Ancient Appetites (24 page)

Daisy glared at him, feeling that she wasn't getting the comfort that was due to a woman in her situation.

'Hennessy, the head groom,' she told him.

'Hennessy? Really?' Nate gaped. 'A
servant?
You're sure it's love? Besides, Hennessy's a bit old, isn't he? I knew Berto like the company of older men, but I always assumed it was because Father hated him and he needed some kind of . . . foster father. Hennessy's a salt-of-the-earth type, but he's hardly the most handsome man in the world, is he?'

'How should I know what he finds attractive?!' Daisy screeched at him. Pulling out a well-used handkerchief, she blew her nose. 'My husband's in love with a
man!
How should I know what he likes any more? I saw them kissing! It was the most awful thing. He's never kissed me like that. Never! I've tried to be a good wife – I tried so hard to do everything right. Men control every aspect of my life and now
this!
What can I do?'

She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

'How am I supposed to compete with a man for my husband's love?'

Nate regarded her with sympathy, bunched up in her ill-fitting suit, damp dark ringlets of hair hanging from under her flat cap.

'I don't know, Daisy. But you might well be wearing the right clothes for the job.'

She stared at him blankly for a moment and then burst into sobs again. Not knowing what else to do, he handed her a fresh handkerchief. He felt stupid now for saying that. Clancy would never have said it. Clancy would have known what to do with this distraught woman. Nate considered calling him for advice, but thought the better of it. For Daisy's sake, the fewer people who knew about this the better.

Instead, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. It seemed to be what she needed; she laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around his neck and stayed there until the sobs subsided. It was an extremely compromising position for a young man to be in with his sister-in-law at this time of night, but it didn't seem as if much else could go wrong, so he didn't care.

When she had finally composed herself, she lifted her head and dabbed her eyes. There was a damp patch on his shoulder, but Nate said nothing. His mind was already on another track.

'Where did you see them at it?' he asked, and realized too late that he was being insensitive. So be it.

'In the forest on the south side of the hill,' she replied, heaving in a breath. 'I was following him again – that's why I'm wearing these clothes; I got the idea from Tatty.' She gave him a hard look. 'He met Hennessy on the road and gave him some money . . . and . . . and sent him on some job or other. I don't know what.'

'Knowing Berto, he was probably sending money to help those people pay their rent and rebuild their houses,' Nate mused. 'You know, the ones Trom rolled over. Berto's been doing that kind of thing for years – partly out of some misplaced sense of charity, but also because it's another way to have a dig at Father. I don't suppose you saw anyone else? Someone on a velocycle?'

'No,' she said. 'Just bloody Hennessy and his bloody horse. I ran off when I saw them . . . saw them kiss . . . and came back through the hidden passageways, but I got lost. I've been wandering around in there for hours. Why?'

'You do know Berto was attacked tonight, don't you?'

'What?' Daisy was visibly shocked.

'Someone ran over him with a velocycle. Everyone thinks it was me.'

'And was it?' she asked bluntly.

'What? No! Of course not!'

She didn't spare him another word. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the door. As she threw it open and hurried out, Nathaniel went after her.

'Put on a bloody dress before you go to him, for God's sake,' he called. 'He'll have a fit if he sees you like that!' He slammed the door and headed back to his bedroom, adding to himself, 'And if he doesn't, maybe you should dress like that from now on.'

N
ate started the morning with another madcap sparring match with Hugo. The old man was growing stronger and quicker by the day, but still seemed unable to grasp even the simplest rules of modern fencing. Nate came away from the bout with a bruised arm and sore shins, but strangely elated by the sheer excitement of fighting such an unpredictable opponent. The frantic combat stopped him from thinking about his situation.

He was supposed to go and see Silas after training, but he decided that if he was to be branded a traitor, he was no longer under any obligation to obey his father's wishes. It had been a while since he had seen Gerald, so he made for the laboratory instead. Hugo went with him to check on Brutus's progress.

Gerald was working on his toast-maker, which was sitting quietly as he poked around inside one of its slots with a screwdriver. The ancient giant was still showing no sign of waking up. Hugo knelt by his brother's bedside and, clasping his hands, lowered his head to pray.

'That's being very well behaved,' Nate said, nodding at the toast-maker. 'You get it trained then?'

Gerald shook his head but didn't look round. He got like this when he was absorbed in his work – as if the outside world no longer existed for him. Lifting his head at last, he looked at Nate with a feverish excitement in his eyes. Nate noticed the weariness in his face and wondered if his cousin was sleeping at all these days.

'I've made some incredible discoveries,' Gerald said softly, as if he didn't want Hugo to hear. 'Incredible. Look here.'

He gestured towards a microscope and Nate looked down through the eyepiece. Through the lens, he could see some kind of blood cells.

'What am I looking at?' he asked.

'Some of Hugo's blood,' Gerald whispered, looking warily over at the old man kneeling by the bed on the other side of the room. 'Now watch.'

He lifted the top slide and used a needle to deposit a drop of something on the bottom piece of glass, then he replaced the slide.

'Bacteria,' Gerald said. 'Watch it attack the blood.'

Nate kept looking and saw the small, spiky cells of the bacteria attach themselves to the concave blood cells. They didn't last long. A kind of haze spread out from the blood cells and coated the bacteria. Nate watched as the attacking organism was eaten up by the strange mist. In less than a minute the bacteria had been destroyed.

'I can't see properly,' he complained. 'What's the misty stuff? Can you make the magnification stronger?'

'It's on its strongest setting,' Gerald told him. 'That's all I've been able to see too, so far. But I've done other tests. This haze, whatever it is, reacts differently to different threats. And that's not all; it doesn't just destroy – it can
rebuild.
I think it may even have intelligence.'

He checked again to see that Hugo was not listening.

'We've never been able to observe
aurea sanitas
at work, other than seeing the results of the accelerated healing our family enjoys, but I think this is it. This mist in Hugo's blood is a cloud of particles that's thick enough to be seen. We don't have so many, so we've never been able to spot them before. Hugo and his brother and sisters are loaded with the little beggars.'

'Particles smaller than cells?' Nate asked incredulously. 'Intelligent particles? Is that possible?'

'Our ancestors rebuilt their bodies from scant remains,' Gerald replied, with something like awe in his voice. 'Something kept the seeds of life in them even after their corpses were mummified. Their brains were dead, but some part of them remembered . . . like drawing the plans of a machine or a building, so their physical forms could be recovered. Their own memories are not complete; but even so, the fact that Hugo and his siblings can move and speak after six hundred years . . . I think it was these particles. Something about the quality of gold acts as a stimulus or fuel for them, and using it, they have the power to regenerate life, almost to the point of granting immortality. But I don't think they are a
part
of life. I think we're looking at mathaumaturgy here – once upon a time, someone actually
made
these things and put them in our blood. I think this is evidence of a science beyond our understanding.

'You see, this isn't the only place I've seen this kind of healing action,' he went on. 'We've always wondered how the engimals healed. After all, they're made of inorganic compounds – metals and other elements. They have no lymph or circulatory systems, no capacity for producing new cells because they have none to begin with. And yet they can heal. I think they use the same mathaumaturgical particles to rebuild themselves.

'Just on a whim, I decided to see if these marvellous little mites were interchangeable; whether I could create a link with an engimal using the particles in my blood. That's the whole basis of my theory, after all – that they were created to serve. Normally it takes days or even weeks of work to bond with an engimal. I put a single drop of my blood in the toast-maker's drinking water and all of a sudden it obeyed my every word! Do you understand what I'm telling you?'

Nate understood completely, but he wasn't sure he believed it. Gerald giggled, as if he were on the edge of hysterics.

'Once a link is created with a master, they appear to be instantly obedient. Forget all this nonsense about breaking them in – this can override all that. And it proves once and for all that they were designed and built to serve by a race whose science was far beyond our own. I'll have to carry out experiments on some of our other engimals to get a better idea of how it all works.

'Imagine if we could find some way to
communicate
with them, Nate – perhaps with mathematics or some long-lost language. Imagine that!' He ran his hand through his dark mop of lank hair. 'I must write to Charles Darwin and involve him in this. I think these particles are the key to discovering who was responsible for creating the engimals. Darwin's theories on evolution are only the tip of the iceberg; if I'm right, Hugo and the others could be proof that—'

'We are proof of God's mercy!' Hugo's voice cut in.

They turned to find him standing right behind them.

'God returned us to this world to do His Work,' he announced.

'Yeeesss, that's all very well,' Gerald said carefully. 'But I'm interested in how He pulled it off.'

'He is the Almighty God! His Will shall be done.'

'Hugo,' Gerald began, 'a lot of things have changed since you've been away—'

'Gerald, I don't think this is the time,' Nate muttered.

'Modern science has debunked many of the old superstitions,' Gerald continued, ignoring his cousin. 'And while I would not be one to deny the existence of God – I think the whole question of God is a philosophical, rather than a scientific one – our perception of the world has come a long way. Mankind has chosen to rely on reason rather than faith, and it's about time too—'

'Gerald,' Nate hissed, his eyes fixed on Hugo's face.

'Frankly we've developed somewhat since we came down from the trees and I'm eager that we keep going. And to do that, we must use our brains.'

'What do you mean, "came down from the trees"?' Hugo asked.

'The latest theories suggest we are descended from apes,' Gerald replied.

'Apes? What are apes?'

'Like monkeys.'

Hugo looked as if he had just been struck. Gerald helpfully pointed to a drawing on the wall next to him, which showed the progression of man's development from crouching ape, with his long arms and jutting brow, through his various stages to the civilized, upright posture of modern man.

'What is this heresy?' Hugo exclaimed. 'There are no animals in my family! I was made by God in His image!'

'Well, there lies the rub. We've no idea where God came from,' Gerald replied, looking fondly at the drawing. 'Who's to say He didn't start off as a monkey?'

The back of Hugo's hand caught him across the face at startling speed; Gerald's head whipped to the side and he was thrown to the floor by the force of the blow. Jumping to his feet, he clenched one fist, the other hand clutching his burning cheek. He looked at Hugo with a cold rage.

'Out of respect for your advanced years, I'm going to let that go,' he said in a tense voice. 'But if you ever touch me again—'

'Go back to your studies, boy,' Hugo snorted. 'I don't converse with animals.'

And with that, he left. Gerald swore softly to himself and sat down on a stool, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

'He nearly took my bloody head off,' he said. 'The old bugger's stronger than he looks.'

'And he's getting stronger all the time,' Nate added.

'Intelligent particles,' Gerald observed with admiration, rubbing his swelling cheek. 'When I figure out what's making him tick, I'm going to change the world.'

Nate hung around the laboratory for a while longer, but Gerald was too intent on his work to pay him much attention. Nathaniel had no desire to face the rest of his family in the drawing room or out on the grounds, certain that the gossipmongers would already be spreading the suspicions of his treachery to the rest of the house. So he sought out the only other person he knew would never believe the lies, and who might go some way towards cheering him up.

He took the stairs up three floors to Tatiana's room, and as he approached her door, he heard a thunderous noise emitting from within. It had a throbbing African beat to it, which was accompanied by the sound of stringed instruments being slashed to pieces with a machete. He opened the door to find Tatiana jumping on her bed, her hair loose and flying wildly about her head, her yellow crinoline dress flapping up and down around her bloomers. The songbird engimal he had given her was out of its cage and flew around her in circles, its beak open as it sang its ear-shattering tune. For a moment he was convinced that she had been possessed by some kind of demon, but then she looked over and waved at him.

'Nate!' she screamed over the music. 'Come and . . . jump on the . . . bed with me! It's a new . . . invention! It has . . .
springs
in it! It's one of the . . . first ever!'

'I think my bed-jumping days may be over!' he yelled back.

'Don't talk . . . rubbish! Get up here and . . . jump about . . . Take your shoes off first!'

She continued to bounce on the mattress in time to the beat. A smile spread across Nate's face as he watched her. She was always able to make him smile. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed and began jumping around with her. At first it didn't work because his greater weight made the mattress buck under her, which would throw her off her feet, but soon they managed to get a rhythm, and Tatty started flying up towards the ceiling as Nate's feet hit the mattress. They laughed and whooped and got the giggles and laughed again until they were out of breath and then they jumped even harder on the bed.

That was how Daisy found them when she walked in, looking for comfort, her face like that of a lost child.

Tatty waved her up to join them, but then lost her timing and ended up being thrown against Nate, knocking him off the end of the bed. He landed on the floor with a crash, buckled over with hysterical giggles.

'Jump on . . . the bed!' Tatty screeched over the bird's bestial song.

'Tatiana, this is hardly a fitting way for a lady to behave,' Daisy scolded, trying to hide a smile at the same time.

'Never mind . . . that! Jump on . . . the bed!'

She was not to be defied, so Daisy gave a reluctant grin and took off her shoes. Tatty stopped jumping long enough for her sister-in-law to get onto the bed and then they started bouncing together. Daisy was hesitant at first, missing the beat and trying to maintain her dignity, but soon she gave in and was hopping around like a wild thing, in desperate danger of having her wire-hooped skirt flip up around her waist. Nate recovered himself and joined them, and the jumping grew increasingly chaotic until, with a creaking surrender, the bed collapsed beneath them, the mattress folded in the middle and they all tumbled into the fold in a tangled mess of limbs, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

They lay there for a while, exhausted. Then set about untangling themselves; Tatiana told the bird to hush, and it did. As the noise faded, she announced:

'I've decided I'm going to be a teacher.'

'Really?' Nate raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you were going to set up hospitals?'

'I might do that later . . . if there's a war or something,' she said thoughtfully. 'But I've decided that the common people need schools, so I'm going to set up some of those instead. Poor people need an education so that they can get better jobs. Did you know that most of them can't even speak French?'

'I had no idea,' Nate replied. 'Perhaps they don't have any need for it.'

'They would if more people spoke it,' Tatty pointed out.

'Impeccable logic,' Daisy chuckled as they all sat up on the edge of the broken bed. 'So what made you decide to teach?'

'I think I'd be good at it,' Tatiana told her. 'I've been teaching Elizabeth . . . and even Brunhilde . . . a bit. Although I suspect she's a little . . . dotty. Anyway, Elizabeth said they were learning a lot from me, so I think I'd make a good teacher. Or at least, I could
train
teachers – I don't think ladies are supposed to become teachers themselves.'