Household (16 page)

“Superstition,” Richard proclaimed, looking into his daughter’s agonized face. “’Tis naught but superstition.”

❖

Below in the great hall, Colin was bidding farewell to Sir Simeon Weir, who cloaked and booted, was just inside the door. “I thank you for your hospitality,” he said gratefully.

“We were pleased to have you,” Colin replied politely, hoping that his thoughts were not mirrored in his eyes. Though he was reluctant to admit it, the fact that Juliet had conceived such a dislike for the man had influenced him adversely. However he did not agree that Sir Simeon had a unhealthy pallor, something he had ascribed to the fact that his guest ate very little, merely picking at his food. Tonight, he was looking very well. There was color in his cheeks, and his eyes were certainly brighter. The rest had obviously done him a world of good.

“I was quite taken with your little sister Juliet,” Sir Simeon was saying, “but I fear she did not feel the same for me.”

“Oh, well,” Colin temporized, “Juliet does not know her own mind and...” He paused, cocking his head. He was hearing Molly now, wild and piercing. He thought immediately of poor Kathleen and wished Sir Simeon would hurry with his farewells.

“I must go,” Sir Simeon said. “And I thank you again. I am in your debt indeed, and I hope that some day I will be able to repay your hospitality.”

“I wish you a safe journey,” Colin said, following him outside and watching him mount his horse and ride off into the gathering shadows. Coming back into the hall, he had a mind to seek out Juliet, whom he hadn’t seen since they had gone riding early that morning. She had dreamed of Sir ’ Simeon again, she told him gloomily. “He quite ruins my nights,” she had concluded.

She had looked tired, Colin recalled. He should tell her that, if out of common courtesy, he had not actually speeded the parting guest, he had at least seen him off. However, Molly’s howling was loud and agonized. He hurried back to Kathleen’s chambers.

❖

Juliet had been feeling tired ever since the ball and, in fact, had found it very difficult to rise this morning. It had been a real chore to go riding with Colin, but she had not wanted to forego that pleasure. However, upon coming back, she had fallen into her bed without removing her garments, even though they smelled most unpleasantly of horse. She had been so weary that when Sukey came to tell her that Kathleen was in labor, her first thought had been one of actual annoyance. Even though Kathleen would never know, she felt very guilty about that, and certainly she must soon go to her sister’s apartments. She, too, had heard the keening of the banshee and the yowling of the cat. That spelled danger, she was sure of it—but it was so difficult to bestir herself. She longed to rest. She dared not rest for she would fall asleep, and Kathleen would never forgive her. She rose and was about to ring for her maid when there was a soft tap at her door.

“Come,” she called, expecting Colin, but it was Sir Simeon Weir who stood framed in the aperture and, even as her surprise was turning to anger, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Indignation boiled up in her bosom, “What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.

“I have come to say farewell,” he said, coming toward her. “Oh,” she said with considerable pleasure. “You are finally going?”

“Within the hour,” he asserted. “I would you were coming with me.”

“Whatever for?” she inquired rudely.

“I find you very beautiful.”

“Oh,” she said, “everyone does.”

He smiled. “You are passing vain, little Juliet.”

“If you’ve come to chastize me, ’tis hardly your place,” she flared.

“I would not presume to do that. I love you.”

“I do not love you,” she retorted. “And perhaps when you are gone, I will cease to dream about you!” That had been a sad error, she realized immediately, wondering what had made her blurt out the fact that he haunted her dreams. It would only increase his vile self-importance.

“You’ve not dreamed of me,” he said.

“I have so,” she contradicted and wondered why she had been so insistent. She should have agreed that she hadn’t dreamed of him; thus she had missed another opportunity. Of a sudden, she knew why and wondered why it had not occurred to her before, but it
had
occurred to her, she recalled. She really was not thinking clearly at all—or had not been—but was now. He had no right in her rooms. She would tell him that before he was much older. And how old was he? She had the curious impression that he was much, much older than she had originally imagined.

“You’ve not dreamed of me,” he insisted.

She glared at him. “How can you be so certain?” she demanded. “I have, but I’ll not argue about it. I want you...”

“And I want you, my little love.” He moved toward her swiftly and clasped her in his arms.

Juliet tried to pull away. “I did not say I
wanted
you, like
wanting
,” she emphasized. “You did not give me a chance to finish what I meant to tell you.”

“I know that.” He brought his lips down on her throat. She struggled fiercely at first, then ceased to struggle. “I thought it was a dream,” she said plaintively, when at last he released her.

“It was no dream.”

“Molly,” she whispered. “She must be at my door. How loudly she is shrieking.”

“Never mind her.” He ran his hand gently through her hair.

“Can
you
hear her?”

“And that cat.” He nodded.

“That’s very strange. Are we related?”

“We are, my love,” he smiled. “By love.”

Anger rose in her and died. She could not quite remember why she was angry. Yes, she did remember. “I don’t love you,” she said positively.

“You will,” he murmured. “You’ll love me as you’ve never loved anyone in this life.” Lifting her in his arms, he put her down on her bed and stretched out beside her.

She was surprised to find him at her side, but she was too tired to protest. She suddenly wondered where Colin was, and something like a pain throbbed in the vicinity of her heart—then was gone. Sir Simeon put his arms around her, and she forgot Colin as his lips were once more fastened on her throat. “That feels...” she murmured.

He lifted his head, and she saw that his mouth was very red. “How does it feel, my love?” he asked.

“Nice,” she said, surprising herself. She raised her hand to touch his lips and found that her finger tips had turned scarlet. She regarded them incuriously, regarding him with an equal lack of curiosity as he lifted her hand and kissed the blood from each finger.

She lifted her head slightly, “Molly...” she whispered. “It’s very odd.”

“What’s odd, my darling?”

“Molly’s crying in a different way.”

“How is it different?”

“I don’t remember.” His lips were on her throat again, and she was feeling very sleepy.

❖

Much to everyone’s surprise, Kathleen, to the accompaniment of Molly’s increasing howls, brought forth a fine baby boy. In spite of her long labor, the delivery was easy. The doctor and the midwife congratulated each other on it.

Richard, who had insisted on remaining throughout the ordeal, came into the sitting room adjacent to Kathleen’s bedroom to tell his anxious sons the happy news. “Where’s your sister?” he asked, looking around for Juliet.

Colin had been listening to Molly’s wails now blending with those of her cat. It had seemed to him that there was a difference about them, a pain that was usually lacking in her perfunctory performances. He knew that Tony had heard them, too. He had a feeling that his brother had also noted the difference, for he had stared anxiously at him from time to time. Suddenly it seemed very strange that Juliet had not joined them, for surely she, too, would have been aware of Molly’s inexplicable sorrow. As a child, she had seen and spoken with the banshee, he recalled.

Juliet had been tired after their ride this morning; he had seen that but had not marked it, remembering that she had danced unceasingly until dawn on the night of her ball. That, however, was two nights ago. A fear he did not comprehend caused him to rise and stride to the door in practically a single step. “I’ll fetch her,” he said through stiff lips.

“I’ll come with you.” Tony’s tone suggested that he, too, was anxious.

“I’ll bring the good news to your mother.” Richard fixed a frowning gaze on them. “Your sister Juliet had better have a good reason for not attending Kathleen.”

Colin and Tony hurried to Juliet’s rooms. Pushing the door open, they strode to her bedroom where Colin came to a sudden stop, causing his brother, who was on his heels, to crash against him. Tony’s muttered apologies were silenced as Colin said softly, “She’s asleep. I’d best wake her though.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “She’ll want to know.”

Coming to the side of the bed, Colin bent over Juliet. “Minx,” he said, “wake up. You are now the aunt of a bouncing baby boy.”

She did not stir—but it was a full minute before he realized that she wasn’t breathing.

W
hen she woke, it was dark, so dark that she could hardly believe she was in her own room, yet she could not have left it. She had fallen asleep on the bed, and she had dreamed—dreamed what? She had dreamed that Sir Simeon had come to bid her goodbye—and in her own bedroom. She giggled, and the sound of her laughter startled her. It sounded hollow and echoing as if, indeed, she were not in her chamber but in another place. That confused her. She must still be dreaming. She blinked and blinked again, staring into the blackness and seeing nothing. She put out her hand and gasped. Instead of the bed, she felt hardness against her hand. She moved and felt a similar hardness against her whole body as if, indeed, she were dosed into something like a chest. She raised her hand and again encountered hardness only inches above her. She pushed against the hardness, but it did not budge. A scream formed in her throat and ecscaped only as a long sigh. And then, she did cry out for a voice was in her ears.

“Gently, my love... gently, gently, do not struggle and do not be afraid. I am here to help you.”

She knew that voice, or thought she did. No, she was not sure. “Where am I?” she asked. “Why is it so dark? And...” She suddenly remembered her sister. “Kathleen... has Katie had her baby?”

“That need not concern you, my love,” the voice said. “Now I am going to lift the cover. You’ll not need to lift it when you become accustomed to your situation.”

“My situation,” she repeated confusedly. “What... where am I? Am I not in the Hold? Where am I?” She was becoming panicked again.

“Explanations must wait, my love.”

She did recognize that voice. It belonged to Sir Simeon Weir. In her mind flew fragments of images. Sir Simeon at her door—no, nearer, beside her on the bed! The bed! And she had fallen asleep but not with him beside her. She never, never could have done that! But he had been on the bed. He must have drugged her and kidnapped her.

Low laughter filled her ears. “That was not the way of it, my love. I did not need to drug or kidnap you.”

“But where am I? Where have you taken me?” she cried, and only then realized that he had answered her thoughts—but how was that possible? It did not matter! It did matter! She was dreaming, had to be dreaming!

“No, ’tis no dream. Though that is often the belief in the beginning. But enough. I am not here to torture but to advise.” Something flew back, and Juliet blinked against the brightness of refracted moonlight shining through an arched window.

Hands clasped her hands and drew her up. “Now, step over the side,” came the instruction.

Juliet raised her foot and stood there for a moment. “Step over what?” she demanded. Looking down she saw a long narrow box that seemed to be constructed from stone. “Where have you taken me?” she cried.

“I have taken you nowhere, my dearest. ’Twas your family brought you here, three days since.”

“My family!” she exclaimed and stepped out of the box. Looking in the direction of the voice, she saw Sir Simeon Weir, standing in a pool of moonlight. She said furiously, “You’re lying. Why am I with you? I don’t want to be with you. Oh, I must be dreaming!”

“Look around you and tell me what you find,” he ordered.

“I won’t. Why have you brought me here?”

“This is your dwelling place as long as you wish it to be. I pray that will not be long.”

“I do not understand you,” she whispered, aware now that understanding was hovering at the periphery of her mind and that she did not want to let it seep into her brain.

“Look about you,” Sir Simeon repeated.

She did not want to obey him either, but in some strange way, he was forcing her to it. She turned her head slowly and saw them, the great oblong stone boxes lying on thick stone shelves and knew what she might have already known, had she been willing to admit it to herself.

“The crypt,” she whispered. “They brought me here to the crypt? My family? Colin? You’re lying. Only the dead lie here.”

“And the undead,” he added.

“The
un
dead? What... are they?”

“You’ve never heard of the undead?” he asked incredulously.

She shook her head.

“I mislike the term... but they are also called vampires.”

“Vampires,” she repeated. Her mother had told them folk tales, until forbidden to do so by her father. She, Kathleen, Tony and Colin had been alternately entranced and terrified by those same tales. There were vampires in Ireland, horrid creatures with flaming red eyes, who lived by sucking blood from their victims. They were evil.

“They are evil,” Juliet said.

“They are not evil, unless it is evil to wish to survive.”

“They survive on the blood of...” she paused, staring at him. Into her mind came a vision of his lips dyed scarlet. “They survive on the blood of those they love.”

“No.” She spread her fingers wide, envisioning the redness on their tips. “You are...”

“I am,” he admitted. “And you, also.”

She wanted to scream, to faint, but could do neither of these things, could only listen as he said, “Now that you have opened yourself to knowledge, let it flow into you.”

“No, no, no.” Juliet ran to the door of the crypt, tugging at its handle, trying to open it. It did not yield, but there was a narrow crack from top to bottom, and unknowingly knowing, she passed through it and was out in the churchyard. Looking back and seeing the door still closed save for the crack which was no wider than the length of her fingernail, she sank down on a tombstone staring up at the half moon, which gave off a radiance that was proving almost as blinding as the sun.