P N Elrod - Barrett 2 - Death and the Maiden

by Death

  I didn't want to leave, but taking the life from Molly a mouthful, or even a drop, at a time could not last forever, and I would not hurt her for the world... or even to maintain this incredible joy. Eventually, after a very long while, I slowly made my way back.

  My next clear memory was of kissing away the last traces of blood from her skin. There remained behind two small, angry-looking wounds, but I knew their alarming appearance would pass rapidly. By morning they would be much less noticeable and be completely gone in a day or two.

  Unless I decided to return to her.

  Molly lay quiet for some time as her breath returned to normal. The orange light from the candle gilded the sheen of sweat covering her. She seemed to glow like an angel in a painting. Propped on one elbow, I ran a hand over her body, taking enormous delight in simply touching all that lovely, lovely flesh.

  She turned her face toward me. Her eyes swept me up and down, wide and not a little puzzled.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  Her mouth opened. She shook her head. "My God... is that what they teach you in England?"

  "You liked it?"

  "I didn't have much of a choice, Johnny boy. It sort of grabbed me up and I couldn't stop it-not that I wanted to try."

  This wasn't the empty flattery of Molly the experienced prostitute wanting a steady customer; I sensed that right enough. I'd honestly impressed Molly the woman, which made me feel very good, indeed.

  She squinted in the dim light. "Your eyes are funny. They've gone all red."

  "It'll go away, nothing to worry about. You needn't mention it to anyone." I looked at her closely and ran my hand over the spot on her neck. "You needn't mention any of this to anyone."

  But there wasn't enough light for my attempt to influence her to work. Her expression remained unchanged.

  "Don't want people to know how you do it? Is that it?" she asked.

  Perhaps another candle... or if we moved closer to the light...

  She shrugged. "You've naught to worry about there, Mr. Barrett. Molly the Mum is what they call me, and with good reason. I start passing tales, and gentlemen'11 think twice before they come for a visit. I'm like a doctor, I am, and I don't talk about those as come to see me."

  "Oh," I said, temporarily nonplussed.

  "Anyways, there's stranger things I've done with gentlemen and none of them nowhere as nice as this. God!" She pushed her head back into the pillow and stared at the shadowy ceiling, her eyes shining again.

  Well, it looked as though my secret was safe enough without special prompting, though I did feel obligated to offer a caution to her on the subject. "It would not be a good idea for you to try this yourself on anyone, y'know. Or to have them do it to you."

  Her voice had grown soft. "I think I figured that out for myself, sir. Besides, without you, it wouldn't be quite the same thing, now, would it?"

  "You're uncommonly kind, Miss Audy."

  "There you go again with that nice talk," she said, grinning.

  "May I take that to mean I might be privileged to enjoy your delightful company in the future?" I asked, playing along with her.

  She sat up a little to look right at me. "Lord have mercy, but if you promise to do this to me again"-she brushed her neck with her fingertips-"as God is my witness, Johnny boy, I'll be paying you!"

  December 1776

  "Then our mother said, 'Anne, we were so worried about you, thank heaven you've come at last!' and she threw her arms around her like she meant it."

  "You think she didn't?"

  "Knowing what she's really like?" Elizabeth snorted. "Maybe that's why she hates us so much, because we know the truth about her."

  "I don't think she hates us so much as she has no regard for anyone but herself."

  "No, little brother. She hates. It's covered up most of the time-that woman seems to have a bottomless supply of pretense-but it is there nonetheless. The fits that overcome her can't excuse it. There's a malignancy in her very soul."

  "But not in yours," I said quietly, meaning to reassure.

  Elizabeth gave me a sharp look.

  "There is none of that in you."

  Like a slow fever that refuses to rise high enough to burn itself out, more and more, Mother's dark presence intruded upon every subject, every activity for Elizabeth.

  "I think you dwell on her too much."

  She looked down, her face going red. "Am I trying your patience with my complaints?"

  "No, but Mother is obviously trying yours."

  What had begun as a light description of this morning's arrival of Cousin Anne had turned in on itself and soured. My sister, I was grieved to see, was not a happy woman, nor was her mood in danger of leaving.

  "Is there no way that you can ignore her?" I asked.

  "The way you and Father can? Hardly. It's different for me. Father has his work, and you're gone all the day. I can't leave the house because of those damned soldiers or the weather or some other thing comes up and prevents me from getting away from her. Even my room is no longer a sanctuary-you know how she always pushes in without knocking. You'd think she was trying to catch me out in some devilish crime when she does that. How disappointing it must be for her to find me reading, and when she does, she then criticizes me for wasting my time! That's how the Fonteyn madness will come upon me, Jonathan, Mother will drive me to it."

  She pounded a fist against the side of her chair several times, then boosted to her feet to pace up and down the library. She wore one of her prettiest dresses, a light blue silk with touches of dark blue in the pattern. The colors were very flattering to her, bringing out her eyes especially, but she might as well have been in rags for all the effect it had on her spirits.

  "Perhaps you could go stay with Miss Holland for a while," I suggested.

  "I've been thinking of it. If no one else, Hester would welcome my company."

  "What do you mean? You've lots of friends who would be delighted for you to visit."

  "I know, but the way that woman hammers at me day after day, how I look or walk or questioning the very expression on my face, it makes me feel like no one would want to be seen with me. I'm not like that and I know it!"

  "As do I, as does anyone with sense, which utterly excludes Mother."

  She paused by the library doors. They were closed that we might enjoy a private talk before the party began, though it was something of a risk with Mother's uncertain temper. She had still not rid herself of her dreadful delusion about her children, and there was always a chance she might burst in and work herself into another fit if she found us alone together. Elizabeth was listening, perhaps, for her step.

  "There's no one out there," I said.

  "You're sure?"

  "One of the maids went by a minute ago, that's all. Sheba, I think."

  Her next look was brighter, more like herself. Interest in my improved senses never seemed to flag or lose its delight for her. "You can tell the difference?"

  "It's not difficult after a little practice."

  The delight faltered as her problems returned once more. "What am I to do? Oh, heavens, I know what to do, I just hate that / have to do it. She should be the one to leave, not I."

  "You'll write Miss Holland, then?"

  "After the tea party. I'd start now, but I don't want to risk spotting my fingers up with ink. She expects me to perform like some sort of trained monkey, and woe to me if I don't look just right for the show."

  "Regardless of Mother's expectations of you, you do look perfect. Besides, the honor of serving the tea always goes to the daughter of the house."

  "As I said, a trained monkey could-oh, never mind me, I'll get through it somehow. It's not as if I haven't had the practice." She swept up and down the room, her wide skirts threatening to overtopple a small table as she wasn't paying mind to where she was going.

  "What's Cousin Anne like?" I asked, hoping to distract her.

  "You can tell she's a Fonteyn with those blue eyes and black hair. S
he seems nice, but I've had no chance to talk with her or her companions. They've been resting from their journey most of the day."

  "We'll get to know them better soon enough." Perhaps too well, I silently added, having caught some of Elizabeth's pessimism. I was not looking forward to meeting any more relatives from Mother's side of the family. Though Cousin Oliver was a very decent fellow, his mother was a spiritual Gorgon. I worried that Cousin Anne might also carry a similar cruel streak, hopefully not, since it looked like she'd be staying with us awhile.

  Sheba presently came and announced that we were wanted in the parlor. Elizabeth gave me a grim smile, set her chin high, and glided ahead like a ship sailing into battle. I followed in her wake, smoothing my own features as I prepared to meet our newly acquired house guests.

  Despite Elizabeth's misgivings, she appeared to find enjoyment in her duties. It was a goodly sized party; several of our neighbors had turned up, and even Lieutenant Nash had gotten an invitation. I suspected Father had extended it, hoping to improve his relations with the commissaries.

  Having smoothly taken her place at the tea table, Elizabeth saw to the measuring of tea from its chest and made sure the right amount of hot water was poured into the pot. Soon everyone filed past her accepting the first of many cupfuls for the evening.

  Myself included, for I wanted to at least seem to participate with the rest. Father watched with amusement as I pretended to sip at my portion, knowing how difficult it was for me to even bring the cup to my lips. Once a favorite drink, it smelled awful to me now. As soon as he'd emptied his own cup, he took pity and exchanged it for mine at the first opportunity. We'd done this a number of times at other events and had acquired all the practiced ease of stage performers. No one noticed. Into the slop bowl went the dregs from his cup, which I then turned upside down on its saucer, placing the spoon across the bottom. Thus was I able to excuse myself from additional offers without causing offense. As hostess, Elizabeth was bound by courtesy to keep my cup filled, and with Mother watching, she did not dare to "overlook" me.

  But tonight even Mother could not find fault with her, for most of her attention was upon her guests and Cousin Anne.

  She was certainly worthy of notice.

  She did indeed bear the striking Fonteyn features of blue eyes and black hair-though I had to take Elizabeth's word that it was black. It was powdered now and swept up high from her milk-white forehead and elaborately curled in the back. Her movements were polished and full of grace, no doubt part and parcel of the genteel manners practiced in Philadelphia. She wore a splendid dress of some striped stuff that rustled with her every movement and drew many enthusiastic compliments. She lapped them all up as readily as a cat takes to cream. Anne was young and beautiful and enjoyed being reminded of it.

  "Yes, it was very fortunate that I was able to bring away most of my things," she said to the crowd of people gathered around her. "There were many, many others who had naught but the clothes on their backs, but then they'd not prepared themselves for an exodus, you see."

  "And you've been ready since early in the fall?" asked Father, who seemed to be as taken with her as the other gentlemen.

  "Since the summer, Cousin Samuel. We had a horrid time of it for all our readiness. Thank God you and Marie are here and so kind, or I should not have known what to do."

  "You are very welcome in my house," said Mother, her face cracking a bit with one of her tight smiles. It did not touch her eyes, but then, none of them ever reached that far. "So you did get my reply to your letter?"

  "Indeed, I did not, but then everything is in such a confusion these days."

  Mother gave Cousin Anne her wholehearted agreement on that point.

  "But with or without an answer from you I had to leave or suffer with the rest of the King's true subjects. I knew if I stayed I'd have no peace in that sad city, for the rebels are horrid in the extreme. Who knows what might have happened to me?"

  "Well, you've arrived safely and can put all that behind you," said Mother.

  "If I can. It was a horrid time. And so confusing."

  Anne garnered much sympathy from her listeners, who begged her for more details about her flight. It took her some while to cover them all, but she eventually concluded that her whole experience was "horrid" and "confusing."

  "Had I been on my own, I don't know what I should have done," she went on. "Cousin Roger thought that I should stay, but I just couldn't bear it anymore. Besides," she dropped her eyes and raised her brows, "I'm not all that certain of where he stands on... certain things. Political things."

  "You mean his sympathies may lie with the rebels?"

  "That's it, I just don't know. He won't say one way or another. He's so confusing. Never gives a proper answer, always laughing it off or changing the subject. It's horrid."

  "Let's hope he makes up his mind before both sides take it into their heads to hang him," said the tall man standing next to Anne.

  His easy remark shocked Mother, but any reproof she might have had for him was left unspoken. The man was no less than Lord James Norwood, younger brother of the Duke of

  Norbury, and Mother would have sooner cut her tongue out than say a word against such a jewel of the peerage. Instead, she joined with the others who had found what he said to be amusing. She put some effort into it, and the show looked to be quite convincing-at least to those unfamiliar with her true nature.

  Norwood added to his comment, causing more merriment at Cousin Roger's expense. Mother laughed with the rest while I fairly stared, then bent low to whisper into Elizabeth's ear.

  "My God, can you believe it? Mother's toad-eating."

  "What did you say?"

  "Mother's playing toady to Lord James."

  But Elizabeth was paying but scant mind to me and none at all to Mother. I might have put it down to her occupation as busy hostess but for the fact that no one was near us.

  "Just look at her."

  "Yes, I see." Her head was pointed in the right direction, but her eyes were not on Mother. They were locked, instead, upon Lord James Norwood.

  Well-a-day, I thought, the dawn figuratively breaking for me. Knowing that any further conversation would be futile, I backed away to watch my sister watching him. If I read the symptoms right, she was well and truly smitten, and no brotherly intervention would be able to penetrate to her just yet. Heavens, had I looked like that the first time I'd seen Nora? Probably, though no doubt I'd possessed considerably less composure and utterly lacked Elizabeth's innate winsomeness.

  It struck me just then how vulnerable she had become, and so I also turned my concerned study upon Norwood.

  He seemed a well-mannered, gracious sort, but I'd met many at Cambridge who showed one face to the world and revealed quite another in private. I worried that he might be of that number and vowed to get to know him better, although any shortcomings I might discover would make no difference with Elizabeth. Once one is caught up in that peculiar emotional state, one is deaf to all other things.

  "Had Lord James and his dear sister not come to my aid when they did, I don't know what might have happened to me," Anne was saying.

  The crowd around her turned toward that gentleman, who bowed deeply. "It was my pleasure, Miss Fonteyn, to be of service."

  "You're the hero of the day, my lord," said Dr. Beldon, smiling broadly and taking his own turn at toad-eating.

  "So brave and kind of you, I'm sure," put in Mrs. Hardinbrook, also smiling.

  As he modestly accepted the general praise of the company, I drifted over to Jericho, who was supervising the punch bowl.

  "What does his valet have to say about him?" I asked.

  "His lordship's valet, Mr. Harridge, does not permit himself to associate with Negro servants," he said with icy dignity.

  "Oh, really?"

  "Mr. Harridge has informed the servants he does associate with that they may address him as 'my lord' should they need to speak with him."

  "He must be jesti
ng."

  "Regrettably, he is not."

  "I've heard of this happening in England, but not over here."

  "It may be described as an importation of questionable value."

  "It seems not to sit well with you."

  "Mr. Harridge is a great stupid ass, sir."

  I had a very hard time of it keeping my face composed. When the threat of laughter had subsided to the point where I could speak again, I asked, "Why should a man like Lord James keep such an insufferable fellow?" I knew Jericho well enough to consider his assessment of Harridge to be highly accurate and was not about to pass it off as anything petty.