Midnight Masquerade (16 page)

“They wouldn’t reexamine it if she’d just renewed the policy. It’s been insured for years, but only examined when she first took out the policy.”

“What other nonsense can we consider?” he asked, rubbing his chin.

“I wish I could think the whole thing had never happened.”

“I wish I had been here when it did happen. In fact, I wish I had been here three days sooner, “ he added. “Unconscionable behavior on my part. I don’t believe I ever properly apologized. I
am
sorry, Deirdre.”

“I don’t blame you. I knew you never wanted to marry me. Why did you offer, Dick?”

“Because you looked beautiful in the moonlight, and I was overcome with a whim to kiss you. Great oafs from little acorns grow. Your aunt saw us—I don’t know whether she ever told you so. She had me on the carpet; I implied my intentions were honorable. She gave me permission to marry you, and that was that. You could have knocked me over with a feather when you accepted. I thought you would scotch the plan. I was angry with you and decided to make it impossible for you to go through with it. My overweening pride whispered your supposed illness was a ruse to bring me to heel. A gentleman cannot call off, but if he is selfish and brutish, he can force a lady to do so. I am quite ready to go through with the wedding, if you wish.”

“I don’t want just a wedding, Belami. I want a marriage and a husband who comes home nights,” she told him sadly. She didn’t add that she wanted him to be that husband. She was new at suspending her disbelief.

“Naturally I meant marriage, and all that implies,” he added stiffly.

“Yes, but it implies different things to me than it does to you. I got Auntie to postpone the announcement, and if you are only a little patient, I shall talk her into forgetting all about your unwise offer and my foolish acceptance.”

“And it was only to escape Twombley that you accepted?” he asked, regarding her closely.

He had been taken advantage of once; she wouldn’t do it again. “Yes, that’s the only reason,” she said in a dull voice.

“Most couples have a period of courting before they make up their minds,” he said. “Why don’t you allow me to court you, and see what happens? Who knows? We may suit better than either of us thinks”

“Why not? We’re snowed in for the time being. We must see each other. You must have a flirt by all means, and I . . .”

He looked expectantly, curious to hear what she had to say of herself. “Do go on. You were just reaching the more interesting part.”

“Well then, I shall. I have taken a New Year’s resolution. I have resolved to enjoy myself, like other women. Like Lady Lenore.”

“Not quite so much as Lenore, I hope!”

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“I think I do. If your performance before dinner is an example of how far you mean to go, I approve. Providing it is I you bludgeon with your fan, and not Bidwell.”

They returned belowstairs in harmony. Deirdre was happier with their relationship than she had ever been. She had no real hope of reforming Belami, but who knew? Nearly impossible things could happen. They had already happened to her. Belami had apologized, and he had sounded sincere. She had forgiven him for his inattention, and that too seemed extremely unlikely twenty-four hours ago. She even felt comfortable enough to ask a question that had been puzzling her.

“Now that you know I saw you arrive from my perch on the roof, perhaps you’ll answer me a question. What took you such an uncommonly long time to make a very careless toilette?” she asked.

“My conscience,” he answered simply. “I dressed in less than a minute, and sat perched on the end of my bed, debating with myself how I should behave when I joined the party.”

“Whether you should beg off, you mean?” she asked frankly.

“Yes.”

“What did you decide?”

“I flipped a coin eventually, and Fate decided we were meant for each other,” he answered. “You soon disabused me of the idea, but there’s no arguing with Fate, you know,” he told her with an intimate, devastating smile.

Chapter 11

When Bessler returned to the saloon after wafting the duchess off to dreamland, Belami was at pains to engage him in conversation. Belami sat with Deirdre, looking at a new scientific journal that had recently arrived and explaining to her the principles behind the hot air balloon which he planned to have constructed. He thought it might be fun to make it himself. He was amazed that a lady would sit still for his highly scientific discourse on the molecular weights of various gases.

“Hydrogen is always used, as its weight is lightest, but it is highly flammable, of course. Helium is what I should like to try, but it is more difficult to come by, and expensive.”

“Where would you get it?” she asked.

He didn’t reply. His sharp eyes had spotted Bessler returning to the saloon. “Shall we ask Herr Bessler to join us?” he asked. This struck Deirdre as a disappointing notion, but she was too eager to foster the fragile friendship between Dick and herself to object.

“A glass of brandy, sir?” Belami offered, arising to accost Bessler as he passed their sofa.

“Very kind of you, Belami. I shall accept. Your aunt is in the land of nod,” he told Deirdre with a smile.

Belami poured Bessler a tumbler of brandy and made room for him on the sofa. “Miss Gower and I have just been discussing hot air balloons, Doctor,” Belami said, sliding in the “Doctor” to please the old man and disarm him. “As a scientific gentleman, perhaps you have some ideas on what gas other than hydrogen would be suitable.”

“I haven’t looked into the matter, to tell the truth,” Bessler replied.

“Of course, your own field is not physics, but medicine,” Belami said, willing to switch to what he really wanted to discuss in the first place. “I understand you worked with Mesmer in Austria.”

“No, sir, in Paris. Animal magnetism; it is a pity the world has taken it in derision. He was a great man, Mesmer. He passed away a few years ago. I am carrying on with his work in a small way.”

“Could you explain to me a little how it works?” Belami asked very courteously. “I take a keen interest in all medical matters. Truth to tell, I should have liked to be a doctor myself.”

“It has been an interesting career,” Bessler allowed. “Mesmer’s theory—well, he proved it. It is more than a theory, whatever they say. He believed that the stars affect the human body by means of vapors, invisible vapors. What do we know of the human body, after all? Do we know what drives the pump of the heart, or what bellows make our lungs exhale and inhale breath? Invisible, it is all invisible. Your microscope will not reveal nature’s secrets to you, my friend. These magical vapors are exuded through the body’s skin, into the fingers. I have seen Mesmer, by the simple placing of his hands on hysterical patients, reduce them to placidity. I have some of that same power myself, if I am not immodest to say so. Miss Gower will vouch for the therapeutic value of my work with her aunt. She suffers from the most wretched migraines, poor lady.”

“I have that ailment myself,” Belami said at once, all interest and sympathy. “How exactly do you go about easing her pain, Doctor? I should like to give it a try.”

“It would be impossible to treat yourself. The vapors’ magnetic powers would be all jumbled up if the ailing body tried to heal itself. You must have someone else do it. I place my hands on her forehead and her temples, just so,” he went on, giving Belami a demonstration. He placed the pads of his thumbs on Belami’s temples and pulled his fingers across his forehead, using considerable but not painful force. He repeated the strokes in a rhythmical way five or six times.

“You begin to feel the calming influence?” Bessler asked. “You feel the little electrical charges all line themselves up like soldiers, parading out from the middle of your head to the temples and marching down my thumbs? I can feel the tingling in my own thumbs as they march off, left, right, left, right. Away they go, leaving blessed peace.”

Belami was amazed to realize that he felt remarkably relaxed. The doctor’s voice was low pitched, slow, his fingers indeed possessed of some near-miraculous power. Another two minutes, and he felt he could have slipped into slumber himself.

Bessler stopped and sat back, looking at him through his monocle. “You see? It is not a fraud, animal magnetism, whatever the non-believers may choose to say.”

“It’s amazing! I never felt anything like it. It’s got laudanum beat all hollow,” Belami exclaimed, shaking himself back to alertness. “And what other magic can this animal magnetism perform, Doctor?”

“Do not use the word magic, if you please. That was the tool used to discredit poor Mesmer, that he dealt in magic. It is human nature, that’s all.”

“It would be a marvelous tool for relieving the chronic pain of, say, gout. But then, of course, the patient would be asleep and couldn’t perform his normal functions. It wouldn’t be possible to move your limbs, when in such a deep sleep as animal magnetism would induce. As you said, it’s not magic,” Belami said.

“No, it’s not magic, but there are more things in this world than men have dreamed of. Of course a person could not go through life in a deep sleep. What would be the point of living, unaware of what went on? But that is not to say the limbs are actually incapable of moving when under the induced sleep.”

“I find that hard to swallow,” Belami said in a doubtful way. “Have you ever performed this miracle?”

“I do not have Mesmer’s incredible power. I have never achieved that, but then it is only a stunt. I can ease the pain of migraine or other chronic pain without putting my patient to sleep. And I can put my patients to sleep too, if that is what they wish. That’s miracle enough for me.”

“It’s marvelous,” Belami said simply, allowing an expression of awe to invade his features. Looking at him, Deirdre feared he was doing it too strong, but Bessler did not perceive it.

“Yes, I am a good doctor,” Bessler admitted. “It was jealousy that caused the College of Physicians to move against me. Jealousy and the greed of the chemists. Who would buy their laudanum and hartshorn if all doctors were curing with their hands? Ha, no one, that’s who.”

“It’s a disgrace,” Belami declared. “Tell me where you keep shop in London, and I’ll send a dozen patients to you.”

“I am not permitted to hang a shingle. I have rooms on Glasshouse Street, just at the corner by Great Windmill. A brown brick apartment house, the upper story, but I doubt that your great friends would be willing to travel out of their way.”

“Nonsense. I’d be happy to do it when one of my curst migraines comes on, and so would any of my friends. I’ll be sure to recommend you.”

“That is obliging of you, sir. If you could put in a word with the College of Physicians to get my license back, it would be even better.”

“I’ll mention it to Halford,” Belami said.

Bidwell chose that moment to join them. “The doctor has just been giving us a lesson in animal magnetism,” Belami said, looking with apparent disinterest to Bidwell. “Why don’t you join us, Bidwell?”

“Animal magnetism? What the deuce is that?” Bidwell asked.

“Mesmer’s theory,” Bessler replied, ready to go into it again.

“It sounds fascinating. What do you do, Bessler? Rub two cats together and see if they can’t be pulled apart?” He gave a sardonic laugh and changed the subject. “Lady Belami has suggested a few tables of cards. We need another player. Can I recruit anyone here? You, Herr Bessler?”

“I would be happy to oblige Lady Belami. Thank you for the brandy, milord.”

“You’re entirely welcome. Thank you for the lesson, Doctor.”

The old man arose and went off to the card parlor with Bidwell.

“You laid the enthusiasm on a bit thick,” Deirdre told him.

“Devil a bit of it. As another doctor, Johnson to be exact, said, a man with a bit of unusual knowledge is like a lady with a new petticoat. He’s not happy till he’s had an opportunity to display it. Did you not tell me Bessler offered to put your aunt to sleep in her saloon and send her to her bed afterward in some sort of a trance?”

“Yes, when his license was revoked he offered. He never actually did it.”

“Hmm, but he told her he could do it, and he told me he couldn’t do it. There’s more to this mesmerism than I thought. I could have gone to sleep in two seconds, if I’d let myself.”

“You have to cooperate. He insists it is a mutual job, not one working against the other,” Deirdre told him.

Belami sat silent and pensive a moment, then spoke. “I once saw a man eat a fly,” he said.

“Really! How revolting! Why did he do that?”

“He didn’t know he was doing it. It was at a tent at Bartholomew Fair. An Indian fellow put three of the audience into a trance and told them to do ridiculous things. One man ate a fly; another took off his jacket and put it on backwards. The third danced a jig. The Indian chose a fat, dignified old gent for that. I thought at the time that they were his helpers, pretending to be members of the audience, but I later heard the fat man’s wife give him a rare Bear Garden jaw for making such a cake of himself. I doubt that the Indian ever heard of Mesmer, but he was practicing a similar sort of magic. He didn’t use his hands at all, just his eyes. He stared into his victims’ eyes and sent them into a deep sleep, during which they did exactly as he directed. Afterward, they had no memory of it. It’s a strange world, isn’t it?”

“Very strange,” she agreed. “Do you actually plan to visit him in London?”

“What for? I’ve never had a migraine in my life. I’ve given more than my share of them.”

“But you’ll send your friends to him?”

“I wouldn’t let him treat my dog, let alone my friends. Did you notice that Bidwell made a point of interrupting us when we fell into a longish talk with Bessler?”

“Yes, I noticed. I also noticed you made a point of getting Bessler’s address. Why bother, if you don’t plan to use it?”

“I like to amass all the facts I can. I have a strong intuition this particular fact may prove vital.”

“Dick, you’re deducing! Please tell me what it is.”

“No, I could be wrong again, and you already know me for a jackass. Why confirm it? We were discussing Bidwell’s running to carry off Bessler when I was quizzing the old boy.”