B007JJU92E EBOK, page 15
“Hey, Lord Fauntleroy,” I barked, barefoot in briefs, “that happens to be a K-Mart Blue Light Special!”
* * *
In the end I cut quite the handsome figure in the Colonel’s breakaway jacket and slacks and a borrowed pair of Lester’s Florsheims, which actually almost fit.
The chauffeur honked at precisely four o’clock.
Lester, fixing gold cufflinks, walked me down to the limo.
I was surprised to find it empty but for the driver.
“Your father and granddad aren’t coming?”
Lester held the door for me. “Charles and I overdid the snob-baiting pranks a bit our junior year at Oxford, most of it my doing, but father never took to Charles after that. Seems father and the Dean go way back. I think that’s just cover for the Cushings’ believing Charles’s family lies among the Nuevo riche, but no matter. It’s not much the fashion these days anyway, old man.”
I climbed in. “The fashion?”
“The younger set mixing with their elders, even at weddings. A last nose-thumbing at privilege before we’re all swept up in it, you know? No one gets married at home anymore.”
“Afraid not.”
“Count yourself fortunate, old boy. Ah, here comes the bell of the ball!”
I turned in the rich leather seat to see Jenkins walking a recently groomed Mitzi on an expensive-looking leash.
“Lester, you’re kidding…”
“I’m certainly not!” He opened the door again for my poodle. “Exactly the kind of snob-baiting foolery Charles would appreciate! In you go, old girl! You’ve earned yourself some wedding cake!”
Mitzi jumped in my lap.
I pushed her off onto the seat next to me. “These are the Colonel’s slacks!”
Mitzi sniffed them. “You’ll never fill them, Eddie.”
Lester slammed the door, banged the roof. “Off you go! I’ll pick up Sheila in the Lotus and meet you at Eaton House in half an hour!”
And off we went.
It was a beautiful day for a beautiful ride to what I was sure to be a beautiful wedding.
“You know, Eddie, of all your insanely rich friends, I think I like Lester the best!”
I smiled, patted her head. “Are you implying Lester’s insane?”
“Oh, mad as a March hare! I adore him! And don’t pretend you don’t!”
I gazed out at the rush of Cumbria green. “I’m not. I’ll miss him…”
Mitzi looked up at me. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Eventually. Once we get Clancy back again and kill all the vampires in Great Britain. I doubt they’re contained to the Isles, don’t you?”
“I don’t even care. I could get used to the filthy rich.”
“You’ll grow fat.”
“Not on hare blood.”
“By the way, Able House, as it’s known, is not a brothel, according to Lester.”
“Smelled like sex to me.”
“It’s a sort of exclusive club where proper ladies meet proper gentlemen for prospectively proper marriage. You didn’t think Lester would fall in love with a lady of the evening, did you?”
“It’s been known to happen. Ever get ahold of Sylvie, by the way?”
I felt my face heat. “No. She won’t take my calls. The Count knows something about it but won’t say.”
“Playing his usual games.”
“Looking out for us, Mitz.”
“I suppose. Oh, my God! Is this it?”
I looked ahead at the approaching monstrosity of stone and mortar. “Wow.”
“Is there no end to these neoclassic temples to war? Look at that! That’s a castellated gatehouse!”
I stretched to the window. “I don’t even know what that means…”
Mitzi wagged her tail. “And a rotunda!”
“That thing poking up in the middle?”
“Yes, Eddie, that thing in the middle. Check out those columns! Looks like Palladio’s Villa Capra in Vicenza!”
“Say, what--?”
“Or maybe Scamozzi’s Villa Rocca Pisana!”
“You can quit showing off any time.”
“One of us has to portend to worldliness. Nice jacket, by the way. That granddad’s too?”
“I’m doing the best I can, Mitz!”
“Yeah, no, you look great, really. That must be the arboretum. My, would you look at all the lovely pulchritude? Like a swarm of little pastel butterflies! That blonde there looks like your type, Eddie!”
I slumped back in my seat. “I already know my type,” I grumbled, “just not where she is at the moment.”
“Maybe she was invited to the wedding!”
I made a face, then turn to the dog in hopeful speculation. “Are you serious?”
“Well, some of those girls look like the ones I saw last night at the brothel…I mean, Ample House, or whatever’s it’s called.”
“Able House!”
“That’s it. Oh good, we’re stopping!”
The chauffeur let us off at the immense gravel carriage circle ringing an immaculately kept and sumptuous garden filled to dripping with every conceivable flower known to man.
I took Mitzi’s leash as she hopped out, turned and breathed deep of a veritable wall of perfume. “Oh, man, smell that! What is that?”
Mitzi whiffed once. “Well, let’s see, mostly wild flowers, I’d say…bluebells, tulips, buttercups, red poppies, daffodils, some rosemary over there, thyme, violets, heather, of course…”
“All right! We all know who has the nose!”
“Not bad, huh, considering the Niagara of perfume from the bridesmaids, etc. I wonder—oh, shit!”
I spun to her. “What--?”
“I cannot freakin’ believe this!”
“What!”
“Don’t panic, Eddie, just drop my leash and walk calmly away! Pretend you’re looking for the bathroom or something! There must be at least fifty of them in there!”
“What’s matter? Who is it--?”
“Never mind…too late…”
“Mr. Magee, isn’t it?”
I turned to the solemn little figure at my shoulder. The waxy complexion. The basset hound face. The vaguely familiar face.
“Sorry,” I put out a hand, “do I—you look familiar…”
The other young man took my hand reluctantly—a fish grip—looked me up and down suspiciously. “Windsor-Smith, Mr. Magee.”
My mind raced. Winsor-Smith…Windsor-Smith…
Then he turned his head to smile at a passing acquaintance and I saw the bandage at his neck.
“Ah! The embassy! You’re the clerk from the American Embassy in London!”
“Was. I’ve taken a leave of absence. Hopefully, if things go well, a permanent one.”
I nodded, still shaking the limp hand. “That’s right! I phoned them some time ago, still looking for my passport—what’s the matter?”
He was staring down at Mitzi, who was pretending (rather badly) to look the other way. Mitzi. The dog who’d sunk her fangs into his neck.
“Isn’t that your animal?”
“Oh. Yes. It is. My poodle. Mitzi. You, uh…remember her?”
He acted for a moment like he was going to touch his neck but demurred at the last second. “I remember her.”
But did he remember her on a darkened street…attacking him?
I suddenly very much needed to find that bathroom.
Mitzi faked wandering away to the end of the leash. I thought about dropping it, rejected the idea.
“So, Mr. Magee, you and your wife didn’t receive your passports yet?”
He was peering intently at the poodle.
“No. Well, my wife got hers, I believe, but not me.”
He turned to me. “You ‘believe’?”
Better not to try and explain Clancy and I weren’t married. “She got it, yes. I’m still waiting for mine.”
“I see. And is your lovely wife attending the wedding today?”
I smiled toothy regret. “I’m afraid not. She’s uh…”
“Careful!” from Mitzi’s mind to mine, “he might have seen her at the brothel!”
“…she’s uh…allergic to wildflowers!”
“Brilliant!”
Windsor-Smith glanced at the expansive garden. “I see. Sorry—what was her name again?”
“Clancy. Clancy Magee.”
“Ah. Well, it’s a pity she couldn’t join us. I believe you two...” he glanced balefully at Mitzim “…you three would be the only Americans here today!” He leaned closer, squinted up at me with his basset eyes. “I don’t seem to remember you from school or church. Are you friends with someone here locally?”
“Yes, Lester Cushing.”
“Lester! I say! I don’t recall him ever mentioning an American friend. ‘Edward,’ is it?”
“That’s right. And I don’t believe I caught your first name.”
“Charles.”
Charles.
Close friend of Lester’s at—
“Oxford, did you say?”
“I didn’t. But yes, that’s where I met Lester. We were quite the pranksters, Mr. Cushing and I!”
“You don’t say.” I craned about. “And you know the bride and groom, of course.”
“I am the groom, Mr. Magee.”
Oh, shit, I thought in my head.
“Oh, shit,” Mitzi said in my head.
“And this is the bride…”
I turned to find a tall, stunningly beautiful Amazon gliding toward us, smiling radiantly. She wore a simple white dress, low cut in front, which she filled out wonderfully. I got the feeling she could have picked up Windsor-Smith and carried him over the threshold.
Windsor-Smith took her arm. “Katrina, allow me to introduce Mr. Magee. And his dog. Mr. Magee, my fiancée Katrina Hamilton. Soon to be Mrs. Windsor-Smith!”
“My pleasure, Mr. Magee!”
“It’s Ed, please. Well! Isn’t this something!”
Windsor-Smith scratched his bandage absently. “We certainly hope so, Mr. Magee.”
I chuckled nervously. “I mean…I thought it was bad luck for the bride and groom…you know, before the ceremony…”
The statuesque Katrina waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, no one stands on tradition in Cumbria anymore! It’s the 21th century, Mr. Magee, a whole new world!”
“Which I hope you both find great happiness in!” I told her.
“Try saying that without staring at her tits next time,” from Mitzi.
I cleared my throat. “You certainly are quite a pair!”
“Jesus!”
I motioned between them quickly. “The two of you, I mean! Did you meet at Ample House by chance? Able House!”
“We did, as a matter of fact,” Katrina beamed. “Are you a member, Ed?”
“I am, yes!”
“I don’t recall seeing you there.”
I shrugged. “Well…I’ve never actually been there.”
The couple stared at me.
“Wonderful,” Mitzi rolled her eyes.
“I mean, I’ve only just joined!”
“Mr. Magee is a friend of Lester’s, dear.”
“Oh? How nice!” She glanced about. “Where is the dashing Mr. Cushing, anyway, the ceremony’s about to start.”
As if in answer a car engine with a rumble like a wounded elephant sounded from the carriage circle.
“Speak of the devil,” Windsor-Smith mused. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Magee.”
“Ed! Sure!”
And they moved through the crowd toward the sweeping lines of a glistening new sports car jutting rakishly in the driveway. It looked slightly alien--part machine, part insect--and still cruising fast even when parked.
“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Mitzi muttered in the back of my head, “a Lotus Elise! You have any idea how much one of those things cost?”
I shook my head, watching a distant, proudly smiling Lester come round and open the low swept door for his date. “Nor ever how it feels to drive one, I suspect...”
A few moments passed then.
Silent moments.
Mainly because both Mitzi and I became utterly speechless.
The handsome couple seemed to swim toward me as if out of a dream.
Or nightmare.
“Edward my boy,” Lester clasped my shoulder. “I want you to meet the most beautiful creature who ever walked the planet! Sheila, darling, this is my good friend Ed Magee and his wonderful companion Mitzi! Ed, Mitzi, my lovely Sheila!”
I took her hand.
“Heard so much about you!” I smiled graciously.
“And I you,” Clancy replied.
Mitzi just stared up open-mouthed, unconsciously watering the lawn.
FOURTEEN
Have you ever hated someone you loved?
Or loved someone you hated?
I guess we all have at one time or another. Maybe the two emotions are just different sides of the same coin.
But standing there on those spacious grounds before that magnificent English mansion with the heady perfume of that incredible garden wafting over us, try as I might, the only thing I could feel for Clancy at the moment was an unbridled anger.
And it surprised me. I’d assumed that for a least a split second I’d be so overwhelmed at just seeing her again—seeing her alive again—locating her at last for Pete sake, I might grab her and pull her into my arms. Just as well I didn’t with my new best friend Lester beaming there beside her. But it wasn’t just the fact that she’d run out on me in London without so much as a word, it wasn’t that she hadn’t once answered my phone calls when now it was clear she so obviously could have, it wasn’t the fact that only days after I’d confessed my undying love for her she’d marched off that Kansas City rooftop with Ivan Kolcheck, disappeared from my life for what I assumed was ever, then reappeared magically aboard that absurd plane of Hugh Hefner’s over the North Atlantic—finally reunited again--survived by a hair’s breth a mid-ocean crash with me, made me feel like the luckiest of lucky men in the Universe, then, in a matter of days, walked out on me once again, apparently never looking back…it wasn’t only the tortured list of betrayals above. It was the fact that now, at long last, when I stood before her again, I’d not only found her very much involved with another man (a man I’d come to like very much, incidentally), but also found that she was turning me out…blocking me telepathically as surely as she had physically for all these weeks!
That’s right. When I practically besieged her with a barrage of mental questions (who, what, when, where?) my mind was met by a brick wall of silence. And believe me I tried…projected and strained until I developed a nice, nagging migraine, but she remained obdurate, implacable, defiant: sorry, transmission not received…please try your call again later!
Worse, she even refused to meet my eyes, accept for that brief, faked moment of introduction when she was more or less obliged to shake my hand perfunctorily.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Magee.”
“And you. Miss Sheila.”
I could have gripped that pale hand tight, squeezed the blood out of it and thrown her over my head. Except that Clancy, the famous hybrid vampire, was probably several times stronger than I.
She pulled her hand back quickly, as if sensing hostility.
Lester threw up his arms in histrionic admonishment. “What’s this? Hand shakes! I won’t have it! Not between my two favorite people! Edward you either kiss my fiancée immediately or I shall consider it an irredeemable insult! And don’t pretend you’re not dying to! Is she or isn’t she not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever beheld!”
For the first time I felt myself actually flustered in front of Lester Cushing. “She’s stunning. I…didn’t realize you were already engaged…”
“Well, then kiss her, man! Like you’re happy for us!”
Clancy averted her eyes, chin trembling as I leaned in and pecked her cheek.
“Oh, for God sake! Not like your grandmother!” Lester folded is arms sternly. “I shall not leave this spot until you’ve shown my girl proper English affection! Not that disingenuous American air pecking stuff!”
I looked limply at him.
“On the mouth, man, like a man! Show her you’re proud she’s part of the family!”
“Lester, really…” from a quaking Clancy.
“Darling, this happens to be my best friend! He’s practically family!”
He frowned sudden suspicion, looked back and forth between the two of us. “Is there something going on here…?”
Clancy grabbed my shoulders and kissed me quickly on the lips.
Lester beamed, clapped me on the back heartily. “May as well get used to it, old man, lots of Christmases and New Years ahead, eh?”
For an infinitesimal moment, when her lips briefly met mine, I thought I felt something pass from Clancy’s mind into my own. I may have imagined it. But it felt like…sadness.
I glanced down at Mitzi beside me.
“Don’t look at me, Sport. I’m not getting anything from her either. Complete wall.”
I started then into the garden as trumpets sounded stridently next to the arboretum.
A sonorous announcement rang out; a stiff-looking gentlemen at the top of the entrance stairs sounding like Ben Stein. “Ladies and gentleman! With your leave! The ceremony is begun!
I was actually grateful for the interruption, the excuse to turn away from Clancy’s presence; her eyes, her smell.
In a moment she and Lester had disappeared into the crowd of guests headed for the little outdoor chapel, a simple flower-covered lattice archway set before the picturesque lake.
The minute they vanished a toady figure, on his way to the chapel, blocked my path ignominiously. Windsor-Smith.
“Sorry, Mr. Magee, but I’m afraid the dog won’t do.”
