Red Dog Conspiracy Sets

Chapter 14

The Grief

The next day, I was able to rise from bed, sit in a chair. The servants aided me, yet they never spoke, even when I spoke to them. In the reflection, my eyes were strange: a faint yellow where white should be. And a tender red scar lay on my left temple. I recalled drinking, the broken glass on the floor, falling.

Jonathan said I looked much better, and the way he said it made me afraid. How ill had I been?

beenJon and I took tea on the terrace outside the front door. The cottage lay in a valley surrounded by pines, an arbor of black roses stretching along one wall. Beyond to our right lay a wide path through the trees. Cows lowed softly from beyond view.

The day was lovely. The elderly servants poured tea, brought fruit and cakes, then retreated. It wasn’t until Jon pointed it out in hushed whispers that I noticed none of them had thumbs.

Jon’s face was filled with horror. “They have no tongues, either. What happened here?”

My mind seemed slow, confused. “I don’t know.”

“Spadros men come weekly with food already prepared, wine and beer. They place it on this table, then leave immediately.” Jon let out a breath. “These people are being kept alive for a reason.”

This stank of Roy Spadros. “Have you asked about it?”

Jon gave a sudden bitter laugh. “Would Spadros men tell a Diamond? But I don’t believe they know. They have orders and they follow them. I’ve seen men on the hills, rifles pointed at the delivery men. I’d bet the men on the hills know even less.”

I peered at the hills, uneasy.

“Soon, you’ll be well enough to leave this place,” Jon said. Then he shuddered. “I hope never to return.”

“Have you been treated well?”

“Yes,” Jon said. “And the doctor comes every few days to examine you. The last time, he examined everyone.” He chuckled, amused. “I don’t think he approves of my being here, but fortunately it’s not up to him.”

I smiled. “I will tell him you’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

* * *

I remained at the cottage until the water I drank had no bourbon in it. I also took what the doctor called “liver tonics,” which seemed to help. My hands still shook at times. But gradually my mind cleared, and if I smoked I felt better.

Jon suggested I begin a journal. We spent afternoons in the garden. In the evening he read to me in the parlor. Yet I felt he kept a certain distance from me. He took long walks alone. He sat for hours gazing at the hills, seldom answering when I spoke.

From his behavior, it seemed something was terribly wrong. I felt somehow that whatever was wrong must be because of me, because he never spoke of it, even when I asked.

At first, I felt so alone. And I wept when a bird chirped, or an evil memory intruded. Yet the gentle warmth of the sun, the scent of the black roses covering the arbor on the terrace, even the view of the hills soothed me. I think they helped me heal.

And I slowly realized — feeling more than a bit foolish once I did — that of course he wasn’t free to share every burden with me. Jon was Keeper of the Court. Not only that, he was a Diamond, and held secrets we might never be able to speak of.

This thought sobered me. Jon had been so devoted during my sickness, even whilst carrying his griefs. I hoped the day might come when I might be able to help him in some small way as well.

* * *

Dr. Salmon came to visit twice a week. The last time he visited, he examined me most thoroughly, one of the old women standing beside him. “You seem remarkably well, all things considered. I thought at one point we might lose you.”

This took me aback. “Was it really so bad?”

“Yes.” He placed a lined hand upon mine. “I’m sure Master Diamond has told you that you must never drink alcohol again.”

“Yes, he told me. He’s been the best, the kindest caretaker one might ever have.”

He patted my hand, his ancient eyes moist. “You’re a very, very lucky young woman.” His lips tightened into a thin smile. “We’ll have to be most careful if you should come with child, but you should still be able to bear a healthy heir.”

I snorted. “I’m not going back to Spadros Manor.”

“What if you fall ill again?”

“My maid is with me. Police stand guard. My husband won’t force me to return, so I fail to see why it’s any of your concern.”

“I care about your well-being, whether you do or not.” He turned away. “Very well. I’ll call on you in a few days.”

“How do you know where I live?”

He frowned. “Why, Master Diamond and I brought you here.”

That made sense.

But I still worried. “Something very odd happened this year.”

This drew his attention. “Tell me more.”

“I’ve remembered things I didn’t before. It would seem obvious for me to remember them, and I feel as if I should have remembered them, but I didn’t. Then the memory came suddenly, without reason and with great force. From a smell, or a word.”

He nodded slowly. “Memory is a delicate thing. Were the memories painful ones?”

I felt suddenly unable to speak.

“Sometimes — if the memory is very painful — the mind doesn’t want to remember. The memory is hidden, if you will, until it’s needed.” He gave me a gentle smile. “It’s all quite natural, and there’s no need to fret about it.”

“Will there be more?”

“If you have more, there may be more.” A puzzled look spread over his face. “You’re quite young. Usually people are in their thirties — or older — before this sort of thing happens. If it does.”

“Well, thank you. It’s good to know.” I let out a laugh, relief sweeping over me. “More than once, I’ve feared I might be mad.”

He smiled at that. “You had a bad time at the hotel, but that was due to drink. Or rather the sudden lack of drink after long overindulgence. Now that we’ve gotten you clear of it, I think you’re recovering nicely.”

lack* * *

A Spadros “plain” carriage — dark brown without markings, so it resembled a taxi — took me and Jonathan Diamond back towards the city. We sat across from each other during the long trip, but diagonally, gazing out of the windows beside us.

I’d felt ashamed to speak of my missteps up to then, but I didn’t want to part without resolving the matter. “I’m sorry for what happened that day in my parlor.”

He continued to gaze out of the window. “Think nothing of it.”

“You must not berate yourself. It was wrong for me to put you in that position.” Wildflowers bloomed along the road, but the summer’s light seemed dim. “The fault was entirely mine.”

He nodded, not looking at me.

“And I do wish very much to be friends.” I turned to him, my heart full. “I need you. I — I need someone to talk to. I need a friend. At present, I have very few. Well, to be honest, without you I have none. When I return, I’ll once again be alone, and I …” at this point, I felt as if I rambled, so I straightened, collecting my thoughts. “I don’t want you to fear to visit.”

He gave his first real smile in days. “Then I’ll be sure to visit.”

At this, I felt much relieved.

Jon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I worry for you.”

This surprised me. “Why? The doctor says I’m fine.”

He turned his head to peer out of the window. “How do you feel about what Master Kerr has done?”

“I don’t know that he’s done anything.”

knowJonathan crossed his legs, leaning away, resting his elbow on the window’s edge.

“You believe Joe to be a cad? A scoundrel?”

Jonathan gazed out of the window. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. But your marriage is harmed, perhaps forever. Whether dead or alive, a man you love didn’t stand for you. Fight for you. Protect you. Instead, he went out of the window when your husband appeared in anger, leaving you to face the consequences alone.” For a moment, his jaw tightened. “His sister — a woman you’ve known since birth — has disappeared. Your own men have betrayed you. And you’re accused of Dame Anastasia’s murder.” He uncrossed his legs to face me, elbows on his knees. “This on top of all the death and torment in your life. You’ve lost so much.” He put his hands together, resting his forehead upon them. “Please, Jacqui — let yourself grieve.”

My eyes stung, but I shook myself, straightened, and my vision was clear. “I’ve cried many times, Jon. Just because I don’t care to do so in front of you —”

“You used to.” Jon gazed out of the window. “You said you needed a friend to talk to. I hope I’m here when that time comes.”

I recalled his zeppelin ticket flying away. “Do you plan a trip?”

A wistful smile. “How many men understand their future?”

For this I had no answer, even if I’d known what he meant.