P N Elrod - Barrett 4 - Dance of Death

by Dance Of Death(Lit)

  He was a big man, nearly Ridley's size, and usually as robust, but last night's activities had left him with a gaunt white face, one arm in a sling, bandaging 'round both hands, and an unnatural slowness to his movements. Fire still lurked in his dark eyes, though, and he favored me with some of its heat.

  I hauled up short, rocking back on my heels in a most undignified way, at the same time cursing myself for such absurd behavior. After all, what had I to fear from him?

  "Where have you been keeping yourself all day?" he growled, not bothering with the courtesy of a greeting beyond a slight raising of his chin. Had he always had that mannerism or taken it from Clarinda? Or had she gotten it from him?

  "My doctor recommended rest.''

  "That fool Oliver."

  "He's not a fool,'' I said mildly.

  Edmond chose not to argue the point. "What are you here for? Mrs. Howard said you'd already come and gone."

  "And I've come again. What else did Mrs. Howard have to say about my visit?''

  His lips parted as though to answer, then snapped shut. I'd caught him out and he was well aware of it. "Come along then. We need to talk.'' When I hesitated to jump at this command, he added, "The boy's sound asleep and will look just the same later on."

  When first we'd met, his brusque manner had intimidated me, for I'd attributed it to the fact that he was aware of my past intimacy with his wife. True enough, but now I was able to understand that such was his manner with everyone and counseled myself to tolerance. I followed as he led off up the hall to again take the stairs to the ground floor.

  As he slowly paced along, an uncomfortable foreboding began to assert itself on my spirit, and I soon found my somber expectations fulfilled when he turned into the one room in this whole dismal house I least wanted to visit.

  Its fireplace held a hearty blaze; that was the chief difference between my present intrusion and the very first time I'd come here with Clarinda. Then it had been rather cold and cheerless-until she made it her business to warm things up for me. We'd consummated our fit of mutual passion on that settee under the eye of that same bust of Aristotle-or perhaps it was one of the Caesar's-sitting on the mantel. Good God, what did Edmond think he was about in bringing me here?

  But as he eased his heavy body down on the settee with an audible sigh, I comprehended (and not without considerable relief) that he did not know what had happened here those few short years ago. His present occupancy must be because of its privacy and because this had been Clarinda's room during the funeral. Some of her things still lay scattered about-small things: a handkerchief discarded on the floor, a comb forgotten on a table, a pair of slippers peering shyly out from under a chair. Of her other belongings there was no sign; perhaps they'd been packed and taken away to their home already.

  "Sit," he ordered, gesturing to one of the chairs.

  I did so.

  He had a brandy bottle close at hand and some glasses. Without asking my pleasure, he poured out two portions and nodded for me to take one. I did this without hesitation, for if need be I could alter his memory about my lack of thirst.

  He did not trouble to make a toast, but partook himself of a draught that would have done credit to Oliver's reputation for swilling down spirits. That gone, he filled his glass again and emptied it just as swiftly, then availed himself of a third libation. I thought he might deal with it as with the first two, but he contented himself with only half before putting the glass to one side.

  "Something disturbs you?" I ventured, indicating the brandy.

  He grunted. "Life disturbs me, Barrett. I've been harshly served."

  "If you want an apology from me, I should be happy to give-"

  He waved me down, shaking his head. "There's no need, what's done is done. I had quite a talk with Clarinda today and got the truth out of her concerning her liaison with you. I think it's the truth, anyway. At long last she has no more reason to lie to me."

  "Sir, if you wish the truth, then by my honor, it's yours for the asking."

  "That won't be necessary. You need not tell the husband how enjoyable you found his wife's favors.''

  I winced, recovered myself, and spoke through my teeth. "But I did not know she was anyone's wife.''

  He looked long and hard at me, not moving a muscle. By very slow and small degrees the lines of his face relaxed. "That makes a difference to you?''

  "It does."

  "Then by God, you're probably the only man in England who can say so."

  "Like Clarinda, I have no reason to lie to you, nor would I if I did." I let him think on it a moment, then said, "You wanted to talk. Was this the subject you had in mind?"

  "Not quite, but it is directly related to my wife. And you."

  "Richard."

  "Our mutual son,'' he rumbled.

  "What about him?"

  "You surprised me last night. Most fathers want nothing to do with their bastards."

  Like a runaway fire, hot anger rushed through my body. One bare instant later and I was on my feet and looming over him. It was only by the greatest effort of forbearance that 1 didn't haul him up and toss him across the room as he deserved. He flinched, eyes widening, taking in my red face and trembling fists. Apparently my reaction surprised him once more, almost as much as it startled me. "You will not refer to him in that way ever again,'' I whispered, voice shaking with rage.

  "Or what?" His eyes had narrowed; his tone was dangerous.

  "Or..." A number of obvious, violence-oriented threats occurred to me, but I was starting to think once more and knew that none of them would be taken seriously by this man, not without an immediate demonstration, anyway. "Or I'll make it my duty to instruct you on the subject of good manners."

  We locked gazes for a goodly period, but there was no need to rely on my unnatural influence this time. Edmond could see just how earnest was the intent behind the temperate words.

  Then he smiled.

  It was a mere tightening of the straight line of his mouth and very brief, but a smile nonetheless, and enough to give me pause. Had this thrice-cursed villain been testing me?

  He leaned back upon the settee. "Thank you, but I've had sufficient instruction to last me a fortnight. Thought you had as well, but you seem to have recovered. Sit down, Cousin, there's been enough blood spilled in this family already."

  I backed away, not to sit, but to pace about the room and work off the sudden energy that had set my limbs to quivering. Had he always been like this to Clarinda? If so, then though I could not excuse her crimes, I could easily understand one of the reasons why she'd committed them. Certainly continual contact with his abrasive manner could not have done her much good. Or had it been Clarinda's endless infidelities that made him like this? Had they driven him to live in what was apparently a constant state of bitter exasperation? Perhaps by now he knew of no other way to express himself to the world.

  ''Why am I here, Edmond?" I asked, when I'd gotten my temper under control.

  "Because I wanted to have a good look at you. Your sister and I had quite a talk earlier today..."

  "Yes, she said something of it to me."

  "She was most informative about your high sense of honor and good character, but I needed to see for myself what you're made of. A man usually shows one face to women and another to other men, just as they do for us. It would seem that for you there's little difference between the two."

  "You have an annoying way of fashioning and bestowing a compliment, sir, if that was your intent.''

  "The shortcoming has been mentioned to me by others, but for the sake of accuracy think of it as less of a compliment and more of an observation.''

  I paused by the fireplace. "So you've observed that I seem to be a man of honor and good character. What of it? I thought you wanted to talk about Richard. I am more than willing, provided that you refrain from insulting him."

  He snorted. "The truth is not an insult, and you'd best get used to hearing such once news of this gets out. Ther
e are others ever willing to make a cruel cut when the fancy strikes 'em. Then what means will you take to improve their manners? More duels?"

  "Only when it's impossible to avoid. That business with Ridley-"

  "Was all part of Clarinda's scheming, I know. You're damned lucky he didn't kill you. Now that you've raised the subject, how the devil are you to be rid of him without another fight? However right and pleasing it may be, we can't keep him locked in the cellar forever.''

  "Put your mind at rest on that. I've already dealt with him. He's presently upstairs in Arthur Tyne's room, and they'll both be leaving in the morning.''

  Before he could master himself I had the great satisfaction of seeing a look of boundless astonishment seize control of Edmond' s features.'' What are you saying?''

  "It's all cleared up and put away, so to speak. He and his cousin will trouble us no more. I have his word on it."

  "His word!"

  "It was all quite easy, once I got him to settle down and listen to reason."

  In light of the quarrelsome nature of his character, and not forgetting the implausibility of what I was telling him, I was convinced that my very best assurance would not be enough for Edmond. Even as the words tumbled easily from my mouth, the corners of his own turned markedly down, and he looked ready to offer a considerable debate and a number of bothersome questions I was not prepared to answer. Consequently, I made sure to come close and lock eyes with him again, guaranteeing a successful imposition of my will over his own.

  "You don't have to worry about him at all...." I whispered into his mind.

  He was not easy to influence; for that difficulty I could blame the brandy. It was very like talking to a wall-a rather stoutly made one composed of brick. Several moments passed without my noticing any visible effect beyond a slight deadening of his countenance, but I'd seen that face on him before, usually prior to the delivery of some trenchant remark. Just as 1 thought my efforts would come to nothing, I observed that he had ceased to blink his eyes quite so much. For that good blessing I allowed myself a small sigh of relief, but continued to concentrate the greater part of my thought and will upon him. There was a kind of instinctual feeling within me that if I let my focus wander for even a second, I'd lose him.

  "It's all been sorted out...."

  When finally finished, I'd acquired a nasty, droning ache behind my eyes, but at least there would be no more discussion of Ridley for now and probably for good. It was well with me; I was altogether sick of the subject. Returning to my post by the fireplace, I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to diminish the pain. Though fading, it was an annoyance. I hoped I could get through the rest of the night without having to resort to that handy talent again.

  "Now what about young Richard?" I asked upon seeing Edmond very much needed the prompting.

  "Yes. Well..."He rubbed his face and neck like a waking sleeper. I was happy enough to wait him out for it had been hard going for us both. "You've seen him. According to Mrs. Howard you seem to like him. So what do you want to do?"

  A vague enough question, requiring a general sort of answer, though in my heart I'd already made a thousand plans for the boy. "What's best for him, of course. You're his father as well; what do you recommend?''

  "Father? Father in name only," he rumbled, coming fully awake. "I knew he wasn't mine the moment I clapped eyes on him. She used to delight in pretending-oh, never mind. It's all over.'' He made a throwing-away motion with one hand.

  I frowned at him. "Did that child ever suffer because of his mother's betrayal of you?"

  His snapped-out answer told me he spoke the truth. "I've never laid a hand on him. God's death, I only saw the boy when it was necessary. He never took to me."

  That I could understand.

  His gaze canted sharply over to meet mine, and he correctly interpreted my expression. "What would you have? For me to play the saint and clasp him to my bosom as my own? Then wish on, for such sham is beyond my ability."

  "My wish..." I began with a return of hot anger, but trailed off and made myself cool down. There was no point to it now. There was no point in wishing the child had had even a vestige of kindness from the man he perceived as his father. Whether or not ignoring the boy was better than pretended affection I could not judge. It was just so unutterably sad.

  "What is your wish?'' he finally asked.

  "Nothing. As you say, it's all over."

  For several more minutes neither of us spoke. I was now abrim with dark perturbation, and Edmond seemed in no better shape. I could almost feel the restless shift of our combined emotions churning through the room like some sort of fog composed of feeling instead of mist. Very much did I want to remove myself from its ill effect, but there was no help for it; I'd have to see this through.

  "Edmond."

  He didn't move; only his eyes shifted.

  "You've asked me what I want. Tell me what it is that you want."

  He laughed once, softly. "Another life might serve me well, or fewer mistakes in this one."

  "I meant concerning Richard."

  "I know what you meant. You said you want what's best for him. On that we are in full accord; we should certainly try to do what's best for him. It's not his fault that his mother's a murdering sow."

  The brandy must be having its way with him, else he might not be so free with his speech, but after looking up the muzzle of a pistol aimed at him by his own dear wife, he was more than entitled to call her names. Indeed, I could respect him for his extreme restraint in the matter.

  He glowered at the fire. "For as long as she lives I' 11 have to be her keeper. It's my just punishment for marrying the wrong woman and hers for marrying the wrong man. We're stuck with each other, she the prisoner, me the turnkey, not unlike most marriages, I suppose."

  Just the subject I'd have to question him about, but it would have to hold for a bit longer, for this one was far more important to me. "What has this to do with Richard?''

  'I'm attempting to give you an idea of what sort of growing up awaits him once we're all home again."

  He allowed me time to think on it. I didn't much like the images my mind was busily bringing forth for consideration.

  "What's best for the boy," Edmond said, reaching for his unfinished glass, "is to not be in a house where his mother must be locked away like the lost soul that she is. What's best is for him to be with his real father.''

  "Wh-what?"

  He caught hold of the glass and downed the last half of his drink. "Would you consider taking him away?''

  "To where?'' I asked stupidly.

  "To any place you damned well please."

  I shook my head, not as an answer to his question but from sheer disbelief. The longer I stared, though, the more certain I became that he was utterly serious. "You'd be willing to make such a sacrifice?''

  Now it was his turn to favor me with his disbelief. "Sacrifice? Haven't you yet gotten it through your head that I care nothing for the boy? Did someone stuff cloth in your ears when I wasn't looking? God help me, but knowing the things I know I can hardly endure the sight of him anymore. D'ye think I'm making a sacrifice? Don't flatter me."

  "But"

  "If it's true that we both want what's best for him, then that's for him to be well away from my house."

  "But for you to give him up just like that?''

  "Damnation, I'm giving him to a man who might be able to provide better for him than I ever could. I know my limit, Barrett, and I've long since reached the end of mine."

  "This is the brandy talking'

  "Brandy be damned, I'm trying to do something right for once. If you don't want him, then I'll find someone else who does and bless him for the favor. I'm trying to give the misbegotten brat a chance to know some kindness and love. I've none of it left in my heart; that bitch I married burned it out of me." He hurled the empty glass across the room. Though aimed nowhere near me, I still instinctively ducked as it flew past, so savage was the force behind his
action. Next he picked up the brandy bottle and seemed for a moment ready to send it crashing after the glass, but the moment passed. He collected himself and fell back on the settee.

  "D'ye want 'im or not?" he asked, his voice drained of everything except weariness.

  There was no need to think on my answer. "Yes, of course I do. I should be more than delighted to take care of him."

  "Good.'' He took a long drink right from the bottle. "You can sort out the details with Mrs. Howard. Take her along as well if you like. I can give her an excellent reference if you need it."

  "That won't be necessary. I'm sure she will do admirably with us." God, the man must truly be distracted if he thought I'd separate Richard from the one person who had been his chief source of affection and guidance from the cradle."What about Clarinda? What if Richard should want to see her?"