His Black Wings (20 page)

After some searching, Naza and I found Mr. Lowood in the stables speaking gently to one of his horses as he fed it a sliced apple. When he did not acknowledge my presence I coughed somewhat awkwardly. He looked over sharply to where I stood at the entrance of the stable.

“Ah Claren. Finally done with the room full of guests?” I nodded coming closer to him and his horse. I wanted to mention what he had said before we had left to the Winter Ball, about needing to enlarge the foyer to accommodate my callers. I would have said it in jest but I did not feel comfortable enough with him to do so. I found myself wishing he really was my Uncle, then at least I could feel more close to him.

“I do apologize about their unannounced visit. Mrs. Whitby informed you of Mr. Petersons arrival?” He twisted his mouth into a sort of mean sneer that I had never seen him make before.

“Yes she did, and I did not go in to greet him because I can’t say that I really care for that young man here in my home.” I was confused, just last night he had said that Peterson was not a bad fellow, now today he was telling me he did not want him in his home.

“I’m sorry, I did not know that he was going to call, ever. In fact, I received the distinct impression that he was rather disappointed in me last night at the Ball. He was the last person I expected to see.”

“Then what the deuce did he come for?” Mr. Lowood asked, pushing the rest of the apple into the horse’s mouth impatiently. The horse suddenly spit the remaining apple out, snorting loudly as he did. The partially chewed apple hit Mr. Lowood’s chest and slid down to the ground. Naza who had been watching the horse with keen interest jumped back to stay clear of the projectile, a surprised look on her face. My initial reaction was of surprise but quickly turned in to the most intense need to let the bubbles of laughter that quickly built up inside my chest escape. With great effort I managed to suppress them as I shifted my gaze off to the side of the stable trying to think of something depressing that would bring my mood down.

Mr. Lowood was too astute of an observer not to know that I was suppressing laughter. He pat the horse on its side while addressing it.

“Quite right old boy, I do take things too seriously.” He then turned towards me.

“Claren, walk with me. It’s such a pretty day today, even if I do have apple sauce on my shirt.” I took his arm that he offered and was led outside the stables. The air was a bit chilly but the sun was out and bright as we walked the lawns of Westwind.

“You may tell me what business either of those young men had with you, though I fear I already have some idea.” Mr. Lowood said as he peered off in to the distance.

“They both came for the same thing. They wanted to invite me to something called the Celestial Ball that is to take place in January. I told them that I would ask you.” He nodded, still without looking at me.

“Just as I thought. And you, do you wish to go?” I shrugged.

“It is a month away and I assume it would be a nice diversion, but I leave that up to you. I had no great hope in attending so I would not be disappointed if you wish me not to go.”

“I see. If you went, whom would you choose as your escort since they both asked you?”

“I told them if I went at all, I would have them both as my escort. The reason being is because they both bicker so much and really do not seem to be interested in me as a person.” He raised his eyebrows perplexed.

“If they were not interested in you, they would not be here Claren.”

“What I mean to say is that they have some sort of rivalry. They bicker and try to play this “one-upmanship” with one another. Mr. Bitwater’s family of course has more wealth but he lacks looks, Mr. Peterson has looks but seems to be somewhat of a rogue to me.”

“So you are already casting a critical female eye on their assets and liabilities?” I did not like what he was implying even though by the statement I just made, it seemed as though I was.

“I am not interested in either one of them in a romantic fashion. I am not interested in marrying anyone either for social status or wealth. My tastes are simple as are my needs. I was merely comparing them as they might, to each other.” I said rather forcefully, not exactly sure why. It was possibly because he made me feel naïve and unsure of myself. I never wanted to be confused with girls I went to school with at the Academy. They would make nightly lists of the eligible bachelors and rate them according to looks, wealth, talents and social connections. I thought this a shallow practice.

“I see. I did not realize you felt this way. Well, that is refreshing Claren. In that case I’ll leave it up to you.”

“But you had reservations I know, about Mr. Peterson and you seemed displeased that Mr. Bitwater had shown up.”

“I am not used to guests in my house Claren. I am an old recluse just knocking about in this old house. I knew things were going to change if I brought you here. I must be prepared to accept change even if it’s not exactly what I planned.” He said as we continued to stroll.

“Dekker Peterson as I said is not the bad sort, but you are right, a bit of a lone wolf that does things his own way and is very headstrong. He does seem to be a stand up fellow, more so than his father. Defies convention at every turn as I hear it, and despises his father’s friends or social endeavors even though the elder Peterson does everything for love of that boy.” The wind began to pick up and rustle the long blades of grass that we walked upon as he continued.

“I know the young Peterson has a great love of the sea and goes sailing every chance he gets, and hates to stay at home, but aside from that I know nothing more. Horace Bitwater is a different sort all together. Scholarly sort, very involved with his research even though he graduated early. I hear he maintains a professional relationship with several Universities, giving history and sociology lectures when asked. He enjoys a rather close relationship with his mother, consulting her first in everything he does. In fact he probably asked her what she thought of the idea of asking you to dance last night, as well as coming to Westwind today.”

“That is a rather close relationship. Does he not have a father?” I asked.

“No, the elder Bitwater died a few years ago. They had Horace, their only offspring, very late in life I’m afraid. I know that Horace’s father was 52 when Horace was born, his mother being 40 something. I’m sure his mother clings to him out of loneliness.”

“You seem to know so much about the people of this city even though you yourself, as you say, do not interact much with them.” He nodded.

“True. I make it my business to know about people’s character other than what is printed in the society pages. You see Claren, where I was born and grew up as a young man was very different than say, where you were raised. My circumstances were far from ideal and I had a great deal to learn. Some of the lessons I learned were of a very harsh nature, but lasting ones. It might have given me a negative outlook on life and people, one that I may have passed on to my son.” I was always curious when he spoke of himself or Etrigan. I wanted to know everything that I could about them both.

“Speaking of my son, Mrs. Whitby informed me he ruined your dress last night? He is harassing you again?” Something told me not to tell him the whole truth. I felt a physical sensation of a great metal plate being placed over my heart, as if warning me not to tell him my true feelings of last night’s encounter. When I did not answer right away he stopped abruptly and cast a critical eye upon me and I remembered that I was still in his debt. I was not there to live an idle life, going to parties, purchasing clothing and to live a life of ease. I was there to befriend his son, or attempt too, this is what Mr. Lowood had requested of me.

“No, I dirtied it myself I’m afraid. Your son had nothing to do with it. He has not played any jokes on me in the last three or four days.”

“Is that so? Then things may be looking up. Please do not think me overly harsh Claren when I question you about the young men who came here. I just want what is best for you and I don’t care for people who may be poking about for information on you. You are in my care, my responsibility. Whatever would I do if something unfortunate should happen to you?” Something about that last sentence, the way he said it, did not sit well with me.

“I understand and I am forever grateful to you for taking me in like this and always being more than generous with me.” I said to him while trying to look him in his eye which for some reason, he purposely avoided and seemed suddenly uncomfortable.

“No need for further gratitude Claren. It is my duty and all that.” He added dryly. Naza had caught up with us and began racing around in front of us in sheer delight. Mr. Lowood smiled turning his attention towards my wolfhound.

“She has been so much more happy since the vet removed that splint. Just look at her dashing about!” He let out a low whistle to call her back to us. She stopped suddenly and looked back at us panting in happiness. I noticed her eye was trained on something behind us in the trees.

“Come on Naza old girl, let’s get back before Mrs. Whitby thinks we do not want lunch.” Mr. Lowood called out to her. She made a mad dash back towards the house as if she remembered the special “stew” that was made for her every day.

I turned and cast my eye to the trees where Naza had been looking and saw Etrigan. He stood in the cover of trees watching me and his father walk back to the house. How long he had been watching I had no idea. All I knew was I was surprised to see him out in the daylight. Something told me not to mention Etrigan’s presence to his father.

I did not see Etrigan for several days after. I know that he knew I had seen him but he had not acknowledged me, just continued to gaze with his dark eyes. I could not read his look from that distance; therefore I could make no attempt at reading what he may have been thinking. People give away so much by the unintentional looks on their faces or the way they hold themselves. I had always been a quiet observer of my parent’s friends. I could sniff out haughtiness or callousness, disinterest or admiration. It was a sort of game I played with new people that I met, to see if the impressions that I received from their body language alone was in line with their personality. If I was right, I would mentally congratulate myself, if I was wrong, I would study the person more in depth, secretly of course. As it so happened, there were only a few times in my life that I was wrong or had a hard time getting a reading at all from a person. One such individual I now resided with, Mr. Lowood. Mr. Lowood always seemed to be making kind gestures and saying caring things, but there were times that I felt that he was not being sincere. He, at times seemed to be at odds with himself as strange as that may sound. I sometimes never knew if he was going to offer me his arm and treat me as a daughter, or speak harshly to me for no reason.

Etrigan, up until last night seemed to have a honest dislike for me. At least it was straight forward and I knew what to expect. In all honesty, my dealings with Etrigan had left me confounded. His constant bitterness and cruel tricks he had played on me (those had stopped since) left me wanting to run away from Westwind. Yet the kindness he had paid me, the comfort he had given me the night of the Winter Ball that was something that touched a deep part of me. A part that I had kept as hard as I could after my parents died, my heart. I thought back on my first feelings when I had met him by accident running after Naza. Surprise and curiosity from me and surprise and rejection from him, yet I felt no malice in his rejection. Like an animal that had been beaten, it growls when someone first shows it kindness. Not that I thought him as an animal. But he was rather like a shy, distrustful creature one would chance upon in the woods.

Something had been awakened within me, I longed to see him again, to speak with him on what I had hoped was now different terms. Now that he displayed a different side to himself, that was the side I found worth getting to know. I could not just march up to his room, his sanctuary, and begin speaking to him. I didn’t want to push him too soon, too hard. I knew what that felt like when my parents were pushing Kurten on me. I cringed thinking about that devil and shook my head back and forth slightly to rid it of his image. I replaced it with a much more appealing image, Etrigan’s image, tall, graceful and full of dark beauty. He had done it once before and now I only had to wait again till he came to me.

The days continued to pass with no sign of Etrigan, though I did feel his eyes upon me when I took Naza out for her daily walks. At first I would catch him peeking down at us from atop Westwind, behind the gargoyles and battlements. He did this for several days. I began to walk Naza out farther and farther away from Westwind where I was sure he could not see me. I had hoped to draw him out further. This plan worked, and I soon began to feel his presence nearby. Of course I was taking a chance that he would revert to his mean spirited behavior, but that was a chance I was willing to take. I could sometimes hear him rustling in the trees that he perched in or running on foot to catch up with us. He now came out in the day but made sure not to be seen by us from the sky or on the ground. He was quite adept at stalking my dog and I.