The torches were alive with yellow b.u.t.terfly-flames. "I can't forget it." His eyes were whiter than white.

"You remember the thing we might have done that night, but it turned out to be a thing we didn't do?" It was late and my tongue had gone bleary. "The thing you stopped us from doing?"

"I especially can't forget that."

I was asking about l.u.s.t, wasn't I? I was fairly certain of it. But isn't love supposed to come before l.u.s.t? It does in the dictionary.

"Did you do that with Leanne?"

He flung out a hand. It's silent London language. I believe it's meant to hail a cab. Which also means the cab must stop. "What do you think I am?" His lion's eyes matched the candlelight. "I don't go about preying upon young and virtuous ladies."

"Leanne's not a virtuous lady."

"Let's not get into that again."

"She's not even that young."

"Just wait until you're twenty-two-"

I interrupted him. "She's twenty-three." But when one is cheerful, one doesn't mind interrupting. "Do you remember what she said to Rose? Leanne said she was very old indeed."

"I do remember." Again, I couldn't read his expression.

My tongue thought of a cleverer thing to say. "Never mind Leanne. Have you done it with ladies who lack virtue? They're often rather old, aren't they?"

Eldric laughed quick and loud, as though he'd been startled. "You've had too much wine." His eyes were golder than gold.

But I liked wine. Wine was cheerful.

"You're making me squirm," he said. "Let's hope you don't remember this tomorrow."

"I have an excellent memory."

"I know," said Eldric. "It's quite a problem."

I'd forgotten about the chocolate flower-biscuit. I'd eat it, although one doesn't usually eat a flower. "Just answer me, and we'll pretend I'll have forgotten by tomorrow."

This time Eldric flung up both hands, which I knew wasn't to stop a cab but to surrender. See how quickly I'm learning this silent language?

"How can I put it-without blushing, at least!"

"You're already blushing," I said.

"Not much like a bad boy, am I?" said Eldric. "I could perhaps start by mentioning that I'm a man-"

"A boy-man," I said.

"A boy-man? How am I to take that? Shall I thank you or challenge you to a boxing match?"

"A boxing match," I said. "But no more of those silly b.u.t.terfly punches!"

Eldric smiled. "Very well. I'm a boy-man, then, and a boy-man who's twenty-two years old-"

I saw where he was going. "What a terrible way to put it!"

"How so?"

"If I were to give you the same answer, it would have no meaning, would it? Isn't it a.s.sumed that a young lady of seventeen, or twenty-two, even, has refrained from acting upon, well-"

Here my tongue, until now so merry, failed to find a non-squirmy word.

"Impulses?" said Eldric.

"Impulses." Actually, it would be a.s.sumed that the young lady had no such impulses at all, but I'll tell you something: Chocolate melts on my tongue too.

"It's unfair, I suppose," he said. "But it's true. It's simply true that a twenty-two-year-old man has more liberty than a girl."

"If she's a girl of virtue."

"Just so."

"Am I pretty again?" I said.

"You're always pretty!"

"I wasn't when I was ill. You told Rose!"

"Rose told you that! It was just by way of explaining to her-yes, you're pretty again."

"Am I beautiful?" I said.

"Beautiful," said Eldric.

"Leanne is beautiful," I said.

"No more wine for you," said Eldric.

It is possible that at this point I slipped from my chair. Eldric said we must be getting home. "I have a surprise for tomorrow. I want you to feel well enough to enjoy it."

I said I was fond of wine and chocolate biscuits. But Eldric said I mustn't have any more. I kicked him under the table.

"Time to go," said Eldric. "I hope we can keep this from your father."

"I hate my father."

"Do you really?" said Eldric. "That's probably the wine talking."

I said wine couldn't talk, and leaned against him, making him drag me along. Then the tune of "Lord Randal" popped into my head, and it seemed a pity not to sing along, so I did for quite a long while, until Eldric said to hush because we were home and Father would hear me.

"The wine hates Father and I hate Father too." My feet were surprised to find themselves on the garden steps. I turned round to make sure. There was the garden, and there was Eldric, and it was funny that I was almost as tall as he.

"Your lips are blue again."

"I'm not the least bit cold," I said.

"That's also the wine talking."

I slopped forward.

"Steady!" Eldric caught my shoulders.

But I wanted to slop forward. "Give us a kiss, then, love!"

I leaned into him; he pushed me away. "Please don't do that," he said. "It's too hard." And there was something so sad about it, I wanted to cry. Except of course that I couldn't.

He kept hushing me as we made our way through the dark to the staircase. "Up you go, quick now. You're on the third floor, remember?"

"I have an excellent memory."

"Right!" said Eldric. "Go straight to bed. I'll see you tomorrow. You might not feel very well, I'm afraid."

"Up I go!" I held tight to the banister.

"I'll watch you go up," said Eldric.

"Watching people isn't polite," I said. "Up I go!"

And finally, up I went. Rose was asleep. "Shh! Mustn't wake Rose!" I believe I nursed some unkind thoughts about the do-not-cross line; and then, like a good girl, I went straight to bed.

I awoke in the dark with a cotton-wool mouth and a hammering in my head. I turned my head; the hammering sloshed to the other side. I grew gradually aware of my surroundings. I lay beside Rose, but on top of the bedclothes. Eldric's coat hung all about me.

Bits of the night came back. Snippets of "Lord Randal." I sang it-yes, I'm sure I did. I staggered through the square, singing, just like any drunken fisherman. How could I show my face in the village again? I should have to stay at home for the rest of my life. It could be done, I knew. I'd heard of an American poetess who never left her house. But I hated poetry.

Eldric had helped me home, hadn't he? Had he held me upright, or might I have dreamt it?

A thought about Eldric sloshed through my head, pa.s.sed out the other side.

How thirsty I was. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The hammering sloshed all about; I felt vilely unwell. You might not feel very well. That was Eldric's voice in my head. I hadn't dreamt it; he'd been there. Did I make a fool of myself?

The thought sloshed back, daring me to remember. Whatever it was, it was worse than weaving and singing through the square. I didn't want to remember, but I kept picking at the memory-Eldric, Eldric and Leanne. Leanne was dangerous-she was consuming him alive. But Eldric could not-or would not-believe.

I swallowed hard, but the sick still rose, and all at once I was scrambling across the floor. I was wretchedly sick in the ewer.

The smell of sick jumped out at me, the fishy, gritty smell of eel. Eels boiled in eel broth. With the smell came the memory of Stepmother. Sick, and eel-smell, and Stepmother. They belonged together.

I didn't want to remember Mucky Face bearing down upon Stepmother. But I couldn't help it, couldn't help remembering that livid belly rounding over her, curling, cresting, crashing. I'll never know if Stepmother screamed. I heard nothing but the smack and smash of water.

Stepmother vanished beneath Mucky Face, but he hadn't finished. On he surged, into the Parsonage, and only in the Parsonage. He preferred it to any other house. He surged through doors and windows, and nooks and crannies, and holes too small for an ant. And there he stayed for weeks, loitering in the dining room and the parlor and the study and the library, where he turned the books into bloated corpses to fester and rot on the shelves.

I sagged to the floor, leaned against the bed. Images of last night slid behind my eyes in a mad kaleidoscope. Prying into Eldric's past with Leanne. Prying into his past in bars and bedrooms and brothels. Kicking him beneath the table. Standing on the garden steps. The charm of finding myself eye to eye with Eldric, of leaning into his lips. Give us a kiss, then, love!

And the horridly urgent question of making Eldric understand the danger he was in.

It was almost a relief to be sick again in the ewer.

25.

Jaunting That afternoon, Tiddy Rex knocked at the garden door. "Miss, oh miss!" He'd gone pale with excitement; his freckles stood out in livery spatters. "Come see, miss!"

"What is it, Tiddy Rex?"

"Sorry, miss. I were supposed to say it with them other words: Mister Eldric would take it very kindly if you might look into the square."

Eldric. My stomach curled up on itself, like a hedgehog.

Give us a kiss, then, love!

"Honest, miss, you've never seen nothing like it. It be a surprise. An' Mister Eldric requests the presence o' Miss Rose, as well."

"Rose!" I called into the house. "Eldric has a surprise for us in the square."

"I prefer surprises," said Rose.

I had to face Eldric sometime. Staggering and weaving, singing "Lord Randal"- "Let's hop along, then."

"I don't hop," said Rose.

It was not quite raining, but the air was wet. You could see the wind. The gallows rose tall and lonely, skin and bones against gray clouds. The wind set the noose to swinging. I turned my back on its Cyclops eye.

The surprise stretched and purred before me.

It was a motorcar. ("Motorcar! O Motorcar!" sing the heavenly angels.) Long, but not too long. Red, but not too red. Sleekest of sleeks, shiniest of shines. And sitting at the wheel was Eldric Clayborne, letting a slop of urchins lay sticky hands all over its redness.

Not really red, but cardinal. Yes, cardinal-Cardinal!-with its overtones of High Churchiness. (Hallelujah! Hallelujah!) "Don't she be a beauty?" said Tiddy Rex.

She?

"All us lads, us be jaunting in her soon. That be the properest word, says Mister Eldric. Jaunting."

She. Of course the motorcar was a lady. Briony Larkin might fall in love with a lady. That would be quite proper. There would be none of the nastiness of men and their cigars.

The motorcar had been acquired with Leanne in mind, of course, but I'd love her anyway. The motorcar, that is.