P N Elrod - Barrett 1 - Red Death

by Red Death(Lit)

  Rapelji, the poor man, was out of his depth, as I'd expected. He had no heart for violent domestic disputes, preferring his battles to remain in the history books; the more ancient, the better.

  "I know I've embarrassed you, sir," she said. "And I do apologize, but I felt that of all people, you needed to know what has happened."

  "Yes, yes. Oh, you poor girl."

  "Anyway, you know the truth. I did not think it fair that you should be unaware of our situation. Mother has a horrible temper and it is liable to get away from her at the least provocation. Father said she'd inherited it. The doctor visiting us seems to have things in hand, though."

  Rapelji heaved a sigh of his own. "Well, then, I can promise that your confidence will stay here"-he tapped one of his ears-"and shall go no farther. I am so sorry that you have this problem. If you are ever in need, I am at your service."

  Past him, the ostensibly closed kitchen door moved slightly. Rachel and Sarah had heard everything, of course, and Elizabeth knew it. She'd made a point of speaking clearly and without moderating her tone to a lower level as others might have done while relating a confidence.

  "Mr. Rapelji, you have already helped, just by being here," she said, patting his hand.

  Our tutor smiled broadly. "Why, then, you are very welcome!"

  This made Elizabeth laugh and he inquired if we had any other problems requiring assistance. That's when I stepped in and told him about the Cambridge business.

  "And you don't want to go?" he cried. "Why ever not?"

  "If s so far away," I answered. "And it was how she presented it." That sounded feeble even to me and Rapelji pounced on it.

  "So it is the wrappings you object to, but not the gift."

  "Gift?" This was not the sort of support I'd been expecting.

  "Try looking at it as a gift, not a punishment, Mr. Jonathan. What difference if you had a rough introduction to the idea? The idea itself is what matters: the chance to attend one of the great and ancient centers of higher learning in the world."

  "I had thought of it a bit, sir," I said with very wan enthusiasm, but the subtlety was lost on my tutor.

  "Good! Think on it some more. If your father cannot turn Mrs. Barrett's mind from the idea, then you won't feel so badly about going."

  "I should not like to wager upon that, sir," I muttered.

  Rapelji thumped my shoulder, still beaming.

  The front door swung wide just then as two of his other students arrived for the day's lessons. They were the Finch boys, Roddy and Nathan.

  We stood and greeted them and Rapelji put them through the ritual of giving respects to my sister. Roddy, my age and awkward, blushed his way through his bow. Elizabeth was no doubt very beautiful to him despite her bruise. He gawked with curiosity, but said nothing except for a general inquiry about her health. For that he received a polite, but general reply that she was well enough today, thank you.

  Nathan, a sullen-faced boy of fourteen who knew that manners were a waste of his time, barely got through his bow. It was just enough to accomplish the job, but not so little as to draw a reprimand.

  "I killed a rabbit today," he announced proudly, eager to introduce a subject more to his liking. "Did you now?" said Rapelji.

  "A good fat one for the pot." From the cloth bag that carried all his things he hauled out a long, limp bundle of brown-and-gray fur. "Caught 'im in a snare and snapped 'is neck m'self."

  "That's 7 caught him in a snare,' Nathan," began Rapelji, always the teacher.

  The boy scowled. "You did not, / did. If'n you did, an' it were on our land, then Da will shoot you dead for a-poachin'."

  Roddy gave Nathan a cuff. "Mr. Rapelji didn't say he was a-poachin', he was telling you how to talk right."

  Nathan glowered and grunted with disapproval. He was one of the more difficult students and would have been happier working the fields or hunting. Rapelji had often recommended it, but their father was determined that they learn their letters and grimly paid for the effort. Roddy had a better head and might have progressed more if he didn't have Nathan to constantly look after and keep in line.

  Morning chores finished, the other boys began to wander in for their breakfast along with half a dozen others from neighboring houses. Nathan's rabbit was the subject of much interest and conversation and he was compelled to repeat his story of how he'd snapped the animal's neck. He was happy enough to demonstrate this to everyone's satisfaction, but his method sparked off a debate on tie various ways of snapping animal necks of all kinds. Elizabeth was not in the least fainthearted, but after several minutes of gleeful discussion she began to visibly pale. Rapelji noticed and dispatched Nathan off to the kitchen

  with his prize, as it was part of Finch's payment for his boys' tutoring.

  Later, over tea, fresh bread, and hot porridge, we talked about all sorts of things that had nothing to do with Mother. Rapelji used these times to teach the boys how to conduct themselves in a civilized conversation as he called it. He was popular, but often their natural high spirits got away with them and pandemonium would reign as each boy contributed a comment more loudly than his neighbor, and at the same time. When this happened, Rapelji usually restored order with a gavel kept handy for this purpose.

  When lessons began in earnest, Elizabeth lent a hand supervising some of the younger lads while Rapelji took a moment to check my Greek. He pronounced himself satisfied, which surprised me, considering the interruptions my work had suffered.

  "Next, we shall try some original composition," he announced jovially, as though it were an event to celebrate. "Something with a rhyme to it. They often hold competitions at the universities on this and you'll want to have the practice."

  "Yes, sir," I said, looking toward Elizabeth for sympathy and only getting a smirk for my pains.

  Rapelji sketched out my exercise in Greek for the day, then I was privileged to help the others with their work. Our tutor was of the opinion that nothing drove a lesson home so squarely as one that you must teach to another. He was also careful to be sure that the information we used was correct. On one memorable occasion a boy had given his "students" the impression that Columbus had made landfall in 1493, which was cause for much confusion and at least one fistfight when Rapelji's back was turned.

  All the company around us did, indeed, help pass the time away as Rapelji maintained. The girls emerged from the kitchen to announce that it was time for the midday meal, which was received with extreme enthusiasm by one and all. Papers and books were cleared away, hands were washed of chalk and charcoal, and the plates were set out once more. Elizabeth and I stayed on until well into the afternoon, enjoying every minute. There was a bit of unease when one of the younger ones unabashedly asked Elizabeth why she had a black eye and cheek.

  She gently pointed out that it was rude to ask such questions. She also told him a simple version of the truth, that her mother had struck her.

  This did not cause much alarm, as most of the lads had no small experience with corporal punishment. They'd been curious and, once their need was satisfied, went on to other concerns.

  "Why didn't you say you'd run into a door?" I asked her afterward, when we were riding home.

  "That would have been a lie."

  "I know, but if any of them mentions it to their families, it might start up a lot of gossip with no fact behind it. I thought you wanted to make sure people knew the facts."

  "I do. But keep in mind what you said about adults believing more readily in other adults. I doubt if it will come up in conversation when they return home, anyway. Nathan's rabbit drew far more attention than I."

  "Hah! Roddy Finch couldn't keep his eyes off you. This will get around, dear sister, don't you worry."

  "You're doing enough for both of us, and what objections do you have to Roddy Finch?"

  "None, really, just to his beastly little brother. That boy's going to be trouble one day."

  Too soon and we were on the lane to our house. Never before
had we been reluctant to return home. Neither of us knew what might be waiting there nor did we especially care to find out. After the cheerful noise and activity of Rapelji's everything seemed ominously silent and sinister.

  "Ihope Father's straightened things out," I said thinly.

  Elizabeth agreed. We rode around to the stables and dismounted. The lads there went about their business with the horses quietly. Apparently they knew something of the happenings of last night and Elizabeth endured their staring curiosity. It would have been unseemly for her to answer their unasked questions, though, so she ignored them entirely.

  "It's probably all over the place by now," I said as we trudged toward the house.

  She nodded. "Today is Saturday. I shall have to decide what to wear to church."

  I gulped at the implications. The whole village would see her tomorrow.

  "And if anyone asks, I shall answer them truthfully," she added, looking serene.

  Jericho must have been on the watch for us. He opened the side door and saw to our cloaks and my bag of books. "What's happened today?" I asked.

  "It's been perfectly quiet. Your mother kept to her room until the early afternoon, when she came down to eat. Mrs. Hardinbrook sat with her and the doctor went up several times. They're all up there in her sitting room now, having tea and playing cards."

  "What about Father?" That morning I had asked Jericho to especially keep his eyes and ears open on my behalf. I had also told him what Father had said in regard to his being sold. At least one of us had been spared from suffering the tortures of an unknown future for the day.

  "He had a very long talk with her-" He broke off, for Father emerged from his library and was striding toward us. He looked quite grim but his greeting was warm. Jericho, sensing that he was redundant, vanished.

  By now I couldn't contain myself. "Father, tell me-"

  "Yes, Jonathan, I did speak with her." He looked very tired and my spirits fell, for I knew what he was going to say. "She would not be moved, laddie."

  "Oh, Father." I felt a knot tightening at my throat as surely as if I'd been standing on a scaffold with a hangman.

  "She was like stone. You are to go off to England and Cambridge," he said, his voice as thick as my own.

  Elizabeth groaned and put an arm around me.

  "Then God have mercy on my soul," I said mournfully, and stopped trying to hold back the tears that wanted to spill out.

  London, August 1773

  "Ho, sir! Would yer likes ter get married?"

  The nearly toothless young man who accosted me as I left the coach was sodden with gin.

  "I've a pretty wife for yer, sir! Sweet 'n' willing."

  That's not how I would have described the woman lurking just behind him. Well used and avid came to mind. She was also drunk.

  "A good 'ousekeeper and seamstress. She knows a' there is ter know 'bout threadin' a needle, haw-haw!" He jabbed an elbow into my side.

  It was an even chance that if his ribald joviality didn't knock me over his breath would. I pushed him off and checked to make sure my money was still in place. It was, thank goodness, so I bulled past him, seeking the sanctuary of the inn.

  "A pretty wife, sir. A good wife ter carries a' the family name!" he cried after me hopefully.

  Now that was an idea. Bringing home such a wench for a daughter-in-law would certainly set Mother on her ear, or even flying over a cliff.

  I smiled at the image. Suitable reparation for all that I'd been put through.

  My thoughts were as sour as the sea smell clinging to my clothes. Instead of the clear air washed by miles of ocean waves, they stank of filthy bodies, damp wood, and, disgustingly, rat droppings. Such was what I'd discovered upon opening a trunk

  in search of new linen. I'd grimly shook out the cleanest-looking shirt and neckcloth and donned them. Bad as they were, the stuff was still better than what I'd been wearing. I was to meet my English cousin at this inn today and futilely hoped to give a good impression of myself.

  "A pretty wife for yer!" said the pander to the next man off the coach, who cursed and shoved him out of the way much as one would an annoying dog.

  The door of The Three Brewers beckoned. I ducked through, bumping into another man before me. The entrance hall was dark compared to the outside and he'd paused to let his dazzled eyes adjust. We begged one another's pardon and I pretended not to notice as he surreptitiously touched a pocket where he must have his own money secreted. Perhaps I was not as well dressed as 1 thought, that or pickpockets had so great an income in London that they could afford such clothes that would allow them to pass for gentlemen.

  The porter intruded at this point, giving a cheerful welcome and ringing his bell for a waiter to come see to us. We were shown into the stranger's room with others from the coach and there made our needs known. I was famished and settled that part of my business promptly, even before taking a chair. Used to dealing with an endless number of similar starving guests, the man wasted no time in seeing to everyone's comfort. This inn had a favorable reputation and I was thankful and pleased that it was living up to the praise.

  A noisy family with an infant shrieking in its nurse's arms rolled in. They disdained the stranger's room and were shown to some more private place away from the other guests. Well and good, for my brain was feverish from the journey and lack of food, and I might have been tempted into slaughtering an innocent had they remained.

  Only when a hot plate of fatty, boiled beef was placed before me along with a deep cup of wine did my temper improve. I hurriedly handed over a shilling and fell upon my meal with ravenous abandon. When the plate was clean, I followed it up with a pigeon pie and an excellent boiled pudding. Nearly replete, the dessert of apples and walnuts filled the last empty corners. It was the first fresh food that I'd had since we'd run out of eggs on the ship. If I ever chewed salt beef and weevil-infested bread again it would be too soon.

  Well, perhaps not. Given the chance to turn 'round and sail straight back to Long Island today, I'd have taken it. I was homesick and likely to remain so. Rapelji had said to regard this as an adventure. If adventures meant bad food, coarse company, weeks of staring at miles of bottomless gray water, bumpy coach rides, and encounters with a gin-soaked pimp, then he was welcome to mine. To be fair, London promised many interests, excitements, and horrors, and the victuals of The Three Brewers were tasty, but not as good as Mrs. Nooth's table at home.

  I cracked two walnuts against each other and wished for a speedy return. Regardless of Mother's presence, it was familiar. I smashed the shells into smaller shards and picked out the meat.

  Mother. Other men regarded the word with love and sentiment; all it inspired in me was anger and frustration.

  Father's reasoning had not moved her to change her mind, neither had my tears-not that I wept before Mother. To do so would have only invited her contempt. Instead, I arranged for a private interview, hoping that a direct plea might work. This took place the evening after the long visit with Rapelji, but was an absolute failure before I ever opened my mouth to speak. The naked disgust on her face as she looked upon me shriveled my liver down to nothing. I had no experience dealing with the mad, nor did I wish to gain any. My only desire was to leave the room and never see her again. Since my effort at persuasion had died stillborn, I had to supply another reason to justify my visit. Red-faced and with the sweat tickling under my arms I blathered out a stuttering apology to her and concluded with a little speech of gratitude for her kindness toward me despite my offenses.

  1 did not state what I was apologizing for; I would not give a name to those offences. I did feel like a complete fool, admitting guilt to something that only existed in her sick mind. If one wishes to count childish fibs, then it was not the first time I'd ever lied, but it was the first time I had ever lied at length and so convincingly. The further I went, the worse I felt. Even as the words bubbled up into elaborate constructions of remorse, I vowed never to place myself in such a position a
gain. The experience left me feeling soiled and in no doubt that if I hadn't utterly besmirched my honor this day, then I'd very definitely thrown a shadow upon it.

  It was an impossible situation, as Elizabeth maintained, but what else could be done? The woman was mad, but she was our mother and we were unhappily subject to her whims. The other problem, as Father had pointed out, was the money. For a good education I needed the sum that she'd set aside for me- which would be denied if I insisted on Harvard. Very well, then I'd go to Cambridge. If groveling to this demented creature for a few minutes would curry her favor, then I would grovel, and did so. Thoroughly.

  It worked. A creaking, rattling ghost of a smile drifted across her face, smacking of smug triumph. I'd been forgiven. My future was assured. It was time for her evening tea. I had permission to be excused.