Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (28 page)

Meredith was walking along the lane with Dylan. He had taken her out shopping, and he stopped and said, “Look, there’s an eel pie stand.”

“You always loved those things,” Meredith said. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m starved.” They moved over to the booth and found a thin man with a stovepipe hat sitting crookedly on his head and a filthy apron around his waist. But the smell was delicious, and Dylan bought two pies. They both ate with enjoyment—the hot pastry crunching and flaking and eel flesh delicate on the tongue. “Better than cucumber sandwiches,” Dylan said.

“You just wait until I cook your supper,” Meredith said. “I’ll make you a pie that the old devil himself would want to get his hands on.”

The two continued down the street, and finally they wound up back at the house. Guin ran at once to Dylan, and he caught her up and hugged her. “A story! A story!” she chanted, pulling at his coat.

“Dylan, you’ve stolen her heart away. You’re a devil with women of any age.” She turned and said, “Thank you for watching Guin, Mrs. Fellows.”

Dylan laughed and at once sat down with Guin in his lap as Meredith walked her landlady to the door. Later when Meredith fixed supper, he found she was indeed a fine cook, but he knew that already. “You’re going to make some man a fine wife. A good cook, a good-looking woman like you. Men ought to be standing in line.”

Meredith gave him a strange look, and he saw that she was troubled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve been wondering whether I should tell you more about Lewis’s last words. He talked about you.”

“Well, we were such good friends. What did he say? Sometimes a dying man’s last words are important.”

“He’d been very ill and had a high fever, but almost the last thing he said was, ‘Go find Dylan. Marry him if you fall in love. Let him be a husband to you and a father to our daughter.’” She suddenly looked down, and he saw tears in her eyes.

“You should have told me this before.”

“It sounded too—forward. Women are chasing you all the time, and I sound just like another one.”

“No such a thing. There’s soft you are. It’s the finest compliment Lewis could have paid.”

“He loved you dearly, Dylan, but, of course, you pay no attention to what he said.”

But Dylan was quiet for a long time. Meredith stole glances at him and saw that he was deep in thought.

Finally he said, “I’m going to leave now, Meredith. I’ve got some things to think about.”

“Go you, then,” she said. She came close to him, put her hand on his cheek. “Thank you for all the goodness that you’ve shown to me and my poor daughter.”

“I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dylan left Meredith’s small house and went at once to Grant’s office.
I’ve got to have some help with this, and Grant’s the one I ought to ask. For a man as young as he, he’s got a lot of wisdom.

He met Sergeant Kenzie, who said at once, “The superintendent isn’t here. He’s gone out to talk to Septimus about the autopsy on Lady Reis. You’ll probably find him there if it’s important.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. I think I will go look him up.”

He left the office and walked the streets for a while indecisively. Meredith’s words had shaken him greatly. He had given some thought, as a single man will, to marriage, and he knew that deep down in his heart the thing he wanted most in this world was to have a wife and family. Sometimes when he would pass a house at night and see the lights in the windows and hear the sounds of merriment coming out, he would think,
Those people have everything.

Finally he set his jaw and turned and called for a cab. “Take me out to Trentwood House. I’ll tell you how to get there, and don’t spare the horse.”

Serafina had crawled out onto the roof of her house. It had a steeper pitch than the Reis mansion, and she had to move very carefully. She reached the chimney and with some difficulty managed to get a rope around it. She tied a knot that Septimus had showed her and tugged at it. It made a good, tight fit and seemed in no danger of breaking. Then, sitting flat, she tied a sheepshank and tossed the rest of the rope so that it dangled to the ground. She had deliberately gotten a rope sixty feet long so that there would be plenty. She reached into her pocket, took out a pair of scissors, and began hacking away at the rope, cutting one of the strands. Finally the scissors dug their way through, and she kept the tension on the free end, the part that dangled over the roof. Slowly she lowered herself to the edge, and when she came to look over the edge, the ground seemed very far away. She was a determined woman and had never been fearful of much of anything. Now, however, the thought of what would happen if she fell frightened her. “Broken legs. Maybe a broken neck,” she murmured. She hesitated for a moment and then did a strange thing. She was very still, and then she said, “Lord, don’t let me break my neck as I try out this theory.”

She lowered herself over the edge of the roof and for a moment hung dangling there, but as she hung on, she found out how difficult it was. The rope seemed to be slipping between her hands, and fright came to her then like an armed man. She heard her name called and glanced downward to see Dylan, who had rounded the corner of the house and was running to where the rope dangled. At that instant the rope suddenly gave way, and she felt herself falling.

I’m going to die!

She fell through the air, half turning, hoping to land on something besides her head, and then she suddenly struck, not the hard ground she was expecting, but something that was yielding. She heard
a whooshing sound, and her own breath was knocked almost out of her, but she rolled over and saw that Dylan had run underneath her to break her fall. He was lying now on his back and did not seem to be breathing.

I’ve killed him!
She pulled him up into a sitting position and clutched him, holding his head against her breast, and began to weep deep, gasping sobs.

Dylan came out of unconsciousness, finding himself struggling simply to take a breath. He was aware that he was leaning against something soft, and there was a familiar smell of lilacs. His mind whirled, and he could not remember for a moment what he was doing here—or even where he was—and then he felt the movement of the softness beneath him and he heard sobs.

Wildly he opened his eyes and looked up to see Serafina bending over him. Her eyes were closed and great tears were running down her cheeks. She was holding him tightly, and he heard her murmur, “Oh, Dylan—Dylan, please wake up. Don’t be dead.”

Dylan found he could not move. For a moment he simply lay there trying to draw in breath, and finally air did begin to filter into his lungs. He coughed and looked up and whispered, “What—what’s the matter?”

He saw her eyes fly open, and they were filled with tears. “Dylan,” she cried, “you’re alive!”

Dylan was aware that she was holding him as you would hold a baby close, and there was a delicious sensation for a moment, and then memory came flooding back. He pulled back and put his hand on his chest. Gasping for breath, he said, “Why, with no thanks to you! Were you trying to commit suicide, Serafina?”

Serafina was wiping her eyes, but he saw that her hands were trembling, and so was her chin, as if she had gotten a tremendous shock.

“What were you doing coming down that rope?”

“I wanted—I wanted to see if a woman could do it. I fixed a sheepshank like my father said, and I must have cut the wrong knot.”

“Well.” Dylan slowly was experimenting with his breathing and found out it was much better. “I’m going to be sore all over tomorrow. How much do you weigh?”

“Oh, Dylan, I thought you were dead.” Her hands were trembling, and her voice was unsteady.

He got up, pulled her to her feet, and said, “I thought we had straightened out that you’re not going to try dangerous things anymore.” But then he saw that she was really broken. She could barely stand. He leaned forward and pulled her against his chest, and she put her head down on his shoulder. “Well now. If you’re having my opinion, Lady Serafina Trent, you’re a foolish woman. But it came out all right. You didn’t kill yourself or anybody else, not this time.”

The two stood there, and once again Serafina felt that curious and unusual, almost unique, sense of security when Dylan held her. She had never felt this with a man before, and now after the terrible experience and the fear that she had actually killed him, she could only let him hold her up and cling to him with all her force.

“What do you call this?”

Dylan didn’t know how long he and Serafina had been standing there, but he turned to Grant, who had come up on them. He could not answer for a moment, and Serafina pulled away and gave Grant a wild glance. “It was my fault, Matthew. I wanted to see if a woman could come down a rope.”

“You think the Slasher might be a woman?”

“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”

She told him the whole story, and then she reached out and touched Dylan’s arm tentatively. “If Dylan hadn’t broken my fall, I think I would have been killed.”

“As it was, it was only me that nearly got killed,” Dylan said and managed a smile. “I wish you’d stop crying. You’re making enough noise to have the house down.”

“I was never so frightened in all my life—except, perhaps, when I saw the Slasher,” Serafina said.

“Well, could a woman come down that rope?”

“This woman couldn’t. It would take a very strong man or woman to do that. Come in. Let’s have some tea to calm my nerves.”

Dylan said, “I came out to talk to you, Matthew.”

“Then I’ll let you men talk while I go in and change attire.” Serafina smiled as she walked past Matthew into the house.

“All right. Come along. Let’s walk through the garden. I don’t suppose the roses will be shocked by anything you’ve got to say.”

Serafina watched the men go from a window inside the house. She was still trembling. She could not forget holding Dylan to her breast and how he had held her and kept her from falling apart. She knew she would treasure that moment in spite of the terrible circumstances.

“You mean the woman told you her husband wanted you to marry her?”

“That’s what she said. It was his dying word that I’d be her husband and a father to Guin. I’ve got to have some help here, Matthew.”

“I don’t think anyone can help you with this.”

“You’ve got to tell me
something
!”

“All right,” Grant said firmly. He gave Dylan a straightforward, almost harsh look. “Don’t do it, man.”

“But why not?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Well, you must have more than just a feeling.”

“That’s all I’ve got. I don’t feel right about it. How do you feel about it?”

“I feel a debt to Lewis.”

Matthew stared at Dylan. He could not believe what he had heard. “Buy him a fancy headstone if you want to show respect, but don’t marry the woman just to please a dying man’s request—if there was one.”

“What do you mean, ‘if there was one’?”

“Women have tried tricks before to get a halter around your neck. I’ve seen it. This may be another one of those.”

“No, she’s not like that.”

“I’ve told you what I think. Don’t do it, Dylan.” He turned and walked abruptly away, and not wanting to speak to Serafina after that, Dylan went back to his carriage and got in.