"Since they'd been so sympathetic, it seemed right to make use of it, so I got the lot of them out into the passage and lowered my voice the way Father does when he really wants people to listen. Then I told them in the strictest confidence that you were sadly addicted to laudanum and—"

  "You WHAT?"

  "I had to! It was the one thing I could think of that would explain your condition." I groaned.

  "I said you'd brought a supply with you and were taking it to help your seasickness and it was likely you would remain like this for most of the voyage. Afterward, they had quite a different kind of sympathy for me and were perfectly willing to leave you alone, and that was all I really wanted. Perhaps your reputation might suffer a little should there be any gossip—"

  "A little?"

  "But I doubt if anything will come of it; they gave me their word of honor to say nothing, and unlike some people I've known, I'm willing to believe them." She stalked across the room to rummage in a small trunk, drawing from it her fourth handkerchief. She blew her nose several times. "And so passed the first week."

  "I'm afraid to ask about the rest."

  "Well, happily they weren't as disruptive. Jericho took small meals to your cabin, supposedly for you, then either ate them himself or hid them in the chamber pot to be thrown overboard. He didn't have much of an appetite, nor did I, we were so damned worried. As the days passed and you kept sleeping, we almost got used to it. We reasoned that since you had survived the grave, you were likely to survive this, but it was such a thin hope to cling to with so much time on our hands and nothing to do but wait it out."

  "It must have been awful."

  "The word, little brother, is horrid."

  "Ah . . . yes, of course."

  She paced up and down and blew her nose again. Jericho was taking his time bringing the tea and brandy.

  Two months. There was much about my changed condition that was unnatural, but this one was beyond comprehension. "It must in some way be connected to my difficulty in crossing water . . ."

  She gave me a sour look.

  But I continued. "I was so seasick, perhaps it is meant to spare me the constant discomfort."

  "Jericho and I had many, many discussions on the subject and came to the same conclusion."

  "And you sound as though you're bloody tired of the subject."

  "You are most perceptive."

  I decided to be quiet.

  She stopped pacing. "I do apologize, Jonathan. I shouldn't be so rude to you. You're safe and well and that's what we've been praying for all this time. I'm just so damnably weary."

  "With much justification. Is it very late?"

  "Not really. You woke up at sunset as usual—or what used to be usual. I'm glad to see your habit is reasserting itself."

  "Is this my first night off the ship?"

  "Yes."

  Right. I was away from water and doubtless the solid ground below had aided my revival. "Uh . . . just how was I debarked?"

  "Jericho put you back into your box and locked it up, same as when you were placed aboard. The sailors shifted it to the quay, I hired a cart—"

  "Did no one notice I was missing from the other departing passengers?"

  "It was too hectic. After those many weeks aboard, all everyone wanted to do was to get away from one another."

  "Thank God for that."

  I heard steps in the hall, recognized them, and hurried to open the door.

  "Thank you, sir," said Jericho. His hands were fully occupied balancing a tray laden with enough tea and edibles for three. With the crisis past, he anticipated a return to a normal appetite. I got out of his way so he could put it down on the room's one table.

  "That smells good." Elizabeth came closer. "Are those seedcakes? And eggs? I haven't had one in ages . . ." She hovered over the table, looking unsure of where to begin.

  The smells may have been toothsome to her, but were enough to drive me away. Cooked food of any kind had that effect on me. While she piled the beginnings of a feast on a plate, Jericho poured tea for her, adding a generous drop or two of brandy to the cup.

  "All I really want is the tea," she protested, crumbs of seedcake flying from her mouth. "This only spoils the taste."

  "You need it, Miss Elizabeth."

  "Then so do you. Stop fussing and sit down. I shan't eat another bite until you have some as well."

  This was a violation of custom, to be sure, but the three of us had been friends long before growing up had drawn us irretrievably into our respective stations in life. He hesitated a moment, glancing once at the door to be certain it was closed and once at me to be sure it was all right.

  "Never argue with a lady," I told him.

  He gingerly sat opposite her and suffered her to pour tea for a change.

  "I've missed this," she said. "Remember how we used to take away a big parcel of things from the kitchen and eat in the woods, pretending we were pirates hiding from the king's navy?"

  I gave a small chuckle. "I remember you insisting on playing Captain Kidd for all your skirts."

  "Only because I'd made an eye patch, but I recall giving it to you when I became 'Scarlet Bess, Scourge of the Island' after Mrs. Montagu's gift of those red hair ribbons."

  "Yes, and as Captain Kidd you were a much nicer pirate."

  She threw a seedcake at me, and I caught it just to annoy her. She laughed instead. "I wish you could join us."

  "But he can," said Jericho, garnering questioning looks from us. For an answer, he reached for a second teapot on the tray and held it ready to pour the contents into a waiting cup. He cocked an eye at me.

  "What . . . ?" I drew closer.

  He tipped the pot. From the spout came forth not tea, but blood.

  Elizabeth gasped, eyes wide and frozen.

  When the cup was full, he gently replaced the pot. Then he picked up the cup and a saucer and offered them to me.

  Hardly aware that I spoke, I whispered a thanks to him. The scent of the blood filled my head. The sight of it . . . the whole room seemed to have vanished; all I saw was the cup and its contents. I reached out, seeing my fingers closing 'round it of their own accord. Then I was drinking.

  My God, it was wonderful.

  Still warm.

  I drained it away in one glorious shuddering draught. Not until it was gone did I understand the breadth of my hunger. Muted by my long sleep, it snarled into life and was only slightly appeased by this minute offering.

  "Another, sir?"

  I could only nod. He poured. I drank.

  So very, very wonderful. Eyes shut, I felt the glad heat spreading from my belly out to the tips of my limbs, felt the weight of need melting away, felt the life of it infusing every part of me. Each swallow restoring my depleted body with that much more strength.

  Jericho cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, miss, I should have said something before . . ." He sounded mortally stricken. I opened my eyes, abruptly reminded that I was not alone, and looked at Elizabeth. She was positively ashen. Her gaze fixed on the teapot, then Jericho, then me.

  "I am most sincerely sorry." Jericho started to get up, but Elizabeth's hand shot out and fastened on his arm.

  "No. Don't." For a long moment she did not move. Her breath was short and fast, then she forcibly slowed it.

  "Elizabeth?" I hardly knew what to say. Her head went down, then she gave herself a shake.

  "It's all right. I was just surprised. You did nothing wrong, Jericho, I'm just being foolish."

  "But—"

  "Nothing—wrong," she emphasized. She eased her grip on his arm and patted it. "You stay exactly where you are. Give Jonathan some more if he so desires."

  "Elizabeth, I think I should—"

  "Well, I don't," she snapped. "It's food to you, is it not? Then it's past time that I got used to the idea. For God's sake, some of our field-workers enjoy eating pigs' brains; I suppose I can stand to watch my brother drink some blood, so sit down with us."

  Taking my own advice, I chose not to argue with her and obediently joined them.

  In silence Jericho gestured inquiringly at the teapot. I cautiously nodded. Elizabeth looked on, saying nothing. She resumed her meal at the same time I did.

  "How did you obtain it, Jericho?" she asked in a carefully chosen tone better suited for parlor talk about the weather.

  He was understandably reluctant to speak. "Er . . . while the cook was making the tray ready, I excused myself and went down to the stables."

  "There's such a quantity, though. I hope the poor beast is all right."

  "I drew it off from several horses."

  "And just how did you accomplish the task?"

  "I—ah—I've had occasion to give aid to Dr. Beldon when he's found it necessary to bleed a patient. It was easy enough to imitate."

  "The taste is agreeable to you, is it not?" Her bright attention was now focused on me.

  Anything less than an honest answer would insult her intelligence. "Very agreeable," I said, trying not to squirm.

  "How fortunate. What a trial your life would be were it not."

  "Elizabeth . . ."

  "I was only making an observation. You should have seen your face when Jericho gave you that first cup. Like my cat when there's fish in the kitchen."

  Jericho choked on his egg. I thumped his back until he waved me away.

  We three looked at one another in the ensuing silence. Very heavy it was, too. I wondered just how much of an effect that drop of brandy was having on her.

  Then Elizabeth's face twitched, she made a choking sound of her own, and we suddenly burst out laughing.

  "If anything, I feel cheated," I said some time later.

  Very much at ease once more, we lounged 'round the table, content to do nothing more than let peaceful digestion take its course.

  "Of the time you lost?" asked Elizabeth.

  "Yes, certainly. It's like that story Father told us about the calendar change that happened a couple years before we were born. They were trying to correct the reckoning of the days and made it so the second of September was followed by the fourteenth. He said people were in riot, protesting that they'd been robbed of two weeks of their lives."

  Jericho, with both his natural and assumed reticence much weakened by the brandy, snickered.

  "How absurd of them," she said. "However, that was a change made on paper, not in actual terms of living. Yours has definitely caused you to miss some time from your life."

  "So instead of two weeks I may have been robbed of two months. Unfair, I say, most unfair."

  "It's just as well that we will be staying in England, since you can expect a similar long sleep whenever you venture out to sea."

  I shook my head and shuddered in a comical manner. "No, thank you. Though I might have to make a channel crossing if Nora is still on the Continent. It won't be pleasant, but it's short enough not to put me to sleep."

  "Providing you can find a ship to take you across at night."

  "I'm sure something can be arranged, but it's all speculation anyway until I can talk to Oliver. Have you sent word to him that we've arrived?"

  "Not yet. I wanted to see if you were going to wake up first."

  "I'll write him a letter if you'll have it sent tomorrow."

  "Why not go over tonight and surprise him?"

  "It's been three years and my memory of the city has faded. I may have his new address, but I don't think I could find it alone. You have the innkeeper find a trusty messenger in the morning."

  "We could send one tonight—"

  "Not without an army to protect him, dear Sister. London is extremely dangerous at night. I don't want either of you ever going out alone after dark. The streets are ruled by thieves, murderers, and worse; even the children here will cut your throat for nothing if it suits their fancy."

  Both bore identical expressions of disgust and horror for the realities of life in the world's most civilized city.

  "What about yourself, sir?" asked Jericho. "Will you not find your activities restricted as well since you're limited to the hours of night?"

  "I suppose so, but I've got that Dublin pistol and the sword cane—and the duelers . . . but remember, I've also got certain physical advantages because of my change. I should be safe enough if I keep my wits on guard and stay away from the worst places. It's not as though we're imprisoned by the scoundrels, y'know. Once we get settled in and introduced we'll have lots of things to do in good company, parties and such. Oliver's a great one for parties."

  "So you've often told us," Elizabeth murmured. Her eyes were half-closed.

  I rose and pushed my chair under the table, making it clear that our own celebration was concluded. "Bedtime for you, Miss Barrett. You're exhausted."

  "But it's much too early yet." She made an effort to straighten herself.

  "For me perhaps, but you've had some hard going for a very long time. You deserve to recover from it. Besides, I've more than once boasted to Oliver about your beauty; you don't want to make a liar of me by greeting him with circles under your eyes, do you?"

  She looked ready to throw another seedcake at me, but they'd all been eaten.

  "Jericho, is there a maid here who can help her get ready for bed?"

  "I can get ready myself, thank you very much," she said. "Though I might like to have some hot washing water. And soap. And a drying cloth."

  Jericho stood. "I can see to that, miss. There's a likely wench downstairs who's supposed to help the ladies staying here. I'll send her up straightaway."

  Faced with two men determined to see to her comfort, Elizabeth offered no more protest and took my arm as I escorted her across the hall to her room. She did not say good night, but did throw her arms around me in a brief, fierce embrace. I returned it, told her that all was well again, and to take as much rest as she needed. She was snuffling a little when she closed the door, but I knew the worst was over for her. Sometimes tears are the best way to ease a sorely tried soul; hers was on the mend. She'd be fine by the time the hot water arrived.

  I felt in want of a good wash as well, and Jericho troubled himself to provide for me, unasked. He moved more slowly than usual because of the brandy, but his hand was as steady as ever while scraping my chin clean with the razor.

  "Your beard did not grow much during the voyage," he said, wiping soap and bristles on the towel draped over his free arm. "I only had to shave you but once a week. Even then it hardly looked like half a day's growth."

  "Good heavens, really?"

  "It must have been a very deep sleep to do that."

  "Deep, indeed. But never again. Too frightening."

  He quietly agreed.

  Hardly before I knew it, he'd finished my toilet and assisted my dressing for the evening. More than half the night remained to me, and I'd expressed a desperate need for fresh air despite the perils of the streets. Perhaps in my own mind I'd been at sea for only two nights, but that was still two too many. Though over solid ground at last, I badly wanted to feel it under my feet again.

  "But this is my heavy cloak," I said as he dropped it over my shoulders.

  "It's cold now, Mr. Jonathan, nearly December. The people here say they've had some snow and there's always a chance for more."

  "Oh."

  He put my hat in place and handed me my cane. It was so like the last time on the ship that I had a mad thought that their whole story was some sort of ugly trick. Horrid was indeed the word, this time to describe me for even thinking them capable of such a poor turn. I silently quelled my unworthy doubts and wished him a good evening.

  "Please be mindful of the time," he said. "You've an hour more of darkness now, but there's no reason to take risks."

  True. If I got caught out at sunrise, a near-stranger again in this huge and nasty city . . . I gave him my solemn promise to take all care, then exacted one from him to get some rest and not wait up.

  Then I was downstairs and crossing the muddy courtyard of the inn, my stride long and free after the confines of the ship. The hour was early enough—at least for London—not more than eleven of the clock. Being used to the quiet of the country nearly half a world away, I found the continued noise and bustle of the streets hard to take in. My memories of previous visits had to do with the daytime, though; at night it was as if another, more wretched city emerged from some hidden concavity of the earth to do its business with a luckless world.

  That business was of the darker sort, as might be expected. I kept a tight hand on my cane and my head up, alert to everything around me lest some pickpocket try making a profit at my expense. They were bad enough, but almost genteel compared to their wilder cousins, the footpads. Lacking the skill for subtle thievery, such rascals found it easier to simply murder their victims in order to prevent outcry and pursuit.

  My pace brisk and eyes wide, I was well aware of the half-human debris skulking in the black shadows between the buildings. I avoided these by walking close to the street, though that put me to the risk of getting spattered by mud and worse from passing carriages and riders. Most of the thoroughfares were marked out by hundreds of white posts that separated the traffic from the pedestrians. No vehicle would dare cross that barrier, so at least I was safe from getting run over.

  I could have made myself invisible, soared high, and easily floated over these perils, but that could have meant forsaking this glimpse of the city. Dangers aside, I'd missed London and wanted to get reacquainted with every square inch of it.

  With some exceptions, of course. No man who was not drunk or insane would venture into certain streets, but there were myriad others to make up for that questionable lack. As I traveled from one to the next, I marveled anew at the lines of glass-fronted shops with their best wares displayed in an effort to tempt people inside. All were closed now, except for the taverns and coffee shops, but I had no interest in what they had to sell.

 

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