On reaching the account of Edgar's final days, Earl Sebastian's first question was to enquire about the documents that had been found with his body. I gave a silent prayer of thanks that Arthur Cartwright had been given the foresight to ask on them, for I perceived the notion that not having procured them would have been a gross misstep. Picking through my folders, I located the bound sheaf of burnt and crumpled papers. Upon unbinding them and touching the sheets, I was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. My heart began to race and my skin felt clammy and cold. For that moment my memories were dragged back to those terrible days of sickness in Señor Mercallo's rooms. I was struck by an irrefutable certainty that there was another in the room with us, standing over my shoulder. I turned, but there was no one there. The room contained no one other than myself, the Earl, and Mr. Dennings.
This must have struck me visibly, for Mr. Dennings pointedly cleared his throat, calling me back to the matter at hand. I begged pardon for the lapse, blaming a momentary weakness remaining from my illness. The Earl irritably signalled for me to continue, and I quickly passed the papers over. He began to idly shuffle through them, giving each a cursory glance before letting it drop to the table and moving on to the next. My eyes were drawn to every one. Somehow my previous fascination had been reawakened, and I was overwhelmed by the urge, the need, to solve this puzzle I was only half sure existed.
Eventually the sheets had all been regarded and sat in an untidy pile on the Earl's desk. He asked me if I had examined them and, when I replied in the affirmative, asked if I had discovered anything that seemed legally relevant. I replied in the negative, but noted the one sheet that seemed to refer to the Lady Margaret, his mother. He handed them over and I carefully located the one I had mentioned. Thankfully the nausea did not strike again as I gripped the pages. He read it for a moment, then tossed it away. I was shocked at the man's lack of regard for his parents or remorse for their passing, but remembered who those parents had been and what they had done. Earl Sebastian had been abandoned here as a baby, and had maybe seen his uncaring parents half a dozen times in his whole life. He had grown up watching as his father summoned and spent his family fortune on a scandalous and immoral lifestyle across the breadth of the world. I know for a certainty that Sebastian had at various times attempted to wrestle legal control of the estate away from his absentee father, but each attempt had been rebuffed and so his career in Whitehall was all that remained him to keep the house going. I later learned his wife, the Lady Sofia, was the younger daughter of an eminent politician. The marriage had brought the Leer family an amount of political capital, but its financial status is still, at this point, far from certain.
Satisfied that all was in order, Earl Sebastian tossed the papers to Mr. Dennings. As far as he was concerned, as long as the firm was confident that they contained nothing of legal import, then they were of no further use and were to be disposed of. I knew neither Mr. Dennings or Mr. Caine would let the sheets, the last words of one of the Earls Leer, be destroyed. They would be filed and lodged in the family records back in London. But as far as the present Earl was concerned, they were of no significance.
Finally satisfied I had recounted all I could, Earl Sebastian then spoke with Mr. Dennings while I sat and caught my breath. My job done, it seemed I was of little interest to the Earl, and they discussed the finalising of certain legal procedures that had required my return as though I were not present. Mr. Dennings assured the Earl that with my notes, the firm would be able to complete the business in as short a time as possible and he could foresee no problems arising. I was not referred to by name, but was under the distinct impression that I would be heavily involved with the work, a prospect which greatly buoys my flagging spirits. While I would be more than grateful to not have to concentrate on this business any longer, to be assigned to it permanently would mean a great step up in my career.
The interview complete, we were dismissed to change for dinner. The experience of dining at Parrel House is one that shall stay with me for the rest of my life. Never have I sat with such an august company, even one lowered to such straits as the Leers. The food was simple enough, and nothing was served that I have not eaten before in lesser situations, but never to such quality. We began with a soup almost clear in consistency, yet filled with such a burst of fresh flavour as danced on the tongue. The beef we were then served was rich and tender, seeping with juices and served with vegetables fresh from the summer harvest. And the wine! Never before had I tasted such fine vintage. I am glad my unease in such a setting prevented any thoughts of indulgence, for the wines served were sharp and crisp and held a smoothness far removed from any I have drunk before. Even still, when I stood at the end of the evening I must admit to a lightheadedness unrelated to my passing sickness.
The meal was marred, unfortunately, by the sense of a hovering presence that had remained since the meeting in the study. At no point could I shake the feeling that someone stood uncomfortably close behind me. I felt greatly agitated, and each time the footmen leant over or passed by me I would twitch uncontrollably. I had hoped to make a good impression with the family and Mr. Dennings, but I fear my constitution prevented this opportunity. All evening I remained so afflicted, until I retired to my room and fell into a blessedly rapid and dreamless sleep.
This morning I awoke refreshed, if a little groggy. I found my unease from the previous evening had passed and so happily attributed it to a nervousness caused by my surroundings, so much grander than those I am used to, and my interrogation by the Earl. After a long sickness and then weeks on a quiet country farm, who would not feel shaken at such an evening?
Mr. Dennings and I are due to take a coach back to London tomorrow morning so as to be back for the start of the week, which gave us today to enjoy our surroundings. I found myself breakfasting alone, which was agreeable after my discomfort in dining with the family. After I had eaten, I took myself out for a walk around the grounds.
Parrel House dates back hundreds of years, though of course none of that original structure remains. The current building dates back to the sixteen hundreds, and is notably lacking in a number of modernisations and improvements most homes of the sort would have had done over the last fifty years. In the lifetimes of the previous two Earls, one so short and the other lived in total disregard for the building, Parrel House has been forced to go without. The place sits with an archaic and worn air, but nevertheless holds an unmistakable grandeur.
Unfortunately, my good mood did not last the morning. While walking I encountered the young child, Edward, being taken for a turn around the grounds by his nurse. I made my introduction and took a look at the future Earl. The child was a healthy looking boy, with a strength to him that reminded me of his father. Looking at him laying in his carriage, I found myself wondering how his blood would tell. Would he take after his father, or would he be wild and dangerous like his grandfather Edgar? However, the thought was brief, for it was the nurse who took my attention and thus turned my mood.
The nurse was younger than I expected, but then I often find those holding such roles strangely young. It is odd to think that positions which once had such authority over me are now so often held by those of my own age. She was attractive, with firm plump cheeks and inviting eyes that regarded me with clear appraisal. She was dressed modestly, as was proper, but a few strands of dark hair hung down from her cap in a most alluring fashion. We talked a while, and she seemed to show a genuine interest in me.
As the young child slept, we spoke of my journeys abroad. I admit I was enjoying the attention and a little thrown, but certainly not put off, by her forward manner. When I mentioned that I would be leaving in the morning she stepped close to me and whispered that if I wished it, she would be able to meet me that night at a point near the servants quarters where she could find us a place no one would disturb us.
Immediately I felt as if someone had stepped out behind us. I spun around, fearing either my or her employer had come up unseen. Th
ere was no one there. Nobody was even close by. I imagine having the clear space around to see should anyone approach us was the reason she felt safe to be so brazen. She giggled, clearly thinking my movement simply caused by a fear we might be overheard, and assured me again we would be more than safe from discovery. But it was not that which made me feel such a sudden distemper in my stomach. A year or so ago I may well have happily jumped at the chance she offered, but as soon as the image of what her dark eyes were promising filled my mind I was struck with a nauseous bile. All the disquieting feelings that had filled me when I learned the tales of Edgar and Maria returned. While I had no intention of sinking to such levels as they had, I could not drag my mind away from the memories of their actions; such lewd and uncivil images that do not bear repeating. Flushed and uneasy, I made hasty excuses and fled the nanny's presence.
The sensation has remained with me all day, and I fear for what it may mean. Can it simply be an artefact of my illness? On leaving the nurse and child I found myself in the library, mercifully alone, and spent the remainder of the day hidden away in an attempt to distract myself. But whatever books I found, my mind continued to reel with unwelcome images; the wanton and repulsive scenes that had been described to me, amplified and magnified by my own imagination to a point where they seemed they might burst forth from my mind. I could do nothing to find relief, and by suppertime was a shaking, quivering wreck.
I begged off attending dinner, claiming my weakness had struck again. Mr. Dennings commented on my pallor and general complexion when I met him in the hallway, and agreed I should take an early rest. Rather than join the family for dinner I took a tray in my room, which sits cooling beside me now as I attempt to rest my mind that I might sleep. I pray that perhaps writing down these event might aid in structuring my thoughts, an aid for concentration I have found to be effective in the past. While it seems to have managed to calm the angry, prurient visions, it has left my mind focused on the troubles my time in Romsey had allowed me to forget.
And still I am bothered by this persistent sense that some unseen person regards me somehow. Even now, as I sit here at the writing desk in my room, I am compelled to look into the corner over and over again, convinced some eye regards me. Twice this evening, while writing this entry, I have had to give in to my paranoia and check for gaps or spy-holes in the wall, minutely searching the curtains to ensure they adequately cover the windowpane. A ridiculous notion, as my room is on the second floor and the only way anyone might see in clearly would be to climb the wall below.
Hopefully sleep will rid me of this distemper. I wish to make a good impression on Mr. Dennings on our journey tomorrow, and in my current state I fear I shall make no decent travel companion.
Sunday, 29th September 1816
London. At last I am truly home. On arriving in the city I took my leave from Mr. Dennings and returned to my old lodgings. The firm had ensured that my rent was paid and all necessary attentions were maintained so that they would remain ready for me when I returned. It is a strange feeling. Having been away for so long, they are at once both familiar to me and strange. I cannot say whether it is some quirk of the mind, or if my perceptions have changed after my voyages, but the room seems so much smaller than I remember it.
I did not sleep well that final night at Parrel House, but awoke feeling far more myself than I had been and was able to put the uncomfortable encounter with the comely nanny behind me. I still felt a little weak, the stresses of travelling lingering within me. Steeling myself for the unavoidable final stretch to London, I set upon a full and hearty breakfast to fortify me for the journey. As before, I arrived at the breakfast room to find it empty save for myself, but as I ate I was joined by Mr. Dennings. He commented on my improved appearance and agreed on my conclusions regarding my illness. He promised me a couple of days to rest after we returned to the city before he would expect my return to work. I did not wish to have to accept such charity, fearing it did not reflect well on my prospects for promotion, but could find little reason to refuse.
The day was pleasant, and we made good time. As we travelled, Mr. Dennings and I discussed the legal points raised in our meeting with the Earl. From all indications, I am convinced I am indeed to be entrusted with the charge of finishing the business, which means good things for my position with the firm. Discussing the cold facts and clear practices, avoiding all the unpleasant elements the Earl had insisted upon my recounting, helped clear my head and I felt in great spirits.
After a while the two of us exhausted what business could be discussed on this ride, and we lapsed into intermittent small talk. I was still in awe of Mr. Dennings, being my employer and a man of some standing in London, yet by all indications he seemed pleased with my work. He implied that Earl Sebastian had expressed his satisfaction with the outcome of my trip, and with my handling of the affair. He then asked a few polite questions, mercifully avoiding mentioning Earl Edgar and allowing me to recall my happier experiences abroad.
But after a while, quite in passing, Mr. Dennings made a comment that has stuck in my mind. It seems a little thing, but I find myself quite unable to dismiss it. While discussing the unpleasantness of my return voyage, he told me how the final storm that had struck the April Mercy off the south coast, just outside of Portsmouth, was, according to available records, remarkably similar to the one that had sunk the Endeavour, taking the lives of Earl Andrew and his wife and leaving the young Edgar parentless.
On hearing this, a weight settled into my stomach and a wave of nausea crashed over me. I was certain, though I do not know how, that these two storms, so many years apart, were one and the same. Clearly this discomfort showed upon my face, for Mr. Dennings commented on my complexion and profusely apologised for bringing up what must have been an unpleasant memory.
We spoke little for the rest of the journey. I curse the weakness that curtailed this opportunity to ingratiate myself with Mr. Dennings, but as much as I might try I could not shake this feeling. While it has faded slightly, overtaken by the business of getting about the city and finding my way home, when I awoke this morning I was still unable to forget this apparently coincidental fact. still thinking on it. What am I to make of this? Can it simply be coincidence? I try to convince myself, but cannot shake the feeling that it has to be some deeper meaning behind it.
Wednesday, 2nd October 1816
Today I returned to work to be straight away called into Mr Caine and Mr. Dennings' office. I shall admit that I felt nervous as I stepped through into that impressive room. I need not have. My ambitions have been met and my efforts vindicated. They are pleased with my actions and behaviours abroad, and I am being advanced within the company!
All my work, all my efforts have paid off. The whole reason I was willing to travel such distance was towards this goal. No one in my family has ever risen so high as I. I am to take on responsibility for all work regarding the Leer family within the firm, which is no small honour. While I hope that this Argentinian business might be quickly resolved, I will gladly endure what I must now that it comes accompanied by this greater rank.
With these responsibilities comes a notable rise in my salary, and I plan to look around for finer accommodation. Then I must write to my mother and inform her of this news. The expense they put into my education is now paid off. While I may have railed against it at the time, I now cannot say how grateful I am to my parents for expending the cost and enduring my apathy.
In my euphoria I even cared little for the looks I felt as I exited the office. I did not catch any of the other clerks peering over, but I cannot expect my elevation would not raise at least a little envy. The rest of the morning I spent arranging my new desk. I have been given a place almost next to the office of my employers, a fine signifier of my promotion. I began my new work with a feeling of elation. I cannot think I was possibly concentrating as fully as I should, and shall be forced to review my work tomorrow. But I cannot berate myself. Today my spirits are as high as ever th
ey have been.
Friday, 4th October 1816
My life is busier than it has been in a long time. Since returning to work and taking on my new responsibilities I find my work hours and the effort required far exceeds that which I was used to even before my convalescence. I have left late each evening with little energy for much more than a late meal and to crawl into bed.
While I had been travelling, my previous duties had been given over to Andrew Palin, another of the firm's clerks. He now works under me as I finalise Earl Edgar's business. Together we have spent the last couple of days drawing up the necessary documents and ensuring all the final details of the probate were clear and legal. There have been no attempts to block any of the proceedings while I was away, and so there is little impediment to our task. Soon I shall be able to put the trip firmly behind me.
And yet, I have been unable to forget what Mr. Dennings told me. I cannot shake that last coincidence of the Endurance and the April Mercy. How can it be that the two ships could be struck by such storms at the same point? And when I think upon it, how natural could anyone consider that storm? As much as I wish I could not, I can so clearly recall how the dark clouds filled a clear sky so fast and so unnaturally. While much of that voyage still lies within a murky forgetfulness, that moment I see with such stark clarity. What was it that struck our ship? None who had been at its centre could call what we faced a natural summer storm.
Thursday, 10th October 1816
The Serpent's Eye Page 7