Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (46 page)

“You must call me Katherine, Mrs Barnaby,” said mine own Wife; and the Notion struck me like case-Shot how much more, from a certain Point of View, she had to put up with than did Jane; how much more unreasonable, verily how extream were my Demands compared to those of Mr Barnaby. Yet Katherine did not contemn them as such. Therein lieth the Difference ’tween our Houses, I thought. When James Barnaby married Jane, Jane understood, or
thought she understood, the Conditions of their Contract; and either she was then deceived, or he hath since arbitrarily altered them. I would never do such thing, and Katherine is fully cognizant of that. My Sister is correctly sensible of an Injustice.

I pondered briefly whether this particular ill Usage of my Sister constituted sufficient Grounds for my breaking Barnaby’s Ribs, but decided, regretfully, that it did not. I thought, however, that it must necessitate a private Conversation with my Brother-in-law upon some future Date, when we were upon amicable Terms again. It annoyed me, also, that the immediate Cause of Jane’s Distress was the Destruction of that pretty Copse at the bottom of her Property—or her Husband’s—which had enchanted me upon that Daye when I had ridden over from Shirelands—the Daye when Katherine had flown down-Hill to meet me, a grass-stained Angel.

“When doth Mr Barnaby intend beginning the Trees’ removal?” I said.

“He says in the Summer; when the River is at its lowest.”

Mr Barnaby had thought me insane. “So, doth he imagine that ’twill never rise again?” I exclaimed. “Egad, Jane, your Husband is a Fool. A squalling Milksop, clinging to his Mother’s apron Strings and whining to her whenever his Will is challenged. I shall speak with him about your Willows, and your rightful Expectation to be Mistress in your own Abode. ’Tis wrong that Aunt’s Word should outweigh yours. You are Barnaby’s Wife, and his Child’s Mother. He will listen to you; or he shall answer to me.”

This Statement was met by a Look, from Jane, of mixt Skepticism, Longing, and Fear; but she did not speak.

“Please, might I see your Baby, Mrs Barnaby?” said Katherine, uncommon timidly, into the long Hiatus that followed.

Almost at once, Jane brightened, smiled, and said certainly,
Katherine might, as she was the Infant’s Aunt by Marriage; and even if’t had not been so, Jane so enjoyed shewing off her dear Amelia it would have made no Difference; she would have had her fetched immediately.

Both Women then looked inquiringly toward me, as if I might raise an Objection to this proposed Introduction of a Babe amongst our Party; but I had none. I shrugged my Shoulders. “By all Means, have the Child brought up,” I said. “’Tis mine own Niece, after all. I only hope, Jane, that you do not have it swaddled. Swaddling doth, I conceive, more Damage to the Infant’s developing Skeleton than it prevents.”

Jane looked astonished. “Truly, Brother,” she said. “I did not expect to find you so knowledgeable.”

“I am not without an Interest in Children’s Bones,” I said.

“Oh!” exclaimed Katherine. An hungry Apprehension echoed in the Caverns of her Voice.

Little Amelia was accordingly sent for, and less than five Minutes later had been passed from the not unkindly Arms of her Wet Nurse into the kindly ones of her Mother; and I had my first clear Glimpse of this small Snippet of mine own familial Cloth.

The Baby was light skinned, bald headed, and round faced, with dark hazel Eyes exactly like her Mother’s. She had a small Mouth, Lips like a tiny Rosebud, and a miniature Tongue that wriggled repeatedly between them, as if she were suckling upon an imaginary Tit. She did not cry, or mewl, or wheeze; neither did she kick, or make any wriggling Movement that might have made her at all difficult to hold. She was not swaddled, but had been rationally dresst in a Petticoat and light Gown of green Muslin. I hoped this Dress, at least, had been at my Sister’s Instigation and not that of her Mother-in-law.

“Hath she Teeth?” I asked.

My Sister laughed. “No,” she said. “Babies do not grow their Teeth so young!”

The holly Log sparkled in the Grate, and fell upon its Side. I reached for the Poker. There was no Need to bother James, I thought. In Mr Fielding’s House, I had rarely troubled My Self with calling for the Servants.

A pretty enough Child; but perfectly common.

“She is beautifull, Mrs Barnaby,” Katherine said, as I raked the drab Ashes incarnadine.

“Please call me Jane,” said my Sister, with remarkable Warmth, and sororal Affection.

I selected two large holly Logs from the Fire-box and positioned them carefully atop the glowing Embers. After a Moment or so, a small, citrine Flame began to curl about the cylindrical Body of the nearest, then a second fluted Column of golden Fire spurted between them both, and stood, surprizingly erect, and unwavering.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jane said. “She is very placid.”

“Might I?” cried Katherine.

Jane got to her Feet, and somehow turned the Child about in her Arms so that she could easily transfer it. Katherine also stood, and took up the Babe with a confident Ease that confounded me, even tho’ I knew she had Siblings younger than herself, with whose Care she had doubtless been charged. I remembered mine own inexperienced Handling of my little Bat, and my Stomach lurched. Where is she now? I thought. My poor, pretty Freak, stolen back by Viviane, wandering the Country with a Mobb of Gypsies and Nathaniel Ravenscroft.

Nathaniel Ravenscroft, I thought. A Stab of Anger, overwhelming,
incomprehensible and savage, caused me to catch my Breath. Nathaniel Ravenscroft. Whither didst go?

Katherine stroaked baby Amelia’s Head, and then, to worsen my Confusion, bent her Neck and snuffled at the Child’s bald Crown like an hound Bitch identifying a Pup.

“Oh, yes,” said Jane, delightedly. “Is she not delicious?”

“What are you about?” I asked. “Is this some female Mystery, or have you both lost your Wits?”

Jane laughed again; it was good, despite my Perturbation, to hear it. “It is the Infant Scent, Tristan,” she said. “Young Babies have a special Odour. ’Tis hard to describe it—but ’tis sweeter than the Primrose.”

“Indeed?” I thought back again to my Bat, but the only Smells I could recall were those of oyster Sauce and Christmas Spices. If Bat had smelled of anything, I thought, it would have been of highway Dirt, and Mistletoe, and the old Gypsy Hag.

I looked upon Katherine’s rapt Expression as she beheld the Babe, and I could think of nothing but Nathaniel; and mine Heart stoppt.

*   *   *

Much later, when my Sister had departed, I straightway took Katherine to my Chamber, and helped her to undress. I did not anticipate that things could change between us in the important Way that they must, but as her Corset came away, like a Ribcage, in mine Hands, the Skirt of her Gown shivered to her Feet and took with it the linty Bandage I had earlier applied about her fresh Cuts. I bent down to pick it up, and as I did so Katherine shifted her Body slightly. Golden Candlelight fluttered across the Scars, both livid and pale, that adorned her Buttocks.

Beautifull, beautifull. “Place your Arms behind your Back,” I said.

She laughed, lightly, innocently, and folded her Arms behind her. The blue Veins pulsed in her exposed Wrists. I took her left Arm in mine Hand and twisted it so that, just visible above the laced Fretwork was mine own Name, like to the Signature upon an Artist’s Masterwork.
T H.

She belongs to me, I thought. She is mine, and there hath never been another who hath had, in Truth, any Claim upon her Body, and her Heart.

An I do not, I thought, then by the Letter of the Law she will not be my Wife.

T. H
.

“You belong to me,” I said. “To me, and not Nathaniel Ravenscroft.”

“What!” Katherine shuddered, and deep Revulsion twisted her Mouth. “I was never his!” she retorted. “Never! How dare you to suggest it! Before God, with my whole Heart, I was only ever yours, even when you refused to recognise that I existed!”

“Indeed?” I felt her Carpal Ligament slide beneath my Thumb. “So you say. How am I to tell whether you speak the Truth?”

“Believe me! I put Meadowsweet in your greatcoat Pockets once. I was eight. Do you remember? You did not know who had done it, and you flew into a Passion, and told Nathaniel that it was Sophy. And he pretended to believe you, and he teazed Sophy so bad she wouldn’t come out of her Room for a Sennight. And you never noticed me, never, never!”

The Inscription of my Name lay beneath my Fingertips. Mine Hands began to relax their fierce Hold. “I truly thought ’twas Sophy,” I said, slowly remembering. “And I took little Delight in meadow Flowers.”

“I should have used Bones,” Katherine hissed.

Without letting My Self reflect for one Moment upon the thing I was about to do, I freed My Self from my confining Breeches, and with my Gaze still fixt upon the lettered Script, clappt fast her Wrists in my one Hand and the Base of her Cranium in the other, and roughly forced her to lie Face downwards upon the Bed.

I had held Polly Smith thus, and others; I had overpowered, and ravished each Girl as easily as if she had been a Plum ripe for the picking. I had done so; verily, I would do so again.

Katherine cried out in Astonishment. I did not think. I did not dare to think. With my Knee, I parted her Thighs. Her carpal Bones, plastic to the Point of Dislocation, shifted some little Way beneath my Fingertips.

My Loins began to stir. I kept mine Eyes fast upon mine own Name. Katherine, I thought. Mine, mine.

I was forced to let go her Neck, but she did not move, only trembled, violently, as I opened her. There was no Impediment. A red Gauze fell across mine Eyes. Mine Excitement increased; within my Chest a wild, frantick, spiralling Vortex. At last! I thought. Then Lust began to move me; I thrust again and again, with increasing Violence and wild Rapidity. With each savage Movement Katherine cried out, a mewing Scream of Pleasure or of Pain, I did not know which. It did not matter. I felt my Torso shudder; I spiralled down, into the sweet, welcoming Darkness of Oblivion.

I had fucked Nathaniel Ravenscroft compleatly from mine Head.

Now that I had overcome my Dread that if I used the Body of my Wife after the natural Manner of Men she would run away in Horrour, I discovered that I had License to repeat the Liberty whenever I so wished. She was my America, my new-found Land; and the novel Freedoms that I had disclosed in her sent me into such an Extasie that for a full Sennight I wished them repeated several Times in every single Daye; until upon the first of January she objected, and pleaded with me in God’s Name be still and leave her be. After this petty Rejection, which I understood to have been not unkindly meant, I took care to moderate my Demands, and we fell into a more comfortable conjugal Routine in which our
other Delights resumed Precedence; for betwixt Katherine and My Self, Pain was really a thing of greater Satisfaction than mere Pleasure.

The Seasons turned, and the Yeare of our Lord seventeen fifty-three progressed from Winter toward Spring. The River rose into full Torrent all along the Periphery of Barnaby’s obstructed View, and then, at last, began to recede. Still the Breach between my Father and mine Aunt remained unspanned. Jane, in contrast, began a new Habit of travelling the few Miles from Withy Grange to Shirelands four Dayes out of every seven, often staying in her old Room over-Night instead of returning to her Husband’s. None of us raised any Objection to this except, surprizingly, Erasmus, who seemed most discomforted by her continued Presence, altho’ when I challenged him he denied harbouring any Dislike toward her.

In early March, as the Dayes had begun noticeably to lengthen without Shirelands Hall, my Father requested that the Light slowly be returned also within his Chamber; and once his Eyes had accustomed themselves once more to the Rhythms of Dawn and Evening, he began again to read, and to receive private Correspondence from an Aquaintance within the Government in whose Support he previously had been active as an Agitator. He perused his Letters silently, by himself, and made no Mention of their Contents. I could only suppose that the Sender had Intelligence, by some Means unbeknownst to me, that their Recipient was not in any Condition to write a Reply, for I was never called upon as an Amanuensis.

His Paralysis, however, continued undiminished. I was not surprized by this, as it was what I would have expected in accordance with both mine Hypothesis, and my previous Knowledge of Stroake. I continued in mine Efforts to induce an analogous
Condition in a living Creature, but the Task proved extreamly difficult, for like Human Subjects of Trepanning, either the Animals died at once or they appeared largely unharmed, dying afterwards of some other Cause. During the first Fortnight of that Month I killed five and twenty Rats and seven Coneys before I had one Survivor. This Animal endured three Dayes in a paralytic Condition before it expired; I dissected the Brain, but could not detect any Lesion upon it. These practical Failures were frustrating, but I determined to persevere in mine Attempts, for they proved naught against my larger Theory. I often wished I could have healthy, Human, Subjects, who might be able to apprize me of any subtile Changes in Sensation or Perception that were impossible for me objectively to discern in an Animal, but I knew this was mere Fancy.

Between mine Experiments I returned to the Poems of Mr Donne, thro’ which I had heard, whispering across Death, my Mother’s Voice. Donne wrote of Love, and Disappointment, and of his frustrated Longing to submit intirely to the Will of a God whom he could not fully perceive, and who would not exercise his Power upon his tortured Cleric. That was inevitable, I thought, for Donne’s Christian God was surely composed of nothing but his Phantasy. There was tragic Absurdity in this; yet as I returned again to those Poems which, by their thumbed Appearance, had best interested my Mother, I began to imagine that there lay, concealed within them, Hints toward the potential Existence of something that was real; some Genius more coherent than the omnipotent, omniscient good God of Christ, and wholly as powerful as Love. I knew not whether it was Reason or Delusion that made me suspect it so.