A Bloodsmoor Romance (98 page)

“ ‘The remainder of my estate—the remainder of my estate—' ” the agitated attorney read, in a voice sadly faltering, even as the document in his hands betrayed a nervous trembling, “ ‘—I wish to leave to' ”—and here again he paused, to clumsily swallow, “ ‘—to leave to my
daughter:
that blameless child so cruelly abandoned by her mother, in a paroxysm of moral cowardice, and unspeakable penury of spirit: abandoned, unacknowledged, near-forgotten, but
legitimate!—
LEGITIMATE
, I say, in the eyes of God, and of the Law.' ” Basil Miller now paused, to drain his glass of sherry, and, not wishing to look out at his audience, plunged at once back into the document atremble in his hands: “ ‘—and of the Law. After many troubl'd years, ah! so gaily clothed in
outward material success,
and the
high regard of my peers,
during which the ignoble action of my youth continued to gnaw at my soul (tho' proudly unrepentant even to myself); and after some months, this past year, of especial spiritual anguish, in which Almighty God oft conferred with me, in the privacy of my bedchamber,—I am moved to reconsider not only all previous existing
wills,
pertaining to my estate, but my previous
life
as well, in which the sacred role of
MOTHER
was forsworn. But Almighty God, in his wisdom, mercy, compassion, and ceaseless diligence, regarding my sulli'd soul, has seen fit to allow me this small act of penitence, and reparation: that I must leave the remainder of my estate, whole and unencumbered, to this long-despisèd daughter—
unacknowledged,
but
legitimate
—the personage known firstly to the world as
Deirdre Bonner;
and, latterly,
Deirdre Zinn.
' ”

 

I CANNOT CONVEY
the effect of this declaration, as it fell through the air: save that, as Basil Miller could not, for the moment, bring himself to continue, the beauteous Golden Oak room was plunged into a silence so preternatural, you would think all the human figures had turned to stone!—nor could a breath be heard.

In fact, after some stunned moments, when a single expletive “Deirdre—!” sounded, to shatter the stillness, it would have been most difficult to say, who, precisely, had made the utterance: whether it had erupted from one of the beings in the room, or from out some unfathomable occult realm, the abode of bodiless spirits!

SEVENTY-SIX

I
t were best, I believe, to follow the guiding aesthetic principle of this history, pertaining as to brevity, and thus to o'erlap the scene at hand, in the Golden Oak room—one whose startling disorder involved some fainting, on the part of the ladies (not excluding Deirdre herself, who slumped forward insensible, to sink to the floor in a helpless swoon, not many seconds after Basil Miller concluded); and much murmured, and muttered, stupefaction; and several unthinking expressions of ill-will, blurted out, as it were, involuntarily.

Instead, we will concentrate upon the reading of Edwina Kidde­master's “secret priz'd shameful & glorious document” (for so the elderly lady called it, in her many conferences with Basil Miller, and in the privacy of her heart), the which transpired but some ninety minutes after the preceding scene, and in the selfsame place; all the principals in attendance, save the Reverend Hewett and his wife, who, tho' courteously saying very little, gave it out that they were so grievously offended by the disclosures, by the “once-esteem'd” Edwina Kidde­master, that they felt it obligatory, out of consideration for Mr. Hewett's ministerial status, to remove themselves at once from the premises. But no one else chose to depart, not even the pouting Philippe Fox, who presented a somewhat stormy countenance to all who chanced to gaze upon him; nor the crimson-faced Dr. Moffet, who was heard to murmur beneath his breath, with an alarming persistence of repetition; “—betrayal—treachery—quackery at the spas—female senility—hysteria—wantonness—no shame—” Indeed, the principals evinced a most energetic interest in what Basil Miller offered as a “nobly forthright explanation, to be read, in submission to the deceased's dictates, by himself, in the presence of all concerned”—and I am relieved to report that, summoned by his wife, John Quincy Zinn himself deigned to reappear, pallid of complexion, and now more visibly tremulous: but dignified nonetheless, and refusing to give vent to those haphazard expressions of emotion, of divers sorts, to which most of the others surrendered, the while Miss Deirdre Zinn remained isolated, now more clearly excluded than before.

Herewith, “The Confession of a Penurious Sinner”:

What is that melody, vile in its very beauty, & tempting, across e'en the span of 38 years!—what is that loathsome song, which nightly assails my ears, & will not give me rest? Ah, to hear it; and again hear it; to thrill to it; & sink upon my bed, in mute despair; to hear it, &
to suffer it
—the while, with all the outward display of majestic calm, the years pass!

That my heart, so long ossified in other respects, might be, yet, prick'd to a secret frenzy, by this simple melody—this most haunting of immortal songs, by the German composer of uncontested genius Franz Schubert!—ah, what sorrow, what grave irony, and yet, I am compelled to say, what
justice:
for, tho' much confus'd at the time, I was not blameless, and take pen in hand, upon this wind-tormented midnight, to
confess:
to confess to the world, as Almighty God has gently bade me, both the gravity and penury of my sins, in the hope that, God having promis'd forgiveness, and restitution to His bosom, in that other realm we know not of,
the world
might pity me, and forgive me: and my long-lost daughter might comprehend the motives of my sin—tho' I scarcely expect
forgiveness,
let alone
daughterly love,
after my crime.

Adieu!
Adieu, indeed! And yet, was it not a salutation as well, upon that momentous eve, in the great house of the Buffs, of Mt. Buff, Annandale-on-Hudson, not six months after the rebel assault upon Ft. Sumter?

For there—in the larger of the drawing rooms, of Mrs. Buff, the while a ball gaily ensued, in a near wing of the house, there I first heard Elisha's robust baritone voice, and thrilled to its manly prowess, all unknowing in my virgin simplicity (tho' advanced in years, as the coarse world would adjudge: being in my forty-first year, & much accustomed to sophisticated society, as well as flatterers & sycophants of every hue, as a consequence of my Kidde­master blood, & my renown as an authoress)—all unknowing, I say, in my
innocence
&
ignorance,
who had imagin'd herself immune, to both male fortune-hunters, and to the tumultuous contingencies, of her own heart.

Cruel, & insufferable!—that so much pain should ensue, & such folly, from a haphazard visitation to the Buffs, at their elegant ancestral abode (Mrs. Amanda Buff being an old friend, from careless girlhood days, in the Philadelphia Seminary for Young Ladies, some years before); nay, from a haphazard visitation to that very drawing room, so tastefully decorated by Amanda Buff's discerning hand, in rococo-style carved pieces, of pleasing grace, and luxurious velvet drapes of that hue later to be known as Sebastapol blue, and a craved marble mantel, from out a pagan Turkish palace, inherited from Amanda's family! For there, in that elegant retreat from the merry but o'erexuberant sounds of musical revelry, in the ballroom, there it was my fate to o'erhear Captain Elisha Burlingame of the Union Forces (then on furlough, to visit his invalided mother, in Albany) zealously, yet with a conscious sensitive touch, singing the Schubert melody, whilst one of Amanda's elder sisters played the piano.

Alas, to
hear;
and to feel my heart
pierced;
and to know almost
beforehand,
what pain would ensue. . . .

For here was the dashing Captain Burlingame, well over six feet of heighth, with his thick manly torso, and his powerful neck & countenance, that earned for him the fond appellation of his men,
The Bull,
for both his vigorous appearance, and his bold behavior under fire. Captain Burlingame was then in his early thirties, tho', for purposes of courtship, so far as the foolish Edwina Kidde­master was concerned, he gave out his age as being somewhat older—not wishing to appear an inappropriate choice, for her husband. He wore a Union costume that had been, by special permission, modified, that it cut a showier figure, with a smart crimson necktie, and fuller sleeves; and his hair—ah, the very Devil himself could not have conspired, to create a more winning picture of
masculinity,
&
angelic charm!
—his hair fell in red-burnished curls & ringlets, to his muscular shoulders. Was there ever a warrior—not even excluding the comely Boy General, George Armstrong Custer—who cut a more compelling figure on the raging battlefield, or in Society's bastions?

I know not whether my frame shudders, even now, with
revulsion
for the recollect'd song, or (may God forgive me!) ignoble hapless
sentiment:
but this was the seductive verse, of the song's numerous verses, that most enthralled me—

Adieu! 'tis love's last greeting,

The parting hour is come!

Yet dare I mourn when Heaven—       

Has bid thy Soul be free?

A fresher life has given                        

For all
ETERNITY.
       

Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! to self-respect, & rational discourse, & all pretensions as to sanity, let alone the
moral fibre
of a lady's being.

Thus—the lamentable meeting occur'd & the confirmed spinster Edwina Kidde­master, tho' on the brink of that age, at which
romance,
let alone
childbearing,
is commonly deemed hazardous, fell prey—I know not to what. A poignant & haunting melody, or a skilled blackguard, of such charm, & acumen, & practice, as to make an outright thespian blanch in envy. . . .

It is true, it is too true, that Amanda Buff, & certain of her concern'd relatives, sought to warn me; & to dissuade me, & I did in fact doubt the Captain's seriousness, at the very first. (Well knowing myself of an age, & of a reputation, that must take especial care, not to be deceiv'd.) Yet—I know not how, or why, or the precise steps—yet I fell:
fell,
I state openly, with as much stormy ignorance, & ludicrous hope, as the lowest servant girl, her ears gratefully blushing to hear all the prevarications, of which the masculine gender is capable!

I do not—indeed,
cannot,
in acquiescence to God's will—stint my words on this matter: I heard, & saw, & was in a matter of days enthralled, & secretly betrothed, &
FELL
.

FELL
: in such humiliating wise, as I cannot bring myself to recount, reasoning that very little of a fructifying nature can come of it, save as a warning to the young ladies amongst us, who would, in defiance of their elders' warnings, & deeming it but a lightsome escapade,
slip away from a chaperon.
For thus I did: submitting to Captain Burlingame's blandishments, that I accompany him, alone, by phaeton, to the races at Saratoga Springs, some distance to the North . . . during the course of which wild journey, securely lock'd in the handsome canary-yellow vehicle, the impetuous Union Officer seized my defenseless hand in his great-sized hand, &, bringing it violently to his lips, bestowed so vehement a kiss upon it, that—

(Alas, I cannot continue: save to state, with as much frankness as decorum allows, that, upon that paralyz'd instant, I
FELL
, & ne'er was a virgin again.)

This unspeakable episode having transpired, it was swiftly succeeded by a secret
betrothal
(for I knew full well, the rage of my brother Godfrey should he learn), &, on the very eve of Elisha's departure for the War, a secret & shameful
wedding.

All of which—I am greatly reliev'd now to confess—tho' witnessed by only two of Elisha's comrades, was nonetheless in compliance with the Law of the Land; & duly recorded, in the books of the Justice of the Peace, for Saratoga Springs, one darksome day in the autumn of 1862. I shall not pose Our Saviour's question, as to who, in our midst, is so blameless of sin, as to “cast the first stone”: for I am beyond all such strategies, in seeking to alleviate my guilt. Yet—I cannot resist querying, who, in our midst, is so hardened of heart, as to be
immune
to Romance, in its numerous masks & costumes?

So it was, I went to dwell with my bridegroom in a “honeymoon cottage” of sorts, having given out the false information—for which lie, may God forgive me—that I had sailed away to the British Isles, to live for some time in solitude, for authorly purposes.

Alas, very soon afterward, e'en the foolish bride had no choice but to be disabused, of her airy notions: for her dashing Captain exhibited scant patience, for feminine decorum, or recalcitrance; & made bold to request—nay, to
demand
—cash for his insatiable vices, in which he freely indulged himself, the while the very War was waging!

Tear-dimm'd as those days & months have become, I yet recall the boisterous shouts of my husband, & the trembling cords that stood out, in his powerful neck, as, in great scorn of my
condition,
he did not shrink from corporeal abuse; & the spouting of such words, as to make my elderly ears burn crimson, at the mere recollection. For, tho' the descendant of a noble house, in Warwickshire, & indeed the grandson of the much-loved Sir Reginald Burlingame, Elisha was
yet no gentleman;
& it was not difficult to comprehend, why, at the age of seventeen, he had been encouraged to leave his native land, & seek his “fortune” in the New World, eager to become a citizen of the States, & to give free rein to his barbaric lusts, in those ranks of the Army that dealt with the question of the Indians, in the territories of Kansas & Nebraska, & elsewhere. (These heathenish natives, amongst them “Cheyennes” & “Sioux,” yet evoking in my heart some measure of pity, for the great losses they sustained, & the persistent butchery, on the part of such patriotic warriors as Captain Burlingame!)