by Death
The rest of the house was dark and quiet, with everyone else presumably in bed. Father wasn't home, having left for an overnight trip to Hempstead, though I knew him to really be at Mrs. Montagu's. I wished him well. No doubt he'd left a stack of work for me in the library, but it wouldn't hurt to delay my start on it for a while. Molly had, as usual, put me into a mellow frame of mood and mind; I was content to stand outside and watch.
And wait.
The game went on, with Beldon and Lady Caroline growing more sleepy by the minute. Even Mrs. Hardinbrook was starting to droop. Mother was quite alert, though, her movements crisp. There was a certain nervousness in her manner, but that was familiar to us all. She had been staying up later and later over the months, asking for just one more hand, or continuing a conversation beyond its natural close. I don't think she slept very well, for I'd heard her pacing in her room at odd hours. Beldon gave her sleeping draughts when she asked for them, and though she drank them straight down, they must not have been doing her much good.
Now she looked to be trying the patience of her staunches! supporter, for when the hand was finished, Mrs. Hardinbrook made a great show of weariness and rose. Beldon lurched to his feet as well, then Lady Caroline. Mother remained seated and I felt an unexpected stab of pity for her as she looked up at them. She looked... lost. I hadn't forgotten how she never let herself be alone if she could help it.
It was probably awful for her, but there was little I could do about it. I had other things to concern me.
Beldon escorted Lady Caroline out of the room. They'd likely go straight up to their respective beds. Excellent. Mrs. Hardinbrook lingered, putting the cards away and offering one-word replies to anything Mother said. She put out all but two of the candles, taking one for herself and giving the other to Mother.
I pushed away from the window and, fading slightly, willed myself to silently drift around the house toward the back. It was still a clear night, but this side was in deep shadow, so I thought I could risk such behavior. The late hour was very much in my favor as well; all the servants would be asleep, even the lordly Mr. Harridge. I let myself rise up to a second-floor window, faded away completely, and sieved through the shutters. There was a moment of brittle discomfort as I crossed the glass barrier of the window, then I was floating free in the hallway.
Waiting still, but not for long.
A door closed down the hall and around a corner. Mother's. Now Mrs. Hardinbrook would be coming along to her room. I went solid and saw that I was right. The glow of her candle announced her approach. She didn't half give a jump when she saw me standing by the window.
"Oh! Mr. Barrett, whatever are you doing there?"
"Just making sure the window is bolted. Can't be too careful these days."
"One certainly can't. Well, good night."
"A moment, please, I had a question for you."
That also surprised her, for I never spoke to her if I could avoid it.
"Yes, what is it?"
I stepped closer into the light so she could see me.
It didn't take long. And I'd had plenty of practice with people like Nash... and Drummond. I got her attention, saw her brightly empty face grow a little emptier, and that was that.
"1 want you to cease being so cruel toward Elizabeth. Do you understand me?"
She whispered that she did. The candle began to tremble. I took it away before she dropped it.
"There's no room in this house for any of your spite. You can be civil or you needn't say anything at all. Understand?"
"Yes..."
Unpleasant woman, but perhaps less so now. "That's very kind of you, then." I released her from my influence. "I shall bid you a good night, Mrs. Hardinbrook."
She blinked several times and became suddenly puzzled at how her candle had jumped into my hand without her noticing. I didn't bother to explain, but gave it back to her with a little bow. Disturbed, she scuttled into her room and shut the door between us. I turned away, only just managing to keep my laughter silent. Though I'd not mention it to her, this was one of my wedding presents to Elizabeth. With all the other things claiming her attention, she could do without Mrs. Hardinbrook's little observations and innuendos. After the wedding it wouldn't matter, but at least until then there would be a bit more peace in the household. I stopped dead cold. Damnation.
Beldon was standing at the corner, holding a candle high in one hand, with a book in the other. He'd probably been on his way to the library and had obviously seen and heard everything. I knew that what I'd said to Mrs. Hardinbrook had been innocent enough, if a trifle rude, but it might still be taken as a very odd exchange. From the look on his face, he'd correctly interpreted it in that manner. He stared and stared and stared, not moving, hardly even breathing.
I stared back, not knowing what to do or say until the long silence began to pile up between us, thick and dreadful, and I came to the reluctant conclusion I'd have to influence him as well. To make him forget what he'd seen.
But he never gave me that chance. He whipped around, heading for his room. Heart in my belly, I went after him.
"Dr. Beldon," I whispered, putting some urgency, not unmixed with exasperation, into it.
He surprised me again by stopping cold in the hallway. He did not turn to face me, but did wait, back all stiff, for me to catch him up. When I was even with him, he gave every evidence of acute discomfort. "Doctor-" "Mr. Barrett-"
Knowing ahead of time that I would certainly have the last word, I indicated for him to go ahead.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not intend to intrude upon your conversation with Deborah." "You what?"
"I should have said something when I passed by, but I thought it best to... well..."
That's when I abruptly realized that his reaction was not that of fear, but rather tremendous embarrassment. Well-a-day.
"Deborah," he continued, "often forgets that we are your guests. She's not a very clever woman, that is to say... I've tried to talk to her, but she's never been one to listen to me."
I started to speak, but he raised one hand. "No, please, I just wanted to apologize for her behavior. I'm very sorry if she's caused any distress to your family, especially to your dear sister. I also wanted to say that I'm very glad that you did talk to her just now. It's... long overdue. My chief regret is that I have not been more firm with her in the past."
"I... don't know what to say, sir," I muttered. "If I have been overly brusk with-"
"No, you spoke your mind to her and that was what was needed."
"You're uncommonly kind, sir."
"As you have been to me, sir, many, many times over." I knew that he harbored a genuine affection for my family, but often as not his natural reticence prevented him from expressing it. I also knew that he harbored a particularly deep affection for me, but had never acted upon it. Now he did look square upon me, and I saw what it was costing him to be so direct. He was skimming rather close to issues that we had long since tabled and was perhaps afraid I might misinterpret his gratitude for something else.
I smiled back at him, offering reassurance. "'Tis my honor to do so, sir," I said, and gave a little bow.
His relief was hardly subtle, his shoulders visibly relaxed, and a tentative smile crept over his own worried features. "Thank you, Mr. Barrett." "At your service, Dr. Beldon." "Good night, then."
"And to you." Having apparently forgotten the errand that had taken him out to start with, he returned to his room. With a light step.
Well-a-day, I thought again.
Despite his sometime toad-eating manner, I'd come to regard Beldon as a friend, never more so than now. I'd influenced him before, but only to protect the secret of my changed nature. Such intrusions upon so inoffensive a man often plagued my conscience; I was more than happy to forgo another experience. Thank heavens for his parochial mind, that he'd seen no more than what had seemed natural to him and had not attributed anything outre to it.
With an equally light step, I
made my way downstairs, so vastly relieved that I forgot the late hour and began to whistle.
Nights came and went swiftly, blurring together so that I sometimes had the illusion of living through one very lengthy night punctuated only by changes of clothes. The conversations all seemed to be the same, since they concerned but one topic: the wedding. The people were certainly the same. It might have been tedious, but my past experiences had taught me a hard lesson on the priceless value of boredom. Better to be inactive and at peace in the world than to be subjected to the frantic racing about brought on by catastrophe.
Father saw to his practice, Elizabeth sewed on her dress, and I kept them company or went down to The Oak to hear the news. As expected, Mrs. Hardinbrook ceased to be quite so hatefully annoying and looked after Mother, who had come to be remarkably restrained in her manner. She worried me, for I thought she might still be suffering from fright. I tried to catch her eye now and then, but hers would slide past as though I were not there. She played cards, or sewed, or gossiped when such friends as she had came calling, but if she were afraid of me, it did not show. Several times I overheard her requesting sleeping draughts from Beldon, but they must have had an indifferent effect on her, for I'd still hear her moving about in her room late at night and on into the early morning hours. She looked a bit haggard from the lack of sleep and was more withdrawn than before, but that was preferable to her fits.
No one else marked it, though, being so busy with their own projects, and I had no plans to draw it to anyone's attention. After a time 1 came to consider it to be just another in a series of unpleasant incidents no one ever talked about and was content to let life run on as usual.
There were plenty of genteel distractions in the early hours of the shortening summer evenings. Cousin Anne had persuaded me to join her in reading some Shakespeare to the others by way of entertainment. Her first choice was the first play I'd recommended, Twelfth Night, and she turned out to be something of a natural actress-once she understood what she was saying. Of course, most of the base jokes in the text escaped her and the whole room had a moment of bald embarrassment when she stopped the reading once to ask the meaning of the word "eunuch."
Elizabeth, gallantly stifling a laugh, came to my rescue, saying that it was a boy who would never grow to become a man. Anne's comprehension was questionable, for we continued with no further pauses. Afterward, she sought out Elizabeth for a highly intense conversation.
I found myself too curious to resist. When Anne had finished and glided off, I moved in. "What did she ask you this time?"
Elizabeth kept her laughter quiet and kindly. "Goodness, she should be more observant about what's going on around her here in the country. Then she'd know about these things."
"What things?"
"She wanted to know how a boy could not help but grow into a man, what could possibly prevent it. So I tried a comparison employing the gelding of horses-"
"Good God, Elizabeth!"
"It's close enough," she defended, still trying not to laugh. "I said that since a stallion has private parts to be gelded, then so does a man, and if he is deprived of them at a certain age..."
I wassail but choking. "Then what?"
"Well, she did want to know..." Now she stopped and blushed a very violent red.
I leaned forward, looking expectant.
She gave me a mock-severe look in return. "You're being coarse and prurient, Jonathan."
"Absolutely. What did she want to know?"
She gave up in disgust. "Appearance."
I did choke on that one and fought in vain to hold onto a sober face. "And what did you tell her?"
"Jonathan!"
Time to retreat, which I did, laughing, but vowing to avoid any solitary interviews with Anne for the time being. She'd been curious about kissing, which I'd been happy to help on, but I wasn't at all ready to provide answers should she decide to question me on this particular topic. Some days later, Elizabeth informed me that a solution had presented itself during a visit to a friend with an infant boy. When the child's natural requirements dictated a change of diaper, Elizabeth volunteered to do the task for the mother and took Anne along to help. The experience proved to be sufficiently educational to satisfy our sweetly innocent cousin, so I was safe once more.
Also after that incident, having learned the value of discretion, Anne made a point to reserve further inquiries about unfamiliar words until the end of an evening.
And then one day the wedding dress was finished and the event itself was upon us. I was unaware of most of it, being confined to my usually quiet bed in the cellar, but the first thing I heard the instant the sun was gone was one of Mrs. Nooth's many helpers clattering around in search of some supply for the kitchen. I was glad not to have to breathe, for the place reeked of cooking and baking. As soon as the helper was gone, I vanished and let myself float up through the very floors of the house, reappearing in my upstairs room.
Jericho was waiting there for me and only jumped a little when I arrived.
We shared chagrined smiles, then I asked, "How have things been today?"
"Fairly easy. We have not yet run out of food and the young son of one of the guests provided some unexpected entertainment by tumbling from the hayloft and breaking his fall in the muck heap outside the stable."
"Oh, lord."
"Precisely what his mother said, plus quite a bit more. Their own servants saw to his cleaning up, I'm glad to say. It could not have been an especially pleasant job."
"Is everyone else all right?"
"Oh, yes. Mr. Barrett is making sure all the gentlemen have sufficient food with their drink, so there have been no incidents even when politics are being discussed. Miss Elizabeth is well enough, considering."
For the last week Elizabeth had been harried by all the last-minute tasks and planning. She had a true talent for organization, though, otherwise she might not have made it this far.
"Everyone has been asking for you throughout the day," he said, letting me know that I should hurry.
My best clothes had been carefully laid out on the bed and he had the shaving things ready, the water still gently steaming. He must have walked in seconds before me. The man had impeccable timing. Without another word, we fell into our long-practiced routine. He had me shaved, powdered, and dressed fit for a royal audience, or even my sister's wedding, without hurry, yet in a very short time. I'd discovered that it went much faster when I did not argue with him on his choice of clothes for me and offered none now.
He had me very well trained.
Once downstairs and giving belated greetings to the vast number of guests, I felt as though I were back in London again, attending one of the Bolyn family's many lavish parties. War notwithstanding, everyone else was also in their best, either made new for the occasion or refurbished to look like new.
Molly Audy had had a surfeit of custom for her legitimate business and scarcely time for anything else, even if it did pay better. After one of our necessarily briefer liaisons, I asked why she even bothered with the sewing and was informed that she derived a great deal of satisfaction from it. This inspired a further query from me, asking if the two businesses-or pleasures as was the case-were remotely comparable in terms of enjoyment, and I promptly got a pillow in my face.
Though discreet herself, her workmanship was strongly in evidence tonight. I recognized many of her completed commissions on the backs (and backsides) of a number of gentlemen, having seen the fabrics and garments in various stages of development in her workroom. They had me wondering which of them availed themselves of both of Molly's services, and doubtless they were thinking the same thing as they eyed each other. I was made exempt from this, in that my clothes had been made in London.
Norwood, too, I noticed with approval, wore a familiar-looking coat, though the waistcoat was new. A gift from Elizabeth. His innate thriftiness had probably encouraged him to use what he had rather than invest in any expansion of his wardrobe. Like me, h
e might also have a preference for London tailors. I didn't care so long as it meant he was keeping clear of Molly.
I greeted my prospective brother-in-law with a light thump on the back and was relieved to see that he wasn't even remotely drunk, though he seemed rather relaxed for a groom.
"What, have you done this before?" I asked with a gesture at the wedding party.
He laughed. "I don't know why everyone expects me to be nervous. I'm not, really. Really I'm not. Really."