Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (24 page)

I left them, therefore, at the Gate, and passed thro’ into the aged Building. Entering the musty Nave, I made my Way as quietly as possible to the family Pew, from where I surveyed the assembled Company.

The Barnabys had brought all their Relations; or at least, as many of them as could be got to fit within St Peter’s Church. Across the Aisle, mine Aunt sate up beside James Barnaby, talking animatedly. He, for his part, seemed as unruffled as if he were about to listen in upon a boring Piece of chamber Musick. If he upsets my Sister, I thought, I shall break every Bone in his Body. The Resolution pleased me.

Behind me in the Rows sate the Rector’s Wife; and Sophia, now grown very handsome, in dark blue Silks with a curled Wigg. She smiled at me. Next came the Remainder of the Ravenscrofts, now
swelled to fourteen; and another whom I guessed must be Kate the Cursed.

I had expected, from what Jane had told me, that she should be dark, but Kate had Bianca’s Colouring. She was well grown for twelve, if twelve she was, and sate as tall as Sophy, altho’ she was considerably more slender. Her Gaze was fixt in an intense Scrutiny of the Back of the Pew in front of her, and her Expression, I thought, could have curdled Milk. A Pity, as she would otherwise have been a rare Beauty. The Sadness of her Aspect did not seem to fit with Jane’s Description of her as a shameless Flirt. If anything, she appeared to me as one withdrawn, walled up inside a private Purgatory beyond the reach of Man, and disinclined to break out.

In mine Interest, I had looked at her a little too long; Katherine felt my Gaze upon her and lifted her Head to stare back at me out of clear grey Eyes as startling as the Moon.

At once her Countenance was transfigured, as if the Light had altered both without and within it. Her Eyes widened, and her Lips parted slightly in Surprize. Then she began to smile; not as a Flirt would do, but wistfully, as if she was not even aware that she was smiling; coloured, and turned her Face away.

You, I thought.

At that Moment Jane entered the Church with our Father, and a mended Garland, and the Service began. I whirled about, disguising my Confusion under the Pretext that I had droppt my prayer-Book. St John himself could not have been more stunned. Every Nerve in mine whole Flesh had caught afire.

She is but twelve, I told My Self as Jane and Barnaby linked Hands before the Altar. She is too young, and too nice to be interesting to me, by any Means whatever.

“Marriage,” intoned the Rector Ravenscroft to Barnaby and Jane, “is
not an Estate to be entered into lightly, for the Gratification of carnal Lusts; but a sacred Covenant, akin to that betwixt God and Mankind.”

How rapid would her Heart beat ’neath mine Hand?

I stared forwards, but I did not perceive whatever it was that stood in front of me. Instead, I seemed to see Katherine Montague’s Features, chisseled in high Relief upon the Stone: her light grey Eyes, that slanted very slightly upwards at the Corners; thickly lashed, and a little more prominent than they should have been, but only by enough that their Beauty was increased thereby; her high Cheekbones; her delicate Jaw, which ended in a Chin a mere Fraction too sharp; her small, uneven Teeth. I wondered at her translucent ivory Skin, her pale Lips, all without a Touch of Whitelead; and at that Aire of unbreachable Sadness thro’ which I had somehow penetrated, tho’ without Intention, tho’ without Desire.

I know her, I thought.

What doth she sound like when she shrieks aloud? Surely it must be clear and fine, the Whistling of a Curlew in the cold Light shortly after Dawn. I want to take her down, and wrap her in mine Arms, and soothe the Agonies away.

The Service finally drawing to a close, I was at last able to turn around, but to my Disappointment neither Mrs Ravenscroft nor Katherine was there, and I beheld only Sophia. I concluded that the other two had left the Church sometime during an Hymn, and I began to imagine that Jane’s Fears had come home to roost regarding Kate.

I could control her, I thought. And then: Control her! I? Damned if I could! I cannot even control mine own Thoughts. In Church, too. The sooner I am gone from Berkshire the better.

The Crowd by now having thinned, I was at last at Liberty to leave my Pew without Embarrassment. I straightened my Body, and, I hoped, my Mind, and followed some of Barnaby’s countless Relations into the warm morning Sunnelight. The fresh Aire heartened me, but only for a Moment. Mrs Ravenscroft and Katherine Montague stood amidst the Gravestones on the Sward that sloped down to the open Meadow, surrounded by ruminating Sheep. Katherine looked me up and down. A slight Smile, subtily different in its Nature and Suggestion from her prior Expression, played about the Corners of her Lips. She turned her Head, cutting me intirely; then glanced back slyly, to see what I had thought and what I would do next about the Business.

Having more Sense than to walk straight past my Sister in her Houre of Triumph, I first kissed Jane, and wished her an happy Marriage. I then congratulated Barnaby. Mine Advice to him, I decided, should be given later, and not right in front of his joyful Bride. Nevertheless, I embraced him in a more than brotherly Hugg that cost him some Pains to get out of, and I am sure left him with a Soreness in his Neck, which had been always ridiculously stiff. Then I proceeded thro’ the Graves towards Mrs Ravenscroft, and Katherine Montague.

Katherine was cloathed in a primrose-yellow Gown, over a small Hoop. Her little Feet, in silken Shoes, made shallow Depressions in the mossy Bank upon which she stood, in the dappled Shade of a white willow Tree. My Gaze travelled slowly upwards over the bright Silk of her Skirts to settle upon her Waist, which had been made so tiny by the Tightness of her laced Stays that I could have near encompassed it in mine Hands. A delicate Handkerchief of white Muslin embraced her slim Shoulders, and met in a careless Knot upon her Breast. June Sunnelight, filtering thro’ the thin
Leaves of the Willow, licked the exposed Skin of her Throat; wherever it touched, the pale Ivory gleamed phosphorescent.

I proffered my “Good Morning” to Mrs Ravenscroft, who responded with the usual Civility.

Katherine said: “Mr Hart,” and droppt an half-Curtsey with such breathtaking Insolence as seemed fit to turn my Condescension in coming to talk with her upon its Head.

Mrs Ravenscroft looked aghast. “I am sorry,” she said. “She hath not been well brought up, I am afraid. Her Mother is a Widdowe of few Means, and they do not see enough of good Society. We are hoping to make an Impression upon her here, but our Effort doth not seem to be working.”

Katherine staightened up, and looking direct into mine Eyes with an Expression of such sweet Defiance it near stoppt mine Heart, held forth her naked Hand as if for me to kiss. I took it. Her Skin was softer than Velvet, and strangely familiar to my Fingertips. The Phalangeal Ligaments tensed briefly beneath the Ball of my Thumb; delicate finger-Bones contracting, then extending lightly to press into the cupped Palm of mine Hand. I slid my Thumb slowly to the Knuckle Joint between her first and second Fingers, and applied my Fingertips to the rear Surface of the proximal Phalanx. The velvety Skin extended, and the small Bones shifted apart beneath my Touch. I released the Pressure and felt them retract into their proper Place, with a small Click.

Katherine looked down—tho’ not out of Shyness, and mine Attention followed hers to where our two Hands were joined together within a Cataract of liquid Sunnelight.

“How dark your Skin is next to mine,” said Katherine. She looked up at me, and smiled.

This Statement brought me back to My Self. I quickly released
her Hand and, stepping back, executed the terse Bow I should have given her at the first.

“Mrs Ravenscroft; Miss Montague.” I prepared to depart. I could not, in all truth, have sustained the Conversation for very much longer. Mine Imagination was beginning to gallop ahead upon its usual phrenzied Track. This would not do; I had to rein it in.

“Sir,” called Katherine Montague.

I turned at once. “Yes?”

“Shall we see you at the Breakfast?”

“Of course. Good Morning.”

I returned to the Path and sought out my Father, who was waiting beside mine Aunt Barnaby, appearing as greatly out of Countenance as I felt. I told My Self that as long as I could keep away from Katherine Montague and restrain my vile Mind, I should have nothing to fear. But for the second Time, too, I wished that I were back in London. Polly Smith’s Body would have satisfied this Flame in Minutes.

The wedding Breakfast was to be held after long standing Tradition at the village Tavern, altho’ mine Aunt had argued in Favour of holding it at Shirelands so that we need not be overlooked. My Sister—now Mrs Barnaby—and her Bridegroom departed for the Feast in Barnaby’s Curricle. I followed on directly, with mine Aunt and Father, in our own Coach.

“Well,” said Aunt Barnaby in a Tone of intense Contentment, spreading her Skirts across the intire Seat. “That’s Jane well married; now we have but to settle Master Hart.”

Her Words startled me. Not knowing whether to think her serious, and be subject to an Alarum, or not, I laughed.

“Tristan,” said my Father, his Gaze never moving from the Road outside, “is not yet one-and-twenty.”

“Tush, Brother,” retorted mine Aunt. “You were wed at scarcely more than that. That you had your Fortune already, I’ll grant you; but any Fool can see that Master Hart is already more a Man of the World than ever you were.”

“Then he shall need no Help from you,” my Father muttered.

“Brother, there are Pitfalls in such a City as London, into which even a clever young Man of Substance and Fashion may fall. And I am sure that Mr Henry Fielding sets no good Example upon that Score. Is he not married to his Housekeeper?”

I perceived then that mine Aunt was utterly in earnest. I could too easily anticipate what was to follow—a lengthy Lecture upon the dreadful Consequences of being tempted into Marriage by some virtuous young Wench—or even not so virtuous—who had nothing but her Face to recommend her.

Egad, I thought. If mine Aunt knew anything at all of me, surely even she would seek to protect the Wenches from me, rather than me from the Wenches.

I lifted up my Cane and rapped thrice upon the Roof of the Coach, which drew to an Halt at once. “Set me down here; I will walk,” I called.

Mine Aunt gave Vent to a small Noise of Irritation. “Sir,” she said, “you will be late in sitting down to Breakfast.”

“There need be no Delay on mine Account; I am of little Importance,” I said, vaulting down onto the Greensward. My Father, I thought, almost laughed, but I could not be certain.

The Coach then moving on without me, I stood still as a Statue on the Roadside, listening to the sweet repeated Whistle of a song Thrush in the thorny Hedge, and reflecting with Delight upon mine unplanned Escape from Supervison. I attended closely to the Thrush for a Moment, with a little Suspicion; but in its clear Note
there was no Hint of Accusation. I thought then that perhaps I might locate a quiet Spot and continue my Remarks upon Dr Hunter’s Drawings, returning to join the wedding Party after all the Crush was over; but then I realised that Jane would not thank me for this. I bent my Steps instead toward the Tavern, which was barely a quarter-Mile from where I had alighted. I took care to walk exceeding slowly, watching the Bees amid the Clover.

I walked so slow, in fact, that I had not gone far beyond the Cottages and the Forge when I was overtaken by the Ravenscrofts, walking two abreast in a Cavalcade. Sophia was in the Head of the Column with her Mother; she flashed me a charming Smile, and turning to Mrs Ravenscroft, begged to be allowed to walk with me instead.

I had no Stomach for that, fair as Sophy was, and I pleaded that I should only prove a sorry Tortoise to her Hare. I need not have worried, however, for Mrs Ravenscroft, perchance thinking upon a similar Principle to that which had excited mine Aunt, took Sophy sharply by the Elbow and led her away, saying to her only that haply we should meet up at the Tavern.

Am I beyond Sophy’s Expectations? I thought. I had never once considered her like that, but still the Notion startled me. I had grown accustomed, in my long Association with Nathaniel, to think of the Ravenscrofts as mine Equals, and in many Ways this must have been true; but not in the Case of Marriage. Marriage required Money, and Money the Ravenscrofts did not have. Yet I should have been delighted, I thought, if Nathaniel, instead of Barnaby, had married Jane.

Mrs Ravenscroft may well have felt that if she had to choose between the Preservation of her Daughter’s Reputation and that of her Niece, then her Loyalties must lie with her Daughter, and
the Niece be damned to take her Chance. At any Rate, it fell out that last in the Column walked Katherine Montague, alone; and when she lifted up her smiting grey Eyes and stared hard at me, I could not resist falling in beside her.

For some Moments neither one of us spoke. Then I decided that this might be mine Opportunity to find out what the Devil had happened to Nathaniel, so I cleared my Throat and said, in as Carefree a Manner as I could affect: “Miss Montague, have you heard anything of your eldest Cousin?”

“Of—Nathaniel Ravenscroft? No. That is, nothing new. No.”

She seemed flustered by my Question. She had spoken the name—Nathaniel—almost with Trepidation. I turned mine Head and regarded her closely. All the Colour—and she had little to begin with—had drained from her Cheeks. As if I had shewn her a Ghost, I thought. Oh, surely, something hath happened involving Nat. Something that neither his Family nor mine desires me to know. A small Alarum began to sound behind mine Heart.

“I trust Nathaniel is well,” I said.

“As far as I know, he is well.” She bit her Lip.

“You miss him?” I said.

“No,” she answered. “I do not miss him at all.”

“I see,” I said, altho’ in Truth I saw nothing but the Quivering of her lower Lip, which I precipitantly desired to kiss. This astonished me. I had kissed no Woman on the Lips since Margaret Haynes. Katherine Montague, beside me, was so slight, I could have apprehended her compleatly in mine Arms. I could shelter her, in Winter, within the Fronts of my Greatcoat.