Avalon Revamped (4 page)

“Shhhhhh,” I said, bringing her back to the present with my touch, gently lowering her arms. “Look at this here, Sarah Ann. I brought something for you to see.” I removed a crocheted poppet from of my reticule, and wiggled it in front of her, making her smile at its hand-stitched grin and floppy arms. “This is a magic poppet, my dear, and it can take away some of your pain, just for a while, I’m afraid. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Please! Oh! A magic poppet with a black heart!”

“Hold still, and I shall relieve your torment. Then, sleep. All right?”

“Yes! Oh, please.” Tears anew. “Even for a moment. Yes, please.”

Taking the poppet in one hand and laying my other on the side of her head, I focused my will on assuaging her distress, channeling it into the poppet, placing all that torment where it belonged.

If only for a few moments.

“Take care, sweet girl.” I brushed the hair away from her temples as she curled up to sleep, pulling her shackled hands up to her face.

“Goodbye, Constance,” she slurred as she began to doze. “Thank you so much. You’ve saved me, the small tiny part of me that’s left. Bye-bye, now. Bye-bye.” The last words formed more around whispers than voice as she drifted into a peaceful reprieve.

As I let myself out of the room, Sarah Ann was already fast sleep.

“Pardon me,” I said to the same nurse who showed me back to Sarah Ann’s room, now back at her station. “Might I please see the director? Immediately, please.”

“I’m sorry, madam, but the superintendent physician is…” Her words faded away when she looked up into my eyes, blackened with the intent to convince.

My will. Always.

“Um—yes. Right away, madam.”

Before too long, I was out in the beautiful winter day.

It didn’t take too much to convince the good doctor to amend his medical regime. No, not too much at all, actually. I made it very clear that I knew his secrets and that his public image would reflect his darkest secrets all too soon if things didn’t change. Additionally, the horrors that the patients experienced would be a carnival in comparison to his fate. A flash of my power impressed upon his innermost thoughts convinced him straight away. I found that a taste, a mere glimpse of eternal misery was usually enough to convince anyone of anything. Quite enough, in fact.

I also strongly suggested that Miss Daughety be allowed the implements with which to write and whatever else she needed to be as comfortable as possible. Warning him that I would know of any further mistreatment or neglect.

He obliged without hesitation.

The brisk air cleansed my mystical palate. One deep breath, and I felt revitalized. Now. Must prepare for the Yule Ball tonight. After all, there was much more work to be done.

ARTHUR

Lord Pearson’s home had been transformed into a magical Yuletide wonderland. He outdid himself every year. Of course, his wife, Lady Eliza Pearson had something to do with that. She would rather be publicly humiliated beyond repair than to be topped by anyone in society for parties, which would mean the same thing. This Yule Ball was just the start. The Pearsons had commissioned a dirigible for a Christmas cruise to Paris and back, inviting all their friends, and enemies, in the ton, including anyone of some repute whatsoever. It would no doubt surpass the singular evening airship gala held this past summer, the place I had met Avalon for the first time. She captivated me then as she did now.

Perhaps I had been cruel of late. She was a remarkable woman, after all.

“Lady Pearson must’ve been planning this for six months,” I whispered to Avalon as we entered the great hall, holding her close to me.

“Indeed.”

Still cross with me. Absurd. First she complained that we hadn’t been sexual enough, and then when I let her have it, she was upset about that, too. I just couldn’t win.

Visions and sounds of holiday merriment unfolded before us. Delight and laughter filled the air, mixing with the smooth notes of the string quartet. Down each side of the ballroom, giant Christmas trees lined the dark walnut walls. Reaching toward the ceiling, these glorious trees had been freshly cut and transported to London just for this gala. Draped with gold and maroon ribbon and adorned with fresh apples hanging from their branches, they were as fine as I’d ever seen in my long life. The top of each tree held a large star, glowing with gaslight. That couldn’t have been easy, nor was it terribly safe.

“Look at all the splendor, sweetheart. Even with the gaslights flickering all about us, it is you who light up this room. You look magnificent, tonight, my love. Even more so than usual. Positively stunning,” I said, kissing her hand. I had been so busy trying to cover up my dalliances while Avalon prepared for the ball that I hadn’t noticed her before now. She wore a strapless gown of scarlet velvet, trimmed with candlelight white lace across the bodice and draped across her hips, gathering in the back to make the most delicious bustle. The matching satin skirt gathered over each thigh revealed a candlelight white skirt beneath. To finish off this breathtaking ensemble, a matching flower brocade decorated the bodice and a scarlet velvet choker adorned her slender neck. The dark, blood-red gown made her cold flesh appear as fine porcelain. “Come. We must show you off properly. You are a vision.”

That got me a smile. Finally.

“Your new haircut becomes you, Arthur, especially in that suit. You, too, look quite impressive this evening.”

Truth, that. Majestic, more like. Paramount to my Tudor heritage, no doubt. I had my waistcoat made especially for this night, a deep red brocade to match Avalon’s gown, decorated with black velvet designs. Then, I always looked smashing in black tie.

Extending her out to her scarlet-covered arms-length, for the gloves nearly reached her shoulder, I turned her around the center of the dance floor. All eyes landed on the beauty before me. Plain, indeed, as her aunt Emily Bainbridge would have all believe. No one would ever think of my Avalon as ordinary again. The couples waltzing around us stopped for a moment to watch Avalon spin under my arm and curtsy. Her sable curls fell softly about her face. Then we joined with the rest to the music of the string quartet.

“I hope it’s all right I got a little rough before, my sweet. You just make me so hungry, and it had been too long. We simply must do that more often.”

“It was rather rough.” She said no more, tensing up in my arms.

“Yes, well. Bygones, and all that. I think your idea is a splendid one, by the by. A new mystery to solve will bridge the gap that has been growing between us. We shall visit Stanton’s tomorrow afternoon.”

“You seem all together unconcerned about your missing friend, Arthur.”

“What? Nick? Ha! Good ol’ Nick. If anyone can take care of himself, Avalon, he can. I’m sure the man is just fine. Probably in an opium den somewhere smothered in women.”

The song ended and so did the conversation. I bowed to Avalon who in turn curtsied. As we made our way off the dance floor, the gaudiest gown I had ever seen assaulted my eyes. It, of course, covered no other than the willful Emily Bainbridge.

“Ah! There is your aunt.”

“Yes. Rather hard to miss.”

There’s my girl.

As we approached, the gown became ever more revolting. It was red and green and white, with just the enough silver and gold to make it quite horrid, indeed. The back of the dress had no bustle, which, for once, I was glad. It had layers of red ruffles, each trimmed with a wide bright green ribbon. Every few inches sat another red sparkly puff of fabric, much like a large rose, bordered with gold on some and silver on others. Emily turned to greet us, and I had to use every ounce of self-control to keep my face arranged in a pleasant smile. A quick glance at Avalon showed she was doing the same. The front of the bodice was a stack of red bows with green tips against a white base, topped with a frilly red collar that stood stiff around her neck. A rather large white ruffle lined each side of the front panel.

“Avalon!” The feigned delight left her voice when she greeted me with a nod. “Lord York.”

Yes. Still cross as well. Why did women stay cross with me for so long? Honestly, it was near half a year since our singular chartreuse indiscretion, yet this frilly woman was still annoyed with me for falling in love with Avalon. Although, I could understand how she would be vexed to lose me as a lover. I was rather skilled in the ways of passion, after all. No doubt the woman hadn’t had an orgasm since. Poor lass.

“Good evening, Lady Bainbridge.” Two could play the formality game. “My! Aren’t you a sight this fine evening.”

“Do you like it?” She spun around in place and posed with one leg stretched out to the side, to ensure that her ankles showed beneath the bottom ruffle. Scandalous.

Her husband, Baron Henry Bainbridge of Yorkshire, cleared his throat beside her in a rather disapproving way. Avalon’s uncle was the epitome of class and grace, dressed in a fine burgundy coat and brocade vest ensemble, topped with a black cravat. The waxed tips of his curled silver mustache bounced as he cleared his throat again. “Avalon, my dear. How lovely to see you. Good heavens, child. You are the picture of elegance. You remind me of your mother, and your eyes are the spitting image of my dear brother, may they both rest in peace.”

Avalon dipped into a slight curtsy before embracing her uncle. She loved the man. He had given her the houses on Baker Street to tend after her father died. Lord Bainbridge, unlike his wife, was kind and generous and properly polite.

Emily hated to have attention stolen from her, especially by Avalon. “Yes. Quite,” she snapped. “Although, you are looking a little pale, dear. Are you eating well?”

“I’m just fine, Aunt. Thank you for your concern.”

“But you, Arthur,”—Emily turned to me—“There is a definite rosiness to your cheek this evening. You look well.”

Avalon flashed a glare in my direction, imperceptible to all but me. Although she truly couldn’t care less about society, she knew enough to pretend along with the rest of them. She, no doubt, suspected my afternoon snack. I would have to share sooner or later. Perhaps after the ball.

“Thank you, Lady Bainbridge. Avalon and I are quite well, considering.”

“Considering?”

“Considering we have not had any wine. Where in all that’s good and devilish are the servers? Ah! There! Over by Lady Pearson, to whom we must show our gratitude anyway. Would you please excuse us, dear lady? Baron.”

“Of course,” the Lord Bainbridge said, raising his glass to us before turning to another group of revelers.

Emily added, “Do what you will, as, of course, you will, Lord York. Avalon. Do return before you depart. I have a new lovely friend, and I’d like you both to make her acquaintance. Mrs. Chastity Rosengarten, but then, you know what they say about names. Might I suggest”—she lowered her voice and feigning a whisper behind her gold-gloved hand—“not all other roses by another would smell as sweet.”

Intriguing!

Avalon’s grip on my arm tightened as she inched me away toward Lady Pearson, our gracious hostess for this succulent gala. Lady Eliza Pearson spoke with a man around my height, but there was much more to him. His presence filled space, rather than his body. Stout, more with muscle than middle, and a kind look about him. His attire not quite to par with those of London’s High Society, but he did look smart, albeit rather odd. The collar of his coat stood high about his ears, and his long dark hair fell loose about his face. A black cravat of sorts covered his neck, tied unlike that I have ever seen, and he wore it on the inside of an open collared shirt. Upon his head sat a large top hat strapped with brown leather goggles across the front.

“Lady Pearson,” I said, bowing and kissing her proffered hand. “Your ball is magnificent. Utterly stupendous. I have never seen the like in all my years.”

“In all your twenty or so years, Arthur?” she laughed. “Might I introduce you to Arron von Blackwolf, the captain of the Lone Star International Aerodrome?”

“How do you do, Mr. Blackwolf? Lord Arthur York, at your service, and this is my—“ I wasn’t sure what to call her—“Avalon. Avalon Bainbridge.” I’d hear about that one later.

“Pleasure,” she said, offering her hand.

Blackwolf kissed it, bowing, then spoke. “The pleasure is mine.”

His accent was American, from the south, if I wasn’t mistaken. The long drawl over the vowels gave that much away.

“An American,” I said. “Lady Pearson, you never cease to amaze me. You commissioned an American for your Christmas cruise. How very interesting.”

“Eliza, Arthur. I shan’t tell you again.” Her gown was of fine purple silk, adorned with black ribbon and lace. The black frills along the lace sleeves and neckline drew the eye to her bosoms. Although in her fifties, she was still young and delicious to me. Although, she would never, as much as I would like to sample that particular vintage.

“Of course, Eliza.”

“Not terribly interesting, Arthur. Arron here is a veteran of that dreadful war over in the colonies, and now he has turned his ship into a passenger and commercial vessel. He had wanted to see the Old World, as the colonist’s call it, and I was all too happy to oblige. He served with the journalist, W. D. MacFerret. You know, the one who wrote that dreadful piece about Lord Stanton’s disappearance. I’m dear friends with MacFerret’s wife, Gladys, although I still question her wisdom in marrying a colonist. One with Scottish heritage at that!”

“Yes. McFerret and I go way back, Lord York, but we’ve mostly fallen out of touch, as happens with those from our past. Don’t it?”

There was a story there, no doubt. Otherwise, why mention it to someone he’d just met?

“Indeed,” I said. “Excited about the cruise, Mr. Blackwolf?”

“I am. Yes sir. It’ll be a first for me, but I’d like to see France before I head back across.”

“How long will you be staying in London?” Avalon asked.

“Oh, not much after the new year, I’m afraid. I reckon I’d like to see more of Europe, and perhaps venture down into Africa before heading back. I met an odd chap before who was telling wild tales of adventure on the continent, as he called it. Doctor Nesbitt, I believe.”

“Yes,” Lady Pearson said, pulling her mouth into a bow as if she had just sucked on a lemon. “Doctor Nesbitt.”

“Anyway,” Blackwolf continued, “He got my curiosity up, and with Lady Pearson’s generosity in hiring my boat for her gala, I might just be able to see it after all. Then back to Texas. I’ve got work waiting for me there, too.”

“Doctor Nesbitt,” Avalon said. “I’m not familiar with him.”

Lady Pearson cleared her throat. “My, Arthur and Avalon, you don’t have a glass of wine. We must remedy that at once. Garçon!” She got the attention of one of her servers, and motioned for him to come over. A tall, lanky gentleman, one that would even make Thomas look rather stout, accosted the waiter before he reached us. The spindly man sported a dark ensemble, styled to resemble an explorer who had just returned from the continent. Complete with a brown leather baldric, a utility belt full of items useless at a party, and knickers tucked into knee-high boots, he stood out from all the other men. Bushy black mutton chops covered his gaunt face. The tips of a waxed mustache stuck straight out either side and extended to his ears. Stumbling over other guests, nearly losing his wide-brimmed helmet, he slammed two empty wine glasses on the server’s silver tray before picking up two more. “There’s a good chap,” he slurred, then disappeared back in the crowd.

“Speak of the devil,” Lady Pearson said under her breath, frowning.

After Avalon took a moment to straighten the upset glass Doctor Nesbitt had left, she and I each took a glass of wine for ourselves. The comical man twirled on the dance floor, weaving in and out of the couples, waltzing with his wine. Every so often he would stop, feign a dip, and take a swig from one glass, holding the other stretched out, posing with his long limbs at odd angles as he did so. The couples around him laughed at his antics, clapping as he finished off each glass—for which he took a deep bow. His hat clanged as it hit the floor, leaving a black smudge on the wood.