Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire

by P. N. Elrod

  From my traveling box, I softly removed my cherry wood writing case, opened it and sorted things. The ink had since dried, but there was plenty of powder to mix more using water from the bowl. For the next hour or more I composed a short letter to Oliver and a much longer one for Father. In the latter, I detailed my various experiences concerning the crossing—or rather lack thereof—and my joyful gratitude to him for arranging to send Rolly along. As for the cattle, Elizabeth said that five had died and their fresh meat had been gratefully consumed by the passengers and crew. The remaining seven were penned in a field near the inn, awaiting disposition.

  I’d been too much occupied with the voyage itself to think on what to do with the beasts upon arrival. Now I speculated it to be an excellent idea to continue the story we’d given the shippers and have the creatures bred to some of the Fonteyn stock. By the time Father arrived in England, I could have a fine herd well started for whatever future course he chose to follow. There were plenty of opportunities for his practice of law here in the city, but others might also be made in the country should he want to resume farming again.

  My pen flew over quite a number of pages before I’d finished. It would cost more than a few pence to send this letter a-sailing, but no matter. Writing to Father was almost like talking to him, so I willingly drew out the conversation, closing it with a promise to write again as soon as we were settled with Oliver.

  Then I made a copy of it, which wasn’t nearly as enjoyable to write. I sanded, folded and sealed both. On a bit of scrap paper I asked Elizabeth if she wanted to include some of her own thoughts before posting swept the packets away to America on two separate ships.

  By this time it was close to dawn and people were astir below as the inn began to rouse. Jericho would soon be wakened by the disturbance, and I had no desire for a whispered and reproachful inquiry about the state of my clothes. I stripped out of them and into my nightshirt, raised the lid of the traveling box and stepped inside, quick as a cat. Just as I lowered it, I heard his first waking yawn. Then I was incapable of hearing anything at all.

  Not until the day had passed, anyway.

  * * *

  As I emerged, Jericho stood ready, armed with my brushed-off coat, clean linen, and polished shoes.

  “Good evening,” I said, full of cheer for my rest. “Any news from Cousin Oliver?”

  “Mr. Marling arrived some time ago. Miss Elizabeth asked him to come by during an hour more suitable to your habits, but he stated that he couldn’t keep himself in check a moment longer. Miss Elizabeth is presently with him in the common room below.” There was a note of disapproval in his tone, probably to do with Elizabeth’s mixing with the rest of the herd. I knew my sister, though; she’d have insisted on it herself.

  “Best not keep them waiting, then. I’m anxious to see him, too. It’s been ages.”

  “There was a strong smell of beer on your coat, Mr. Jonathan. . .” he began.

  “Just a stupid accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and some fool drenched me. Not ruined, I hope?” I looked vaguely at the coat in question, which was draped over a chair.

  “I sponged it with vinegar and tried to air it, but the coal dust is so thick in this city, I feared—”

  “And quite right. London is a horribly dirty place, but it can’t be helped. Have to hurry now, I don’t want to keep Oliver waiting.” On went my stockings, up went my breeches and on went my shoes. Throughout this and without a word, Jericho managed to convey to me his knowledge that I wasn’t being entirely forthright and that a reckoning was in store for me at his next opportunity.

  Coat in place and ready for the public, I fled downstairs.

  Oliver was as I remembered him, but for being a couple years older and even more fashionably dressed than during our Cambridge days. Same wide mouth, same bright blue eyes in a long foolish face, and a certain genteel boisterousness in his manner. He knew well how to enjoy himself, but not to the point of causing offense to others.

  The second he spotted me coming in, he shouted a good, loud view halloo in greeting and rushed over. There followed a hearty exchange of embraces and considerable slaps on the back with both of us talking at the same time about how pleased we were to see each other again. It took some few minutes before we were able to troop arm-in-arm back to the table he shared with Elizabeth, both of us grinning like apes, with the other occupants of the room looking on in amusement.

  “Thought you’d never show yourself,” he said, resuming his seat across from her. “Which isn’t to say that I’m not enjoying Cousin Elizabeth’s company, far from it. Every man in the room has been throwing jealous looks my way since we’ve been here. I can’t wait to take her around the town and make all the rest of the lads in our circle envious for my good luck.”

  Elizabeth, though she lived up to his praise, had the decency to color a bit. “But I’ve no wish to impose—”

  “Oh, rot—that is, never you mind. I’d count it a distinct honor to introduce you. You can’t get out of it, anyway. Since that letter your good brother sent arrived, I’ve been able to speak of nothing else but your pending visit, and now everyone’s mad to meet you. Both of you, of course. Jonathan’s met most of ’em, but there’s a few new faces in the crowd these days, some of ’em are even worth talking to.”

  “God, but I’ve missed this,” I said with warm sincerity.

  “And so have I, Cousin. Remember all those riots at Covent Garden and . . . er . . . that is to say we had excellent good fun at the theaters there.”

  Elizabeth understood that he was making an attempt to protect her sensibilities, but took no exception to it. This time. After she got to know him better, he was likely to be in for something of a shock at just how much I’d confided to her about my activities in England.

  “We’ll have even more fun now,” I promised.

  “I should hope so, enjoy everything you can while you’re able. How long are you planning to stay, anyway?”

  “Elizabeth didn’t tell you?”

  As an answer, she shook her head and shrugged. “We never got ’round to it.”

  “Got ’round to what?” he demanded.

  “We’re coming to live in England,” I said. “For good.”

  His wide mouth dropped fully open. “Well-a-day! But that’s splendid news!”

  “I’m glad you think so, Cousin. We’ll need your help finding a house—”

  “Well, you won’t get it, my lad. The both of you are welcome to live with me for as long as you like!”

  My jaw dropped. “Oliver! Really?”

  “I’ll brook no argument. I’ve got a jolly huge house here with bags of rooms to go around. It’s too big for me on my own—”

  “But you’re being much too kind,” said Elizabeth.

  “But nothing. It will be my pleasure to have the company of my two favorite relatives. It’ll be like Cambridge again with us, Jonathan, except for the added delight of your sister’s presence to grace the household.”

  “And Jericho’s,” I added.

  “Yes, I’d heard that you’d brought this paragon of a man with you. Can’t wait to meet him. Have you freed him yet?”

  “Freed him?”

  “We’ve slaves here, but the business isn’t as popular as it is in America. The fashionable thing these days is freeing ’em. Of course, you’ll have to pay him a wage, then.”

  “I think I can afford it.” The only reason I’d not done so before was that Mother would have insisted on then and there dismissing Jericho to replace him with an English-bred valet of her choosing. Though she no longer controlled my purse strings, she would have vigorously exercised her right as mistress of her own house, as well as made life a living hell until she’d gotten her way. Far better for everyone if Jericho remained my legal property until circumstances were more in his favor. Then he could himself choose to leave
or not. Not that I harbored the least thought that he would ever forsake my service. We got on well, and I knew he enjoyed playing the kindly tyrant within his sphere of domestic influence, which was not inconsiderable.

  My cousin chattered on about the splendid times we’d soon be having. “It may not make up for being parted from the rest of your family, but we’ll do what we can to keep you in good cheer.”

  “But, Oliver, it won’t be just me and Elizabeth; our father is planning to move to England as well.”

  “The devil you say! Oh, I do beg pardon, Elizabeth. The whole Barrett clan coming back to the homeland? That is good news.”

  “It also means we still need to find a house.”

  “But I’ve lots of room,” he protested.

  “Not enough to accommodate your aunt Marie.”

  At this mention of Mother, for I had written much to him about her over the years, Oliver’s unabashed enthusiasm suddenly shriveled. “Oh, dear God.”

  “More like the wrath of, Coz. You can see why we’re eager to find a separate place for us to be than in your home.”

  “Maybe she could stay at Fonteyn House,” he suggested. “My mother will be glad to see her.”

  Alone against the whole island of England, I thought, but then Aunt Fonteyn and Mother were cut from the same cloth. Human nature being what it is, they’d either despise each other or get along like kindred spirits.

  “That’s fine for Mother,” said Elizabeth, “but what about Father? I can’t see him living at Fonteyn House. Please forgive me, Oliver, but from some of the things I’ve heard said about Aunt Fonteyn . . . .”

  Oliver waved both hands. “No forgiveness is needed, I do understand and have no blame for you. God knows I left the place as soon as I was able. She’s a terrible woman and no mistake.”

  “Elizabeth . . . .” An idea popped into my head. “We’re forgetting what it was like before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before Mother left Philadelphia to come live with us. She only came because of the danger in the city. Since there are no damned rebels at Fonteyn House—”

  “Only the damned,” Oliver muttered darkly.

  “—they might go back to that again, with Mother in her own place and Father in his. Certainly they must. I’ll lay you fifteen to five she proposes the idea herself once they’ve landed.”

  “Good heavens, yes. After two months or more aboard ship, she’d leap at the chance. Certainly he would be pleased to accommodate her wishes in that regard.”

  “I say,” said Oliver. “It doesn’t exactly sound right, y’know, two children talking about their parents parting from each other like that. Not that it bothers me, but I just thought I’d raise the point, don’t you know.”

  “But we aren’t just anybody’s children,” she said, with meaning.

  “Yes, I see, now. This has to do with the Fonteyn blood, which taints us equally. Good thing I’ve my Marling half and you’ve the Barrett side to draw sense from, or we’d all be in Bedlam.”

  That inspired laughter, but in our hearts we knew he spoke the grim truth.

  “Now what about a bit of food and a lot of drink?” he suggested. “They didn’t christen this place in vain, y’know. Let’s have a celebration.

  Elizabeth confessed that she was in need of supper, then shot a concerned look at me. I winked back, hoping to reassure her. Eyes sharp and lips compressed into a line, she understood my intent all too well. She then removed her gaze entirely. Ah, well, with or without her approval, it couldn’t be helped.

  “You two may celebrate with my blessing,” I said, “but I’m still unsettled from the traveling. Couldn’t eat or drink a thing tonight.”

  “Really?” said Oliver, eyebrows high. “Perhaps I can prescribe something for you. There’s got to be an apothecary nearby and—”

  “No, I’m fine in all other respects. I’ve had this before. It will pass soon enough.

  “But really, you shouldn’t let anything go untreated—”

  “Oliver . . . .” I fixed my gaze on him.

  He blinked and went still.

  “You need not concern yourself with my lack of appetite. It doesn’t bother you now, and you need not ever notice it in the future. All right?”

  “Yes, of course,” he answered, but without his usual animation.

  I broke my hold. Elizabeth went still as well, but nodded slightly, lips thin. She wasn’t happy that I could influence people in this manner, but time and again, at least on the topic of my not eating, it prevented a multitude of unanswerable questions.

  “What will you have?” I asked Oliver. As I expected, he was absolutely unaware of what had happened.

  “Some ham, I think, if that’s what smells so good here. Hope they cut it thicker than at Vauxhall. You’ll love Vauxhall, Elizabeth. It won’t be open for months and months, but it’s worth the wait even if their ham’s so thin you can read a paper through it. They are just that stingy . . . .”

  He babbled on and she began to smile again. I called a serving lad over and ordered their supper. That task finished, I assumed another, more important one: the whole point of our long journey.

  “Oliver, have you any news of Nora Jones?”

  By his initial expression I saw that he had none. He glanced once at Elizabeth and shifted as though uncomfortable.

  She correctly interpreted what troubled him. “It’s all right, Jonathan’s told me everything about his relationship with Miss Jones.”

  “Oh, uh, has he, now?”

  “So you may speak freely before us both.”

  With that obstacle removed, Oliver squared his shoulders and plunged forward, addressing me with a solemn face. “Sorry, but I’ve not heard a word on the lady. I’ve asked all around, called on everyone who’d known her or had her to a party, but nothing. The Warburtons saw her last and that was just before they left Italy to come home for the summer. She was a frequent visitor with them while they were there; they had quite a high regard for her. Seems she was always kind to poor Tony, spent time with him and read to him a lot, which went very well with his mother. She said he was often a bit improved afterward.”

  “But they’d no idea of her whereabouts?”

  “Mrs. Warburton had reckoned that Miss Jones would be returning to England as well and was surprised as any when she did not, what with her attachment to Tony and all.”

  Not the news I’d been hoping for, but not unexpected after my exploration of her empty house. “Have you spoken to her neighbors lately?”

  “I took supper with the Everitts only last week—they live next door on the left—and they’ve not had the least sight of her. Even spoke to one of their footmen when I’d learned she’d given him a special vale to keep the lamp in front of her house charged with oil and lighted after dark. He had nothing to say, either.”

  “Probably because he’s been lax in his duty.”

  “Eh?”

  “I went by there last night and found it singularly deserted. I’d have noticed a lighted lamp.”

  “So that’s where you’d got to,” said Elizabeth. “Jericho told me you’d made some sort of expedition, but he couldn’t guess as to how your clothes had gotten into such a state.”

  “Oh, ho,” said Oliver. “Having adventures, were you?”

  “Misadventures, more like,” I answered. “I happened to have gotten splashed with beer by a careless drunkard, that’s all. Next time I’ll hire a sedan chair if I want to go anywhere. You said Tony was improved?”

  Another glance at Elizabeth.

  “I’m also acquainted with Mr. Warburton’s plight,” she assured him.

  He gave a self-deprecating shrug and continued. “Yes, much better than before. The Italian holiday must have helped. He still drifts off while you’re talking to him, but not as much as before. Sometimes he ca
n even hold a conversation, as long as it’s brief and fairly simple. He enjoys a carriage ride when the weather’s nice and going to St. James’s Park. His body’s healthy enough, but his mind . . . a most curious case. I’m his physician now, you know; I’ve a keen interest in nervous disorders, and Tony is my favorite patient.”

  “I’m happy to know he’s in your capable hands,” I said. “The poor fellow didn’t ask for what happened to him, whatever that was.” Though he’d certainly brought it upon himself with his murderous attack on Nora and me. He’d failed only because of Nora’s extra-natural abilities, but she’d lost control of her temper and that was the cause for his present condition. Nora deeply regretted her action against him and had no doubt sought to make amends, but where was she now? Why had she ceased to see Tony when he was apparently recovering? Was she afraid of that recovery? I couldn’t imagine her afraid of anything, but if he began telling the truth about what happened that night . . . .

  “I’m thinking of trying a course of electrics on Tony,” Oliver was saying.

  “But I thought such things were for parlor games,” said Elizabeth. She’d participated in such at a party once at the DeQuincey house. Some clever fellow had set up a strange metal ball that gave off sparks like tiny lightning bolts. Metal wands were passed out to the guests, who were invited to touch the ball with the wands. Those who did so were treated to a sharpish twinge, and their reactions subject to much laughing amusement from those gathered around. A lively game, to be sure.

  “There’s use and misuse of anything in the scientific arts,” Oliver stated, for once looking properly somber as befits a physician. “Heaven knows the town is full of quacks, but I’ve seen favorable results on many hopeless cases by the use of electricity. I’ve almost got his mother talked into it. A few years ago she was eager enough to try earth baths for Tony, but now when I come along with something that may really help, she becomes the soul of caution. I suppose it’s because she remembers me during all those times Tony and I dragged ourselves home at dawn drunk as two lords.”