Avalon Revisited (13 page)

“Indeed, m’lord.”

“Alfred, this is Miss Avalon Bainbridge,” I said indicating my lovely dinner date.

“Pleasure, Miss.”

“How do you do?” Avalon said.

“We have a succulent lamb tonight m’lord, and the goose is top notch.”

“Excellent. We look forward to a fine meal.”

After this brief exchange of pleasantries, the maître d’ showed us to our table. We wound through a maze of succulent dishes, both on and at the tables. Avalon walked in front of me, and I was a mixture of pleased and disappointed to see that her black bustle was merely a cinching of some material, not a bustle at all really. It was good, though, as it would keep my mind on the matter at hand and not on her... bustle. The maître d’ pulled out Avalon’s chair, and I took my own seat across from her and regarded the menu.

Avalon sat quietly, playing the perfect lady. So she did know a thing or two about society.

Once the waiter came and left with our order, she broke her silence.

“Thank you for joining me this evening, Lord York, I know it was quite forward of me to invite you.” Her black-gloved hands rested properly in her lap. Mine reached for the wine glass and fiddled with its stem. I was singularly intrigued as to where this evening would lead.

“Not at all, Miss Bainbridge. I am delighted to meet with you.”

“Please, do call me Avalon.” She showed no sign of shame or anxiety, just the opposite. Her shoulders were back, lower back arched in a rather scrumptious manner as it caused her breasts to be more pronounced. I didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“Only if you call me Arthur,” I said smiling, thrilled that it was she who suggested the familiar this time. I noticed a rather heavy gold chain disappear down her bodice. That must be Victor’s vampire detector.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a moment, but then obliged.

“Very well, Arthur. I wanted to apologize for my rudeness since I met you. I am not used to the company of men. Well besides Victor, but he doesn’t count as a man, does he? He’s my partner and my tenant, you see, so there’s that.”

This was a great start to what sure was to be an exciting evening.

“Allow me to apologize as well, Avalon. I was perhaps too forward on the airship. A lady of your standing deserves much more respect, and I intend to give it.” I could play nice, too.

“You’re very kind,” she said, bowing her head to me.

“You look quite lovely this evening, although I suppose that is not unusual for you.”

She looked down at her hands and smiled, but she didn’t say anything. Flattery and compliments didn’t work on this woman. If anything, it put her on guard.

My previous assessment was correct, it seems. No games of flirtation or flattery. Honesty.

Forthright honesty. I’ll just stick with the truth, more or less, and just leave out some tiresome details.

“I was actually very glad you called,” I said to her. “I wanted to continue the conversation from last night. You see, I wasn’t exactly honest about something, and I feel inexplicably comfortable with you. Isn’t that strange?”

This caught her attention. She traced her neck with her hand, no doubt fingering the chain of that contraption hidden beneath her jacket. How she would work that into the conversation, I was anxious to find out.

The waiter approached with a bottle of wine. Deep red, just as I liked my drinks. He poured me a sample. I swirled it and then put my nose into the glass and smelled it. It had a complex bouquet, a mixture of a reglisse and a woody aroma, just a hint of cassis with an intensely corpulent density. Quite nice. I tasted it, and it immediately filled my senses with its hearty flavor. I swirled the dark liquid around my tongue and reveled in its full-bodied flavor before swallowing. The only thing better would be blood, itself. I approved it with a nod, and he poured us both a glass.

“To... new friends,” I said. I had to get her off her guard.

“New friends,” she replied, and we both sipped. It indeed was a fine wine.

The waiter bowed and left after a second approving nod from me. He had waited to be sure Avalon didn’t find it disagreeable. So formal. Then I returned my attention to Avalon.

“You were saying something about not being honest?”

She was curious. Good.

“Of course. I was indeed out for a stroll to satisfy my morbid curiosity last night, as I indicated. However, I led you to believe that I didn’t believe in such monsters as that the police claim did these murders. As I just assumed you would find such things preposterous. The truth is, I do, actually, believe in them. I feel I can tell you this, dear Avalon, because I now know that you believe as well. As you likely are well aware, one must take care when voicing such beliefs in our society. I imagine it will be a relief to share my thoughts out loud, if you’ll indulge me.” I added a little nervous laugh at the end for effect. It worked.

“Of course,” she said. The tension in her shoulders melted away with a sigh, and she was at once more comfortable with me. “Why do you believe?”

“Well,”
here’s where the pity begins
“I’m an orphan because of a”–I lowered my voice considerably here, mostly for effect–“vampire. My father, you see.”
It’s true enough.

Her eyes widened in horror, but she quickly composed herself, as all fine women of this society are experts at doing, and took another sip of her wine. A rather large sip. More of a gulp, really.

“How do you know that was the cause of death?” She patted her top lip with a napkin ever so delicately and then looked at me earnestly, waiting for my answer. Her mouth formed that perfect, adorable “o,” and I almost forgot what I was saying.

“I was there. I witnessed it.”
Again. Truth. At least partial truth.
“Of course no one believed me, as I was much younger than I am now. The doctors said consumption, for there was so much blood, and father had been coughing of late. What other explanation was there?”

“Oh dear!” she said, “And your mother?”

“Oh, nothing as exciting as all that. She died in childbirth. Commonplace, really.”

“Me, too,” she said. This time she leaned forward towards me a little in commiseration. I could see the compassion in her eyes. Two down.

This was going to be easier than I thought.

“To top it all off, I have a rare disorder, you see. Rather embarrassing actually. It is why I wear gloves all the time.” I held up my hands awkwardly, displaying my feigned shame only but briefly on my face “I won’t bore you with clinical details, but it’s called Cutaneous Porphyria, an affliction of the skin. It’s what makes me so pale, you see. The sun can burn me bright red in a matter of minutes, like one who had fallen asleep in it for hours. Blister sometimes, too.

Ironically”–nervous laugh–”it’s known as the vampire disease. I was teased mercilessly as a child. Children can be quite ruthless and cruel.”

Avalon looked quite sad at my piteous tale, but she believed.

If there’s anything I know, it’s women.

“Not polite dinner conversation, that. On to more pleasant conversation. Now. We are friends, aren’t we?” I said. “You know my darkest, most embarrassing secret. You’re like the big sister I never had.”
Well, not for centuries, anyway.

“We are friends, dear Arthur.” She reached across the table and laid her gloved hand upon mine. “Thank you for your openness! It's quite refreshing, actually. Something real instead of all the polite stuffiness. Poor, dear Arthur. So we have more in common: Arthurian-legend obsessed fathers and both orphans, as well.”

“You, too?” I asked incredulously, although I already knew the full story from Emily.
Ahh
Emily.
I adjusted my trousers and returned my attention to Avalon, my beloved. After all, sex wasn’t everything. Right? At least I can tell myself that for tonight. I have been cursed with the body (and therefore sexual appetite) of a teenage boy forever. It can’t be helped.

“Yes. My mother died in childbirth like yours. My father died several years back as well.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, putting a grave expression on my face.

“No. It’s fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s been a long time. I’m used to being alone now.”

“And you never married?”

“Never did.” She sipped her wine.

I stayed quiet for a moment, knowing the question would ask itself, as it was so uncommon for a woman, especially a woman of good birth, to remain unmarried. She likely has had this conversation often, having to explain why she was different. I’m certainly not one to judge, and I’m certainly not going to press her for an answer.

“My choice,” she said finally. “Never much interested in romance. Now I’m too old for such nonsense.” She laughed and drank the last of her wine. She must be getting her courage up for something. Perhaps her instructions were to feign seduction. Perhaps that’s how she would get the locket-contraption out from under her bodice. Then, just when I’d get to her corset, she’d jump up ashamed with herself. It could work. I refilled her glass with wine.

“I rent rooms for a living in a modest house in Baker Street,” she continued. “Mostly business clientele. It’s how I met Victor. He’s an inventor, reminded me of my father. He invented strange contraptions as well.”

“Contraptions?” I queried.

“Yes. Bizarre mechanical... experiments, for lack of a better word. Victor tinkers with all sorts of things. Steam-powered. Clockwork. Science and alchemy, too, sometimes. I don’t understand most of it, but I am greatly fascinated by it.”

“How interesting,” I said, taking another sip of my wine. “I should like to see one someday.”

Especially if that would get me inside her house.

She reached inside her collar and pulled out the locket. I can’t believe I led her right into the opening she needed, like a novice schoolboy! She was going to test me right here in the restaurant! I hadn’t convinced her yet!

Don’t open it! Don’t open it!
I thought fiercely, keeping my face completely relaxed. Not even a twinge of anxiety was betrayed upon my features. Three centuries of practice. My full power behind this thought, attempting to compel her, but it had no effect whatsoever on this remarkable woman, which, of course, made me even more enthralled with her.

This enchantment might just be the end of me.

Still, she didn’t open it, but rather got up and walked over to me, winding it as she did so.

She was saying something about a family heirloom, trying to pass it off as one of her father’s inventions, as bizarre as the appearance of it was, but all my attention was on that locket. Perhaps it wouldn’t work! Victor had said it hadn’t been tested. I did have a reflection, after all, and this restaurant was rather dark. Still. I couldn’t take the chance. Break it! That’s what I must do!

Break it. If I couldn’t compel her, at least I could use my will to alter matter, albeit minimally.

But in this case, it could work.

With all my supernatural mind power, I focused it all on that watch-sized gadget. Knowing there was a mirror inside, that would be the easiest thing to break, I pictured it cracked. Not just cracked, shattered in a million pieces.

All the while, my expression remained the same: calm and composed, looking at her with polite interest as she came around to me, bent over my shoulder, and opened the locket in front of my face, so that she could see my reflection in it. I led her right into this position, stupid boy!

Tiny shards of glass fell upon my lap and she gasped.

“Oh no!” she cried straightening up. “It’s broken. And look at what I’ve done! You’ve got glass all over you.” She started brushing the pieces of fine glass off my coat and trousers.

“That’s not necessary,” I said quickly, stopping her hands. Certain things began to grow, and I couldn’t offend this dear lady like that.

She went back to her seat and plopped down, defeated.

“I’m so sorry, Avalon,” I said, relieved, and continued to brush the broken glass from my trousers. “Was it terribly valuable?”

“Just to me,” she said. She took another large swig of wine and then the waiter appeared with our supper. He carried a large tray balanced on his right arm which held succulent dishes. Beef Wellington for me, extra rare, and eggplant, roasted in a rosemary sauce for her. His left arm held a white napkin draped over the wrist and held tight against his waist. It reminded me of Cecil.

“Is everything all right, m’lord?” he asked, noticing Avalon’s sadness. Her cheeks were becoming rather rosy with all the wine, and her eyes sparkled with tears. She was certainly loosening up to show even such a hint of emotion in public. A soft, chewy center lay beneath her hard candy shell, and I might just get a taste after all.

“Everything is fine, my good man,” I said, dismissing him with a condescending wave. He placed our meals before us quickly, then turned to leave. I stopped him with a hand on his towel arm. “Please bring the dessert cart around when we’re finished supping. I think my lady friend could use a nice piece of lemon cake tonight.”

“Very good, m’lord.”

“And more wine,” I added.

“Right away, m’lord.” With a click of his heels, he left us.

We ate in near silence, only making random polite conversation about the weather and other such irrelevant pleasantries. I allowed her to marinate in her emotions, hopefully building trust between us. By the end of dinner, we had finished off the bottle of wine and started on the second. I ordered some dessert sherry with a slice of lemon cake for us both. The waiter poured the sherry in tiny glasses, and Avalon drank it down in one completely unladylike gulp. I followed suit. She placed her glass down hard, determinately asking for more. I obliged. We shared the cake off the same plate that sat between us. A sign of intimacy. At the very least, trust and friendship.

After dinner, she took my arm and we made our way out into the London night. She faltered slightly as she stepped onto the street. The wine had made her woozy. Pausing to allow her to catch her balance, I pulled out my pocket watch. Thankful to see I didn’t accidentally break its crystal, I noticed it was just after 9 o’clock.