“Oh, really? He is the demanding sort, but I daresay you seem clever enough to be able to pull off whatever task Adair has set before you,” I said, flattering him shamelessly. “So, tell me, what miracle does he expect of you?”
“A series of complicated transfers of money, involving European banks, some in cities I’ve never heard of before,” he said, then seemed to think better of admitting any shortcoming to a member of his client’s household. “Oh, it’s nothing, pay me no mind. I am merely frazzled, my dear. It shall be done just as requested. Never you worry your pretty head about such matters.” He patted my hand in such a patronizing manner that I wished to slap his hand away. But that would not get me what I wanted to know.
“Is that all? Moving money around? I would think a clever man like you would be able to do such a thing with just your little finger.” I punctuated my words with an obscene little gesture that involved my own pinkie finger and an insinuation of the mouth, a gesture I had seen made by rent boys that sent an unmistakable message to most men and was certain to capture his attention. Which it did. Discretion seemed to run out of his ears like sawdust from a ruptured child’s toy and he gazed at me with his jaw dropped open. If he didn’t already suspect this was a household of bum-licking harlots, he knew for sure at that moment.
“My dear, did you just—”
“What else did Adair ask of you? Nothing, I’m sure, that will keep you busy far into the night. Nothing that would keep you from, say, entertaining a visitor …”
“Tickets on tomorrow’s coach for Philadelphia,” he said, hastily, “which I told him was quite impossible. And so I am to rent him a private livery …”
“For tomorrow!” I exclaimed. “He is leaving so soon.”
“And not taking you with him, my dear. No. Have you ever been to Philadelphia? It is an extraordinary city, much more lively in its way than Boston and not the sort of place that, say, Mrs. Pinnerly would be apt to visit. Perhaps I could show it to you—”
“Wait! How do you know I’m not to travel with him? Did he tell you?”
The solicitor grinned at me most salubriously. “Now, don’t fret. It’s not as though he’s running off with another woman. He’s going with a man, the happy beneficiary of all these damned money transfers. If your master were to consult me, I would advise him to simply adopt this fellow, for it would be easier in the long run—”
“Jonathan?” I asked, wanting to shake the lawyer by the shoulders to get him to stop his prattling, to pull the name from his mouth like a reticent snail from its shell. “Jacob, I mean. Jacob Moore?”
“Yes, that’s the name. Do you know him? He’s going to be a very wealthy man, I can tell you that. If you don’t mind my saying this to you, perhaps you should consider setting your sights on this Mr. Moore before word gets around … umm …” With his assumptions of my intentions, Pinnerly had painted himself into a corner and I enjoyed watching him try to extricate himself. He cleared his throat. “That is not to say that I imagine for one second that you … and the count’s benefactor … I apologize. I believe I’ve overstepped the bounds of my position.”
I clasped my hands demurely. “I think you have.”
He handed me his glass and picked up his satchel. “Please believe me when I say I spoke in jest, miss. I trust you shan’t be going back to the count with any mention of … um …”
“Your indiscretion? No, Mr. Pinnerly. I am nothing if not discreet.”
He hesitated. “And I suppose the question of a midnight visit …?”
I shook my head. “Is out of the question.”
He gave me a strangled look, torn between regret and longing, and then sped out of the peculiar house of his most bizarre client, happy (I’m sure) to leave us behind.
It seemed that staggering sums of money were being transferred to accounts in Jonathan’s name and the fateful trip to Philadelphia would begin tomorrow. Adair was ready to make his move, which meant that time had run out for me—and Jonathan. I had to act now or spend the rest of eternity in regret.
I went to Edgar, the head butler, the one entrusted with overseeing the other servants and running affairs for the house. Edgar had a suspicious and larcenous heart, like everyone else who found a place in this household, from master through the servants, which is to say he could be depended on not to do his job very well, but only to the minimum degree necessary. It is a terrible trait in a servant if you wish to have a well-run household, but the perfect attitude for one in a house where convention and scruples have been flung out the door.
“Edgar,” I said, folding my hands primly before me like the proper lady of the house. “There is a repair needed in the wine cellar that Adair would like attended to in his absence. Please send someone to the mason’s and have a wheelbarrow of stones and a wheelbarrow of brick delivered to the basement this afternoon. I’ve already hired a man to do the job once the count has left on his trip.” When Edgar looked at me slyly—the wine cellar had been a crumbling mess the entire time we’d been in the mansion, why the rush now?—I added, “And you needn’t trouble Adair about it; he’s getting ready for his trip. He’s entrusted me with this matter in his absence, and I expect to see it done.” I could be high-handed with the servants; Edgar knew better than to cross me. With that, I turned and strode away, to put the next step of my plan in play.
FORTY-FIVE
The next morning, the household was consumed with preparations for Adair’s trip. He had spent the morning picking out the clothing he would take with him and then sent the servants to pack for him and load the rented livery. Jonathan had shut himself up in his room, where he was also supposedly packing for the trip, but I sensed that he couldn’t bring himself to go and that a fight loomed.
I hid in the pantry with the cook’s mortar and methodically ground the phosphorus into dust. As I laid out the things I needed, I was as nervous as I had ever been, sure that Adair would pick up on my emotions and be forewarned. In truth, I didn’t know the extent of his powers, if they could truly be called powers. I’d made it this far, though, and had no choice but to gamble with my life and Jonathan’s by going the rest of the way.
The house by then was still and it might have been my imagination, but seemed to be tense with unspoken emotions: abandonment, resentment, lingering anger with Adair for what he’d done to Uzra, uncertainty about what lay ahead for all of us. Carrying a tray with the doctored wine, I went past the shut bedroom doors to Adair’s room, which had been quiet for the hour since the servants had carted the trunks away. I knocked once and, not waiting for an answer, pushed the door back and slipped inside.
Adair sat in a chair he’d pulled close to the fire, which was unusual in itself as he usually reclined on a bower of cushions. Maybe he sat more formally because he was fully dressed for travel, that is to say, like a proper gentleman of the time and not bare chested as was his habit. He sat stiffly in the armchair in breeches and boots, a waistcoat and high-collared shirt, bound at the neck with a silk cravat, his frock coat hanging over the back of a second chair. His suit was made of dark gray wool with very little embroidery or trim, far more sedate than his usual attire. He wore no periwig, but had brushed his hair back and had it tied trimly. His expression was of sadness, as though he was forced to go on this trip under pressure and that it was not of his own design. He lifted his hand and it was then I noticed the hookah set up next to him, and that the room smelled of sweet opium smoke of the strongest variety. He drew on the mouthpiece, cheeks sucked in, his eyes half closed.
I put the tray on a table near the door and crouched on the floor next to him, gently lacing my fingers into the stray curls on his forehead, brushing them away. “I thought we might spend a minute together before you go. I’ve brought something to drink.”
He slowly opened his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to explain about this trip to you. You’re probably wondering why I’m going with Jonathan and not you.” I quashed the urge to tell him I already k
new, but waited for him to go on. “I know you can hardly bear to be separated from Jonathan, but I’ll take him away from you for only a few days,” he said mockingly. “Jonathan will return, but I am going to do some traveling on my own. I may be gone for a while … I feel the need to be by myself. This need comes over me from time to time … to be alone with my thoughts and my memories.”
“How can you leave me like this? Won’t you miss me?” I asked, trying to sound coquettish.
He nodded. “Yes, I shall, but it can’t be helped. That’s why Jonathan is coming with me, so I can explain a few things to him. He will run the household while I am gone. He told me of his duties running his family’s business and keeping his neighbors’ debts from bankrupting the town; managing one household’s accounts should be easy for him. I’ve had all the money transferred to his name. He will be the one with the authority; you and the others will have no choice but to follow his orders.”
It almost sounded plausible and I wondered, for a second, if I had misjudged the situation. But I knew Adair far too well to believe that things were as simple as he made them out to be. “Let me get you a drink,” I said, rising to my feet.
I’d selected a heavy brandy, strong enough to mask the taste of the phosphorus. Down in the pantry, I’d carefully poured the powder into the bottle with a paper sleeve, added most of a small bottle of laudanum, corked the mouth, and swished the liquid around gently. The powder had released a few white sparks into the air as I handled it, and I prayed that it would not make itself apparent by sparkling with the residue glowing faintly in the bottom of Adair’s glass.
As I poured the concoction now for Adair, I noticed on the dresser a few things laid out, presumably for the trip. There was a scroll of paper tied with a piece of ribbon, the paper old and rough, and I was sure it came from the collection bound between wooden covers in the hidden room. Next to it was a snuffbox and a small flacon, similar to the sort used for perfume, holding about an ounce of a brackish brown liquid.
“Here.” I handed a full goblet to Adair. I’d poured a glass for myself, though I had no intention of drinking the entire amount. Just a sip to convince him that nothing was amiss. He seemed heavily sotted by the opium, though I knew the opium alone didn’t have the strength to put him to sleep.
I resumed my place near his feet and looked up with what I hoped could be taken for adoration and concern. “You’ve been upset for days now. It’s because of the trouble with Uzra. Don’t protest; it’s only right that you’re upset by what happened, you’d kept her with you for hundreds of years. She had to mean something to you.” He sighed and let me help him to the mouthpiece again; yes, he was eager for distraction. He seemed ill, slow moving and bloated. Perhaps he was suffering for having killed the odalisque, or perhaps he was afraid of abandoning this body for the next; it had been a long time since he’d done it last, after all. Maybe it was painful to go through. Maybe he was afraid of the consequences for another bad deed, added to the long list of sins he’d already committed, a list for which he would be held accountable someday.
After a couple more puffs, he regarded me through slitted eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”
“For killing Uzra? You have your reasons. It’s not for me to question. That’s how it is here. You are the master.”
He closed his eyes and resettled his head against the high back of the chair. “You have always been the most reasonable one, Lanore. They are impossible to live with, the others. Accusing me with their eyes. They’re cold, they hide from me. I should kill the lot of them and start over.” By the tone of his voice I could tell it wasn’t an idle threat; once upon a time he’d done that very thing to another group of his minions. Wiped them out in a fury. For having a life that would supposedly last an eternity, it was a precarious existence.
I had to keep from shaking as I continued to stroke his forehead. “What had she done to deserve her punishment? Do you want to tell me?”
He pushed my hand aside and sucked again on the mouthpiece. I fetched the bottle and poured another glass for him. I let him stroke my face clumsily with his murdering hands and continued to soothe his conscience with insincere assurances that he was within his rights to have killed the odalisque.
At one point, he took my hand from his temple and began stroking my wrist, tracing my veins. “How would you like to take Uzra’s place?” he asked, a bit anxiously.
The notion rattled me, but I tried not to let him see. “Me? I don’t deserve you … I’m not beautiful like Uzra. I could never give you what she gave you.”
“You can give me something she would not. She never gave in to me, never. She despised me every day we were together. From you I sense … we have had happy moments together, haven’t we? I would almost say there were times you loved me.” He put his mouth to my wrist, his fire to my pulse. “I would make it easier for you to love me, if you agree. You would be mine alone. I wouldn’t share you with anybody. What do you say?”
He continued to pet my wrist while I tried to think of a response that would not sound false. Eventually, he answered for me. “It’s Jonathan, isn’t it. I can feel it in your heart. You want to be available for Jonathan, if he should want you. I want you, and you want Jonathan. Well … there may yet be a way to make this work, Lanore. There may be a way to get us both what we want.” It seemed a confession to all I suspected, and the very idea made my blood freeze.
Adair’s keen ability to select damaged souls would be his undoing. You see, he had chosen me well. He had picked me from the masses, known I was the sort of person who, without hesitation, could pour drink after poisonous drink for a man who had just professed love for her. Who knows, perhaps if I had been by myself, if only my future were at stake, I might have chosen differently. But Adair had made Jonathan part of his design. Maybe Adair thought I would be happy, that I was shallow enough to love him and stay with him as long as I had Jonathan’s beautiful shell to admire. But Adair’s murderous self would be behind my beloved’s familiar face and would echo in his every word, and at the thought of that, what else could I do?
He dropped my arm, let the hookah slide from his hand. Adair was slowing, a windup toy that had spent its spring. I could wait no longer. For what I was prepared to do to the man, I had to know. I had to be absolutely certain. I leaned very close to ask, “You are the physic, aren’t you? The man you told me about?”
He seemed to need a moment to make sense of my words but then didn’t react angrily at all. Instead, a slow smile spread over his lips. “So clever, my Lanore. You have always been the cleverest one, I saw that right away. You were the only one who could tell when I was lying … You found the elixir. You found the seal, too … oh yes, I knew. I smelled a trace of you on the velvet … In all the time I have been alive, you are the first to solve my puzzle, to correctly read the clues. You found me out—as I knew you would.”
He was barely lucid and didn’t seem to know I was there. I leaned over him now, my hands grasping him by the lapels of his waistcoat, and had to give him a shake to get his attention. “Adair, tell me—what do you plan to do with Jonathan? You’re going to take possession of his body, aren’t you? That’s what you did to your peasant boy, the boy who was your servant, and now you’re going to take Jonathan. That is your plan?”
His eyes popped open and that chilling gaze of his settled on me, nearly breaking my composure. “If this were possible … if such a thing were to happen … you would hate me, Lanore, would you not? And yet I would be no different from the man you have known, the man for whom you have felt affection. You have loved me, Lanore. I have felt it.”
“That’s true,” I said to him, to assure him.
“You would have me still and you would have Jonathan, too. But without his indecisiveness. Without his carelessness for your feelings, without the hurt and selfishness and regret. I would love you, Lanore, and you would be certain of my feelings. That is something you cannot have with Jonathan. That is something you will never get fro
m him.” His words jolted me because I knew them to be true. As it turned out, his words were also prophetic; it was like a curse Adair placed on me, dooming me to unhappiness forever.
“I know I shan’t. And yet …,” I murmured, still stroking his face, trying to gauge his wakefulness. It didn’t seem that a body could ingest so much poison and remain conscious.
“And yet, it’s Jonathan I choose,” I said, finally.
At those words, Adair’s glazed eyes lit up with only the faintest spark of recognition deep within them, recognition of what I’d just said. Recognition that something terrible was happening to him, that he was unable to move. His body was shutting down, even though he fought it, struggling in his chair like a stroke victim, spastic and tremulous, drool starting to drip from the corners of his mouth in bubbled threads. I leaped to my feet and stood back, avoiding his hands as they jabbed the air for me—and failed, then froze, then went limp. He grew still suddenly, still as death and gray as clouded water, and tumbled out of the chair onto the floor.
It was time for the final step. Everything had been laid in place earlier, but I couldn’t do this part alone. I needed Jonathan. I sprang out of the room and ran down the hall to Jonathan’s chamber, bursting in without knocking. He was pacing, but seemed prepared to go out, cloak over his arm and hat in hand.
“Jonathan,” I gasped, pressing the door closed, blocking his way.
“Where have you been?” he asked, an angry edge to his voice. “I looked for you but couldn’t find you … I waited, hoping you would come to me, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I am going to tell him I have no intention of traveling with him. I’m going to tell him that I am breaking with him and then I’m going to leave.”