P N Elrod - Barrett 2 - Death and the Maiden

by Death

  "I mean that the girl has had more than her honor taken from her. There's such a thing as innocence as well. She's hardly more than fifteen and will likely carry this wretched burden with her all the rest of her life. It's enough to crack a heart of stone."

  "But not, apparently, Lieutenant Nash's?"

  "He's a self-important little coward hell-bent on avoiding any problem that falls his way. I suppose he thinks that by not dealing with it, and telling his superiors that all is well, he'll finish out this campaign with a promotion."

  "Coward?"

  "To anyone in the army above the rank of lieutenant. I've seen his like before."

  I did not question him on that point. He'd once served in the army years back during the war with the French, and loathed to speak of it. That he even made a reference to it now indicated to me the depth of his feelings.

  "Is there no more to be done? Can we not speak to someone other than Nash?" I asked.

  "I suppose so, but there's so much going on that I doubt anyone will listen. Poor Miss Bradford is but another report to those in charge. They've more pressing matters on their mind than to seek redress for some penniless, friendless farm girl. It's also sick-making to think her attacker is yet unpunished. He's probably boasting to others this very minute about what he's done and perhaps plans to repeat his crime."

  "Did you get his name?"

  He shook his head. "She described him well enough, though. It was definitely an officer, from the look of his uniform. Had a scar shaped like a backwards 'L' on his cheek. Shouldn't be hard to find him, but Nash put me off. Damn the man." He finished his Madeira.

  "Another glass?"

  "No, thank you. I appreciate your listening to all this. It's very kind of you to be concerned."

  "At your service, sir."

  He stood. "I think I'll just check on Jericho, then have a walk about the grounds."

  I lifted my brows. "No card game with Mother?"

  He shot me a guarded look. He was well aware of how things were in this family, with Father, Elizabeth, and myself drawn close to support one another against Mother's ill temperament. As a physician, he was often called upon to treat Mother's more severe attacks, but as a toad-eating dependant, he had to pretend, like his carefully blind sister, that nothing was wrong. It often left him adrift somewhere in the middle of the mess, and I felt sorry for him about it.

  He perceived that I was not mocking him with my question. Such abuse came often enough from "dear Deborah," so I found no fault with his brief doubt against me. He shook his head and smiled shyly. "I don't think so. Haven't the stomach for it tonight. Good evening, Mr. Barrett." His step was slow as he left, his shoulders a little slumped. Sometimes sympathy can be as heavy a burden as contempt.

  I put my book aside and ground my teeth for several minutes, which accomplished nothing. I'd been doing quite a lot of that lately: nothing.

  It had been necessary for me to "talk" with the kitchen staff, after all, so that they would take no notice of me sleeping the day through in a remote corner of the cellar. It was very rough sanctuary compared with my excellent bed upstairs, but safe from fire and discreet. I rested better than a king lying on the tamped-down earth there. No longer prey to the distraction of constant fatigue, I now chafed for something to do.

  My very early morning activities of exploring the sky above our lands had not yet palled, but there was a certain hollowness in such a solitary pursuit. To share the experience with a companion would have been a blessing, but that, I found, was an impossibility. My talent for vanishing was confined to myself alone. A few nights ago, Elizabeth had bravely agreed to participate in an experiment to see if she might be able to disappear with me. She'd been less than enthusiastic, but balanced it with cautious curiosity. Putting my arm around her, I gradually ceased to be, but she remained solid as ever and shivering with sudden chill.

  "You seem to draw all the warmth out of the air when you do that," she observed upon my disappointed return.

  "I wonder why that is? Perhaps I could ask Rapelji about it."

  "You could try, but don't let Rachel or Sarah hear you or it will be all over the Island by noon."

  "It was but jesting speculation, sister. What Rapelji and his housekeepers don't know won't hurt me. I'll keep my questions to myself."

  Alone. I was tired of being alone. I was tired of being in the house. Any rides I took on Roily were limited to the immediate grounds, as it was dangerous to go any farther after dark. I had no fear for my own security so much as that of my horse. Roily was too dear to me to lose him to a stray musket ball or to a greedy soldier looking to confiscate some four-legged booty.

  Well, if I couldn't distract myself with riding, then at least I could walk, and I had a mind to walk a goodly distance tonight. After a quick stop in my room to ready myself with hat, stick, and some spare coin, I made my escape out the side door. My only encounter was with Archimedes, Jericho's father and valet to mine. A naturally taciturn man, he merely raised an eyebrow at my leaving. I nodded back and told him I was going for a walk, should anyone ask after me. His brow twitched and his lips thinned. By that I understood that Father would shortly know of my nocturnal ramble. It hardly mattered. Father knew I would be safe enough.

  It was much too early, and I was too close to the house, to try taking to the air; also, the wind was very gusty and strong with the promise of rain in it. I thought of going back for my cloak, but decided my plain blue wool coat would suffice. I was not at all cold.

  Yet another immunity, Nora? I thought, trudging off into the dark that was not dark to me. To my best recollection, she'd never complained of the cold, not even during the worst of England's weather.

  I left our long drive and turned onto the Glenbriar road. If I was careful and quiet, I would not need to worry about sentries until quite close to Glenbriar, and even then they were of little concern to me. The ones under Lieutenant Nash's immediate command all knew my face, though God knows what else they knew about me if those two Hessians I'd frightened a while back had been talking.

  The walk was more invigorating than fatiguing despite the rough tug of the wind. I was not hungry, not yet, perhaps not even for the night, having learned that nightly feeding was not always necessary for my needs. Every other evening suited for me, that is, if I did not indulge in skyward antics, an exercise which naturally roused a good appetite.

  I passed many familiar landmarks, marveling at them anew in the bright silver glow that seeped through the roiling clouds high above. Diffuse and shadowless, but occasionally uneven, it was like watching sea waves dance as the light fluttered over the ground and wove between the trees arid hedges. I could have read a book by it, but for the distracting motion. On the other hand, why should I read when such fleeting natural entertainment offered itself? The book would be there when things calmed again.

  The buildings gradually increased in number, and I caught the attention of a few dogs as I passed down the lane. Shutters opened or remained shut, depending on the courage of the occupants. I was challenged by two gruff sentries, but they recognized me and let me pass unquestioned. They were not the two who had called me "blutsauger."

  The Oak was a venerable old inn that had started as a simple tavern back when the first settlers had come to take land from the local Indian tribes. It was said that many a grant and swindle had occurred over the tables there and little had changed since that time. It had grown quickly through the years and boasted several comfortable rooms now. Mr. Fair, the owner, brewed excellent beer and ale and had a good cook, but alas, I was no longer permitted to partake of those particular earthly pleasures again.

  As Glenbriar was but a small village, the keeping of early hours had been the rule, but not anymore. The soldiers had turned the inn into a kind of headquarters, and they kept whatever hours their mood demanded. Perhaps Mr. Fair was making a healthy profit; he certainly deserved some compensation for all the inconvenience.

  "Good evening, all," I said, cr
ossing the threshold.

  The common room held all varieties of soldiers, most of them divided into groups by subtle variations of their uniforms. There were a number of familiar village faces as well, also crowded together. I saw scant evidence of them mingling with one another. Because of the disruptions, outrages, and out-and-out theft by our saviors, there was little love between the civilians and the military.

  "Mr. Fair." Smiling, I approached him where he sat smoking at his favorite spot near the fire.

  He stood, looking all pale and awkward. Like many others in our community, he'd heard of my death and burial. And by now he'd also heard my sister's story that it had been a visiting cousin of mine of the same name who had died, not me. As with many other folk, he was in sore confusion over what to believe about the incident. He'd seen me more than once since the night of my return, but still suffered from a base and lingering fear of me. Without an overworking of my usual manner, I always tried to put the man at ease whenever possible.

  I shook his hand and inquired after his health and got a halting reply about the ache in his bones, an unfortunate reminder for him. The last time I'd been by, my broken arm had been in a sling. His eyes traveled down to that particular limb, and he made a similar inquiry after my well-being.

  "Feeling quite the best these days, Mr. Farr. Dr. Beldon is a miracle man. Patched me back together better than before. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help if you wished to consult him yourself."

  "Er-ah-yes, I s'pose I might do that some time, sir. Can I get you anything?"

  "Not just now, thank you. I came by to talk with Lieutenant Nash. I hope that I may find him in?"

  "He'll be in t'other room there. Quieter." He indicated a door off to one side. I excused myself to Farr, knocked twice to announce myself, and went in.

  Nash was nearly finished with his supper. Quite a boneyard of chicken leavings was piled on his plate, and he was in the act of washing down a last crust of pie with his beer when 1 entered. He hastily swallowed, coughed, and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "Good God, it's Mr. Barrett!" he exclaimed. His pleased surprise was highly gratifying. I hadn't known what sort of welcome to expect.

  We shared a greasy handshake and he invited me to sit with him. I declined his offer of refreshment.

  "How have you been, sir? Arm all better, I see?" he asked, settling himself once more.

  "All better," I echoed and once again gave the credit to Beldon.

  "That is good to hear. It was bothering you quite a lot the last time I saw you. Figured that's how we lost track of you that night."

  I'd been "helping" Nash chase down some escaped rebels then, and he was right, my arm had caused me much discomfort at the time. "Yes, I'm sorry about that."

  "Where did you get to, anyway?" he asked, his eye still sharp after what must have been a sizable flagon of beer.

  Oh, dear. If I had one more mixed blessing to thank Nora for, it was being forced to learn how to lie quickly and well. I hated it, as any lie was a dishonor, but the alternative was even more dishonorable, depending on the circumstances. This time I judged them to be safe enough for me to bluff my way through.

  "I'm not really sure, Mr. Nash. I recall trying to chase down those murdering thieves, and then I got all turned around in the dark. Very alarming, that. I've lived all my life here and know every stick and stone and then to get lost..." I gave out with a deprecating laugh. "When I got tired of blundering around, I gave my horse her head and she took me straight home, thank Providence. Beldon said I was a touch feverish, y'know. Went to bed and stayed there all the next day and the next, I was that worn."

  "And in your wanderings, did you ever stray up toward the north road?"

  "I've no recollection of going that far. If I had, then I might have found my way back without the horse's help."

  "Very odd, sir, for some of the soldiers there reported seeing three suspicious-looking men that night. Two took off on a horse and went east on the road and the third ran away inland." Nash had left out one of the chief reasons for our hasty removal from the area, which was that the soldiers had fired upon us. We would have hared off anyway, but flying musket balls had lent additional speed to our exit.

  "Three men? Sounds like your escaped prisoners found some help."

  "My guess is that they ran into the fellow with the horse and persuaded him to treason."

  "Persuaded?"

  "That is, if he were a loyal subject. Though a mystery remains as to why he has not yet come forward about the incident. My other best guess is that the fellow was a traitor to begin with and, aware of their escape, took the first available opportunity to step in and help them get clean away."

  "Have you taken steps to find him?"

  "It did not seem necessary, as I thought that sooner or later he would come to me."

  I put on a skeptical face. "Most obliging of him to do so, particularly if he's a traitor."

  Nash looked me up and down. "Yes. Most obliging, Mr. Barrett."

  "Any idea who he is?"

  "A very good idea."

  "Why, then, have you waited?"

  He took his time before answering, perhaps hoping to make me sweat, but I kept a steady eye and an innocent manner. "Another thought occurred to me that the gentleman"-there was some emphasis on that word-"might find a disclosure of this incident to be not only bad for his health, but of supreme embarrassment to his family. I thought that the gentleman might appreciate an opportunity to avert such a catastrophic scandal."

  "That's uncommonly kind of you, Mr. Nash, but might that not be compromising to your duty to the Crown?"

  "Only if the gentleman decides to talk about the incident. It has been my experience that given the choice, most men would rather keep silent than put their necks in a noose."

  "And silence has a price, does it not?"

  "A reasonable one, compared to the alternative," he murmured.

  "There's more than one alternative, y'know."

  "Indeed?"

  I leaned forward into the candlelight and fastened my eyes upon his. Circumstances had changed; I'd misjudged Nash's intelligence and greed. Time to end the bluff for both of us. "Yes, Mr. Nash, and that's for you to forget all about it."

  He blinked several times. I worried that he'd had too much beer for my influence to have any effect on him. "Forget?"

  "Forget about the gentleman and your suspicions about him. In fact, you have no mind for him at all. The rebels met a stranger on the road and they all escaped. They're someone else's problem now. There will be no bribes given, no further inquiries to other soldiers, to the gentleman, or to his family. It's quite for the best, now, isn't it?"

  "Eh... yes, I suppose it is," he responded shakily. He seemed a little short of breath. I watched him carefully, worried that he'd been aware of what I'd done to him. After a moment, he appeared to be himself again, if not a touch distracted. I went to the door and called for another flagon of beer. When I came back to the table, Nash had assumed an air of puzzlement, as though trying hard to remember something important. I'd seen that look before on others as well as myself in the past-in the past with Nora. It told me that I'd have no more trouble with the man.

  Drink delivered and pot boy gone, I resumed our talk, this time bringing it around to a subject of my choosing.

  "I'm sure my father has been to see you more than once about those Hessians that have taken over our old barn," I said, pushing the beer toward him.

  Nash eyed it as if undecided about having an additional drink, especially one I'd bought him. "He has, sir. Many others have as well, but I fear I can do nothing for any of them. The troops must be quartered, and better an unused barn than your own house. Everyone else has to put up with it; there can be no exceptions."

  As he warmed to something familiar, his confidence returned and he ended with a polite, but uncompromising tone. There'd be no improvement for this situation. I'd expected as much. Besides, if I influenced Nash
into ridding us of the men, it might look odd. There'd been enough oddness connected with our family already; I had no wish to augment it. Father and I had done our best. If Mother wanted the Hessians off our land, she could argue with them herself.

  "We must all do our duty as the King's loyal subjects, Mr. Nash," I said. "I just hope that the Crown will be equally generous in recompensing us for all our hospitality."

  "As do I, Mr. Barrett." Since Nash was into collections, not purchases, he was not responsible for paying people for their lost victuals. In any other time or place he'd be hanged as a thief.

  "May I count on you to see that we are not ignored?"