Jenna Starborn (23 page)

“I assure you, I was more interested in dispensing wisdom than collecting secrets,” he said. “Nothing they said to me could not have been found in the public record of their hopes and wishes—and I burst a few bubbles with my observations. I don't think my words will hurt any of them. In fact, I think I may have done some good. Tell me how they all reacted. When they reentered the room, what expressions did they wear?”

“Miss Bianca Ingersoll looked pensive and unhappy, and she went straight to her mother for a serious conference. Most of the others—even the ones for whom you
say
you did not intervene-looked thoughtful or disgruntled. Except for Mr. Taff, who appeared quite jubilant.”

“Ah, that's because I explained to him how his fortunes will change in the next few months. He will make an advantageous marriage, you see,” Mr. Ravenbeck confided.
“And
to a woman he has despaired of ever winning.”

“Indeed? How is it you are privileged to know the state of this woman's heart?”

“I know this woman, and she has no heart. And I know the currents and fluxes of the human condition, which make a great deal of individual behavior as predictable as the equations of science. You mock me now, but in six months when his engagement is announced, you will be awed by my perspicacity.”

“And Miss Ayerson?” I demanded. “What did you tell her to make her so restless and insecure?”

“I told her what any friend would tell her—you yourself, if you had the knowledge I have. Unfortunately, I cannot repeat it—I may trick my guests and make a game of my friends, but I do have some sense of decency, and that confidence I will not break. Suffice it to say that I wish the best for Miss Ayerson, and would say or do nothing to cause her any grief.”

That I did believe; while there might be an edge of malice to Mr. Ravenbeck, a certain sarcastic mockery, there was no cruelty in him, and he was certainly not the man to abuse or terrify anyone more vulnerable than he. However, I would not give him the satisfaction of thinking I in any way tolerated his actions.

“Well, let us hope there are no unexpected repercussions from this evening,” I said darkly. “For there is no—oh! Your antics made me forget the most important news!”

His face smiled at me from the globe. “And what news is that, Jenna? The forcefield has fallen? Vandals have been sabotaging our generators again? Mrs. Farraday has failed to lay in a supply of groceries and we shall all go hungry at breakfast tomorrow?”

“I have no way of judging if this event is anywhere near as calamitous as any of those,” I replied with dignity. “But you have received a visitor. Mrs. Farraday put him in the breakfast room and fed him a meal, for he refused to join the rest of us in the library.”

“And who is this wayfarer? Or did she give you a name?”

“Yes. Mr. Merrick of Wesleyan-Imrae.”

The electronic representation of his face blanched and grew slack; I almost thought the circuits were failing again, so strange and un-lifelike did his image become. I could not see the rest of his body, but I almost thought he lifted a hand to press his leaping heart back in his chest.

“Merrick! Wesleyan-Imrae!” he repeated, so faintly that the speakers almost did not relay his voice.
“That
name strikes a nearly fatal blow.”

I leaped to my feet. “I shall come to you! Keep to your seat!”

He waved a languid hand so that I saw it brush across the interior of the glass. “Stay where you are, I am not faint. Merely—stricken. Merrick. I never thought to see him here.”

I had remained standing. “I shall go to him and tell him you are not well. No-I shall tell him you left this evening on urgent business and we don't know when you will return. And if he protests, I will turn him from the house—Mrs. Farraday and I, and Janet Ayerson, and even Mary and Rinda. Together we can put him out.”

Some color seemed to be seeping back into his face, at least by the monitor's rendition. “Such a display of strength and loyalty is not called for. I shall go to him—I shall even be civil. He has done me no wrong, no harm. He is merely a part of my life I do not like to think of.”

“Some connection to Ameletta's mother?” I said, sitting back in my chair and losing a little of my zeal.

He smiled faintly. “Only in the most indirect way. Only because the—excesses—I indulged in when I knew Merrick in some small way drove me to that woman's arms. But he cannot be blamed either for my errors or their aftermath. But, Lord, I wish he were not here!”

He fell into a sort of brooding fit after this passionately delivered speech, and I watched him a moment in silence. I felt strange, stirred up, ready to fight and yet completely helpless. I wanted to comfort him as I would have comforted Ameletta had she come running into my room after a nightmare, and by Mr. Ravenbeck's expression, Mr. Merrick was indeed a nightmare in the flesh. And yet I could not offer such solace to Mr. Ravenbeck—it was laughable—and I could not go into battle for him, and I could not even advise him, for I did not know what the trouble was. So I waited.

Presently he spoke again, lifting his eyes again to meet mine through the medium of the glass. His face was still chalky, making the black fire of his eyes all the more remarkable. Resolution had returned to his features, and yet at the same time his expression was forlorn. “Jenna,” he said, “if I were to walk back into the library and all the Ingersoll women turned their backs on me, and Luxton and Taff and Fulsome pointed their fingers and laughed—if I were to go to the spaceport tomorrow and be denied a place at the finest restaurant, a chance to shop in the most elegant shops—if people on the street were to look at me and whisper ‘Half-cit!'-would you laugh and point and whisper with them? Would you turn away from me as well?”

“I would not turn away from you no matter what you had done,” I said, though I had to wonder what crime he may have committed that would cause his citizenship to be stripped away from him and all his friends to deride him. “You are a good man, Mr. Ravenbeck, I know that in my heart. And whatever gauge society uses to measure goodness is not the same one I carry. I do not judge a man's worth by his pocketbook and his standing in the world, as you know.”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes still remained sad. “No, you judge him by the weight of his atoms and the chemical compounds he can return to the earth when he is dead.”

“And you, being such a solid, well-built man, will have quite a healthy number of molecules to return to the soil,” I said in a comforting voice. The ridiculous sally was meant to make him laugh, and it did. He even straightened a bit in his chair, and smoothed a hand over his dark hair.

“Very well! I will go to Merrick. You must tell my guests that I will not be back for the rest of the evening—I have been called away to attend matters of business. I should, however, be available again in the morning.”

“Is there nothing more I can do for you?”

“Not at present. If your services become necessary, I will call you, no matter how late the hour.”

Strange what a glow that gave me, that he should consider me worthy to offer him assistance! “I shall see you in the morning, then.”

“In the morning.”

I made my way with care through the darkened room, which presented many hazards, and was relieved to finally gain the well-lit hall. In a few minutes I was back downstairs in the library. Mr. Taff, still jovial, had drawn up a chair beside Bianca and her mother, and was regaling them with some tale which seemed to hold interest for neither. Fulsome and Luxton were still playing their game while Melanie looked on, pretending an interest so false as to fool no one. None of them even glanced up when I came through the door.

“Mr. Ravenbeck has asked me to tell you all that he has been called away to urgent business,” I said in a clear voice that I pitched to carry through the room. A few sullen faces turned my way. None of them seemed to be enjoying themselves this evening, and my announcement only capped the dreary mood. “He will be at your service again tomorrow.”

Only Mr. Taff seemed genuinely interested in my news. “Some problem down at the dubronium mine, perhaps?” he asked.

That seemed as likely an answer as anything, though I did not like to lie. “He was not specific,” I said.

Bianca Ingersoll flung herself to her feet.
“Lord,
but this has been a dreadful day!” she exclaimed. “Someone fetch me a drink, and then I am off to bed. Nothing could be worse than this.”

“You have already had a drink, my love,” her mother said.

“Well, then, I shall have another—or another and another—for when there is no entertainment offered, you must make your own.”

Mr. Taff was also on his feet, much more assiduous in her service than he had been during the preceding days of his visit. Or perhaps it was just that I had never seen him in a room that did not also contain Mr. Ravenbeck. “What would you like? I'll get it for you.”

She gave him a sideways look, so cutting and calculating that I was surprised it did not slit his throat right open. “Would you, Harley?” she said in a sly, purring voice. “I cannot tell you how very much I would appreciate that.”

I did not stay to watch any more of the drama play out, but turned on my heel and left the room. Truth to tell, the events of the evening had exhausted me, and I climbed the stairs and went directly to bed. I had much to think about—the strange things Mr. Ravenbeck had said to me under the guise of the electronic gypsy, the strange mien he had exhibited when he learned of the arrival of Mr. Merrick—but none of these thoughts could keep me awake for long. I shifted position once or twice on my mattress; I closed my eyes, opened them again, closed them; and I slept.

T
wo hours later the house was roused by sirens. I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart bounding along to the rise and fall of that sinister wail, then I jumped up and dressed. The nearest thing to hand was one of my nondescript working coveralls, so I stepped into this, zipped it up, crammed my feet into a pair of shoes, and ran out the door. In less than a minute I was down all three flights of stairs to my basement workroom, checking my monitors. Nothing. I did a quick visual scan of the instrument boards, which showed no sign of fresh damage; indeed, nothing in the room appeared to have been disturbed.

Then I thought to check the grid that showed the systems for the whole park, even the mine, and sure enough, the red flashing danger light was located in a small building just to the left of the main compound. “Gilda Parenon,” I whispered.

They had plenty of technicians in the mining compound, but there might be something I could do. I ran back up to the ground level of the manor, to find nearly the whole house roused. The male guests were all half dressed and milling about the foyer, looking ready to go off and do battle. The women, including Mrs. Farraday, were all positioned at various stations on the stairwell, clinging to the rail or leaning weakly against the wall, peering down toward the front door and calling out faint, mewling questions. I did not see Janet or Ameletta; I presumed the tutor had gone immediately to the little girl's room and was keeping her company there.

Mrs. Farraday was the first one to see me, and the first one to realize that I might have some specialized knowledge. “Oh! Jenna! There you are! This terrible noise—Jenna, are we in any danger?”

Much as the others might despise me, they all fell silent to listen to my reply. “The trouble is isolated in one small building at the mining compound,” I replied. “Our shields are intact, and we are completely safe. You may all return to your beds to sleep.”

“How could anyone possibly sleep with such a racket as this?” Mrs. Ingersoll cried.

“I imagine the alarms will be turned off at any moment,” I said calmly. “They are merely there to alert someone to the emergency. Once a technician begins to address the problem, the alarms will stop.”

Indeed, just as I finished my sentence, the sirens quit with an abruptness that made the silence seem ominous. We all stood uncertainly for a moment, as if, one plague lifted, another one would be certain to descend, and in the absolute quiet all we heard was the sound of our own feet shifting. Till there was a sudden external roar of a powerful motor rapidly approaching, coming so close to the door it seemed it would crash right through. Melanie Ingersoll screamed. Then the engine halted, a heavy metal door opened and slammed shut, and Mr. Ravenbeck burst into the foyer.

His eyes swept the assembled company and found me. “Good, you are awake,” he said briskly. “We need you.”

There was a moment's agonizing silence. “Me, sir?” I said.