The Pleasure Merchant (38 page)

You are right to look so wracked, for mine is a tragic tale—but fear not, Miss Rasa, it one that has a happy ending. I learned from your mistakes, and your unwitting sacrifice will help the world become a better place! I have already improved on my techniques, and she who has been the beneficiary of my experiments is almost ready to be displayed to the world, in all her glory. Surely now that you are a woman you can see that a silly child’s silly memories are a small price to pay for the furthering of pure science… can’t you?

“Well, Miss Rasa? What do you think?”

I had questions, so many questions, but I didn’t want to ask them. I did not want to learn anything more about myself. Not from this man.

Even if I asked, likely he would just tell me more about himself.

I didn’t have to wonder if his incredible allegations were really true. It all felt right, as learning my former name had, when Tom had told it to me.

“Sabina,” I said. He looked surprised that his wife’s name should be known to me. “She’s the… beneficiary you spoke of?”

He hesitated, and it seemed prudent to raise my pistol again.

“Tell me!”

“Yes!” he said, recoiling from the muzzle. “I met Sabina when we—you and I, I mean—lived in the north. I never let you leave our cottage, but I would go, sometimes, to the market, or to call on local gentlemen. They never knew I had a girl in the house, I pretended to be a bachelor surgeon studying for my exams.”

“What happened?” For some reason I needed to know.

“Sabina was the daughter of our landlord. She was a lovely girl. But I had you, and anyhow, it was evident that she preferred the, ah, company of other women over that of men. But… after we deposited you at the Foundling Hospital, when I returned to the cottage—
our
cottage—to pack up our things and settle the rent, I arrived at a most fortunate time. As I walked up the drive I found the house in chaos—Sabina and her best friend Lysandra had been caught together,
in flagrante delicto
, if you know what that means.” I rolled my eyes. “Ah, of course. You can understand, then, how upset everyone was. Lysandra’s father was already there to fetch her home; I believe he intended to put her in a convent. As for Sabina’s father, he had threatened to disown his daughter, to turn her out onto the moors to live as she might.

“Sabina was… hysterical. I convinced her father to leave me alone with her, to calm her. He believed I was a doctor, or close enough; likely he believed I wanted to administer a soothing draught in order to make her more reasonable.

“I cannot explain my sudden inspiration. I was still grieving of your loss, but I also knew I needed to continue my researches. Sabina seemed an ideal subject for that; unwanted by her family, willful… beautiful… That is why I put her into an onarprotreptic state. I suggested that for months she had been in love with me, not Lysandra,
never
Lysandra. I suggested that Lysandra had forced herself on Sabina. Then I woke her.

“It was astonishing—she was so contrite, so apologetic! Not only to me, for inconveniencing me, but to her father, for causing such an uproar. She explained away everything to her father, claimed that Lysandra had made advances and she had been too frightened to fight her off. Her father wanted to believe her so ardently that he convinced himself that she must be telling the truth.

“After that, it was simple enough to woo her, wed her, and take her home to London as my new protégé. Over the following months I confess I went a bit wild in my excitement over how well my methods were finally working… I suggested all sorts of things to her. Music had been her greatest pleasure in life, outside of her friendship with Lysandra… I persuaded her to believe she no longer had any interest in playing her harp. I suggested she thought of me as the wisest and best of men. I suggested that Lysandra had died in a riding accident—I even persuaded her into believing that she was of a weak and sickly nature, wholly dependent on me for everything. It was astounding—everything I told her in an onarprotreptic state came true when she was awake. I was giddy… here was the evidence I needed to show the world what a brilliant philosopher I really was! The Royal Society would not only accept me, I would take the world by storm once I published, I would be hailed as a genius, considered by all to be—”

“Completely disgusting,” I snapped. “Speak no more to me, you vile thing. You’re no philosopher—you’re nothing but a rascal.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” He dared to grin at me. I leveled my pistol.

“Put your hands behind your chair and
don’t move
.”

I was furious, but it was a calm fury—perhaps because I was less upset over what the blackguard had done to me than what he had done to that poor farm girl—and to Sabina. Because of Hallux’s manipulations I had gone on to live a wonderful life with Mr. Blythe; there was nothing I would have changed, save for my having been the cause of the death of that unnamed milkmaid.

Sabina, on the other hand, was trapped in a nightmare marriage to a man she had been tricked into loving. I could not live with myself if I allowed it to continue.

I tied Hallux to his chair, using only one hand and my teeth, another skill Mr. Blythe had taught me. When I had immobilized him to my satisfaction, I faced him yet again… and withdrew my pocket watch.

“Did you know my father left this with me?” I showed it to him. “It was my mother’s. It was an interesting choice… I wonder if your little story inspired him.”

“A lovely piece.” It pleased me to see him go pale. As well he might.

“Even lovelier is what I can do with it. Somehow, when I picked it up, I knew
exactly
what to do with it, even though I’ve heard the technique is… how did you put it? Proprietary?” I smiled at him. “As it turns out, cousin, that’s not entirely the case…”

I blew out all the candles in Hallux’s study, to guard against fire, and left him with the suggestion that he wake whenever someone knocked on his study door. After that, I let myself out… but I did not leave by the window.

Down the hall I went, to the room Hallux had told me was Sabina’s. I slipped inside. It was dark, but a low fire allowed me to see she was alone, and had retired for the night.

She was very pale and very blonde, like an angel in a Renaissance painting, save for her rather prominent nose. She did not snore as she slumbered, her hair tumbling artistically over her pillow. I wondered if Hallux had suggested she even sleep beautifully.

“Sabina.” I put my hand on her shoulder. She stirred, gently. “Sabina,
wake up
. But don’t be alarmed.”

“Don’t be…” she saw me; her eyes went wide. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend.” I put my finger to my lips. “I promise. Sabina—let me say one thing to you, and if that doesn’t convince you that I mean you well, I’ll leave.”

“Where’s Hallux?” She pushed herself up against the pillows, eyes wide with terror.

“Sabina, listen to me.” I leaned in close. “Lysandra didn’t die in a riding accident.”

Sabina’s eyes focused on me. “I know…” she said slowly, “but…”

“You don’t remember it.”

“No…” She put her hand to her temple. “It makes my head hurt to think on it… but you’re right… she didn’t die.”

“Not like that. She may still be alive.”

Sabina looked at me in wonder. “Who are you?”

“My name is… Alula Bewit.”

“Alula? But she died!”

“I am she. Or at least, I was. Your husband, he… can do things to people’s minds. Their memories. He used his talents to convince you that your dear Lysandra had died, and that you loved him, instead. But we can go look for her, for Lysandra, if you like. If you come with me.”

“Come with you? Come where?”

“I have a new life, a new name. I’ll help you do the same, if you like—but you must decide quickly, I’m afraid. If you stay, he’ll likely convince you again that you are his happy wife, and that your friend died in a riding accident.”

“How?”

I withdrew my pocket watch. The sight of the instrument convinced her; I didn’t need to say a word.

“He… any time I…” She shook her head, wincing. “I don’t remember… I can’t…”

I was desperate to be gone; we had tarried long enough. I could not control who knocked on Hallux Dryden’s door, or when, and I knew he would come for Sabina the moment he awoke. “You must come, now, if you want to leave. We can discuss the details later, but for now…”

“I understand.” She climbed out of bed. I was amazed—she might look like the girl Tom Dawne had described, but her vigor and spark did not recall his descriptions of the sleepy bride he had known. I felt a chill in that moment as I was once again struck by the true power of onarprotrepsis—a power I had used often, and carelessly, like a child playing games with a soldier’s sword. But I could not mull over the ethics of my ‘trick’ just then.

“Change into something warm and sensible,” I advised, “and we’ll climb down from here.”

“I can’t—”

“I’ll help you.”

She had taken a step towards her closet, only to pause, confused.

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because everything that happened to you… he meant to do to me. He
did
do it to me, but it went wrong… he took my memories from me, my past, and left me at the Foundling Hospital. He told everyone I had died.”

“You poor thing.” She clasped my hands in hers. “Thank you for this. I would have been his, forever, if you hadn’t… we were living as husband and wife…” She shuddered. “Oh God!”

“Not any more,” I said, pressing her hands firmly. She would have to deal with her memories, but for now I had to keep her in the here and now—had to keep us both there, really. Action had to come first. There would be plenty of time to talk over our mutual horrors once we escaped.

“Not any more,” she repeated, with a determined nod.

“Is there anything you want to take with you? I have plenty of money, and we can replace your clothes. But if there’s anything sentimental, you might not get another chance unless you get it now.”

She looked around, an expression of disgust distorting her perfect features. “I don’t want
any
of this,” she spat.

***

Within half an hour we had hailed a cab and were back and safe at home. Sabina and I talked the whole way there, whispering so as not to be overheard by the driver. I told her my name, my
real
name—answered her questions as best I could. I was pleased to see the last bits of her mental fog burning away in the light of realization. The Sabina whom Tom had known was slipping away, and I found I very much liked the woman who replaced her.

I anticipated that at some point her calm would leave her, and it did—almost the very moment she stepped inside the warm foyer of 17 Sackville Street. She began to shake, badly, and though she did her best to hide her tears, dashing them away with a laughing remark about already missing Hallux, I could see she was sincerely distressed. I understood. Even if she wanted to stay up later talking it over, she needed rest.

“I couldn’t possibly sleep,” she insisted. “If Lysandra is locked up in some convent somewhere, I must go to her.”

“You will.
We
will,” I promised, as I led her into the kitchens to see if I could dig up a bottle of wine, or perhaps some blackcurrant cordial. We had already decided the necessity of our both leaving London as quickly as possible, for Hallux would likely not just let his wife—and more importantly, to him, the subject of his monograph—be stolen from under his nose without mounting a response. “Just not tonight. We both need to rest, for we’ll want to take the earliest stagecoach tomorrow.”

Whether it was my powers of persuasion or the Madiera, I cannot say, but Sabina let me put her to bed in one of our guest rooms. I stayed with her until she fell asleep. She asked me to remain with her until we departed, but that was impossible. In spite of my lecture on being rested for the morrow, I doubted I would put my head to a pillow that night.

As I passed by Reed’s room on the way to my own, I saw it was ajar, and a light yet burned inside. I had never in my life felt less like a frolic, but we were good enough friends, he and I, that I knew he would not mind if I came to him for comfort of another kind.

“Rasa!” He set aside his book as I stepped inside. I managed to shut the door behind me before collapsing against it and sliding to the floor. He was beside me in an instant, kneeling on the deep rug. “What has happened?” he asked, shocked.

I had not let myself really feel anything that night, as Sabina had needed me to be whole and able, but now I began to shudder, and then sob. Reed took me in his arms as grief claimed me, and I clung to him like a child as I wept for my father, who had loved me even as he betrayed me; wept for a country girl senselessly murdered and ignominiously buried; for the lives Hallux had taken in other ways. Anger, too, fed my sorrow, anger at my cousin—but also at myself.

I knew better than anyone what Hallux was capable of, and I had every reason to suspect he would do it again. Yet while it had been tempting to erase his understanding of onarprotrepsis, his memories of my visit, or my master’s involvement—even of Sabina, I had not been able to make myself do it. Perhaps one day he would find himself impaled on his own spear, but I would not hold it for him. I would not imitate him in any way—I would have smashed my mother’s pocket watch to pieces if I could have borne parting with the only keepsake of my former life. Instead, I vowed never to use it again in that way, a promise I have more or less kept.