“Well and aye.”
I was more than a little surprised to see Rupert, Lady Spencer’s butler, answer the door at what was now August’s house. He was liveried in quite a different style, and in colors that shot a pain through my heart. I recognized my father’s colors of the coat and our coat of arms in an embroidered crest upon his waistcoat. He did not recognize me at first, but when he did, he suppressed a smile. “The master of the house has asked me to tell all callers he is not at home, sir and madam. If you will please follow me, I will inquire for you.”
We followed him into what had been the grand parlor. Where Lady Spencer had done the place in muted colors, August had had colorful paintings, upholstered couches, and velvet drapes brought in. A huge rug made of two animal skins sewn head to head filled the center and the bold black and white stripes of the creature seemed to point in all directions to the four corners of the room. Animal tusks crossed over portraits of Spencer ancestors. A breastplate from a suit of armor with a pole-sized piercing in one side hung at the mantel flanked by Chinese vases and heavy silver candelabras. Garish war shields and crossed spears had been mounted over the doorway. Everything seemed exotic and luxurious, as one might expect of the home of a man who traveled to the farthest reaches of the world. At one end of the room, rolls of papers drifted back and forth upon a massive desk-table, moved by some unfelt draft.
I waited by the front window. Cullah was in a far corner, inspecting a cabinet. “This chest is fine,” he said, pointing to the piece before him. “That one over there, worthless. It should not even be in this room. Look at those tenons visible. Anyone should know to shave up the grain and lap it over. But this, this is a work of mastery. The finials are so small they might topple from it.”
“And they do, regularly,” came a voice. It was August. “The blasted maid seems to do her dusting with a scullery mop. I’ve had to scold her three times for breaking things. My dear sister and brother-in-law. I am glad to see you both. I do apologize for not being able to entertain you this evening.” The coat he wore, though it was embroidered silk, was a dressing gown, not meant to be seen in public.
“Oh, August,” I exclaimed. “Are you wounded? What has taken you?”
“Some tropical blight, I reckon. It will pass.”
“May we impose upon your hospitality to spend the night?” Cullah asked.
August closed his eyes and opened them with such weariness I felt we should walk home instead, though it was late. He said, “Of course. I am always at your disposal. I will have a room laid for you, and a table. Forgive me if I do not join you. I was having broth before the fire in the opposite room.”
I looked into his eyes, and at that second, I believed he was lying. “What illness has brought this?” I asked again. “You have been shot?”
“No, fair sister, I have not been shot.”
“Stabbed, then.” I shuddered. I looked up at the armor over the fireplace, the obvious hole that meant death to its wearer.
Cullah said, “Ressie, leave him be.”
“Men! Secrecy when it is not warranted. Such dim-witted arrogance they cannot speak what is most obvious. August, are you dying?”
“Perhaps,” he said. Then he winked. “We are all dying, you know. At the moment, I am suffering the effects of the best medical treatment money can buy. The fools tell me I have the French disease.”
“French? Why, what—” But I knew what he meant. French disease, Dutch plague, Prussian blight, the Spanish pox. The rotting scourge of men who consorted with low women, and of women consorting with the syphilitic vermin inhabiting the wharves. I remembered anew what Wallace had done, the villainy of leaving me alone at midnight on the waterfront. “August, no,” was all I could say. I sat abruptly upon a couch.
“Fear not. You cannot catch it from me by being here. In a few days, I am assured, I shall be presentable again. Thanks to this physician, I shall forever smell like brimstone from the netherworld, never taste anything again nor make water without agony, but I shall probably live a few more months at least. With any luck I shall be hung before I go mad.” August rubbed at his clean-shaven chin and said, “Oh, my dear. I have upset you. I apologize, sweet Resolute. Please do not trouble yourselves. Now, please excuse me. Rupert will attend your stay. Good night.” He left the room and entered the smaller parlor across the hall.
Cullah turned to me and I to him. I made toward the small parlor room across the hall, but Cullah caught my arm. “Leave him.”
“But Cullah, I wish to speak to that doctor. I heard voices. There is more than one other man in there.”