Jenny Plague-Bringer: (Jenny Pox #4) (19 page)

Juliana clutched Sebastian’s hand as they left the room, her mind swirling with excitement
and fear.  She knew that getting control of the demon plague was the right thing to
do, and the only way she could ever hope to be a good person, but the idea of being
examined in a laboratory day after day terrified her.  If Sebastian was with her,
that would make it all bearable.  Without him, she would be alone, with no one who
understood her.

Without speaking, they walked outside into the gardens, toward the peach orchard and
the elaborate graveyard under construction.  They didn’t speak for a while.  Both
of them had plenty to think about.

Juliana and Sebastian tried to enjoy an afternoon running free on the Barrett grounds. 
They avoided the darkness of the house, instead visiting the stables to view Mr. Barrett’s
horses, including a champion racehorse, which the horse groom was happy to discuss.

Barrett slaughtered a pig in their honor, outside by the smokehouse.  He made a show
of cutting the squealing animal’s throat himself with a butcher knife, which sent
his young son screaming and crying into the house.  It roasted in a pit until long
after sunset, filling the grounds with the smell of hot pork.

Sebastian and Juliana waited for supper in the library, where Sebastian continued
to “taste” Mr. Barrett’s Canadian whiskey again and again, while Juliana read aloud
from a collection of poems by Percy Shelley.  Barrett had made a number of notes in
the margins of “Ozymandias,” but she couldn’t decipher his handwriting.

When she looked up from the book of poetry, she saw that Barrett’s small, timid son,
also named Jonathan,  had crept into the room to listen to her.  He stood behind a
stiff wing-backed chair near the door, as if hiding while also making sure he could
escape fast.  Sebastian, drowsing off in his own chair while looking out at the gardens,
hadn’t even noticed him.

“Hello,” Juliana said to the little boy, who cringed.

“Do I have to leave, ma’am?” he whispered.

“No, you can come and sit.  Do you like poetry?”

“I like listening to you read it, ma’am.” He tiptoed around the wing-backed chair
and sat down on the edge, tentatively, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Juliana said. 

The boy looked at her and started crying.  She could not touch him to comfort him,
so she tried the softest voice she could manage: “Why are you upset?”

“He killed my pig.” The boy rubbed his running nose on his sleeve. “My favorite pig.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt terrible for him.  She could imagine how a boy might get attached
to an animal. “He probably didn’t know it was your favorite.”

“He knew!  That’s why he killed her.  Because she was my friend.” The boy turned red
and cried harder.

“What’s happening?” Sebastian asked, startled awake by the boy’s bawling.

“His favorite pig died.”

“Because he hates me!  That’s why he did it,” the boy said.

“I’m sure your father doesn’t hate you,” Juliana said.

“And he could have brought her back to life, but he cooked her instead.  And now you’re
all going to eat her!”

“I don’t think he could bring her back to life,” Juliana said.

“He could!  He can bring the dead back.  He showed me one night, in the Negro graveyard. 
He made one climb right out!” The boy was blubbering. “My father’s evil.  I think
he’s the Devil.  Or he’s worse.”

“I’m sure your father isn’t evil,” Juliana told him.

“You don’t know anything!” the boy shouted.  He ran out of the library.

“Kid liked that pig,” Sebastian said.

“I couldn’t even hug him or anything.  It breaks my heart.  Where’s his mother, anyway?”
Juliana asked.

“Upstairs with the laudanum, remember?” Sebastian said.

A servant collected them for supper, where Barrett drank heavily and regaled them
with stories of nights he’d spent in New York and London, sometimes meeting famous
people, about whom he gossiped freely.  Some of the stories had Juliana laughing into
her punch, though all the alcohol she’d consumed certainly helped her find the humor
in his jokes.  He came across as well-educated, well-traveled, and just plain wealthy,
but with a deep fondness for the little town where he’d grown up.

Neither Barrett’s son nor his wife made an appearance during the meal.  Neither Seth
nor Juliana had the nerve to ask what his son might have meant about him bringing
the dead to life, and with the drinking, the subject was soon forgotten.

* * *

In the morning, Juliana felt ill from so much drinking.  She ate one of the fluffy,
buttery biscuits served at the dining room table, along with a slice of fresh-cut
peach, but she didn’t touch the eggs or sausages.  She drank plenty of coffee.

“Have you had time to consider my offer?” Barrett asked when he joined them.  He was
already washed and dressed for the day, which made Juliana feel disgusting with her
matted hair, wearing yesterday’s clothes.  At least she’d slept well, in a beautiful
room on the second floor with nautical paintings on the walls, the bed made from old
ship timbers, the curtains cut from sailing cloth.  Sebastian had slept in a different
room up on the third floor.

“It’s certainly interesting,” Sebastian said.  He sat next to Juliana and gave her
a long look.  Juliana had made it clear to him how much she wanted to do this, even
if Barrett himself grew stranger the more they learned about him.  She would almost
certainly never get another chance to free herself from the demon plague.

“You sound uncertain,” Barrett said. “How else can I convince you?”

“I’m as convinced as I’ll ever be,” Sebastian told him. “I don’t really want it for
myself, but I’ll have to go for Juliana’s sake.  Make sure she doesn’t slip up and
kill everybody there, you know?”

“I would not!” Juliana said, smiling at him. “You’ll go to Berlin?  Truly?”

“I can’t stay with the carnival, can I?” he asked. “They’re about to lose the star
of their freak show.  Things could go south from there.”

“I’m sure the carnival will manage to survive.  They did for thirty years before I
joined.  Oh, thank you!” Juliana threw her arms around Sebastian’s neck and held him
close.

“That makes an excellent start to the morning,” Barrett said. “I’ll telegraph my
colleagues in Berlin, and phone my office manager in Charleston to arrange your transportation
across the Atlantic.  We’ll find you a nice, modern ship that makes good time.  The
accommodations must be suitable for a fine lady.” He smiled at Juliana, and she did
her best not to smile back too widely.  She would be much more comfortable once she
was out of Mr. Barrett’s unsettling, magnetic presence.

After breakfast, Barrett instructed his staff to draw a warm bath for Juliana, a process
that involved boiling buckets of well water, hauling them upstairs, and pouring them
into the claw-footed tub.  After giving the order, he retreated to his office.

Juliana declined when a servant girl offered to “bathe” her, an offer that made her
uncomfortable on many levels.  She instead invited Sebastian to join her in the bathing
room, provided he sat in a chair with his back turned and promised not to look.  Partly
this was to tease him, partly it was a peace offering—she’d gotten a lot of glares
from him for her inappropriate drunken flirting with Mr. Barrett.  Mostly, she did
it to ensure Sebastian himself bathed before she spent days holed up in a steamship
with him.

When Juliana whispered this suggestion, Sebastian gave her his first real smile since
they’d arrived at Barrett House.

In the bathroom, she closed the door and turned the key, then slid a wooden chair
from the corner to face the door.

“Sit here,” she told him.

“The view won’t be as pretty over here.  And I won’t be able to wash your hair for
you or anything.”

“I think I can do that myself,” she told him.

He sighed and took the chair, shaking his head as he stared at the closed door.  Juliana
backed away from him, almost to the tub, and then she pulled her dress up and over
her head.  She unhooked and removed her cotton undergarments, then stood by the tub,
naked from head to toe.  She shivered with the forbidden delight of being unclothed
in a room with him, her nipples stiffening as she looked at his broad shoulders and
his unkempt hair.  She almost hoped he would turn around and look at her, but he unfortunately
remained a gentleman.

“So, this Barrett fellow, he’s a little strange, isn’t he?” Sebastian asked, still
looking at the door.

“He’s going to help us.” Juliana slipped into the warm water.  It felt delicious on
her bare skin.  She soaped her body. “He’s certainly got the dough.  A real butter
and egg man.”

“Now you’re making me hungry again,” he said, and she laughed. “Don’t you think it
sounds suspicious?”

“Of course.  I’ve always been a suspicious girl.” She dunked her head underwater,
then soaped her hair. “Never trust anyone, that’s what I say.  But, still, a free
holiday in Europe sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t sound like a holiday.  They’ll probably cage us up like rats in a laboratory.”

“If they do, I’ll kill them.”

“Europe is a dangerous place.”

Juliana laughed. “We’re not going to Tasmania.  Europe’s more civilized than we are.”

“When they’re not slaughtering each other with wars.”

“The last war ended when we were both little children.” Juliana rinsed out her hair.
“Nobody wants war anymore.  The world is saner now.  Everyone agrees peace is important.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Juliana quickly finished her bath.  She stood up in the tub, letting herself drip
for a moment, just in case he decided to peek.  She would, of course, pretend to be
angry if he did.  He didn’t look, though, so she reluctantly toweled off, stepped
out of the bath, and put her dirty clothes back on, since she didn’t have anything
else to wear.

“Your turn in the bath,” she said.

“I don’t need one.” He quickly turned to face her, and his face showed a little disappointment
at seeing her fully dressed. 

Should have been faster, boy,
she thought. She said: “I disagree.  Who knows when we’ll get another chance to bathe?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I insist.”

He got out of his chair and grinned at her, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the lean
muscles of his chest and stomach.  She wanted to reach out and place a hand somewhere
low on his belly, but that could make things dangerous fast.  He unbuckled his belt,
and she turned away to look at the door.

“He really likes you, doesn’t he?” Sebastian asked behind her back.  The water sloshed
as he entered the tub. “Mr. Barrett.”

“Are you feeling jealous?” she asked him.

“He must be, what, ten years older than us?  Twenty?  Do you think he’s twenty years
older?”

“You are jealous!” She glanced back over her shoulder to see him in the water, and
he quickly covered himself with his hands.

“Do you have no modesty?” he asked, though his voice wasn’t exactly angry.

“None.” She turned away again, smiling to herself.

“There’s no reason for me to feel jealous.  If he touches you, he dies.  Right?” Sebastian
asked.

“Yes.” She was glad he couldn’t see her frown. “Of course.”

“So, flirt all you want. I don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“I don’t belong to you, you understand that?” Juliana asked, still looking at the
door. “I’m not your property.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her into the air. 
She squealed, kicking her legs.  He must have eased quietly out of the water and tiptoed
up behind her.

“Let me go!” she demanded.

“Why would I let you go now?” He turned her and lowered her against him, pressing
his lips to hers.  He was still wet, naked, and, judging from the hard pressure against
her thigh, very aroused.

“Put me down, Sebastian,” she whispered. “You’re making my dress wet.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t you say a thing!” she told him.  She kissed him again. “We have to go.”

Reluctantly, he returned her to the floor.  He took his time getting dressed again.

* * *

Barrett led them out along a brick path to the stables.  Juliana stayed close to Sebastian,
holding his arm.  It was a hot, sunny day, and she was glad her hair was still wet
enough to help keep her cool.

“We don’t mind taking the train to Charleston,” Sebastian told Barrett. “You don’t
have to send a wagon all day.”

“You’re in luck,” Barrett told them as he approached a small shed next to the stable. 
“I have a mountain of work to do in Charleston myself.”