The Eden Passion (5 page)

In an attempt to soothe her, he laughed quietly. "Now, how would you lose me? One loses a pair of gloves, a book, not a—"

"Oh, it's quite easy to lose people in this place," she interrupted. She seemed to be looking around her, seeing clearly her surroundings. "What are you doing here, Edward?" she asked, dropping his hand. "This is the servants' hall. Papa doesn't like us to come down here. You know that."

Then the tugging was on again, joined now by new desperation. "Oh, come, Edward, please," she begged, "let's get out of here."

At that moment her voice seemed to break. Suddenly her hands flew up to her mouth as though to cancel out her last words. Her eyes, over her trembling hands, were wide and distended.

Unable to watch such a spectacle of confusion and fear, John knelt before her. "I am not Edward, Jennifer," he began softly. Im . . .

He thought he saw a brief light of reason in her eyes, as though she'd grasped his words, had seen clearly the subtle differences between the one kneeling before her and the one recently buried in the graveyard.

Was it true recognition? He couldn't be certain, but suddenly she

was pulling backward, her head shaking back and forth. "No," she protested, "not dead, not Edward . . ."

As she dragged herself across the cot, she almost fell off the other side. Dana moved forward first, both hands extended in assistance. But at the sight of those hands, she righted herself and ran to the far wall, increasing both distance and isolation.

"No, wait," John commanded. "Jennifer, please," he begged. "We only want to . . ."

But again she pushed back into the comer, her terror a thing of substance.

"Jennifer. . ."

But the woman who once had responded to the name of Jennifer was missing, and in her place was a husk filled with tenor. He saw a thin stream of spittle running down her jaw.

Uncertain whether he should advance or retreat, hearing the continuous siren of her screams, he looked frantically back at Dana, only to find the man in close huddle in the doorway with several servants who obviously had been summoned by her screams. "Fetch her ladyship/' he heard Dana shout over the din. He saw the message relayed to the back of the gaping servants, saw a lady's maid whisper something which seemed momentarily to defeat Dana.

Angrily John watched the inefficient little gathering. Something had to be done. Jennifer had dissolved into a frenzy of motion, pulling at her hair, then shaking her head angrily, animal fashion, as though mystified that the pain could not be altered.

Again John shouted at the gaping servants. "For God's sake, do something—"

At that moment the light of a solution seemed to blaze on Dana's face. "Get Aggie!" he commanded one of the stewards.

Within the instant, the man had fled.

John looked back toward Jennifer and prayed quickly for Aggie's arrival, whoever that might be. Jennifer's fingers had already succeeded in ripping her gown, her hands clawing at her throat now, leaving long red scratches. Briefly he lowered his head, feeling responsible for the disintegration. If someone didn't come soon . . .

Then behind him he heard movement and looked over his shoulder to see the servants parting and in spite of the dimness of the corridor he saw what appeared to be a giant moving toward him, a giant in skirts with an enormous expanse of white apron, coming still closer, a woman he saw now, though a monstrous woman, approaching seven feet was his guess. Her dark hair was pulled back into a

rigid knot. There was something confident and solid about her as she stood in the doorway.

As she stepped into the room, John saw more clearly the field of her apron, blood-splotched, and saw in her massive hand a large butcher knife, still glistening with blood.

Then the mountainous woman started forward. As she passed by John, he noticed her bulbous nose, and he noticed too her ears, pendulous scarlet ears that showed up like large drops of sealing wax.

As she approached Jennifer, he saw her toss the butcher knife onto the cot, where it bounced once and left two red stains of fresh blood. Without a trace of a smile she stood directly before Jennifer and commanded, "Stop it!"

When the command seemed to make no difference, the giant woman shouted again, "I say, stop it!"

For the first time in several long minutes the ear-shattering screams ceased. Jennifer looked up at her as though weighing the wisdom or folly of disobeying that strong command.

A moment later the decision to disobey was clearly made, and as the screams started again, the woman stepped forward, grabbed Jennifer by the shoulders, guided her to the edge of the cot and sat her down. Apparently taken by surprise, Jennifer fell silent, though now the room was filled with the sound of her breathing.

John could not see her face, which he considered a blessing. He looked quickly up to see the old woman staring directly at him, the look of condemnation clear on her face.

"You the cause of this?" she demanded, pointing to the collapsed Jennifer.

John discovered that he could not answer the direct question. Was he the cause of it? In truth, no. In essence, perhaps yes. Vaguely he nodded.

"Well, if you was the cause, you could have been the cure," she snapped, wiping her bloodied hands on her apron. She seemed on the verge of saying more, when abruptly she focused her attention on Jennifer. With what appeared to be considerable effort, she got down on her knees and enclosed Jennifer's hands in her own. Her voice, when she spoke, took John by surprise. It was musical now, and soft. "Look at you, lassie." She smiled. "A fine picture to be presentin' to your brother. Why, I couldn't believe my ears, I couldn't. There I was, butchering me a nice side of beef, when I heard screams to wake the dead. Then someone come and said it's Miss Jennifer, having a terrible row with her brother, and I thought,

now, why are those two quarreling, and since nobody would tell me, I said, Aggie, you'd better go find out. . . ."

The voice, the tone that implied that nothing unusual had occurred, seemed to be effective medicine. John had the feeling that everyone was listening carefully, as though to a master storyteller. From where he stood now, he saw Jennifer, not at peace, but certainly quiet. And when the woman posed a direct question, "Now, tell Aggie what happened?" he saw Jennifer lean forward and whisper something in her ear, the bond of trust between the two women impressive.

Then he saw Aggie struggling to her feet. Once up, her mouth started working again, this time the torrent of words aimed at John.

"Edward, I'm ashamed of you," she scolded, "upsetting your sister like that."

He leaned wearily against the wall, debating with himself whether to resist the old woman's madness or to join it.

In the next instant he had his answer, as sternly she summoned him forward. "Cornel Right here!" she ordered, stabbing her finger at the floor.

When he was within easy reach of the old woman, she grabbed him, literally dragging him forward, until he stood directly before Jennifer where she sat on the edge of the cot.

Aggie waited before she spoke, as though to give him all the time he needed, as though to let him compare his humiliation with her grief. He bowed his head. No comparison was possible.

"Now," Aggie commenced with businesslike dispatch. "You are to apologize, Edward, for making your sister cry."

A stray wisp of reason intervened. He heard a voice in his head protest, "I am not Edward."

"Apologize, Edward I" It was Aggie again, her blood-dried hand clamped on his shoulder.

"I'm . . . sorry," he muttered.

"Good," she concluded. As she stepped back, she commanded, "Help your sister to the door." She lifted her voice and shouted over the heads of the servants, "Esther! Helen!"

Within the moment, two maids appeared, their neat white aprons and lace caps in stark contrast to Aggie's soiled appearance. "Take Miss Jennifer to her chambers," she commanded. "See to her," she added.

Carefully John reached down for Jennifer's hand and lifted her to her feet. He felt totally dependent on the large woman hovering

close behind them. It was up to her to give him every word, every movement. This she did, whispering now in his ear, "Tell her that you love her."

"I love you," John murmured.

"And tell her if she wishes, you and Daniel will be waiting for her here in about an hour . . ."

Baffled by this promise he could never keep, he looked over his shoulder, ready to protest.

But protest was useless, and as he felt her fingers digging into his back and heard her fiercely whisper, "Tell herl" he closed his eyes and made the promise to the floor.

Apparently the words were precisely what Jennifer wanted to hear. She grasped his arm. "I love you so much, Edward," she whispered. "Please always love me in return."

He did well to nod. Still baffled, he made his way back to the cot and sat heavily, aware that all eyes were now focused on him. He bowed his head into his hands.

In the next moment, he heard a man's voice, Dana's he suspected, scattering the servants again, and with his head down he heard retreating footsteps.

His jaw still ached, his belly was empty, he'd not rested his head on a pillow for two days and two nights, and everyone he had met here had either denied his identity or conferred a false one upon him. For one bleak moment in that self-imposed blindness he himself seemed to lose track of who he was.

Hurriedly now he lifted his head. "Dana . . ." But the doorway was empty, as was the corridor beyond. Then he saw her in the far corner of the cell, that enormous black shadow with bloodstained apron, looking at him as though she were the watchdog, he the interloper.

"So!" she spoke at last, both hands planted on her mammoth hips, her stomach heaving from her recent exertion. "You're John Murrey Eden!"

This simple statement of fact, coming after such endless denials, sounded mocking. Still he nodded. "When I arrived here, yes," he conceded. "Now, I'm not so certain."

"Oh, you're him all right." She grinned. "No doubt about it. No one but flesh and blood of Mr. Edward could cause the ruckus you've caused tonight."

"It was not my intention—"

"It was never your father's intention either." She laughed, coming around the cot to his side.

He retreated a step. "And what am I to do when Jennifer returns?" he asked quietly.

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Oh, she won't be back down tonight," she said confidently. "Those are good girls I sent with her. They'll fix the elixir that puts her to sleep."

"And come morning?"

Again she smiled, though it seemed a mean smile now. "From what I hear, come morning you'll be safely tucked away in the cellar." She leaned closer, covering him with her foul breath. "And odd-boys have been known to descend those dark stairs, never to return. So in a way, you might say that the problem will be self-solving."

He saw this for what it was, a mindless attempt to frighten him. "I've been in cellars before," he said.

"Not like this one, you ain't." She grinned. Then she threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Oh, a tough one you are, ain't you, lad," she said, coming still closer, until he felt that enormous arm go around him and draw him close, whether in an embrace or a stranglehold, he couldn't tell.

"It'd be my guess," she went on, "that you'll be needin' a friend 'fore you're done here, and you got one in old Agony Fletcher." She stepped farther back, arranging him at arm's length as though the better to view him. "My domain is the butcher's block in the kitchen court, and you can't mistake me 'cause the Lord made only one Agony, and if you ever lose me, just follow the blood drippings and you'll find me right enough."

At the end of this speech, John tried to repeat the strange name. "Agony. . ."

"Agony it is," she confirmed with pride. "Me mum gave it to me, she did, saying I was an agony to bring into this world and boxing me ears ever' time she looked at me so as I'd never forget it."

This seemed to provoke helpless laughter in the old woman, who now lifted the hem of her soiled apron and dabbed at her eyes. As John again caught sight of her damaged ears, he believed everything she'd told him.

Her laughter over, she seemed to be viewing him now with a mixture of compassion and curiosity. "Oh, you're a green one, you are," she mused. "Half-man, half-boy." Her eyes seemed to glaze briefly. "But your father's son, that's for certain. My Gawd, the dead do rise."

Embarrassed by the close scrutiny, he looked away. Apparently she saw his discomfort and moved to dispel it. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Well, for Gawd's sake, why didn't you say so?" she scolded. "Come," she ordered, and accompanying the verbal invitation was a gesture of such strength that John felt himself lifted instantly to his feet as she grabbed his hand and dragged him after her.

All the way down the endless corridor, she gave him a running commentary concerning the various rooms they were passing, and he tried to pay attention, feeling that a knowledge of his surroundings might be important.

"And that passageway there leads to the laundry, bakery, and brewery offices, and to the upper and lower servants' offices, and that there is the buttery and that the pantry, and that'un the lower servants' private rooms. And that'un there to the knife room, shoe room, mangling room and ironing room . . ."

John tried to look in all directions, down the endless passageways which led to more passageways. He could never learn them all.

Finally, "The kitchen," she announced with pride, and released him.

He stood motionless, surveying it all. It was an enormous room, high-ceilinged with heavy oak beams supported by eight heavier oak columns. There were two massive fireplaces on either side, both covered with grilles through which he could see flames. In the far corner he saw a rumpled couch, two easy chairs, and a small hooked rug, clearly someone's corner of ease and comfort. On the rug before the fire he saw a black-and-white mongrel dog contentedly chewing a joint the size of a man's arm.

Without warning his stomach informed him again that he had not eaten in over forty-eight hours. He now looked up to see Aggie bustling about on the far side of the room, lifting a lid to a kettle, dipping a ladle into its contents and filling a large wooden bowl. At last she called to him, "Come! Eat!"