Nina Coombs Pykare (9 page)

Of course, never before had she sensed such a response in herself as she felt for this man. But that did not at all alter the facts; indeed, her feelings made her position the more perilous.

They had been riding along in silence, Jennifer intent on her thoughts, when Mortimer said, “I quite like that stallion, Sir. What is he named?”

The Viscount smiled. “I call him Mystery because of his darkness. But I have begun just lately to see that mystery need not be dark. Indeed, it may be very fair.”

All this was far over the children’s heads, but Jennifer knew that the Viscount was directing his remarks to her.

“Some mysteries,” she replied curtly, “are only in the eye of the beholder. Most of them are quite mundane and ordinary once one gets close enough to investigate thoroughly.”

The Viscount threw her a quizzical look but said nothing.

  In spite of the fact that from then on Jennifer kept her eyes resolutely directed on the road between the pony’s ears, she was very much aware of the man who rode beside them, sitting his horse with the practiced ease of an inveterate sportsman. How broad his shoulders and how well-muscled his legs in their buckskins. She must stop this kind of thinking, Jennifer told herself sharply. She simply must.

They rode some little distance further in silence and then the Viscount spoke. “I must leave you here. I trust you will have a pleasant journey homeward.”

“Thank you. Milord,” said Jennifer soberly. “I trust we shall. And thank you for the directions to the beach.
We greatly enjoyed our visit there.”

She could hardly avoid looking at the man as she spoke and she saw that he was regarding her intently, a frown creasing his forehead. For a brief moment his eyes met hers and a great warmth welled up within her. It threatened to spill over into her eyes and give away the vulnerable condition of her heart. So, with a pang, she looked away.

The Viscount touched his beaver. “I often travel on this road. Perhaps we shall encounter each other again,” he said cheerfully.

  “Perhaps,” replied Jennifer in a tone that gave very little encouragement, keeping her eyes steadily upon the road. The Viscount spoke to his horse and moved off, careful, Jennifer saw, not to raise any dust that might descend on them.

“Don’t you like the Viscount?” asked Cassie.

“Why, whatever makes you ask a thing like that?” Jennifer felt the color filling her cheeks again.

“You’re not very nice to him,” said Cammie with the clear perception of the very young.

“You do not understand, children. The Lord Haverford is a very nice person. I do not dislike him. It’s only that... that...” She struggled for words. “You see, he is a lord and I am only a governess and... and it is unseemly for me to make light conver-sation with him.”

“Why?” asked Mortimer. “Ain’t he a regular gentleman?” This was said with a truculent frown.

“Of course he is,” Jennifer hastened to answer. “A very good gentleman. But... but gentlemen and governesses should not... That is, I am not.... Oh Mortimer!” she cried, quite distraught by the turmoil within her. “I cannot explain it. Please do not ask me any more about it.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Jennifer,” said the boy, a worried frown on his face. “I just wanted to be sure he is a gentleman.”

“He is, Mortimer, take my word for it. He is a very good gentleman.” Jennifer swallowed several times over the lump in her throat and blinked back the tears that rose to her eyes. This kind of freakish behavior was quite wrong. She must set her mind to facing reality - hard as that might be. And the reality was that Viscount Haverford was the most dangerous man she had ever met. He was dangerous to her peace of mind, to her plans for the future, and, acknowledging the intensity of the feelings she was fighting so hard to suppress, he was dangerous to her heart!

Chapter Six

The dinner was every bit as dreadful as Jennifer had envisioned it. Ingleton on her right was giving all his attention to Lady Carolyn at the end of the table. Now, Jennifer would ordinarily have been quite glad to be rid of Ingleton’s rather tepid chatter. But this evening she would most gladly have endured it. For across the table at an angle from her and on Lady Car-olyn’s left sat Lord Proctor.

The elegantly dressed beau glared daggers at her, presumably for not better engaging Ingleton. Though how he ex-pected a mere governess to compete with a titled heiress was beyond Jennifer’s com-prehension. At any rate she was quite unable and unwilling to vie with Lady Carolyn for Ingleton’s attention.

  But most of her distress was caused by the man on her left. Monsieur Dupin, in his inevitable black, insisted on reminding her of his promise to do something about the ailment of her heart. Considering her present state of turmoil over the probable intentions of the Viscount in regard to her, she might well have wished for another subject of discussion, any other.

“Please, Monsieur Dupin,” she said finally. “Will you tell me something about the Master himself, about Mesmer?”

She held her breath as those black eyes regarded her solemnly. She almost ex-pected him to read her mind and call her to account for this attempt at diversion, but he merely nodded.

“The Master had great power, greater than any I have known. He cured the sick in great numbers.”

“Why then,” asked Jennifer, “has the practice of his method not become more widespread?”

The Frenchman shrugged. “The doctors, those in power, they did not believe. Even when he offered to let them watch him work. They did not come and then they wrote lies about him.” Dupin scowled. “The mankind is full of stupidness. These rich doctors, they did not like that he took their patients - and the money that came from such.”

  Dupin touched her arm, with effort she kept still. “Once the Master healed a girl of blindness. She had been blind since four years of age. She was very talented pianist, Maria Therese von Paradis. When the Master helped her she could no longer play well the piano. Her parents were disturbed by this. Her former doctor spoke to the parents. They dragged the girl away. Hys-teria overtook her; she lost again her sight.”

“How horrible of her parents,” said Jennifer indignantly.

Dupin smiled slightly. “Mademoiselle has a tender heart for those in distress.”

“It was terrible of them to frighten her back into blindness. Was there nothing Mesmer could do?”

The Frenchman shook his head. “The rapport had been destroyed. Without the confidence between the practitioner and the patient nothing can be achieved. The current must flow.”

  Jennifer, methodically eating the con-tents of her plate, had no idea what she was dining on. Monsieur Dupin’s story was frightening - in more ways than one. Of course, it was frightening to consider what the cupidity of parents could do to their children. But even more frightening to Jennifer was the possibility that this animal magnetism, this power, this current, that Dupin spoke so confidently of, really did exist and could be tapped. Dupin’s story, though it might have been made up, sounded to Jennifer like the truth. And certainly Mesmer must have had some power in order to effect so many cures and make as much furor as he had.

Also, Jennifer was very much aware, some kind of power was available to Monsieur Dupin himself. In his case, she could not help feeling a sense of evil, of imminent danger. Perhaps such power, if it really existed, was available for evil pur-poses as well as good ones. This was not a thought Jennifer enjoyed entertaining. But there was definitely something about Monsieur Dupin that, in spite of all his efforts to ingratiate himself with her, made her fear him.

There was, of course, no way to prove or disprove any of this, but Jennifer hoped devoutly that she would not have to sub-mit to this man’s ministrations in order to please Mrs. Parthemer. The very thought terrified her.

There was, however, little time to pursue such thoughts. For across the table from her, now wearing a gown of a particularly bilious green, Mrs. Parsons was addressing her. “So you are a governess, my dear. An admirable calling. So much responsibility but so rewarding. To think of the little darlings lisping out their letters so sweetly at your knee. It quite makes me choke up.”

Fortunately Mrs. Parsons’s difficulty in swallowing was short-lived for she immediately attacked a slice of roast beef and managed to swallow it quite nicely.

Jennifer continued to eat automatically. She much doubted that the rotund Mrs. Parsons had ever come close to a living, breathing child. Certainly all Jennifer’s charges, including young Cammie, would find the picture of them lisping out their letters at her knee highly ludicrous. Well, Mrs. Parsons was obviously a good soul, one who meant well. And that, perhaps, was the best thing that could be said about her.

  Mrs. Parsons, having very rapidly emptied her plate, turned her attention to Mr. Parthemer on her left. That gentleman had been endeavoring to keep himself out of the conversation as much as possible. But now, Mrs. Parsons saw her chance and, never doubting for a moment that her host would find her recital of the greatest interest, launched into a minute account of their journey. Now, had Mrs. Parsons, like most inveterate talkers, been content with a nod here and there, Mr. Parthemer would undoubtedly have indulged her. But that gentleman, finding his dinner severely threatened by the necessity of making sensible replies to Mrs. Parsons’s ram-blings, in desperation summoned the foot-men. “Here, eat up now. Plenty of food.”

Fortunately for Mr. Parthemer’s peace and his wish to eat his dinner in relative quiet, Mrs. Parsons was soon so engrossed in filling her plate - and emptying it - that she no longer thought it her duty to enter-tain her host and Mr. Parthemer was allowed to finish his repast in grateful silence.

Jennifer, watching the whole thing, could not help but feel for the man. Here he had a house full of guests - none of whom he knew or cared about - and he was forced to listen to the chatter of the likes of Mrs. Parsons besides.

Jennifer wondered idly how Mr. Par-themer would respond to all the para-phernalia that encumbered the Red Room. Surely he would think this a bunch of flummery, not a sensible head in the whole lot. And Jennifer would be quick to agree with him, except for that strange aura of power that surrounded the Frenchman.

After dinner Mrs. Parthemer astonished her husband by saying, “We will repair immediately to the Red Room. Monsieur Dupin is going to give us a demonstration of animal magnetism.”

  “But my dear Mrs. Parthemer,” protested her spouse, thus summarily denied his after-dinner cigar and port.

Mrs. Parthemer turned anguished eyes heavenward as though supplicating for patience in dealing with such a recal-citrant. “Mr. Parthemer,” she returned plaintively. “Surely your wife’s health is of
some
importance to you.”

Mr. Parthemer obviously knew when he was bested. “Of course, m’dear. Of course.”

No one else daring to malign the impor-tance of their hostess’s health by lingering at the table, the party trailed after her to the Red Room. Here the drapes had been drawn and several large mirrors placed around the walls. Jennifer recognized them as having been brought from other rooms. Candles had also been lighted, but not enough for one to see clearly. Only enough to give the room a mysterious glow. The cloying smell of flowers informed her that Monsieur had full access to the conserva-tory. Near the tubs were judiciously placed chairs and Monsieur Dupin motioned his followers to make themselves comfortable.

Jennifer, noting the solicitude with which both Ingleton and Lord Proctor sought to help Lady Carolyn to a place and station themselves beside her, wisely concluded that she preferred the other tub. There she was joined by a glum Mr. Parthemer, who was heard to mutter something under his breath about tomfoolery. The breathless Mrs. Parsons, finding that Mrs. Parthemer had filled the last available chair in the circle that held her ward, concluded that she would be sufficiently chaperoned during the ensuing demonstration, and sat next to Mr. Parthemer.

There was much chattering and settling into chairs, many whispered queries as to the nature of the proceedings. During all of this Monsieur Dupin remained aloof, waiting, so it seemed, for something. Fin-ally an uneasy silence settled over the room and head after head turned toward Monsieur Dupin. When the silence had lasted some few minutes, he spoke. There was a strange eerie quality to his voice that made Jennifer want to shiver.

“You will now listen carefully,” he said. “Will one of you gentlemen loosen one end of the rope that is attached to the ring in the lid of the tub?”

Grumbling all the while, Mr. Parthemer performed this task. Jennifer, from a vantage point that allowed her a view of the other tub, concealed a smile as Ingle-ton and Lord Proctor both strove to uncoil the rope and made exceeding slow work of it.

“Now,” continued Monsieur Dupin, “the rope is to be placed loosely around you. Have a care that you allow no knots in it. Knots obstruct the flow of the fluid.”

Again Jennifer, with the assistance of a still grumbling Mr. Parthemer, having passed the rope around herself and Mrs. Parsons, watched as the two beaux strove each to do most for Lady Carolyn. Even in the candlelight the expression on Mrs. Parthemer’s face boded no good for her nephew. It was one thing, she seemed to be saying, to pursue a title, it was quite another to completely ignore one’s relation. So complete was Ingleton’s attention to Lady Carolyn that Monsieur Dupin himself was forced to step forward and assist his hostess in the placement of the rope.

“Now you will draw near to each other and touch knees, feet, and arms.” There was much shuffling of feet and dragging of chairs. Then silence prevailed once more.

“Mr. Parthemer, Mr. Ingleton, you will each grasp a rod.”

The gentlemen in question did as they were told - Mr. Parthemer, with the expression of a much put upon man and Mr. Ingleton with a glance of triumph at his rival.

  “Now you will please to make a chain by linking your right thumb and forefingers with your neighbor’s.”

Here Mr. Parthemer looked about to revolt, but catching Jennifer’s eye and reading there her sympathy for his predicament, he smiled sheepishly and extended the required parts.