but had never remarried.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought it was clean. I’ll assign one of the maids to clean it.”

Serafina turned back from the window and waved her hand imperiously. “Look at it. Just look at it! It’s filthy!”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll take care of it right away.”

Septimus turned and looked at his daughter with surprise. He had been standing at a bookcase looking at the titles, but the out-burst of anger from Serafina drew his attention. He reached up with both hands and ran them through his silver hair until it was standing on end, as usual, and finally said, “You were rather hard on her, Serafina.”

“She doesn’t manage the household very well!”

“But, my dear, she’s been one of our most dependable servants—and the floor may be my fault.
I scattered some of the paper on it.” Septimus moved over to stand beside his oldest daughter. He studied her face thoughtfully and then asked mildly, “Is there something troubling you, my dear?”

“No!”

“Such a big no! A simple, gentle, ‘No, Father,’ might have been sufficient.”

“Don’t try to read into my feelings, Father. I can’t stand them myself,” she said bitterly.

Septimus suddenly reached out and put his hand on Serafina’s shoulder. He was not a man given to overt gestures of affection, but he did have a loving heart and showed it most often to Dora. Serafina had become almost like a colleague of his. He had drilled her in the elements and basics of scientific thought and practice since she was a child. They had worked together side by side, and he forgot, at times, that she was not his own age. Now he studied her and thought,
I haven’t treated this daughter of mine in the right way. I made a drudge out of her, and I should have shown more love.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

“Oh, I’m just not in a good mood today.”

“You never used to have moody times, so what brought the bad mood on?”

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Very well. I wish I could help you.” He stood there for a moment and made an attempt to change the subject. “The Brice woman, she seems to be very attractive and reasonably intelligent, I suppose.”

Serafina shot a look almost of malice at her father, and he was taken aback. “Why, have I said something to offend you, my dear?”