"Then thank God for that." But I was still very much unnerved.
"Your concern is most flattering." "I had no idea you felt this way." "Normally I don't, but it caught up with me today after reading this rubbish. I came suddenly all over homesick. Mostly I miss Father and worry for him. Perhaps once he's here in England, things will brighten up for me."
"I'm sure they will." I sincerely hoped as much, being very attached to my sister. Though ever considerate for her happiness and comfort, the thought of her moving back, perhaps forever, to Long Island made a cold and heavy knot in my heart. I should not like that to happen at all. "I miss Father, too," I added lamely. "Once he's here everything will be all right for you." "Have you written to him yet?"
"Well..." I hedged. "I've started a letter, but there's been so much to do with Richard'
"Bother that." Some of her dark mood appeared to drop away, and she favored me with a severe eye. "I've heard you complain time and again how heavy the early morning hours are before your bedtime when you've gotten tired of reading and there's no one to talk to except the night watch."
I favored her with a sour face in return. "Be fair, Elizabeth, how do you think I can put all that's happened into a letter? 'Dear Father, Cousin Clarinda murdered Mother's sister, and damned-near got her husband and myself as well. By the way, I've taken in Clarinda's boy, who's turned out to be my son, so congratulations, you're now a grandfather. How are things faring with you?' He'd burst a blood vessel."
Elizabeth found a cushion on the settee and threw it with a great deal of force, catching me square on the nose. "If you send him such a letter I'll burst a blood vessel-one of yours."
The cushion dropped to my lap, and I punched it a few times, feeling quite cheered by her show of temper. "All right, all right, I know better, but it's still anything but an easy task. If you're so keen to let him know what's happened, why don't you write him?"
"Because it's all concerned with your business; therefore it's your responsibility."
"But you're the eldest, as you so frequently remind me. Besides, yours is the more legible handwriting."
"Jonathan, if I were a man I'd call you a coward and issue a challenge here and now."
"And you'd never get satisfaction, because I'd here and now freely admit that I'm as craven as a rabbit."
"And properly ashamed of it, I hope."
"Dreadfully ashamed. In fact, I'm quite paralyzed from it, so much so that I don't think I could possibly lift pen to"
Elizabeth reached for another cushion.
"That is to say... never mind."
She put her potential missile back, smiling a cat's smile. Now that was a very good sign.
Teasing done and peace preserved, I continued. "It would be easier for me if we heard from him first. Surely he's written us by now."
"I'm sure he must have, but with the war going on, his letters might be delayed or stopped altogether. Those damned rebels have ships and guns, too."
"Oh, I'm sure he'd find a way to get something through.
He's got enough well-placed friends to help him. What I'm thinking is that he might have sold the house by now and already be on his way here."
"I hope not-a winter crossing..." She shivered, expressing a very real concern for the dangers. "But all that aside, you still have to do something about this yourself. Oliver and I will help all we can, but in the end, it is your task."
"I know. But making a proper job of it requires a lot of thought and I'm not sure I'm up to it."
She made no effort in the least to stifle her laughter. I threw the cushion back, but missed. It landed harmlessly on the magazines next to her.
"Very well," I grumbled when she had control of herself again. "I'll make a real start on it tonight, though what I'll say to him will be anyone's guess."
"I'm sure the simple truth in the order it happened will be fine."
"But there's such a deuced lot of it and-oh, heavens what if Mother should see it?'' We both knew Mother was not beyond opening and reading her husband's letters when the chance presented itself.
Elizabeth's mouth crimped into an unflattering frown. "If she's determined to commit such a trespass, then she should be prepared to accept the consequences."
"I'm all for it, but my worry is what the consequences will be for Father."
"I expect that should the worst happen, he'll just call Dr. Beldon to give her a draught of laudanum, then Mrs. Hardinbrook will pat her hand and offer shrill sympathy as usual."
"If he manages to keep the letter from Mother, I hope Father won't tell her about Richard." My description to Mrs. Howard of Mother's likely reaction was no exaggeration. Far better for all concerned that she never learned of the child's existence.
"He probably won't, but all you need do is ask for his discretion."
"Be assured of my utter determination to do so. But I'm tired of all this, let's talk about Richard instead."
"I wondered how long it would take for you to get 'round to him. Sooner than this, I would have thought."
"Don't fret, I'll make up for the delay. We had a wonderful time tonight."
"So Oliver and I observed whenever you came hurtling through. Did you win your race?"
"Oh, dozens of 'em." Taking this as an invitation, I told her every detail of what we'd done. "He's very smart, y'know." I concluded, sometime later, after letting her know all about the attempted lesson in fractions and the chapbook.
"I know."
"I think he really was reading along with me. He knows all his letters, at least up to M, anyway. I'll take him through the rest of the alphabet tomorrow night."
"That should be nice."
"Something wrong?"
"I hope not." But her face was all serious again. I feared a return of her earlier melancholy.
"Then what is it that you hope is not wrong?"
"Perhaps I'm too much the worrier, but I need some assurance from you."
"On what?"
Her ears went pink. "This is entirely foolish of me. I know you, but I can't seem to quell the worry."
"What worry? Come now and tell me."
"It's just that Richard is tremendous fun for you right now. Everything's all new and exciting. But I have to know that you'll be there for him when he needs more than a playmate. That you'll look after him when things are serious as well, the way Father's always done for us." Her words came out all in a rush, clear evidence of her embarrassment.
In my own heart I'd already thought along those very same paths. I'd worried over the fear that once the novelty of Richard's presence wore off, I'd find other pursuits to occupy me. After a lengthy heart search, I'd concluded the fear to not be worth further examination. "Of course I will," I answered quietly. "Elizabeth... know this: That boy is part of my very soul and always will be. That's as certain as the sunrise."
Her face cleared somewhat. Then she smiled, a small one, and gave an equally small sigh. "Thank you for not being angry with me."
I shrugged. "If you care for Richard half as much as I do, then hearing your concerns for him is my duty and pleasure. You've nothing to fault yourself with. I won't pretend to assume I'll make as good a job of it with him as Father did for us, but certainly I'll try my best."
"I don't understand why I thought you might do anything less. I just needed to hear you say it, I suppose."
"It's because you're my sister. You've seen me as a child howling away over scraped knees and a bloody nose, and it's hard to accept that the boy you hold in your memory can handle a man's business when he's grown. Good heavens, there's many that can't no matter how old they get."
"Too true." We regarded each other, peace restored-I hoped-to her heart and mine. For all the fun and frolic I had with Richard, I held a keen and clear awareness of the attendant responsibility. In odd moments I sometimes gave in to fear and quailed at the enormous weight of it, of raising a child, but then I'd had a more than decent raising and could draw upon memories of my father's example whe
n necessary. With this and guidance from others I had a more than reasonable expectation of not making a mess of things.
Still and all, I would be very, very glad when Father arrived in England.
Perhaps I should wait a bit before seeking out a house, on the chance that he would want to help in the choosing. Much of his law practice had been occupied with the details on the buying and selling of property and boundary disputes. I'd very much welcome his vast experience. Damnation, but there would be a thousand decisions to make. The place might even require extensive furnishing. Elizabeth would be of excellent help there. Furnishings... "I was just thinking, dear sister..." Her glance up at me was sharpish. I only used that particular form of address when I wanted something from her and well did she know it.
"Do you think you could teach Richard to play the spinet?''
"I could try, if I had a spinet upon which to teach." "I was planning to get you one." "I'm pleased to hear it. But isn't he a bit young, yet?" "Oh, it's never too early to learn. They say that fellow Mozart started just as young, and he ended up playing before all the royal courts."
"Mozart was born with musical talent-what if Richard takes after you?''
"Then I'll teach him to ride horses instead, and you'll have a fine instrument left over as a souvenir of the attempt. Tomorrow I want you to run out and find the best spinet in London and have them cart it over right away. But all that aside, I miss hearing you play."
Her expression softened. "Why, thank you!" "And get a carpet, too."
Now did her expression abruptly pinch into blank perplexity. "A carpet?"
"Yes, a nice big thick one, the thickest you can find. I promised Mrs. Howard one for the nursery and said the three of you could go shopping for it tomorrow. Richard should have a say in the choosing, too, I thought."
"How kind of you to find so many enjoyable things for me to do," she said dryly.
"Not at all. I suppose you'll need to take measurements or something so it will fit. You'll find a measuring stick up there, unless Mrs. Howard has given it back to Jericho. I was teaching him about fractions-Richard, that is, not Jericho-with it, if you'll recall. Perhaps you can find a carpet for Mrs. Howard's room, too. An excellent woman, we're so lucky to have her, and I want her made as comfortable as may be."
"Heavens, Jonathan, I don't even have a carpet for my room!"
I waved a careless hand. "Then indulge yourself at my expense."
"Don't worry, I will," she muttered darkly.
Dear me, but I knew that look. Time for a bit of placation or I'd have another pillow in my face. "Well, I've gone on quite long enough, why don't you tell me everything you did today?"
Elizabeth sighed, apparently exasperated by this latest sudden change in subject, then composed herself to give a summation of the day's events. As with Jericho, it had become a regular custom between us for her to tell me all the news I'd missed while lying oblivious in the cellar.
"Well, to start with, Charlotte Bolyn has invited us to"
"No, no, no, I don't mean that rot! Tell me all that happened with you and Richard."
She picked up the cushion and once more-and with considerable force-managed to strike my nose dead on.
In an effort to preserve my battered countenance from additional damage, I decided to intrude upon Oliver's ruminations, hoping he wouldn't be too far gone in study for a bit of company. Upon hearing my knock he grunted something that might loosely be interpreted as an invitation to enter. I took it as such and pushed the door open.
His own sanctuary was part study, part consulting room, to be used on those occasions to interview patients when he was not out making calls on them. His practice wasn't a busy one, but he kept himself very active with it. Most of his patients were from within his broad circle of friends, and being a gregarious sort, he often as not paid visits as much to socialize as to render aid. Unless his services as a physician were actually required, he never charged for those visits, claiming he was content enough with the distraction of agreeable company. This made him popular, but it was just as well for him that he had income inherited from Grandfather Fonteyn or he'd not be living in his present comfortable circumstances.
At the moment he was very comfortable, indeed, having pulled his favorite chair close to the fire and treated himself to some port while reading. Like Elizabeth, he had a respectable stack of The Gentleman's Magazine nearby and held one in his hand.
"Hallo," he said, looking up. "Is the house still standing?"
"Was it too much row for you?''
"Not at all. You should have heard us earlier when Richard and I were playing hide-and-seek. I was just wondering whether the walls were still intact after the races."
"Intact and likely to stay solid," I said, easing into another chair. "But we'll be more stately tomorrow night if you like."
"Please say you won't. I grew up being forced into state-liness and can't recommend it. Let the boy laugh and shout his head off; I like that kind of noise. The reason I came here was to keep from getting trampled."
"Sorry."
He dismissed my contrition with a wave. "And because I feared you'd invite me to join in and I might not have the will to refuse. The little brat already tired me to the point of fainting once today. Once is more than sufficient."
"He did?"
"Well, perhaps not quite so far, but I was pretty blown. Don't know how Nanny can keep up with him. Paces herself, I suppose."
"She and I had a nice little talk about this and that," I said. "She managed, during that talk, to throw a sizable rock into my tranquil pond."
He squinted. "Sorry, but I don't quite follow."
"Because I've not yet explained."
"Then please do so, Coz."
I did so, recounting to him Mrs. Howard's objections to raising a child in the city.
"Then you also think young Richard would be better off in a rustic setting?'' he asked.
"It didn't seem to hurt either of us or Elizabeth."
"True enough. It may have been hard going for me with Mother, but Nanny saw to it I got my share of fresh air and exercise. You'd also be limiting his chances of getting the pox, too."
My dormant heart gave a sudden and sickening lurch. "Pox? Good God, I hadn't thought of that."
His normally jocund expression was now as gloomy as that of a judge. "And well you should. I've seen far too many young souls carried off before their sixth year from that curse, and pox aside, there's any number of a hundred other things that..."
Another lurch in my chest. It felt like a great ball of ice was rolling around inside.
I wanted Oliver to stop talking, to stop filling me with fears I didn't want, but as hard as the facts were to hear, they were inescapable.
"He'll have to be inoculated," 1 whispered.
"Oh, yes, certainly that. I know a good man for it, grinds 'em through a dozen at once."
"What?"
"He's got a big house he's turned into a sort of inoculation mill. Has in a dozen children at a time. They stay for about a week for a bit of purging and bleeding to purify their systems, then he makes the inoculation. They're down sick from it, of course, but he keeps them all bedded up and cared for until they're ready to go home, say after about two weeks. He's very good, very successful."
I recalled my own ordeal had not been quite so involved and said as much.
Oliver frowned mightily, then his face cleared. "Oh, well, that's because it was a few years back and on the other side of the world. There's been a lot of advances made since, y'know. You won't find 'em practicing any wild colonial experimentation here in England! But there's no hurry. The lad needs a little time to grow. Elizabeth made a point of hiring servants who'd already had it, so things should be safe for now. Just make sure it's done before you send him off to school."
If I send him off, I thought. At the moment, the idea of hiring a private tutor looked much more appealing to me. Many other boys, myself included, had not suffered from such school
ing in the safety of one's home.
So many plans. So many responsibilities. That ball of ice would turn into a leaden weight and take up permanent residence if I let it.
Always move forward, laddie. We're all in God's hands and that's as safe enough place as any in this world.
"Jonathan?"
I'd been staring at the fire and now gave a start.
"Don't come all over melancholy on me. Everything's going to be fine."
"Yes, I'm sure you're right. It was just a bit of a jolt, don't you know."
"I know, and I'm glad to hear it. Means you'll be doing something when the time comes."
P N Elrod - Barrett 4 - Dance of Death Page 10