Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  “Means that I own none of this.” He gestured, indicating the house and the lands around it. “I have Archimedes, Jericho, and whatever I’ve gleaned from my practice. Now, I have made something of a decent living for myself, but as a rule, lawyers enjoy far more social status than they do money. When Fonteyn died, he divided his fortune between his daughters. There was quite a sum involved, but I’d promised to touch none of it and have kept to that promise. It . . . has never bothered me before.”

  “So Mother is paying for my education,” I said.

  “She always has. It was she who hired Rapelji, for example.”

  “And mine, too?” asked Elizabeth.

  Father smiled with affection and satisfaction. “No, that was my idea. It is a sad and wasteful thing, but the truth is your mother didn’t think it worth trying. She’s always had the mistaken idea that an educated woman is socially disadvantaged.”

  “And yet she herself—?” Elizabeth began swiftly sputtering her way toward outrage.

  Father waved a cautioning hand. “I must clarify. She thinks a woman has gained sufficient knowledge if she reads and writes enough to maintain her household and be agreeable in polite company”

  Elizabeth snorted.

  “I never saw it that way, though, so I made sure that Rapelji was well compensated for the time he spent on you. Your mother was under the impression that you were learning no more than the limits she’d set: your numbers, letters, and some French.”

  “And my music from Mrs. Hornby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because every girl in polite society must know how to sing and play?” It was not a question so much as a statement of contempt.

  “Yes.”

  “On the other hand, being able to reason and think would place me at a severe disadvantage?”

  “In her view, yes.”

  Elizabeth rose and threw her arms around him. “Then, thank you, Father!”

  He laughed at the embrace. “There now. I may not have done you any favors, girl.”

  “I don’t care.” She loosened her grip. “But what about Jonathan going away to England?”

  His laugh settled into a sigh. “It is her money that runs this place, puts clothes on your backs, and food in your mouths, and because of that she feels entitled to choose where you are to be educated. She appears to have made up her mind, but I will talk with her. There are other reasons for you to go to Harvard than the fact that it is closer than England.”

  “And if she doesn’t listen?” I asked glumly.

  “That possibility exists. You may have to face it.”

  “But after tonight . . . Mother isn’t . . . well.”

  “You need not mince your words, Jonathan. We all know she wasn’t in her right mind. Her father was the same. He’d work himself into a ferocious temper until you’d think his brain would burst, then the fit would pass and like as not he’d have forgotten what angered him, even deny he’d been angry. Whatever poisons lurked in his blood are in your mother as well.”

  “And us?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose.

  Father shrugged. “It’s in God’s hands, girl, but I’ve tried to raise you two with the love old Fonteyn was incapable of giving. I think it has made all the difference.”

  “We’re nothing like her,” she said thankfully.

  He touched her chin lightly with one finger and glanced at me. “Perhaps a little, on the outside. I wish you could have known her in those days.” He indicated the portrait. “Everything was so different then, but over the years the poisons began to leech out. She changed, bit by bit. She began to expect things of me that I chose not to provide. She wanted me to advance on to the bench, but I never had the inclination to become a judge. She became fixed on that as hard and fast as her father was fixed upon his money I could have done as she wanted, but it would not have been what I wanted. Eventually, I could see myself turning into her own little dancing puppet. I would not have been my own man, but rather something tied to her and, in turn, tied to her dead father. In her lucid moments, she knew this, but could never hold on to it for long.”

  “Is that why she moved away?” I asked.

  “In part. In the years after you were born, she got worse. Nothing to do with you, laddie. You were as sweet a child as anyone could ask for, but her nerves were bad. She no longer loved me by then and I . . . Well, there are few things in life so miserable as a marriage gone wrong. I hope you two will make a better job of it than I did. She had some distant cousins in Philadelphia, so off she went. I think she found some happiness there with such friends as she’s gathered ’round. I know I have been happy here.”

  One of the logs popped noisily. Happiness. I’d taken it for granted until now. Looking at Father, I began to see the heaviness of the burden he’d carried without complaint, all these years. He hadn’t told us everything, I could sense that, but I wasn’t going to pursue further for more. What we’d just learned was sufficient. Because of it I suddenly knew I was not yet a man and able to carry such a weight, but still a frightened boy of seventeen.

  * * *

  I slept poorly for what remained of the night and was up to watch the dawn long before its advent. The house was quiet, and I imagined it to be waiting, wondering what was to happen once Mother woke from her laudanum-soaked slumber. I dressed warmly and crept outside to the stables to saddle two horses. Elizabeth and I had not changed our plan to spend time with Rapelji. Father knew and had encouraged it. He would have his hands full dealing with Mother and her guests and preferred us out of the way

  Rolly poked his head from his box hopefully, but I passed him by for Belle and Satin, two mares out of the same dam who shared a calm temperament as well as a smooth gait. Rolly vocalized his displeasure, waking the lads who slept over the stable. One of them came down to investigate and sleepily stayed on to help with the saddling before wandering off to the kitchen in hope of an early meal.

  I led the horses out to wait by one of the side doors, then went to fetch Elizabeth. She was just inside, pulling on her gloves. There was a sodden look about her indicating that she’d not slept well, either. On her face, where Mother’s fist had landed, was a large, evil-looking bruise. She’d made no effort to cover or disguise it.

  “We don’t have to go,” I said. “It’s not likely that you’ll be called upon to visit neighbors.”

  “No, but I can’t bear to be in this house with her. Besides, this was not my fault.” She tilted her head to indicate the damage. “I’ve nothing to be ashamed of and people may think what they please.”

  “You don’t care if they know about Mother?”

  Elizabeth’s face grew hard in a way that I did not like. “Not one whit.”

  “But why?”

  “Why not? Sooner or later they’ll start their speculations, their gossip about her. They may as well get the truth from us as make it up for themselves.”

  “But it’s none of their bloody business!”

  “As you say.” She shrugged. “But mark me, they shall make it so, whether we like it or not. We have only to be calm and truthful and let Mother rave on. Then we shall see how many friends she has about her.”

  I was unhappy with this harsh attitude, for it was an alien one in Elizabeth, then began to see the point of it all. “You’re doing this hoping that Mother will . . .?”

  “A word here and there and she will be shunned by what passes for polite company in these parts. That’s what she craves and lives for, the puerile attention and approval of her so-called peers. She’s welcome to it, if she can find any willing to endure her company after this.”

  “What if they believe her and not you? What if she repeats her—that awful accusation against us? You know adults are more likely to believe other adults.”

  “But they know us here. They do not know her. And we are Father’s children, raised to be honest and
truthful. I think that favors us, Jonathan, so you needn’t worry.”

  “Damnation, I will if I want to.”

  “Please yourself, then, but support me on this and there’s a chance that Mother may move out, bag, baggage, and toad-eaters, and leave us in peace.”

  That silenced me.

  She handed me a leather bundle. “Here, you’d forgotten your books and papers.”

  “Thank you,” I said faintly, my mind busy with all sorts of things. I couldn’t choose whether to approve of this plan or not, but knew that she would go through with it, regardless of my objections.

  She led the way into the yard and I helped her onto Satin, her favorite. I swung up on Belle and we set off down the lane to the main road, turning into the rising sun. It gave no warmth save within the mind, but was still a cheering sight.

  Rapelji lived in a fine, solid farmhouse at the eastern edge of our property. The farm was not his—that had been annexed onto our own lands—but he had a good garden plot for himself and earned additional support from several other students in the area. Some of them boarded with him for part of the year and helped with the chores to pay for their tutoring.

  As early as we were, Rapelji was already up and about, a short, stocky figure in the middle of his troop of students as he led them through a peculiar series of hops and skips for their morning exercise. Though gray of hair, he was as energetic as any of them. At a distance, you could only tell him from the boys by his flashing spectacles, which somehow stayed on no matter how vigorous his actions. As we drew near, he had them jumping and clapping their hands over their heads in time to shouting the multiplication table at the top of their lungs. It was great fun, and I’d done it myself at their age. He had the view that since boys were prone to making noise, it might as well be for a constructive purpose.

  They got as far as four times twelve when he called a breathless halt. Some of the group had noticed our approach and lost the count.

  “Concentration, gentlemen,” he admonished. “Concentration, discipline, and courtesy. What is required when you see a lady?”

  As one, but with grins and playful shoving, the boys pretended to sweep hats from their bare heads and bowed deeply to Elizabeth. From her saddle, she returned their salute gracefully. My turn was next and I doffed my own hat to them. Rapelji said they’d done well and announced it was time to start the chores. The boys scattered like stirred-up ants. Chores first, then breakfast, then studies.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Jonathan. Come in, come in. It’s a baking day for the girls and the first loaves are just out of the oven.” He gestured us inside. There was a rich smell of hot bread in the air, wafting over the yard from the oven behind the house.

  We left the horses to the care of the boys and joined him. Along with a varying number of students, he shared the big house with his two housekeepers, Rachel and Sarah, two elderly siblings that he couldn’t always tell apart, so he called them “the girls.” They weren’t much for intellectual conversation, but kindly toward the students and doted on the teacher. Their cooking and herb lore were legendary.

  The front room was where he taught lessons. A long table lined with many chairs took up most of the floor. The walls boasted all kinds of books, papers, some stuffed animals and his prize, a mounted skeleton of some type of small ape. He used it to explain anatomy to us. On another shelf he kept his geological finds, including a rather large specimen of a spiral-shaped sea creature, so old that it had turned to stone. He’d dug it up himself miles inland and delighted in speculating about its origins. The thing had always fascinated me and had sparked many a talk and good-natured argument.

  Elizabeth took off her cloak and hat, hanging them on the pegs next to the door: This was a second home to us, Rapelji our eccentric uncle, but we hadn’t been over together for some time, a point he commented upon.

  “Things are a bit hectic at the house,” said Elizabeth. “Two of Mother’s friends have come to stay with us for a while.”

  “Ah, that’s good. Company always helps pass the time.” Rapelji, as evident by his huge household, liked having people about him.

  “Have you ever met Mother?” I asked. He’d never before mentioned her and I was curious to have his side of the story.

  He pursed his plump lips to think. “Oh, yes, but it was years ago and only the one time when I answered her advertisement for a tutor. She interviewed me and sent me on to here. I was the only one willing to make the journey, it seemed. Your good father made the rest of the arrangements and that was that. Perhaps since she is here I should walk over and pay my respects.”

  “No!” we said in unison.

  “No?” he echoed, puzzled by our reluctance. Then he noticed Elizabeth’s face for the first time. Until now, she’d been keeping herself slightly turned away. “Good heavens, child, what has happened to you?”

  Though his shock must have been in accordance with Elizabeth’s hopes and plans to socially oust Mother from the community, it was still difficult for her. She dropped her gaze. “We’ve had problems at home,” she mumbled.

  “Indeed?” Rapelji could see there was more to be learned. “Well, come sit here and rest yourself.” He solicitously held a chair for her. He peered closely at me, now, and noted the swelling that I’d seen in my shaving mirror earlier. I felt myself going red for something of which I need not be ashamed.

  One of the girls came in to set the table—I think it was Rachel—and her sharp gaze suddenly froze onto our faces in that way old women have.

  “Goodness, children, have you been quarreling?” she asked.

  Elizabeth’s hand went to her cheek and she also went red. I kept my hands down, but nodded to the concerned woman. “Yes, ma’am, but not with each other.”

  “I’ll make you a nice poultice of sugar and yellow soap,” Rachel promised.

  Sarah appeared next to her, squinted at us, and shook her head. “No, dear, that’s for boils. What you want is some cotton dipped in molasses.”

  “That’s for earache,” said Rachel.

  “Really? I could have sworn. . . .”

  “Please, ladies,” Elizabeth interrupted. “It’s nothing to trouble over. I am in no distress. We . . . we must get back to our studies.”

  Dissatisfied as they obviously were and wanting to stay, Rapelji came to her support, and the two ladies eventually removed themselves and their good intentions. He waited until the door to the kitchen was shut, then gently asked for an explanation.

  “Mother . . . felt the need to discipline us, sir,” I said stiffly.

  “And your father agreed?” he asked with surprise. “To this?”

  “No, sir. He persuaded her to cease.”

  Elizabeth heaved an impatient sigh, told me not to be such a diplomat, and gave Rapelji the bald truth. She did not, however, mention Mother’s obscene accusation, only that she’d thrown an unreasonable fit. She went on to relate that Father had interrupted things and mentioned that Beldon’s services as a doctor had been employed. I found myself listening with surprising interest. It seemed that Elizabeth had a talent for storytelling.

  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 history books; the more ancient the quarrel the better.

  “I know I’ve embarrassed you, sir,” she said. “And I apologize, but I felt that of all people, you needed to know the truth of what has happened.”

  “Yes, yes. Oh, you poor girl.”

  “Anyway, 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”—h
e tapped his temple— “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. A very canny girl, my sister.

  “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 smile 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?”

  “It’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 reaction I’d expected from him.

  “Try looking at it as a gift, not a punishment, Mr. Jonathan. What difference is it 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 feeble 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 social 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.