“You have my permission,” I said.
The canal agent was singing now. He had a fine tenor voice.
At some point, Eldric must have fetched more wine. Wine is cheering. Have I said that before?
Thoughts are strange creatures. They lead you from one thing to another. Sometimes you don’t know how you got from one to the next. I went from the Dark Muse, to Lord Randal, to Stepmother. I wished I didn’t know that she must have suffered when she died. I wished I didn’t know about arsenic poisoning, but I’d asked and I’d found out.
I jumped as Eldric tapped my shoulder. “You’re far away.” He set down a plate of chocolate biscuits.
But I was no farther than Stepmother’s grave, just outside the cemetery gates, all in the raggle-taggle grasses-o.
“I want to apologize,” said Eldric. “I’ve been an ass.”
Sorry? I would never be sorry! But then I couldn’t remember what there was to be sorry about. Leanne, Leanne—it had to do with Leanne.
“Cecil, by the way, is staring at you,” said Eldric. “From the shadows.”
“He’s lurking,” I said. “It’s so romantic to lurk in the shadows with a broken heart. Is he wearing a long, black cloak?”
Eldric smiled and shook his head.
I’d been thinking about Leanne, hadn’t I? Not Cecil. Yes, I had some thoughts about Leanne. “May I ask you something?”
“It depends on what it is.” Eldric handed me a biscuit in a delicate, tentative way, as though he were handing me a flower.
I was going to ask him, yes I was. “You remember Blackberry Night?”
The torches were alive with yellow butterfly-flames. “I can’t forget it.” His eyes were whiter than white.
“You remember the thing we might have done that night, but it turned out to be a thing we didn’t do?” It was late and my tongue had gone bleary. “The thing you stopped us from doing?”
“I especially can’t forget that.”
I was asking about lust, wasn’t I? I was fairly certain of it. But isn’t love supposed to come before lust? It does in the dictionary.
“Did you do that with Leanne?”
He flung out a hand. It’s silent London language. I believe it’s meant to hail a cab. Which also means the cab must stop. “What do you think I am?” His lion’s eyes matched the candlelight. “I don’t go about preying upon young and virtuous ladies.”
“Leanne’s not a virtuous lady.”
“Let’s not get into that again.”
“She’s not even that young.”
“Just wait until you’re twenty-two—”
I interrupted him. “She’s twenty-three.” But when one is cheerful, one doesn’t mind interrupting. “Do you remember what she said to Rose? Leanne said she was very old indeed.”
“I do remember.” Again, I couldn’t read his expression.
My tongue thought of a cleverer thing to say. “Never mind Leanne. Have you done it with ladies who lack virtue? They’re often rather old, aren’t they?”
Eldric laughed quick and loud, as though he’d been startled. “You’ve had too much wine.” His eyes were golder than gold.
But I liked wine. Wine was cheerful.
“You’re making me squirm,” he said. “Let’s hope you don’t remember this tomorrow.”
“I have an excellent memory.”
“I know,” said Eldric. “It’s quite a problem.”
I’d forgotten about the chocolate flower-biscuit. I’d eat it, although one doesn’t usually eat a flower. “Just answer me, and we’ll pretend I’ll have forgotten by tomorrow.”
This time Eldric flung up both hands, which I knew wasn’t to stop a cab but to surrender. See how quickly I’m learning this silent language?
“How can I put it—without blushing, at least!”
“You’re already blushing,” I said.
“Not much like a bad boy, am I?” said Eldric. “I could perhaps start by mentioning that I’m a man—”
“A boy-man,” I said.
“A boy-man? How am I to take that? Shall I thank you or challenge you to a boxing match?”
“A boxing match,” I said. “But no more of those silly butterfly punches!”
Eldric smiled. “Very well. I’m a boy-man, then, and a boy-man who’s twenty-two years old—”
I saw where he was going. “What a terrible way to put it!”
“How so?”
“If I were to give you the same answer, it would have no meaning, would it? Isn’t it assumed that a young lady of seventeen, or twenty-two, even, has refrained from acting upon, well—”
Here my tongue, until now so merry, failed to find a non-squirmy word.
“Impulses?” said Eldric.
“Impulses.” Actually, it would be assumed that the young lady had no such impulses at all, but I’ll tell you something: Chocolate melts on my tongue too.
“It’s unfair, I suppose,” he said. “But it’s true. It’s simply true that a twenty-two-year-old man has more liberty than a girl.”
“If she’s a girl of virtue.”
“Just so.”
“Am I pretty again?” I said.
“You’re always pretty!”
“I wasn’t when I was ill. You told Rose!”
“Rose told you that! It was just by way of explaining to her—yes, you’re pretty again.”
“Am I beautiful?” I said.
“Beautiful,” said Eldric.
“Leanne is beautiful,” I said.
“No more wine for you,” said Eldric.
It is possible that at this point I slipped from my chair. Eldric said we must be getting home. “I have a surprise for tomorrow. I want you to feel well enough to enjoy it.”
I said I was fond of wine and chocolate biscuits. But Eldric said I mustn’t have any more. I kicked him under the table.
“Time to go,” said Eldric. “I hope we can keep this from your father.”
“I hate my father.”
“Do you really?” said Eldric. “That’s probably the wine talking.”
I said wine couldn’t talk, and leaned against him, making him drag me along. Then the tune of “Lord Randal” popped into my head, and it seemed a pity not to sing along, so I did for quite a long while, until Eldric said to hush because we were home and Father would hear me.
“The wine hates Father and I hate Father too.” My feet were surprised to find themselves on the garden steps. I turned round to make sure. There was the garden, and there was Eldric, and it was funny that I was almost as tall as he.
“Your lips are blue again.”
“I’m not the least bit cold,” I said.
“That’s also the wine talking.”
I slopped forward.
“Steady!” Eldric caught my shoulders.
But I wanted to slop forward. “Give us a kiss, then, love!”
