Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  Tony rushed up just then, his eyes alight and hands twitching. “Wipe the grease from your faces and look lively, you two. She’s here!”

  “I should never have guessed,” said Oliver. He obediently dabbed the corners of his mouth and passed his plate to a convenient footman. I reluctantly left my own tasty burden on a table where someone’s lap dog jumped up to finish it for me. “Lead us to this paragon of beauty, my friend.”

  Oliver meant only to mock Tony’s enthusiasm, but once we’d turned a corner formed of hedges we could see that his praises had been well placed.

  “By God, Tony!” he gasped.

  “Just as I said. The peerless Miss Nora Jones is truly a goddess. What say you, Mr. Barrett?”

  Words altogether deserted me. The young woman conversing with her friends on the path before us was beyond them. She had dark eyes, a pleasing nose, a mouth perhaps too wide for convention, and a chin too sharp, but the totality of their merging was such as to strike even the blind speechless. I felt as though I’d taken a step and found the stairway mysteriously shortened, leaving me jolted from head to toe and ready to fall over.

  “Just as I said!” Tony repeated gleefully.

  Indeed, yes, I thought, and my heart began pounding so loud in my ears I could scarce hear anything else.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’ll introduce you in a minute,” Tony promised.

  “Why not now?” my cousin demanded.

  “Because you look like a dying fish. When you’re able to properly breathe again, I’ll invite you over. In the meantime, I must have a word with her.”

  He excused himself and joined the group of women. They received him kindly and with some giggling as he solemnly bowed to each. He reserved his lowest and most courtly bow for Miss Jones, who accepted it with no more than a nod and a polite smile. Evidently she was still unaware of his true feelings for her, though they were painfully obvious to anybody who happened to be glancing their way

  “His parents may not approve of this,” Oliver remarked.

  “Of what?”

  “Him wanting to marry her. Old Warburton is a dreadfully practical man with a horror of penniless girls with no name. Unless she has money, property, family, or all three, they’ll have to elope.”

  “So you’re taking Tony seriously?”

  “I think so this time. I’ve chided him on his susceptibility to beauty and for falling in love with a new girl every other week, but there’s something different about this one.”

  That was an understatement. She was no less than astonishing. I couldn’t pry my gaze from her. I also felt a familiar stirring that made looking away imperative lest something embarrassing develop within the snug confines of my black velvet breeches. But I continued to stare at the unearthly beauty not a dozen feet away, shifted and dithered uncomfortably, and had a passing thought about being caught on cleft sticks.

  Then she looked right at me.

  Oh, those eyes . . . .

  I gulped—unsuccessfully, for my mouth was dry—and my heart gave a lurching thump that everyone must have heard. She certainly seemed to, for she looked me up and down, and smiled. By then I was certain the world had paused in its spin only to start over faster than before to make up for the time lost. In contrast to the one she’d bestowed upon Warburton, this smile was warm with interest. I had to turn and see if anyone was behind me, hardly able to believe that I was the focus of her attention.

  She tilted her head to say something to Warburton, who instantly broke away and came back to us.

  “Would you like to meet her now?” he asked.

  Would the incoming tide like to meet the land? That’s how I surged forward.

  Warburton made introductions that included the other ladies, but hers was the only name that I heard, hers the only face that I saw.

  She inquired about my health, and I mumbled and muttered something back. With my blood running hot and cold through my loins, I was too distracted to make intelligible speech. It was wonderful, but agonizing, for I wanted to make a good impression upon her, yet found myself unable to think of anything to say or do except act like a stunned sheep.

  Hardly a minute had passed and she was drifting off with Warburton. No doubt he would find some secluded spot in the garden, make his proposal, and that would be the end of any chance I might have to improve my own acquaintance with her. The color suddenly drained out of my world.

  “Something wrong?” asked Oliver. “Good heavens. Perhaps you’d better sit down. You’re ill.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “You are not and nearly being a doctor, I should know. Come over here and I’ll find you some brandy”

  He led me to a bench and made me sit. Helpless, I watched Warburton and Miss Jones disappear in the crowd. I had had my chance and now it was lost. When Oliver returned with the promised spirits, I heartily wished the glass to be loaded with hemlock. I drank without tasting a drop, and either owing to the heavy meal or the force of my mangled emotions, it had absolutely no restorative effect.

  “What has happened?” Oliver demanded, his face puckered with concern. “Oh, don’t tell me. I can see it now. Good heavens and well-a-day, but this is turning into an interesting evening. Just promise me you won’t get into a duel with Tony and murder each other over her.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how these things usually end, and Tony’s been my friend for years and years, and I’ve gotten fond of you even if you are half Fonteyn and I’d rather not have you running each other through . . .”

  I held up a hand. “Peace, Oliver. I’m not the sort of fellow to come between a man and his potential bride.”

  “That’s a relief to hear. I mean to say, I wouldn’t have known which of you to second.”

  For his sake and the sake of his jest, I smiled, but it faded the moment someone else claimed his attention and took him away. I remained on the bench thinking of everything and nothing and hoping to catch a glimpse of Miss Nora Jones again. A few of the young ladies that had been in her company descended upon me and tried to open a conversation, but I doubt that my replies to their remarks made much sense. When they drifted on it occurred to me that I was being a fool about the whole business. Yes, I had met an extremely beautiful girl, but it was an idiot’s dream to think that I’d fallen in love with her at first sight.

  Now that was a terrifying word: love. The very fact that it had so swiftly cropped up in my mind had an immediate sobering influence. It was utterly impossible, I concluded. Impossible because I knew nothing about love, about this kind of love, anyway. I did love my sister and father, my home and the people there, even my horse, but what did any of that have to do with what I was feeling now? Nothing. Perhaps some of the food I’d eaten had gone bad and the symptoms had manifested themselves at the same time I’d clapped eyes on Miss Jones.

  Life would be so much simpler were that true.

  “Mr. Barrett?”

  I gave a start. “Yes?”

  A middle-aged woman with a pleasant smile and kindly eyes looked down at me. “I’m Mrs. Poole, Miss Jones’s aunt.”

  A knot formed in my throat. I tried to gulp it down so my voice wouldn’t crack. “Yes? I mean, I am very pleased to meet you.” Belatedly, I found my feet and made a bow to her.

  “As am I,” she said. “Would you mind very much coming with me? My niece—”

  I didn’t hear the rest. It was blotted out by a strange roaring in my ears. I did not think it had anything to do with the digestion of my dinner. She led the way into the garden and I followed. We turned corner after corner until I thought we should run out of space to walk. We did not seem to be very far from the house, though. The hedge maze was a very clever and intricate design. Then my knees went jellylike as we turned one last corner and came upon Miss Jones standing in the faint nimbus of light from one of the lante
rns scattered throughout the place. Her eyes brightened and she extended her hand to me once more.

  “Good evening again, Mr. Barrett,” she said in her angel’s voice.

  I stammered out something polite, but before I could follow it up with anything better, a dark thought intruded upon me. “Where is Tony, that is, Mr. Warburton?”

  “Gone back to visit with his other friends, I expect.”

  “I thought that he . . . that he was going to—” I broke off, belatedly realizing Warburton’s intentions toward her were none of my concern. I found breathing to be a bit of a struggle.

  “Yes,” she said serenely. “He did propose to me, but I turned him down.”

  My eyes must have popped just then.

  “We had a nice talk and got everything sorted out,” she continued. “I am happy to say that once Mr. Warburton realized that I have no wish to marry, he pledged himself to remain my very good friend, instead.”

  Now what did she mean by that? I decided I didn’t care. “Perhaps we may also become friends, Miss Jones.” My words were light, but difficult to bring forth. Not knowing quite what to say or do, I babbled on. “I should like that very much.”

  “Of course, Mr. Barrett. That’s why I asked my aunt to bring you here. I wanted to get to know you better, too. I hope you do not think ill of me for doing so.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good. I do tire of the rules that society has invented to prevent men and women from holding intelligent converse with one another. Sometimes it is impossible. If it weren’t for my dear aunt . . .”

  At this second mention of Mrs. Poole I glanced around, thinking that she might take this opportunity to put in a word, but she was nowhere in sight. Leaving us alone didn’t seem quite proper, or at least it would not be so back home. Here in England, though, the customs might be different.

  “She’s a little way up the path,” said Miss Jones, correctly discerning my thoughts.

  “Indeed?” I was feeling hot and cold again. All over.

  Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Oh, dear, this is perhaps new to you, isn’t it?”

  “I . . . uh . . . that is . . .”

  Now she took my hand and came so close that all I could see were her wonderful eyes. They were darker than a hundred midnights, but somehow caught the wan light and threw it back like sparks from a diamond. I found myself blinking against them.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Barrett,” she whispered soothingly.

  And so it was. A great calmness and comfort overtook me as she spoke; a cheering peace seemed to fill me in the soft silence that followed. My worries and self-doubts over this new situation vanished as though they’d never been, and I came to realize that my inexperience, rather than trying her patience, was entirely charming to her.

  Not quite knowing how we got there, I found myself sitting on a bench in the shadows chatting with her as though we’d known each other for years. She had me tell her all about myself. It didn’t take long; I hadn’t done very much yet with my life and thought any lengthy reminiscences of it might bore her. I need not have worried, for she seemed to find everything of interest. It was flattering and most encouraging to my own esteem, but eventually I ran out of subject matter. I burned to know more about her and thought that if I could put the right combination of words together I would learn everything.

  While I paused to think, she took advantage of it to shift the subject slightly.

  “You really are so very beautiful,” she told me, her fingers brushing my cheek.

  “Shouldn’t I be the one to say that to you?” I asked. Without, I was surprisingly calm, but within I wanted to leap up and turn handsprings.

  “If you wish.”

  “Perhaps you hear it too often.”

  “Often enough,” she admitted. “And there are other subjects one may talk about with equal enthusiasm.”

  “If you asked me to name one, I don’t think I could possibly meet the challenge.”

  “I judge that you underestimate yourself, Mr. Barrett. What about love? Have you ever loved a woman?”

  Some of my earlier awkwardness returned.

  “Oh, it’s all right to talk with me about such things. Other girls might not be so minded, but I have always had a great curiosity. With some men, one may tell right away, but with others . . .” She shrugged. “So tell me, have you . . . ?”

  “I have never loved a woman,” I admitted. “I have never been in love . . . at least not until I saw you.”

  She was pleased, which pleased me, but I had hoped for a warmer response. No doubt other men had confided similar sentiments and repetition had dulled the meaning for her. I wanted to be different from them, but did not know what to say or how to say it.

  As it turned out, I said nothing, for we were suddenly pressing close and kissing. While growing up, I had seen others so engaged and had concluded that observation had little to do with active participation. My surmise proved to be more than correct. Until this moment I had had no real inkling of the incredible pleasure such a simple act could produce between a man and a woman. No wonder so many people took any given opportunity to indulge themselves. This was far more addictive than drink, at least for me.

  My first efforts were less polished than enthusiastic, but she had me slow down to a pace more suitable for savoring and each minute that passed taught me something new. I was a willing student.

  She pulled away first, but not very far. “You’ve never before loved a woman?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  I was not so far gone as to be confused by what she meant. “More than anything in my life.”

  “And I should very much like to be that woman. Will you trust me to arrange things?”

  “Arrange?”

  She drew back a little more. “I think it’s best if we are both prudent about this.”

  I understood and immediately agreed, but wasn’t prepared to give up her company just yet. Neither was she and we pursued our initial explorations until I was faint for want of air. Nora—for she had become Nora to me by now—did not seem to need any, but allowed me time to recover.

  She knew that I was there with Oliver and Warburton and my disappearance for the evening would raise questions requiring an answer.

  “Tell them that you met one of the servant girls and came to an arrangement with her,” she suggested. “It’s a common enough practice, so you need not provide more details than that. I shall excuse myself to the Bolyns and leave. You’ll find my carriage waiting at the west gate of the grounds.”

  “I’ll be there,” I promised.

  She had me go first. The maze wasn’t too difficult; I found my way out after a few false paths and was nearly knocked over by the light and noise upon emerging. The contrast between the activity by the house and the intense interlude in the garden made me wonder if I’d dreamed the whole thing. But a few moments later Nora glided out, graced me with a subtle and fleeting smile, and moved on. My heart began to hammer in a way that no mere dream could inspire.

  I grew feverish searching the crowd for some sign of my cousin. My patience was nearly at an end when I spied Tony Warburton standing off by himself holding a half-full tankard by its rim. Distracted as I was, I noticed that he looked a bit disturbed, like a man trying to remember something important.

  “Hallo, Barrett,” he said, coming out of it as I approached. “Oliver told me you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I’m better. Fully recovered, in fact.” Almost word for word, I passed on the excuse Nora had provided for me. In the back of my mind, I thought that I really should feel some sort of remorse for what I was intending to do with the love of this man’s life, but there was not a single twinge against my conscience. Nora had made her choice and who was I to argue with a lady?

  “Yes, well, I wish you a
vigorous time, then. Which one is she? Oh, never mind.”

  In spite of myself I couldn’t just run off. He looked damnably white around the eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I think so. Little dizzy, but that’ll be the drink, I expect.” He raised the tankard and drained off a good portion of it. “Go off and enjoy yourself with your English rose. We’ll see you in the morning? You know my street? Good, good, but not too early, mind you. Enjoy yourself.”

  Walking away, I glanced back, troubled. He had returned to his preoccupied state. It was so different from the excitement that he’d shown earlier. As a jilted suitor, surely he should have been morose or angry, anything but this calm puzzlement. I wondered what in the world Nora had said to him.

  Nora.

  Concerns for Warburton mercilessly cast aside, I asked directions and made my way to the west gate.

  * * *

  Oliver had wondered about Nora’s finances. If one could judge anything by the well-appointed coach and matched horses drawing it, then she had no worldly worries. The only reason that I had the mind to notice it was the dismal fact that Mrs. Poole was unexpectedly with us. I had forgotten about her and got a bad shock when I entered the coach to find her sitting next to Nora. Both of them were amused, but not in a derisive manner.

  “How nice to see you again, Mr. Barrett,” she said. “I’m so glad that you and Nora have become friends.”

  “Er . . . yes,” I responded idiotically. I dropped into the seat opposite, confusion and doubt invading my mind and cooling my initial ardor. Was Nora setting things up to play some kind of cruel trick on me? It did not seem likely. What might she have told her aunt about us? I could hardly assume that Mrs. Poole knew of our plans for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the sort of thing one confided to one’s chaperone.

  “How do you like England?” she asked with bland and benevolent interest.

  Nora gave me a slight nod, a sign that I should answer. Perhaps her aunt was totally ignorant; that, or she knew all and had no objections, which struck me as odd.