Nina Coombs Pykare (18 page)

Claudine was always welcome there. The children greatly enjoyed the stories she told them, stories of animals that dressed and talked like people. They would have included her in their excursions too, but she had to plead off. Mademoiselle, she said, would not like for her to be gone that long, but she appreciated their offer.

Several times Claudine and Jennifer had tea together in Jennifer’s room. When the talk turned to mesmerism, Claudine shook her head. “I do not like this thing. My lady, she is still not the same. Not since the convulsions came upon her.” Claudine sighed. “She was always such a happy lady.” Her small face clouded. “Very much in love. Perhaps the gentleman was not of the best quality. But her change was so sudden.”

Claudine stopped, as though aware that she had said too much.

Jennifer smiled. “There is no need to be concerned, Claudine. My responsibilities here are to the children, not to anyone else.” She hesitated. “I know she is not presently interested in Lord Proctor, but, if you have any interest with your lady and she tends to him again. Milord’s horses....”

Claudine’s forehead puckered into a frown. “Horses? I do not know horses.”

Jennifer wished she had held her tongue, but it was too late for that. “The horses are in poor condition,” she explained.

Claudine nodded, her eyes glittering. “I see. Perhaps my lord’s finances are not so excellent as he would have my lady believe.”

Jennifer nodded. “I have no proof. Only a suspicion.”

Claudine reached out to touch her hand. “You are good to tell me this. My lady is sometimes foolish, but she is not wicked. She would not willingly hurt anyone. I would not like to see her hurt.”

Jennifer nodded. “I know. I have never said anything like this to anyone before. But I didn’t tell you because of Mr. Ingleton’s suit either. I do not....” She stopped.

Claudine nodded sympathetically. “I understand. I think we both agree that my lady should look elsewhere for a husband.”

That was the last mention of the subject. By common agreement they thereafter avoided it and spoke of commonplace things.

And then Mrs. Parthemer arose from her bed of pain, as she called it in injured tones, and returned to the dining table. It was Jennifer’s private opinion that she did not want to risk Monsieur Dupin’s being spirited off to some other country house on a more permanent basis. At any rate, she rose from her bed, appeared in the dining room, and announced that after dinner the demonstrations would continue.

Jennifer suppressed a shiver of distaste. She would have been extremely pleased if Monsieur Dupin had never returned from his recent visit. The brief respite from his company was ended though, she told herself with a sigh as she followed the others to the Red Room.

The
baquets,
though still in evidence, had been pushed to the side and Jennifer, looking at the circle of chairs, saw with sinking heart that Monsieur Dupin would again be demonstrating with individual people. It was not a thought to make her comfortable, not at all.

Mr. Parthemer, plainly aggrieved at having to submit to such tomfoolery, settled heavily into a chair on her right while Ingleton and Proctor both outdid themselves to achieve places on either side of Lady Carolyn.

Lady Carolyn appeared to be still at outs with the well-dressed Lord Proctor. She gave him only the coldest and most disdainful glances while Ingleton basked in the sunniest of smiles. Evidently, thought Jennifer, Claudine’s hints, if she had dared to drop any, had been disregarded.

Lady Carolyn still looked somewhat pale. And from time to time she cast a some-what frightened glance at the
baquets.
It was obvious that the fear of her first experience was still with her, that she would have much preferred some other, more pleasant, after dinner occupation. Mrs. Parthemer, of course, would never have heard any such request, much less acceded to it. And Lady Carolyn, naive as she was, must know that.

  To Jennifer’s right, Mrs. Parsons settled her plump body into a chair with a sigh. Jennifer, however, did not turn her head. The merest look of inquiry would invite a veritable torrent of words. And at the present moment Jennifer felt she could not abide a lengthy chronicle of the stout old lady’s numerous ailments.

Monsieur Dupin, as darkly sinister as ever, looked around the circle, his eyes resting momentarily on each person’s face. He paused for a long while as he looked into Jennifer’s eyes. She fought the power that seemed to surge up from his dark depths. She would give no one control over her, she insisted to herself, summoning the now familiar vision of warm grey eyes set in a smiling face. This time it seemed a little easier. She was able to return Du-pin’s gaze quite steadily.

Suddenly he spoke. “Mademoiselle will be the first tonight.”

Jennifer fought down a rising sense of panic. It was almost as though he had read her thoughts and was determined to conquer her. “I... I do not wish to be a subject this evening,” she said. “I have no need of Monsieur Dupin’s help.”

  Still he continued to regard her. “Really, Jennifer,” complained Mrs. Parthemer in an injured tone. “Do not be ridiculous. Monsieur Dupin knows best.”

  “I have no need of Monsieur Dupin’s powers,” repeated Jennifer, aghast at the risk she was taking, but quite certain that she would not again submit herself to the Frenchman’s ministrations.

For a long moment there was silence in the room. Monsieur Dupin continued to stare at her and Jennifer’s panic mounted. Then help came from an unexpected quarter. Mr. Parthemer rubbed the broad expanse of his waistcoat with one large hand and announced with finality, “Leave the girl alone, m’dear. She’s a strong healthy girl. Don’t need no such things. Leave them to those as wants ‘em.”

Jennifer slowly breathed a sigh of relief, not daring to look at Mrs. Parthemer’s face. Mr. Parthemer, she knew, had been quite pleased with the changes in Mortimer and the girls. Perhaps this was his way of thanking her. Or perhaps he did not want to see his children’s governess reduced to a pale wraith as Lady Carolyn had been.

Whatever his reason, Jennifer felt a swelling of gratitude for the man. Mr. Parthemer might have made his money in “trade,” he might be below the touch of many of the
ton,
but he was, in the truest sense of the word, a gentleman. She would thank him the next time an opportunity arose.

  When she raised her eyes, she saw that Monsieur Dupin had shifted his gaze and was now intent on Lady Carolyn. She, it seemed, could not resist the pull of those black eyes and silently rose and seated herself in the chair that faced him.

The Frenchman enclosed her knees with his own, and, taking her hands in his, stared deep into Lady Carolyn’s eyes. It appeared to Jennifer that the knees beneath Lady Carolyn’s green gown were trembling, as were her hands before Mon-sieur Dupin claimed them. But in the uneven candlelight it was difficult to be certain of anything. Surely Lady Carolyn’s face, of which Jennifer had a good view, was not that of a comfortable person. Her ladyship’s eyes were wide open and grew more and more glossy as Monsieur Dupin continued to look into them. There was a decided look of strain around her usually petulant mouth. Suddenly her whole body quivered.

“What do you see?” asked Dupin.

Lady Carolyn quivered again.

“What do you see?” he repeated.

“I see a woman.” Lady Carolyn’s voice had a strange dead quality to it, not at all like her usual tones.

“Who is she?”

“I... I don’t know.”

“You
do
know,” insisted Monsieur Dupin. “Who is she?”

“It’s... it’s my Mama.” Lady Carolyn’s mouth trembled.

Jennifer suppressed a shiver. Lady Caro-lyn’s Mama had been dead, Claudine had told her, for six years, since her ladyship had been a girl of twelve.

“What does your Mama say?”

Lady Carolyn’s hands clutched visibly at those of Monsieur Dupin. “I... I cannot hear her. But... but she is smiling at me.”

“Your Mama is pleased with you,” said Dupin. “Can you hear her now?”

Lady Carolyn strained forward in her chair. Jennifer found herself holding her breath. “She says there is evil nearby. Beware. Beware of blond men.”

In spite of herself Jennifer shivered. Undoubtedly Dupin was a charlatan. The sensible part of herself insisted upon that. But how did he contrive to have this poor young girl hear her dead Mama pass on such a message? She must be sensible, Jennifer told herself sharply, as the muted tones of Henri’s violin came softly through the darkened room.

  Lady Carolyn was a naive and impress-sionable young girl. Mrs. Parsons had spoken to
her
dead Papa. How natural for Lady Carolyn to see whichever of her relatives had gone on. And, as for repeat-ing the part about the blond man - that too could have been suggested by the words that Mrs. Parsons’s purported Papa had spoken through the Frenchman.

This discussion with herself helped in relieving some of her fear. No charlatan, whatever his bag of tricks, would ever succeed in convincing her that the Vis-count Haverford was a dangerous man. Except perhaps - her heart leaped suddenly - except to the very practical plans that she had laid for her future.

Lady Carolyn still sat with wide, unsee-ing eyes. “She’s going now,” she reported. “She says she loves me.”

The wide eyes closed suddenly and Jennifer felt a wave of relief. The poor girl was obviously frightened, it was good her ordeal was over.

As Lady Carolyn returned to her seat in the circle, Lord Proctor spoke. He was making quite an effort to keep the enmity out of his voice, but he did not quite succeed. “I have heard that mesmerists can give people instructions while they are in a trance-like state. And when they awaken these people have no recollection of what they were told to do. When the appropriate signal is given they then perform the given task. Will you give us such a demonstration?”

Of course, thought Jennifer, he hoped that could explain Lady Carolyn’s sudden antipathy toward her former swain!

Monsieur Dupin sniffed audibly. “Such are antics for the foolish uninitiated. Gen-uine practitioners of the science do not stoop to such stage performances.” He drew himself even more erect. “A man such as I has a reputation to preserve.”

“But it can be so used,” insisted Lord Proctor.

Monsieur Dupin obviously wished to dis-continue this conversation, but just as obviously Lord Proctor did not mean to let the subject drop easily. “It can be so used,” he repeated.

The Frenchman nodded abruptly, then turned to the others. “Someone else has need of my services?”

Jennifer saw Mrs. Parthemer glance at her husband, but evidently she thought better of it, for she did not attempt to urge her mate into the empty chair.

Monsieur Dupin’s glance lingered on Ingleton and Jennifer saw him pale visibly before that glance swept on and settled on Mrs. Parsons.

  “I... I should like to see my dear sister, Abigail. You know, the one who joined Papa. We were so close the two of us, though sometimes she did have the most annoying habits. She was forever borrow-ing my handkerchiefs. My....” Mrs. Parsons ceased chattering suddenly, as though struck by a passing thought. “I wonder if she has enough handkerchiefs now.”

Jennifer swallowed a small giggle. Mrs. Parsons’s concept of the hereafter was certainly an amusing one. But she was aware that there was more than a touch of hysteria in that suppressed giggle.

The tension in the room continued to mount. And Jennifer, raising her eyes to one of the strange hieroglyphics with which Dupin had decorated the wall, thought for one panic-stricken moment that the glittering figure had moved. Of course, it was only the effect of the shim-mering candlelight on the intricate design. Still, she would be most grateful to see the end of this evening. The farther away she was from Monsieur Dupin the more com-fortable she felt.

But she was not to be comfortable yet, for Monsieur Dupin was waving the plump little woman into the chair. Unlike her ward, Mrs. Parsons seemed to have enjoyed her previous experience and to be eager for this one.

  Jennifer felt a moment of pity for the garrulous little woman, left without the only family she had ever know. In that respect at least she could sympathize with her.

Monsieur Dupin looked at his subject sternly. “I will see if I can contact your sister, but only because you feel the concern for her welfare.” A quick look at Lord Proctor punctuated this sentence, but there was no reply from that quarter.

“Look into my eyes,” commanded Dupin and Mrs. Parsons was quick to comply. Her eyes, too, took on that empty glare. What was-it, Jennifer wondered, that gave the man such power? Could there really be something factual behind this kind of be-haveior? That there was power of some kind, she who had felt it herself could not easily deny. But did that power come from an evil source or was it only that the Frenchman himself was tainted? Certainly, from what she had heard, Mesmer himself had cured many people, people that authorized medical men had despaired of.

Jennifer had no answers, of course, and forced her attention back to Mrs. Parsons. There was something pathetic about the way that the stout little woman offered her hands to the dark Frenchman. Had Mrs. Parsons ever been young, Jennifer found herself wondering. Was there hidden within the plump little woman a slender girl, yearning, even as Jennifer herself did, for a man’s love?

The thought was a startling one and yet Jennifer realized its legitimacy. Mrs. Par-sons, in spite of her autocratic papa, indeed, probably because of him, had been groomed for wifehood. How did
she
handle those terrible feelings of longing, this round little woman? Did
she
wake at night with tears in her eyes because she knew she would never have the young man she had been promised?

Jennifer found her own eyes filling up with tears and scolded herself sharply. Whatever the tragedy of her loveless exis-tence Mrs. Parsons seemed to have man-aged to cope with it quite competently, had even managed to remain cheerful and happy.

A sigh escaped Jennifer before she rea-lized it. Would she ever bring her own unruly emotions into line? Would she ever be able to face the world in garrulous unawareness, as Mrs. Parsons appeared to?