The Saint-Germain Chronicles (5 page)

“They’ll do it every time. They’re as bad as cats,” Twilford said, and looked to Hamworthy for support.

“Charles, you’re the most infuriating of storytellers,” Dominick said as the door opened to re-admit
Lord Graveston, who made his way back to his seat without looking at any of the others in the room.

“Doubtless,” Whittenfield said, quite pleased with this encomium. “Let me go on. I think you’ll find that much of your doubts will be quieted. For example, I think all of you will be gratified to learn that this mysterious Count was nothing more ominous than an alchemist.”

“Of
course
!” Everard said as the others nodded in varying degrees of surprise.

“That was the great secret of the closed rooms. The man had an alchemical laboratory there, as well as a library where he kept some of his more… objectionable texts for perusal.” He smiled at this revelation and waited to hear what the others might say.

“Alchemist!” Dominick scoffed. “Demented dreamer, more like.”

“Do you think so?” the sixth guest asked him.

“Base metal into gold! The Elixir of Life! Who’d believe such trash?” He got up from his chair and went to glare into the fire.

“Who indeed,” murmured the sixth guest.

“You’re going to tell us that all your aunt’s precious Count was doing was pottering around among the retorts trying to make his own gold?” Hamworthy demanded. “Of all the shoddy…”

“Yes, Sabrina’s employer was an alchemist,” Whittenfield said with completely unruffled calm.

“No wonder he bought a house in the worst part of town,” Lord Graveston said. “That’s not the sort of thing that you want put into a grand house. Smells, boilings, who knows what sort of flammable substances being used… He had a degree of sense, in any case, if he had such a place for his work.”

“Exactly my opinion,” Whittenfield said at once. “I decided, as did Sabrina, that the Count was a sensible man. He showed her his laboratory and his equipment and warned her that it was not wise for Cesily to come in because there were various substances that might harm her in the laboratory. He showed her where he made his glass vessels by blowing them himself, and the oven where many of the processes were conducted. It was called an athanor, Sabrina says, and was shaped like a very large beehive made of heavy bricks. The Count showed her, since he was not involved in any experiments at the moment, how the various vessels were placed in the athanor and told her how long, and in what manner they were heated to get the results he desired. She watched all this with great fascination and asked very few questions, though she longed to pester him with them. At last he told her he would appreciate her discretion, but if she had any doubts about remaining in his employ, she would have to tell him and he would arrange for her to have passage back to England. She was taken aback by this suggestion, for she believed that the Count wanted to be rid of her now that she had learned his secret. Apparently he discerned something of this in her countenance, and he assured her at once that he did not wish her to leave, but he was aware that there were many who did not view alchemy kindly and wished to have nothing to do with it. If that expressed her own feelings, then he wanted her to tell him at once in order to make proper arrangements for her. He had, he told her, another house in Antwerp, and he would send her there if she felt she could not remain in good conscience so near his laboratory. Sabrina was startled by this consideration, which was a good deal rarer then than it is now. She told the Count that she would inform him in the morning of her decision, but she wrote in her journal that she was determined to stay, and had been since she was shown the laboratory. In the morning the Count sought her out and asked to know her decision, which she told him at once. He, in turn, declared that he was very pleased to have her willing to stay on with him. She then inquired what sorts of experiments he was making, but he did not wish to discuss that with her, not at that time. He did give her his word that he would present her with a few of the results of his labors in due time, which she, perforce, agreed to. She mentions in her journal for the next several days that she saw little of the Count because he was occupied in his secret room working on some new experiment. It isn’t precisely easy to tell, but it seems she put some stock in his skill, for she states she suspects the crucifix he gave her might have been made from alchemical gold.”

“Absurd!” Hamworthy declared.

“Oh, naturally,” Whittenfield said. “And no doubt the Count had his own reasons behind his actions.”

“Wanted to put her at her ease,” Twilford ventured.

“Still, a crucifix is hardly appropriate to give an Englishwoman. It seems much too Roman.” Lord Graveston had paused in his fiddling with his pipe to give his opinion, and having done so, went back to scraping out the burnt tobacco so that he could fill it again.

“Queen Bess herself was known to wear crucifixes,” Everard mentioned, his face darkening from embarrassment. “Probably the Count, being a foreigner, and a Roman Catholic—most of them were, weren’t they?—wanted to make a friendly gesture. It’s a more circumspect gift than any other sort of jewelry would be.”

“Everard, your erudition astounds me,” Dominick said with a nasty grin at the young man. “Read Classics, did you?”

“History. At Clare.” His voice dropped to a mumble and he would not look at Dominick.

“Clever lad,” Hamworthy said, as if to take the sting out of Dominick’s remark.

“What else did your great-great-etc. aunt have to say for herself?” Twilford inquired with a polite nod away from Dominick.

“She said that her employer continued to treat her well, that her arm healed completely, and aside from twinges when the weather changed, it never troubled her in all her years. She did not have much opportunity to view the laboratory, but she found that the manservant, Roger, was much inclined to be helpful to her, and told her once, in a moment of rare candor, that he liked her boy Herbert, and said that he had once had a son of his own, but the boy had died many years before. Sabrina was shocked to hear this, for she had not thought that he was much used to families. He offered to assist her with Cesily and Herbert when her duties made it awkward for her, and she thanked him for it, but could not bring herself to trust him entirely, so aloof did he hold himself. In the end, she asked Herbert if he would like to go with Roger when he purchased certain items from the great market in the center of town. Herbert, having turned two, was developing an adventurous spirit, and he was eager to explore a greater part of the world. Roger spoke English, albeit with an accent, and told Sabrina that he would be happy to keep the boy talking in his own language, or teach him German or French. He admitted that his Dutch was not very good and his Flemish was stilted, but he would not mind being Herbert’s tutor. In a moment, of boldness, Sabrina said that she would rather Cesily be taught the languages for the time being, and Herbert could learn in a year or so, when he had a better grasp of speech. She did not think that the man would accept this, but he did, and inquired what languages Sabrina would like her daughter to speak. When Sabrina expressed her surprise, he reminded her that Queen Bess spoke seven languages quite fluently and it did not seem intolerable to him that other females should do likewise. So little Cesily became his student, learning French, German, Spanish, and Italian. He must have been an excellent teacher, for Cesily was noted for her skill in these tongues for all her life.”

“Damned silly waste,” Twilford said. “If you ask me, it’s a mistake to educate females. Look what happens. You start sending them to school and the next thing you know, they want to vote and who knows what else.”

“Reprehensible,” said the sixth guest with an ironic smile.

“It isn’t fitting,” Hamworthy declared. “What could your great-aunt be thinking of, to put her daughter forward that way?” He straightened up in his chair. “Charles, you’re not serious, are you? The girl didn’t try to be a scholar?”

“It seems to have taken her remarkably little effort to be one,” Whittenfield answered. “She took to it like a potentate takes to vice. In the next year she showed herself to be a most ready and enthusiastic pupil. She started to read then, so that by five…”

“Started to read? So young? Was Sabrina lost to all propriety?” Lord Graveston demanded.

“She must have been. Herbert soon joined his sister in her studies, but lacked her aptitude, though he did well enough. To Sabrina’s surprise, and, I think, disappointment, there were no further invitations to enter the laboratory, though on one occasion the Count presented her with a fine silver bracelet set with amber. She says in her journal that there was nothing remarkable about the amber or the silver except that the workmanship was exceedingly good. I wish I knew what became of that bracelet,” Whittenfield added in another voice. “We have the mirror, which is an object of considerable speculation, but not the bracelet, which might have had a great deal of value, both for the materials and the antiquity.”

“Don’t talk like a merchant, Charles. It’s unbecoming,” Hamworthy interjected.

“You’re a fine one to talk about merchants, Peter,” Dominick said to him with false good humor. “Didn’t your sister marry that merchant from Leeds?”

Peter Hamworthy’s face turned an amazing shade of raspberry. He stared at Dominick with such intense anger that the rest fell hopefully silent. “My sister’s husband,” he said at last, with great care, enunciating each syllable with hard precision, “is not a merchant. His family started the rail-shipping business in Leeds over eighty years ago, which hardly counts as being shop-stained.”

“Naturally, naturally, and the money he brought to the family had nothing to do with it, though your father was almost ruined and your sister twenty-six years younger than her husband.” Dominick strolled around the room.

“What about Sabrina and the glass?” Lord Graveston asked in awesome accents. He puffed on his pipe and waited.

“Yes, Charles, what about the glass?” Everard echoed. “That is coming,” Whittenfield said, shooting a blurred, hostile look at his cousin. “I’ve told you that Sabrina had been given a bracelet and that she had been in the employ of the Count well over a year. That is important to remember, because she had a fair familiarity with the man and his habits. She knew that he spent much of the night in his laboratory and a fair amount of his time otherwise in study and reading. He went out fairly often, but irregularly. If he had friends, she knew nothing of them, though she assumed he must occasionally receive them at his other house, wherever it was. She appreciated his kindness and the attention he gave to her and her children. When she had been working for him about eighteen months, her tone changes slightly. She is not more wary or more forthcoming, but she admits once or twice that he is an attractive and compelling man, and that she has had one or two vivid dreams about him. You may all guess the nature of those dreams. At first, she only mentions that she did dream that he came to her in her bed, and later her descriptions become more detailed and—improper. She mentions that after one such dream, she met the Count in the morning room where she and her children were eating, and to her amazement, she found herself blushing as she looked at him. She records in her journal that until that moment she was unaware of the penetrating strength of his eyes, which she describes as being dark and large. The Count, she says, saw her blush and smiled enigmatically, but made no comment to her. He had come to talk to Cesily in Italian as Roger was out of the house on an errand to the docks.”

“Perhaps he read her journal. M‘ mother always said that it was wise to read the diaries of your servants. She always kept records of what her maids said among themselves and in their diaries,” Hamworthy announced with portentous confidence.

“And did she allow the maids to read
her
diary?” the sixth guest asked gently, dark eyes turned on Peter Hamworthy.

“What?” Hamworthy protested loudly.

“They probably did, you know,” Dominick said bitterly. “My valet reads mine, though I’ve told him thousands of times that he must not.”

“Sabrina doesn’t seem to think that he did read it. She considered the possibility, but her attitude is one of disbelief. For more than a week she had no dreams, and then they began again. After three or four months, she began to anticipate them with pleasure, and was disappointed when nights would pass without them. During the day, she continued to be the sensible woman she was, looking after the house and caring for her children and overseeing their meals. Apparently her employer did his cooking in the laboratory, for he never asked Sabrina to serve him at table. She speculated that he must have his banquets and other entertainments at his other house, for never did such an event take place where Sabrina lived. She commented on it once to Roger and he told her that the Count dined in private, as it was a custom with him to take sustenance with no more than one other person. Roger himself ate alone, but he kept his meat in the coldroom below the pantry.”

Twilford, who had been drinking heavily, looked up with reddened eyes. “No fit place for an Englishwoman, if you ask me,” he remarked. “Shouldn’t have stood for it, myself.”

“The children enjoyed their lives in that place, though both lacked playmates. In England there were cousins and others who would have been available to them. In that house in Antwerp there were only the poor, ragged urchins of the street nearby, and so Cesily and Herbert learned to entertain themselves. Roger became a sort of uncle to them, alternately teaching them and indulging them. Sabrina says in one of her entries that he had the remarkable knack of obtaining their obedience without beating or berating them. The Count was regarded with more awe but neither child was afraid of him, and he often was willing to spend time with them correcting their accents in various languages and telling them tales that Sabrina comments were unusually vivid. Cesily was particularly fond of the adventures of a woman named Olivia, whom the Count cast in different roles and different times in history. Sabrina once questioned this, telling the Count that she was not sure tales of the corruption in early Rome were proper for children of such tender years. The Count told her then that he was being mild, and reminded her that there is a marked difference between ignorance and innocence, though one is often mistaken for the other.”