Dancers at the End of Time (33 page)

"Good evening, Harold. Harold, this is Mr. Carnelian. He has just come from the Antipodes, where his father and mine, as you might recall, were missionaries."

"Carnelian? An unusual name, sir. Yet, as I remember, the same as that felon's who…"

"His brother," said Mrs. Underwood. "I was commiserating with him as you entered."

"A dreadful business," Mr. Underwood glanced at a newspaper on the sideboard with the eye of a hunter who sees his quarry disappearing from bowshot. He sighed and perhaps he smiled. "My wife was very brave, you know, in offering to speak for the defence. Great risk of scandal. I was only telling Mr.

Griggs, at the Bible Meeting tonight, that if we all had such courage in following the teachings of our conscience we might come considerably closer to the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven."

"Ha, ha," said Mrs. Underwood. "You are very kind, Harold. I only did my duty."

"We do not all have your fortitude, my dear. She is an admirable woman, is she not, Mr.

Carnelian?"

"Without doubt," said Jherek feelingly. He stared with unashamed curiosity at his rival. "The most wonderful woman in your world — in any world, Mr. Underwood."

"Um, yes," said Mr. Underwood. "You are, of course, grateful for the sacrifice she made. Your enthusiasm is understandable…"

"Sacrifice?" Jherek turned to Mrs. Underwood. "I was not aware that this society practised such rites? Whom did you…?"

"You have been away from England a long time, sir?" asked Mr. Underwood.

"This is my second visit," Jherek told him.

"Aha!" Mr. Underwood seemed satisfied by the explanation. "In the darkest depths of the jungle, eh? Bringing light to the savage mind."

"I was in a forest…" said Jherek.

"He only recently heard of his brother's sad fate," broke in Mrs. Underwood.

Jherek could not understand why she kept interrupting them. He felt he was getting on quite well with Mr. Underwood; getting on rather better, in truth, than he had expected.

"Have you offered Mr. Carnelian some refreshment, my dear?" Mr. Underwood's pince-nez glinted as he looked about the room. "We are, needless to say, teetotallers here, Mr. Carnelian. But if you would care for some tea…?"

Mrs. Underwood pulled enthusiastically at a bell-rope. "What a good idea!" she cried.

Maude Emily appeared almost immediately and was instructed to bring tea and biscuits for the three of them. She looked from Mr. Underwood to Jherek Carnelian and back again. The look was significant and cause the faintest expression of panic in Mrs. Underwood's otherwise resolutely set features.

"Tea!" said Jherek as Maude Emily left. "I don't believe I've ever had it. Or did we —"

This time, inadvertently, Mr. Underwood came to his wife's rescue. "Never had tea, what? Oh, then this is a treat you cannot miss! You must spend most of your time away from civilization, Mr. Carnelian."

"From this one, yes."

Mr. Underwood removed his pince-nez. From his pocket he took a large, white handkerchief. He polished the pince-nez. "I take your meaning, sir," he said gravely. "Who are we to accuse the poor savage of his lack of culture, when we live in such Godless times ourselves?"

"Godless? I was under the impression that this was a Religious Age."

"Mr. Carnelian, you are misinformed, I fear. Your faith is allowed to blossom unchecked, no doubt, as you sit in some far-off native hut, with only your Bible and Our Lord for company. But the distractions one has to contend with in this England of ours are enough to make one give up altogether and look to the consolations of the High Church. Why," his voice dropped, "I knew a man, a resident of Bromley, who came very close once to turning towards 
Rome
."

"He could not find Bromley?" Jherek laughed, glad that he and Mr. Underwood were getting on so well. "I had a great deal of trouble myself. If I had not met a Mr. Wells at a place called, as I remember, the Café Royale, I should still be looking for it!"

" 
The Café Royale!
 " hissed Mr. Underwood, in much the same tone as he had said "Rome." He replaced his pince-nez and stared hard at Jherek Carnelian.

"I had become lost…" Jherek began to explain.

"Who has not, before he enters the door of that gateway to the underworld?"

"…and met someone who had lived in Bromley."

"No longer, I trust?"

"So I gathered."

Mr. Underwood breathed a sigh of relief. "Mr. Carnelian," he said, "you would do well to remember the fate of your poor brother. Doubtless he was as innocent as you when he first came to London. I beg you to remember that not for nothing has it been called Satan's Own City!"

"Who would this Mr. Satan be?" asked Jherek conversationally. "You see, I was re-creating the city and it would be useful to have the advice of one who…"

"Maude Emily!" sang Mrs. Underwood, as if greeting the sight of land after many days in an open boat. "The tea!" She turned to them. "The tea is here!"

"Ah, the tea," said Mr. Underwood, but he was frowning as he mulled over Jherek's latest words.

Even Jherek had the idea that he had somehow said the wrong thing, in spite of being so careful — not that he felt there was very much point in Mrs. Underwood's deception. All he needed to do, really, was to explain the problem to Mr. Underwood (who plainly did not share his passion for Mrs. Underwood) and Mr. Underwood would accept that he, Jherek, was likely to be far happier with Mrs. Underwood.

Mr. Underwood could remain here (with Maude Emily, perhaps) and Mrs. Underwood would leave with him, Jherek.

As Maude Emily poured the tea and Mrs. Underwood stood near the fireplace fiddling with a small lace handkerchief and Mr. Underwood peered through his pince-nez as if to make sure that Maude Emily poured the correct amount of tea into each cup, Jherek said:

"I expect you are happy here, aren't you, Maude Emily, with Mr. Underwood?"

"Yes, sir," she said in a small voice.

"And you are happy with Maude Emily, Mr. Underwood?"

Mr. Underwood waved a hand and moved his lips, indicating that he was as happy with her as he felt he had to be.

"Splendid," said Jherek.

A silence followed. He was handed a tea-cup.

"What do you think?" Mr. Underwood had become quite animated as he watched Jherek sip.

"There are those who shun the use of tea, claiming that it is a stimulant we can well do without." He smiled bleakly. "But I'm afraid we should not be human if we did not have our little sins, eh? Is it good, Mr. Carnelian?"

"Very nice," said Jherek. "Actually, I have had it before. But we called it something different. A longer name. What was it, Mrs. Underwood?"

"How should I know, Mr. Carnelian." She spoke lightly, but she was glaring at him.

"Lap something," said Jherek. "Sou something."

"Lap-san-sou-chong! Ah, yes. A great favourite of yours, my dear, is it not? China tea."

"There!" said Jherek beaming by way of confirmation.

"You have met my wife before, Mr. Carnelian?"

"As children," said Mrs. Underwood. "I explained it to you, Harold."

"You surely were not given tea to drink as children?"

"Of course not," she replied.

"Children?" Jherek's mind had been on other things, but now he brightened. "Children? Do you plan to have any children, Mr. Underwood?"

"Unfortunately." Mr. Underwood cleared his throat. "We have not so far been blessed…"

"Something wrong?"

"Ah, no…"

"Perhaps you haven't got the hang of making them by the straightforward old-fashioned method? I must admit it took me a while to work it out. You know," Jherek turned to make sure that Mrs.

Underwood was included in the conversation, "finding what goes in where and so forth!"

"Nnng," said Mrs. Underwood.

"Good heavens!" Mr. Underwood still had his tea-cup poised half-way to his lips. For the first time, since he had entered the room, his eyes seemed to live.

Jherek's body shook with laughter. "It involved a lot of research. My mother, the Iron Orchid, explained what she knew and, in the long run, when we had pooled the information, was able to give me quite a lot of practical experience. She has always been interested in new ideas for love-making. She told me that while genuine sperm had been used in my conception, otherwise the older method had not been adhered to. Once she got the thing worked out, however (and it involved some minor biological transformations) she told me that she had rarely enjoyed love-making in the conventional ways more. Is anything the matter, Mr. Underwood? Mrs. Underwood?"

"Sir," said Mr. Underwood, addressing Jherek with cool reluctance, "I believe you to be mad. In charity, I must assume that you and your brother are cursed with that same disease of the brain which sent him to the gallows."

"My brother?" Jherek frowned. Then he winked at Mrs. Underwood. "Oh, yes, my brother…"

Mrs. Underwood, breathing heavily, sat down suddenly upon the rug, while Maude Emily had her lips together, had gone very red in the face, and was making strange, strangled noises.

"Why did you come here? Oh, why did you come here?" murmured Mrs. Underwood from the floor.

"Because I love you, as you know," explained Jherek patiently. "You see, Mr. Underwood," he began confidentially, "I wish to take Mrs. Underwood away with me."

"Indeed?" Mr. Underwood presented to Jherek a peculiarly glassy and crooked grin. "And what, might I ask, do you intend to offer my wife, Mr. Carnelian?"

"Offer? Gifts? Yes, well," again he felt in his pockets but again could find nothing but the deceptor-gun. He drew it out. "This?"

Mr. Underwood flung his hands into the air.

"Spare them," said Mr. Underwood. "Take me, if you must!"

"But I don't want you, Mr. Underwood," Jherek said reasonably, gesturing with the gun. "Though it is kind of you to offer. It is 
Mrs
. Underwood I want. She loves me, you see, and I love her."

"Is this true, Amelia?"

Dumbly, she shook her head.

"You have been conducting a liaison of some sort with this man?"

"That's the word I was trying to think of," said Jherek.

"I don't believe you are that murderer's brother at all." Mr. Underwood remembered to keep his hands firmly above his head. "Somehow you have escaped the gallows — and you, Amelia, seem to have played a part in thwarting justice. I felt at the time…"

"No, Harold. I have nothing to be ashamed of — or, at least, very little … If I tried to explain what had happened to me one night, when…"

"One night, yes? When?"

"I was abducted."

"By this man?"

"No, that came later. Oh, dear! I told you nothing, Harold, because I knew it would be impossible for you to believe. It would have put a burden upon you that I knew you should not have to bear."

"The burden of truth, Amelia, is always easier to bear than the burden of deceit."

"I was carried into our world's most distant future. How, I cannot explain. There I met Mr.

Carnelian, who was kind to me. I did not expect ever to return here, but return I did — to the same moment in which I had left. I decided that I had had a particularly vivid dream. Then I learned of Mr.

Carnelian's appearance in our time — he was being tried for murder."

"So he is the same man!"

"I felt it my duty to help him. I knew that he could not be guilty. I tried to prove that he was insane so that his life, at least, would be spared. My efforts, however, were fruitless. They were not helped by Mr. Carnelian's naïve insistence upon a truth which none could be expected to believe. He was sentenced to death. The last I knew, he had perished through the usual auspices of the Law."

"Preposterous," said Mr. Underwood. "I can see that I have been an absolute fool. If you are not as mad as he, then you are guilty of the most unholy deception ever practised by an erring wife upon her trusting husband." Mr. Underwood was trembling. He ran a hand across his head, disturbing his hair. He loosened his tie. "Well, luckily the Bible is very clear on such matters. You must go, of course. You must leave my house, Amelia, and thank Our Lord Jesus Christ for the New Testament and its counsels. If we lived in Old Testament times, your punishment would not be so lenient!"

"Harold, please, you are distraught, I can see. If you will try to listen to Mr. Carnelian's story…"

"Ha! Must I listen to his ravings any further, before he kills me?"

"Kill you?" said Jherek mildly. "Is that what you want, Mr. Underwood? I'd willingly do anything to help…"

"Oh!"

Jherek saw Maude Emily leaving the room. Perhaps she had become so bored with the conversation. He was certainly having quite a lot of difficulty understanding Mr. Underwood, whose voice was shaking so much, and pitched so high at times, that the words were distorted.

"I will do nothing to stand in your way," Mr. Underwood told him. "Take her and leave, if that is what you want. She has told you she loves you?"

"Oh, yes. In a letter."

"A letter! Amelia?"

"I wrote a letter, but…"

"So you are foolish, as well as treacherous. To think that, under my own roof, I supported such a creature. I had thought you upright. I had thought you a true Christian. Why, Amelia, I 
admired
 you.

Admired you, it seems, for what was merely your disguise, a cloak of hypocrisy."

"Oh, Harold, how can you believe such things? If you knew the lengths to which I went to defend my —"

"Honour? Really, my dear, you must consider me a pretty poor sort of brain, if you think you can continue any further with your charade!"

"Well," said Jherek cheerfully, wishing that Mr. Underwood would make his meaning clearer, but glad that the main problem had been cleared up, "shall we be off, Mrs. Underwood?"

"I cannot, Mr. Carnelian. My husband is not himself. The shock of your appearance and of your — your language. I know that you do not mean badly, but the disruption you are causing is much worse than I feared. Mr. Carnelian — please put the gun back in your pocket!"