Ancient Appetites

But from the expressions on the faces around him, it was clear that nobody believed him. He stared helplessly at his brother, unable to fathom how Roberto, of all people, could suspect him. They had always trusted each other completely, and that trust was one of the few things in his family life that Nate had always thought he could count on. And as that was shaken, so too was everything he believed in.

'I can't say which surprises me more,' Edgar rumbled. 'That you had the nerve to finally attempt an act of aggression, or that you managed to cock it up despite a lifetime of training.'

That remark seemed to bring Roberto's misery to a head and tears welled up in his eyes. Mortally embarrassed, he struggled up off the divan and hurried towards the door, wiping his face with the cloth. Nate stood up, trying to reach his brother one last time, but as Berto passed him, he stopped and glared at Nate with bitter hatred.

'What about Marcus?' Berto asked. 'Was that you too?'

Nate turned away.

'Go to hell,' he hissed.

As Roberto left the room, Nate faced the four remaining men.

'If I did this thing, do you really think I'd carry it out with the one engimal that could identify me? I know a hundred ways of killing a man – including half a dozen that don't leave a trace – and you think I'd try and run my brother down with a velocycle? Do you think I'd leave a bloody note that linked me to some stupid bloody Fenians and risk everything I was trying to kill him for? And as for the letter… My God! Do you seriously think I'd hand on a note with that many spelling mistakes? Have you all lost your bloody minds?!'

'Perhaps it was a rash act, perhaps you planned too hastily,' Edgar replied. 'Perhaps you hoped to make it look like an accident but when you realized you hadn't killed him, your nerve failed you and you fled back to the house. Perhaps you left the note to throw us off the trail and avoid the emotional repercussions from the family. Perhaps you faked the handwriting and spelling mistakes to make it look as if it were written by an uneducated hand. We do not know these things yet. And until we do, you will not leave this house.

'Slattery tells me you ordered the release of the moneylender, Duffy.'

Nate gave the bailiff a hostile look.

'They beat the man to a pulp, Father.'

'If they did so, then it was only because it was necessary' Edgar assured his son. He went on in a dispassionate tone, 'You see, Nathaniel, if you had simply attacked Roberto, the Rules of Ascension would apply to protect you. But when I hear that you have taken pity on a known rebel sympathizer, and then this letter is found at the scene of your brother's assault, I am forced to re-evaluate your position.' His voice was lower now, and grating with menace. 'For we know that there is a traitor in this house, and if I find out that the betrayal is yours, I promise you the most dire consequences.'

He paused to let those words sink in.

'That is all. You are dismissed.'

The whole room waited in silence for Nathaniel to leave. He gritted his teeth and stood there for as long as he could bear his father's piercing stare.

'It wasn't me,' he managed at last – but it sounded weak and insubstantial after his father's declaration.

He spun on his heel and left the room, trying not to show his hurt. He had taken enough from the old man – from the whole family. His face burned with rage and shame, his hands were clenched into fists. The gas-lamps were turned down in the empty corridors, only every one in four glowing; he took the dimly lit stairs all the way up to his floor, savouring the darkness and quiet, letting his anger smoulder away as he worked his legs up one staircase after another. The exercise helped, and his feelings had subsided by the time he reached his rooms. He was able to think more clearly.

There was one good thing to come out of this at least: it was unlikely that Edgar would hand his business on to a suspected traitor, so it looked like his move to America was off. Now all he had to do was plan his departure from this damned house.

He threw off his dressing gown and climbed into bed, stacking the pillows up behind him so that he could sit up – there was no chance of him getting back to sleep. Wrapping the blankets around him, he lifted the cap on the speaking tube and asked Clancy – who he knew would still be awake – to bring him some cocoa and two slices of hot buttered toast.

Once his late-night snack was delivered on its tray, Nate sank into a miserable mood, brooding about how unbearable his life had become. He had intended to maintain this sulk until he drifted off to sleep, but it turned out that he was to be denied even this pleasure. There was a knock on the living-room door, and he knew at once that it wasn't Clancy.

Muttering under his breath, he set the tray aside and climbed out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown once more. He strode out into the living room and disarmed the booby traps on the hall door by pressing a series of levers on the underside of his writing desk. Then he grabbed the door handle and swung the door open, ready to unleash a string of abuse at whoever was standing on the other side.

Instead, he found himself speechless. Hunched in a thoroughly despondent posture in the hallway was his sister-in-law, dressed in one of Roberto's old suits. Nate's mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Daisy didn't wait to be invited in. Brushing past him, she stumbled into the living room, flung herself on the sofa and burst into tears.

Deciding that everyone in the house had gone completely off their rockers, Nathaniel sighed, closed the door and went and sat down beside her, looking at her in bemusement. Unsure of what to do to comfort her, he thought it best to get straight to the point.

'So what's wrong?' he enquired.

'Roberto's having an affair!' Daisy cried.

'Ah. I see.'

'No, you don't!' she sobbed. 'He's in love with another man! I saw them kissing!'

Nate sighed again. He had known about Roberto's tastes for a few years now; since before the marriage. He had spent enough time in boarding school to meet boys with all sorts of strange hobbies so it didn't bother him much. Homosexuality could land you in prison, although it was unlikely anyone would try and prosecute a man of Roberto's power. But not only had he betrayed his wife; if word got out, she would face the worst kind of humiliation.

'So who's the other man?' he asked.

Daisy glared at him, feeling that she wasn't getting the comfort that was due to a woman in her situation.

'Hennessy, the head groom,' she told him.

'Hennessy? Really?' Nate gaped. 'A servant? You're sure it's love? Besides, Hennessy's a bit old, isn't he? I knew Berto like the company of older men, but I always assumed it was because Father hated him and he needed some kind of… foster father. Hennessy's a salt-of-the-earth type, but he's hardly the most handsome man in the world, is he?'

'How should I know what he finds attractive?!' Daisy screeched at him. Pulling out a well-used handkerchief, she blew her nose. 'My husband's in love with a man! How should I know what he likes any more? I saw them kissing! It was the most awful thing. He's never kissed me like that. Never! I've tried to be a good wife – I tried so hard to do everything right. Men control every aspect of my life and now this! What can I do?'

She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

'How am I supposed to compete with a man for my husband's love?'

Nate regarded her with sympathy, bunched up in her ill-fitting suit, damp dark ringlets of hair hanging from under her flat cap.

'I don't know, Daisy. But you might well be wearing the right clothes for the job.'

She stared at him blankly for a moment and then burst into sobs again. Not knowing what else to do, he handed her a fresh handkerchief. He felt stupid now for saying that. Clancy would never have said it. Clancy would have known what to do with this distraught woman. Nate considered calling him for advice, but thought the better of it. For Daisy's sake, the fewer people who knew about this the better.

Instead, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. It seemed to be what she needed; she laid