by Lucas Thorn
“Hello, Polly,” she said. “Are you alright?”
“I think so.” She took a small chair and sighed. “The Mistress invited me to dinner.”
“I heard about it already.” She nodded to a warm stove. “This’ll for you, love. Hope you like it.”
The young woman smiled as she inhaled the delicious scent. Then frowned sharply. “It’s strange, though. I don’t know why she’d want to eat with me. I mean, what did I do? Do you know, Molly? Am I in trouble?”
“In trouble? I doubt that. If you were in trouble, why feed you? I wouldn’t feed you. I’d throw you out on your ear if you were in trouble. No, Molly. Miss Lucy’s always been like this. Sometimes likes to eat with staff. Thinks of us as friends, she does.”
“Have you ever eaten with her?”
“A few times, yes. But not since she came back from Whitby.”
“You heard what happened to her? I don’t mean to gossip, but I heard things. Awful things. I feel so badly for her.”
“Oh, I heard enough alright.” Tight line of mouth. “Poor girl. I hope Kipper gets hold of those who did it. I really hope he does. The gallows is too good for monsters like that. Best they’re dealt with properly.”
Polly shivered. She didn’t like to think about it. “I suppose so.”
She filled a small bowl with warm water and headed back upstairs and to her room.
Slowly began to wash her face and hands. Then put on her best dress.
Tried not to notice a small tear in the cuff. She wanted to stitch it but didn’t have time. Should have looked at it earlier.
Another knock nearly made her yelp. “Miss Polly?”
“Yes?”
“Mistress Lucy asked you to come down. I mean, when you’re ready?”
Like a guest, and not an employee.
She wasn’t sure if it was pride or nervousness, but her voice came out in a rush. Each word practically tripping across her tongue. “I’m coming now. I won’t be long.”
Didn’t mean it to sound sharp, but worried he took it that way. So, when she came out of her room, she smiled at him.
“Thankyou,” she said. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Fine by me, Miss Polly,” he said.
Lucy was waiting for her when she entered the Dining Room. A single dining spot had been laid out with the best silverware. A crystal goblet for wine, already poured.
Lucy stood at the window, looking out onto the street.
Polly fidgeted, unsure where to sit. Was the place for her? Or was it Lucy’s? Had she been invited to watch the other woman eat?
Lucy didn’t turn.
Trying not to appear awkward, Polly dropped a curtsy and dipped her head. “Good evening, Mistress Westenra. You asked for me?”
Lucy turned.
Pale face cool. Eyes cryptic. Corners of her lush red mouth curling.
“Polly, isn’t it?”
Something in Lucy’s voice made her cheeks redden and she nodded to hide it. “Yes, Miss.”
“Call me Lucy, Polly. Let’s not be too formal tonight, yes?” She motioned to the set position. “Please. Take a seat.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Familiar with instruction, she almost dived into the chair. Flustered and not sure how to act. Should she sip the wine? Compliment it? Is that what people did when they were at a formal dinner? Where should she put her hands? She settled for placing them in her lap. “Aren’t you eating, Mis-I mean, Lucy?”
“Not right now. It’s a bit early for me. I’ve found myself eating very late. Usually after everyone’s asleep. I didn’t want to keep you waiting on my time.” She took her own seat at the head, moving with such a smooth glide it made Polly feel hot with envy. “Is your room to your liking?”
“It’s very nice,” she said. “I haven’t ever had one like it.”
“I’m glad.” Lucy spread both hands on the table. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here. I apologise if I surprised you by asking you down, but I have very little time lately and I didn’t want to delay any longer. You’ve been with me long enough, and I just wanted to make sure you’re settling in without trouble. Is there anything you need, Polly? Anything at all?”
Polly felt a sliver of relief shimmer down into her belly. Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a nervous little laugh. “That’s a relief. I don’t mean to say, but I was so worried.”
“There’s no need to be,” Lucy said. Almost kindly. “From everything Kipper has told me, you’ve been very busy and the everything is most satisfactory. Much better than it was before. My father never really cared about the dust. But I find it too much to bear. I enjoy a cleaner space. Cobwebs might please some, but they’re not my idea of a home.”
“I’ve certainly tried my best to keep everything clean,” Polly said. Light twinkled off the edge of the crystal goblet and her eyes roamed towards it.
Lucy noticed. “Please drink. Don’t concern yourself with what might be appropriate or not. You’ll find I’m hardly very appropriate myself.”
“Won’t you have one, too?”
“I don’t drink wine,” Lucy said. “Oh, I’ve nothing against anyone who does, so don’t panic. It just doesn’t agree with my stomach is all. I have very specific requirements. It pleases me, however, if you find it enjoyable.”
“Oh.” She felt sorry for her. Wine was something Polly had always loved. It was a welcome luxury in what had mostly been a dreary life. She reached as delicately as she could and sipped. Didn’t need to hide her enjoyment as she said; “This is delicious.”
“Do you really like it?”
“Oh, yes!”
“It’s one of my father’s choices. It comes from the colonies, you know. South Australia, to be more precise. He’s very specific when he buys wine to ensure it comes from that region.”
Polly couldn’t imagine such obsession. She blinked down into the sparkling contents. “I suppose he must truly love wine.”
“Not particularly. But he does like it to be expensive so he can feed it to the gentry. Would it surprise you to know there are few Lords in England who can afford such extravagant wine with their meals?”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Well, it’s true. That’s why they tolerate people like my father. Men who made their fortunes and can now afford to share the luxuries of life with those whose titles grant them the power to consider marrying into money. It’s dreadfully funny if you think about it. Once upon a time a girl like myself might dream of being swept away by a handsome Duke. Now, the Dukes all dream of a girl with plenty of gold in her father’s pockets. Yet, for all that hypocrisy, they still maintain an air of superiority. As if it is they who are doing us a favour by allowing us to associate with them.” She nodded to Polly’s glass. “That’s why he always buys those wines. Around fifteen years ago, they were shown at the Vienna fair. It was agreed by all who tasted them that they were of fine stock. Until their simple origin was revealed. South Australian wines of a quality to rival the French? Oh! Aghast, the judges fled. My father loves to tell the story of the brattish wine which reduced pompous fools to cowering worms. And his mischievous side does love to watch the gentry sip and squeal with delight in their ignorance.”
Polly found she was holding her breath and let it out quickly. Gave a polite giggle. “That’s wicked!”
“Yes,” Lucy smiled broadly. “Yes, it is.”
Polly put the glass down, her head spinning slightly. Her cheeks felt warm and she nearly giggled again. Surprised by the sudden wave, she smiled back. “It’s very strong.”
“Yes. One must be very careful with Australian wines. They can hit very hard if you’re not prepared. I should know. I used to drink them before.”
“Before?”
“Before everything changed. Before my stomach started dictating terms.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes.” Her eyes seemed alive with hunger. “But you’ll find in life that when you sacrifice somethi
ng good, you are often rewarded with something even better.”
Polly thought of the endless series of dull houses and dull jobs she’d endured.
For dull wages.
And dull prospects.
Tried not to sigh. “I wouldn’t know about that, Miss.”
“Do you mind if I ask a strange question, Polly?”
The young woman felt a few beads of sweat under her arms.
Fear?
Why should she be afraid?
“I don’t mind,” she said. Felt a flash of tension.
“What did you do this morning?”
“This morning?” Her mind began to race. What had she been doing? What answer was Lucy looking for? She found her eyes flicking away from the other woman. To the window. The door. The goblet beside her hand. White knuckles almost glowing with fear. “This morning.”
“Were you perhaps cleaning the house?”
“Yes. That’s what I do. I clean the house. I clean everything. It takes a long time. That’s what I was doing.”
“In the library?”
“The books are dusty.”
“So, you dusted them?”
“Yes.”
“That explains why they’re so clean.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Her pulse was warm in her ears. A wave of dizziness reared behind her. A roaring flood ready to flatten her beneath is murky palm. The weight of it seemed to be pushing her from her own mind. A bright searing light glittered in the distance.
And another.
Three lights.
Each riding the wave. Jostling to be the first to fall on top of her.
Eat her?
Consume.
She reached with trembling hand and snatched the glass. Quickly took a mouthful and swallowed fast.
The wave kept coming.
Roaring in her ears. Voices.
“Polly,” Lucy’s voice was a crack of a whip.
The wave collapsed.
She looked up. Glance snapping to Lucy’s. “Yes, Miss?”
“You did very well. I only wanted to compliment you on your hard work and dedication. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
“It’s Lucy, remember?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I meant to say thank you, Lucy.”
The cook knocked and entered. A tray overflowing.
Served with deliberate precision, Polly waited for the right moment to eat.
Wasn’t sure when that was.
Which fork should she use?
Which knife? There seemed too many implements.
When the cook left, Lucy leaned forward. Her gaze amused in a kindly way. Pointed at one of the forks. “Try this one. Pick it up. Doesn’t it feel so natural in your hand? Like you’ve used it a thousand times before?”
Polly lifted the fork and felt a moment so close to awe. She nodded. “Why, yes. It does!” Frowned. “That’s very strange. What does it mean?”
“Nothing. Try not to think about it. Come. You must be hungry. Eat.”
She cut into the meat first.
Looked down at the sliver of flesh on her fork.
Rare.
So rare it seemed to leak blood.
Lucy’s voice was soft. “Is it to your liking?”
Polly pushed the meat between her teeth and began to chew. After swallowing, she couldn’t resist a smile of delight. “It’s perfect.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
William dropped a couple of shillings into the boy’s outstretched hand and aimed a playful kick at his arse. “Go on then,” he smirked. “Off with you.”
“Thanks, Mister!”
The boy scooted down the road like a hare. He watched the boy run, wondering if he’d ever been as energetic when he was young. Couldn’t remember running too much. Mostly remembered being lazy in the fields. Pushing the sheep from one row to another.
Van Helsing had worked him, though. Especially in the early years.
Worked him hard.
“Sloper?”
He turned in surprise. Glanced away towards the Westenra house. The big oaf at the front door wasn’t looking their way, but he could turn his head at any second. Especially if he heard someone shouting in the street.
He snatched the other man’s arm and marched him back out of view. “Harker? Keep your bloody voice down! What’re you doing outside? Damn it, man. If someone sees you…”
“They won’t know who I am. They’ll think I’m just Polly’s little pet.”
“Let’s not take risks.”
“Who was the boy?”
“What?”
“The boy. You gave him some coins.”
“So?” William scowled. “Some of us weren’t born with silver under their tongue. Some of us grew up with nothing. Grew up hungry. We don’t forget how that feels.”
“Charity is commendable,” Harker murmured. “No need to get so defensive about it.”
“I just don’t like being questioned like some fucking novice. I’ve been doing this a lot of years, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Look, Sloper. I feel bad about yesterday and I know it’s been a bit rough for you lately. I wanted to talk to you is all. You know. Air it out? Regardless of anything else, I thought we were friends.”
William felt frustration like bile in his belly. Scratched at his scalp before sighing; “Sure.”
“Excellent. Come on, then. Let’s get a drink.”
“Just one.” He looked up and down. “There’s a few of us getting in this afternoon. I still need to sort the food.”
“It’s only a couple of nights. Shouldn’t we have enough already?”
“For six grown men? I doubt that. Hardly enough for one.”
“Sometimes a man must tighten one’s belt.”
Thought; How would you know, you bastard? “Only when we have to. Times aren’t that lean for us. Not yet.”
The pub was quiet. A couple of men pressed to the bar. Small huddle in a corner.
Harker drew a few looks with his clean-pressed clothes.
William sighed. “Watch your pockets.”
“What for?”
“If I have to tell you, you deserve to lose what’s in them.”
“Oh.” He shrugged the coat tighter. “Yes, well. I didn’t expect to be knocking about. I only came to talk to you. Best not to look too rough around these streets. It’s not as bad as Whitechapel.”
“The old man’s had you down there again?”
“Oh, once or twice.” Tried not to sound smug, but definitely looked it.
Enough that William balled his hand into a fist beneath the table.
Slowly released it as the little barmaid sauntered up to the table. “What’ll you have?”
“Two pints, please,” Harker said. Stuffed fingers into his pocket and pulled out a few more coins. Popped them into her waiting hand.
“Right,” she said. And was off.
No smile.
“Sour cow,” Harker said.
“She just doesn’t trust you, Harker. Can’t say I blame her.”
“I suppose not.” He didn’t look concerned.
“What were you doing skulking around Whitechapel?”
“Nothing much.” Another casual shrug. “Just looking around. You know. Keeping my nose in places it shouldn’t go.”
“Plenty of whores thereabouts.”
“Are there?” Faintest surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I bet.”
Two pints were dropped down in front of them and the barmaid swayed away without looking back.
Harker reached out and slid a mug toward William. Looked over his shoulder at her swaying backside. “Nice rump,” he said. “What do you reckon? Easy to squeeze?”
William’s eyes followed the girl. “That’s what we came here for? For you to get another eyeful?”
“No.” He lifted his drink. Sipped. Put the mug down and wiped froth from his lip. “Look, Sloper. I
was wondering. You’ve seen more than I have. You know. Of them.”
“Vampires, you mean?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, his vision blurred. A staccato pulse of bright lights flickered at the edge of his vision like fireflies popping and falling to the ground. Blinked.
Harker reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. William shrugged the hand off and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Had noticed around Harker’s wrist was a small string of rosary beads and a little silver cross.
Mina’s crucifix.
When had he started wearing that?
“Leave off,” William said.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he growled. “But I haven’t slept in a week. And your question just made me think of things I try not to think about. There’s a reason we don’t all talk about it as much as you’d like, Harker. A bloody good reason. We lost friends. Family.”
“Yes, Abraham told me about your parents.”
“Did he?” Tasted bitter in his mouth. “He had no right to do that.”
“He didn’t mean anything by it. No need to get upset.”
“I’m not.” His head was beginning to ache. A dull pressure pushing at his forehead. “It’s just he should’ve asked me first. Checked with me. It’s not right he just tells a man’s story to anybody. That’s like gossip, it is.”
“But we’re friends, Sloper. Friends-”
“Are we? Friends, I mean. Listen to you, Harker. Listen to the way you talk down at me. Like I’m a fucking servant. He does it, too, sometimes. You both had money when you were young. Both walked carefree through life while the rest of us struggled. It weren’t easy for us.”
“It wasn’t easy for me, neither.”
“Really?” William couldn’t help sneering. “Must’ve been hard having someone tie your shoes. Wipe your nose and arse. Cook for you. Say yes sir, no sir. Fuck, Harker. You’ve got no bloody idea. None at all. It’s why the both of you can’t see straight. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. You’re looking to understand how these monsters work. You don’t want to destroy them. Don’t want to protect the world. You want to use them. You’d like all the gifts of their power without their curse.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”