Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (35 page)

Against this Threat, it became mine habitual Duty to prowl at Dusk from Room to Room, demanding that every Door, every Window, every Crack, thro’ which even a mere Mouse could creep, be stoppt fast against this Legion of Monsters who dwellt outside in the Dark. Mrs H. went with me, when she was not nursing my Father. Erasmus, at first, would not; but after a few Weeks he too began to accept the Ritual’s Importance, and then he would follow at a Distance with a Candle whilst I checked, and checked again. I tried to explain to him the Severity of the Threat which Raw Head surely posed, but unfortunately he did not appear to comprehend it. He seemed more distressed by my Caution than by the Danger itself, and, fearing, so he said, that I should overtax My Self, fed me Paregoric by what seemed the Tankard. This frustrated me; I was not distressed, nor like to be, as long as all the Gaps remained fast. I went not near the Windows, lest I be seen.

I wrote, and wrote, on all these things, to Katherine. She did not respond. I did not know why. Erasmus assured me that she was well, and that she loved me still, and that Lt. Simmins had
given her my Answer, and my final London Letter. She had gone, he said, to stay with her maternal Uncle for the Present, and I was not to worry My Self with unhappy Fears for her. But it was so compleatly unlike my dear Katherine to fail to answer me that I was forced to dread the very Worst, and had Erasmus not continually repeated his Reassurances I should mayhap have sought out mine own Death. Sometimes, I thought—and hoped, for Hope made the Possibility seem real—that she had not responded because I had not yet composed mine own Letters, and therefore what I remembered was the Future. Time had become a Mystery to me, its intimate Workings incomprehensible, for all I knew that eight supposedly followed seven o’ the Clock. I determined to leave the Safety of Shirelands Hall and make the deadly Journey to Dorset to see her; but when I was brought up to Scratch I dared not to cross the Threshold of the House. Mine Impotence enraged me. I broke things. Other Dayes, deep in Despair, I became certain that she had replied, and ran to my Trunk to read again the Letters she had sent to me in London, and each one was as fresh as if it had been written yesterdaye.

One unthreatened thing remained to me: my Studies; for, despite Erasmus’ Insistence that I must spare my Nerves, I had refused to desist from all Work. I bade my Father’s Gamekeeper bring me live Subjects for Experimentation and Study, and within a Fortnight of my Return my Cages had begun to fill, and my Laboratory to rustle. Yet, despite my stated Design, I found My Self incapable of performing a Dissection upon any one of these, for the mere Effort of preparing Board and Instruments seemed beyond me. Left thus unmolested, my Captives gradually and against all Reason transfigured into my Companions and Friends, and after several Weeks I could no more stomach the Notion of killing one of them any
more than I could have killed Erasmus, or Katherine. So I hid my Tools from view, and buried My Self within medical Tracts and Works upon the Theory of Knowledge, spending Houres upon my Sopha beneath the vacant pitying Eyes of my Skulls, my silently scampering Skeletons, finding therein a slight and fleeting Comfort.

One Afternoon, towards the End of the Summer, I made the unwelcome Discovery that Erasmus thought my Father very sick indeed. He had not been in the Habit of discussing the Case overly much with me; but when he did, he seemed quietly optimistic, and expresst a firm Belief that Time would ease a great many of my Father’s current Difficulties. But shortly after full Moon of August, I overheard him talking quietly with my Sister. It was a rainy, blowy Daye, as drear as ever late Summer can be, and not fit for travelling; yet my Sister, who had remained devoted to my Father despite her Marriage, had made the Trip in Barnaby’s Coach, and asked that Erasmus take Tea privately with her in the drawing Room, that she might hear his Opinion.

“I will not deceive you, Mrs Barnaby,” Erasmus said, as they sate within, and I hovered secretly and silent without the unlocked Door. “He hath made some tremendous Progress. The Sedative is keeping him calm, and as long as he remain so there is a Chance that his Rational Self will regain control. But it is my Fear that, from this Point, we will not see much more of a Recovery until many Months pass; if, indeed, we see any at all. I must ask you to prepare yourself for the Possibility that he will continue indefinitely in his present Condition.”

“But he is calm,” Jane said. Her Voice was somewhat slurred, as if she had been sobbing. “He was never calm, before. Always he was agitated, and so terribly afraid.”

“Yes,” said Erasmus gently. “He doth not suffer, I think. But, from
what you have told me, he hath never before been subjected to a Regime based upon the modern Principles of Rational Suggestion and appropriate Medication.”

The August Rain lashed hard against the House. “It must be a good Sign,” Jane said. “I will not give up on him, Mr Glass.”

I was furious. Poor Jane! I thought. Great with Child as she is, she should not be encumbered with such Cares, nor should Erasmus be so discouraging to her Hopes. The Prognosis is not so very poor. ’Tis true my Father makes but a slow Recovery, but the Assault was a massive one. I would have burst in upon them, and my first Impulse was to do so; but a Concern for the Effect this might have upon Jane prevented me. I restrained My Self.

I had a Number of Ideas regarding my Father’s Illness which I had not yet broached to Erasmus, and for Jane’s Sake I retired to my warm Study and sitting at mine Escritoire attempted to write them into a coherent Theory, the which, I thought, would have effect both upon his Treatment and on that of others. I knew that the most likely Cause of an Apoplexia was that of an Aneurysm within the Brain. This being so, it had been an acute Crisis which my Father had survived. I remembered how Thomas Willis, in his
Cerebri anatome
, had argued that cerebral Lesions could produce Hemiplegia. Could such Lesions result from cerebral Haemorrhage? Could they be the Cause of my Father’s Incapacity? Musing upon this, I lifted my Convict’s Skull and turned it over, to peer within the brain-Case. If so, I thought, then perhaps a thorough Regime of the active Stimulation of the Nerves might induce the broken Fibres to re-grow, the Lesions to heal, and Sensation to return. I had an Image in mine Head as of the Hand of God, reaching down from Heaven to grasp the Hand of Man, but my Words could not make Sense of it. The Ink would not stay still upon the Page.

At half-past Seven I shouted for Erasmus, as I wished him to accompany me upon my Rounds, but Mrs H. informed me that he had gone to see my Sister safe back to Withy Grange, where he was expected to stay for Dinner. I told Mrs H., in no uncertain Terms, that I thought this exceeding inconsiderate, and refused to take the Palliative he had prepared for me. When she presst it on me, I snatched the Glass out of her Hand and threw it with all my Force into the drawing Room Fireplace. She had more Sense than to continue after that. I refused her Peace-offering of a dinner Tray, and lit up all the Tapers in my Study, where I remained, by their Light studying Dr Hunter’s lecture Notes upon the System of the Nerves.

*   *   *

After a while the Rain moved off to the North, and the Night had become still and cold. I had covered up my Creatures, and the Quiet of my Study was that of warm coal-Light, and Sleep. All of a sudden there came a Ring upon the front Door of the Hall, and after about half a Minute, I heard the Sound of angry Voices, echoing up the dark Stairwell from the entrance-Way beneath. Mine Heart missed a Beat. I lifted mine Attention from my Page and held my Breath, focusing all mine Hearing intent on the Stairs.

There were, I could discern, two Speakers. The one was Mr Green, the Butler, shouting in an exasperated Tone that this was the third Time in as many Weeks; that Beggars were not to call at the Front; and the Caller must ask Alms at the Kitchen or begone. The other Voice I could not quite make out, for it seemed somewhat muffled, as if its Owner stood within the Porch and yet without the front Door; but it was desperate in its Tone. The Row continued, Hammer and Tongs, for a full Minute; then there was a
loud Slam, and a faint Cry, and Mr Green’s Footsteps clacking sharp across the marble Floor; then Silence.

I thought: ’Tis no Beggar. They have come; they are at the Door. Trembling, I got quietly to my Feet, and was about to tiptoe down-Stairs to ransack my Father’s Library for his Gunne, when there resounded an harsh, rattling Crack against my window Pane.

I froze in mid Step. I did not dare to breathe. There came a second Tap upon my Glass. Immediately, I droppt upon my Knees. My Limbs shook as violently if I were caught in an Earthquake.

I thought: ’Tis Viviane.

A third, sharp Crack; and from somewhere below, a loud, fierce, surprizing, Human, Curse.

The Voice was familiar – and ’twas not Viviane’s. Mine Heart began, slowly, to beat again. My Courage rose. Perhaps, I conceived—with a sudden rash Hope, and despite that I had thought it a Woman’s Pitch—it is no Demon, it is Nathaniel! Who else would ever stand so bold throwing Stones at my Window?

I crawled under my long Table to my Window and knelt beside it, keeping My Self out of Sight, lest it be not Nathaniel at all, and peered carefully between my Shutters down upon the moonlit Gravel that lay directly outside it.

And then mine Heart did truly stop; for the Person I beheld was neither Nathaniel, nor Viviane. It was Katherine.

She was standing alone upon the Gravel, her Countenance uplifted and her Expression wild. Her blonde Hair, loose in the swirling Wind, whippt up a radiant Halo about her Head, and her Skin shone in the silvery Light like Alabaster. About her delicate Shoulders, she wore a thick, grey-green felted Cloak, of the stile Ladies commonly wear for travelling; beneath it, a dark coloured Gown of some Scots Cloth, or Linsey-woolsey, that hung heavy
with Wet, and looked to be compleatly muddy from the Knee to the Hem. Her small Shoes and her Stockings were so filthied they were fit for nothing but the Fire.

She was the most beautifull thing I had ever seen.

Within her white Fist, she clutched a fourth Stone, and as I stared, too astonished for the Moment to do anything else, she drew back her Arm and hurled it at my Window with sufficient Force to have cracked the Glass if it had hit; but it bounced harmlessly off the Ivy.

I leapt to my Feet and scrambled to unlatch my Shutters before she should throw again, and thrust up the Sash. Cold Breeze snatched at my Face.

“Katherine!” I shouted. “Is’t you, or do I dream?”

“Oh, Tristan! Tristan! Yes, ’tis me, my Bloody Bones, truly it is! Have someone let me in before I freeze! Your Butler would not—I think he mistook me for a Vagabond!”

“Come to the Door,” I told her. “I shall let you in My Self.”

I pulled my Window down, and fastened my Shutters tight. There would have been little Point in bringing Katherine in to Safety if Raw Head and his Goblins could have got in also. We would have been Mice in a Trap. This done, I ran quick and silent down-Stairs to the front Door, and slid back the iron Bolts. I opened the Door.

Katherine hurtled up the Steps. If I had yet had any lingering Doubts that she was anything but her own, real, Self, they vanished into nothing as I enfolded her at last within mine Arms. She was solid, and alive. Her blonde Hair smelled of Oil and Rain, there was a Leaf upon her Shoulder, and her Lips were warm against mine own, despite the bitter Coldness of her Hands and Face, the clinging Dampe of her Mud-bespattered Cloathes. At once I
brought her within the House, and fastened shut the Door. Then I took up her quick Body once more into mine Embrace.

“Egad,” I said, when I had Chance again to speak. “How far have you walked?”

“Only from Highworth,” she answered, breathless, kissing me a few Times more upon my Chin. “I travelled with the Post from Weymouth. Oh, you are grown so terribly thin, my Love! Mr Simmins told me you were not well, but I could not come before. I would have, but—”

“Alone?” I said.

“Yes, yes, alone! I have run away. Mama hath not the slightest Notion where I am. Nor doth she care, I am sure! When Mr Simmins arrived with your Answer to my Letter, and I told her of your Offer, for you know I had not said aught of it before, she would not believe at all that you were honest. She called me a vicious Slut, and worse, and cast me out. I stayed a few Weeks with my Uncle Whitcross, but he only wanted me for an Housemaid, so as soon as I could I took my Wages, which he would never have given me otherwise, from his Purse; and I got a Lift in a Farmer’s Cart as far as Weymouth, and for the last Part I walked here. Tell me true; really have you read all of my
Tale
, and really it is still your Desire to marry me?”

Mine Heart beat hard and fast within my Chest. “Yes,” I said. “I have never had any other.”

“Then I will marry you, I will! I love you,” Katherine said.

I scooped her off her Feet. The dampe Slub of her Dress was coarse against mine Hands, and tho’ she was light as a Butterfly, her Skirts hung Curtain heavy against my Thighs. My Loins, for the first Time since I had left London, began to rouse.

“No doubt you are tired,” I said. “And hungry.”

“I am hungry! But not so very tired, now I am with you.”

I was aware of nothing but the Grasp of her slim Arms about my Neck; the Pressure of her Skull against my Shoulder; the sour Perfume of her Scalp; the moist Warmth of her Breath upon my Throat. I carried her up-Stairs to my Study, and placed her carefully upon my Sopha, where the medical Tract I had been reading lay yet open to her unobstructed View. I slippt it quickly out of Sight, and turned to stoke the Fire. The red Coals burned extreamly hot, but Katherine shivered.

“Sweet Heart,” I said, kneeling before her on the Rugg and chafing her chill Hands briskly between mine own. “You must eat at once, and bathe. Make no Noise. Stay there.”

Springing from the Floor, I caught up my Bell, and ran out of the Room to the Top of the Stairs. I rang hard and loudly for Mrs H., and I did not let up until I saw her slowly mounting the lower Staircase, a Candle in her Hand.