Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3) Page 21

  “It’s a boy!” she beamed.

  I chuckled softly, reaching out to take it from her. I pulled away the material, exposing a dear pink face, eyes still closed, with a few wisps of hair on the scalp. His chubby legs cycled in the air; tiny fingers waving close to his tiny button nose.

  I put a hand behind his head, holding him close to me. Tears of happiness fell down my cheeks in a steady stream. I whispered under my breath, lapsing back into my native Hungarian as I told him how much I loved him; how long I had waited for this moment.

  The door opened and Benjamin burst inside. He saw the little form in my arms and stopped still, eyes shining.

  “We have a son,” I whispered, smiling widely at him. “Here is Norman Henry!”

  Benjamin’s hand fleeted to his mouth in marvel; then he strode over, chest heaving as he breathed deeply. I passed him the baby, my heart fluttering as I watched the care and gentleness he took to hold him.

  “He is wonderful,” he murmured, clearly on the verge of crying himself. He perched on the bed and turned to me, stroking my face tenderly. “Oh, Éva... I love him so much, my darling. And I love you, more than words can say.”

  I let my temple rest against his waist, all energy completely spent. He put one arm around my shoulders and brought little Norman Henry between us. We stayed there, together, for a long time, but I doubted I would have noticed if an entire decade passed us by.

  My son was here; healthy and full of life. With him, I felt I could maybe find life again: take tight hold of that piece of myself that still clung desperately to be good and pure.

  I was a mother. I was complete.

  *

  I spent a week in bed to recover, constantly staying close to baby Norman. Benjamin was never far away either, and Henry also a frequent visitor. He was clearly touched by our choice of names, for I thought I saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears when we revealed what we had called our son. Before long, the sweet infant was in his new clothes, lying within a cradle by my side.

  It was quickly made clear to me, however, that it was not expected of me to be the one to care constantly for him. I went to protest, but it was to no avail, and I was faced with the decision of finding a nanny. With that said, only one person came to mind, and I was determined to see my choice through. So it was that I took the carriage one rainy morning, pulling up outside my old house.

  I sat in the parlour with Margaret, sipping my way through a cup of tea. Even though it was early summer, the fire still burned; I angled my legs a little closer to it so the hem of my dress could dry off.

  Christine flitted past us, bringing a plate of fresh scones, and then went to leave, but I held up a hand, motioning her to stay.

  “So, why is it that you are here?” Margaret asked. “I doubt it’s for the pleasure of my company.”

  “Please, Mrs Calvin, I do not want to be on bad terms with you,” I said.

  Margaret sniffed; then added a lump of sugar to her cup with a tiny pair of silver tongs. “Considering recent events with the baby, I can only presume it has to do with the christening? Have you decided on a date yet?”

  “It won’t be for a couple of months,” I admitted. “Benjamin wants us to wait a little.”

  “I understand.” Margaret glanced at me. “How nice to see that you are not contradicting him.”

  I smiled, ignoring the sarcasm in her tone. “Though he does support me wholeheartedly in the reason why I have come to visit you today.”

  “And what reason would that be?”

  “I wish to take responsibility for Christine’s employment.”

  Margaret’s cup froze halfway to her lips. Behind me, I heard Christine let out a gasp of surprise. Not waiting for a response, I carried on, but did turn my head slightly so I could see my old friend better.

  “As you may all have gathered, I am in need of a nanny,” I said. “I trust Miss Rose above all others to care for my son. So I want to hire her for this purpose.” I smiled at her. “If she would be willing, that is?”

  Christine beamed, pressing a hand over her heart. “I’d be honoured, Mrs Jones,” she cried, dipping in a curtsey.

  Margaret set down her tea with a notable clatter. “Christine, get out.”

  The girl hastily complied, leaving us alone in the dingy room. Margaret glared at me intensely, but I refused to lower my own eyes. I had known she would react like this, and prepared myself for it.

  “How dare you!” she hissed. “Who do you think you are? First you take away a legacy which should have been mine, and now you seek to leave me devoid of staff?”

  “You will still have Mrs Dean, and I am more than willing to help in supplying you with a new parlour maid, or even a few more servants if you so desire them,” I said. “Please, do not antagonise me. I have never meant you any harm and I certainly don’t now.”

  “Nonsense!” Margaret leant forward in her chair, eyes ablaze. “I refuse to let you have her, do you hear me?”

  I closed my eyes despondently. “With all due respect, she’s been mine ever since the day Grandfather died. Governance of her employment was willed to me. I wish to make use of it.”

  “Ah, so the snake within your heart has grown even more devious, has it?” snarled Margaret coldly. “I warn you, do not cross me, girl! True, you may be able to take Christine, but do not doubt the powers I still hold. Would you have me use them against you?”

  “I know our relationship has always been strained,” I said cautiously, “but let us not be enemies.”

  “It’s too late for that,” replied Margaret. “If I haven’t already made it clear exactly what I think of you, then I shall remind you, and everyone will know the truth about it. You may call yourself a lady, darling of the city, but let’s not forget that you are really just a filthy little bastard’s daughter from the middle of nowhere, who spent her company with pigs. I’ll let everyone know what you are, you scheming pretender. A flower you may be to those who only see your pretty face, but there nothing but revolting deceit beneath!”

  I instantly got to my feet, hands in tight fists. My blood burned like fire. I remembered the last time I’d argued with her, and had to stop myself from attacking her. But I didn’t find such an impulse within me now. She had finally crossed the line, and couldn’t have seemed further beneath me; less worth the trouble of my anger. So instead of letting it run rampant, I funnelled it into something much more controlled.

  “I will withstand many things, Margaret Calvin,” I said though gritted teeth, “but nobody insults my origins, ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to arrange Miss Rose’s new position at Weaver House. Expect her to be free of her servitude here within the week.”

  I turned Margaret a final fierce look before storming away towards the front door. With every step, my mind writhed. If she so decided to goad me into unleashing how steadfast I could be, then I would comply in all abundance.

  I bowed my head against the shower of rain, climbing hastily into the carriage and throwing myself into the seat. As we drove away, the interior turned red, and I realised my eyes had taken on their vampiric shine. Covering them with my hand so it wouldn’t be visible from the outside, I let out a slow hiss of contempt.

  When I returned home, I strode through the foyer, finding Benjamin and Henry playing whist in the parlour. I didn’t even bother changing out of my damp clothes before going over to them.

  “Éva,” Benjamin frowned, lowering his cards. “What on earth is the matter?”

  “Margaret is what is the matter,” I snapped.

  “Why?” asked Henry. “Did she find some way to keep Christine?”

  I shook my head. I was still nervous of him, but my fury overcame all other emotions and I hid it the best I had in ages. I quickly took Benjamin’s offer of a chair before I could work myself into too great a state.

  “You should have heard the things she said to me. She insulted me with awful words; practically threatened me!” I cried. “She openly admitted a wish for
my downfall, Benjamin! She claimed that she will spread malicious rumours, to make it happen!”

  Benjamin scowled in horror. “What? She actually said that to you?”

  “On my honour, I swear she did!” I replied, holding his hand. Then I took a deep breath before continuing. “In a way, though, I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s always hated me. And I’ve thought lowly of her ever since she told me why she married Grandfather.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Henry through a large puff of smoke from his pipe. “What of Norman?”

  I looked straight at him. “She confessed to me, after I was revealed as the beneficiary of his will, that she only took him as a husband because of his money. And she didn’t get a penny of it in the end.”

  Henry sat back in his seat with an exasperated roll of the eyes. “Dreadful woman!” he muttered. “I always knew she was lecherous, but this is just despicable!”

  I pursed my lips, turning my eyes to Benjamin with a firm expression. “I have had enough. I want her nowhere near our son.”

  Benjamin instantly nodded. “After what you’ve told us, I’m inclined to agree with you. I mean... it’s never been much of a secret that you hold animosity towards each other. What do you think, Father?”

  “Yes,” said Henry after a small silence, “I think it for the best that she have absolutely nothing to do with you anymore. After all, your connection with her was through Norman, God rest his soul; you are not related to her really. She’s made that known on every possible occasion. So now there is no true need for you to maintain it with her if you do not wish.”

  “I most certainly don’t,” I replied. “We mean absolutely nothing to each other. She will hurt me, and I’m sure she would hurt baby Norman.”

  “Then it’s decided,” said Benjamin. “But... ah, Father, I have just remembered, she is to attend the christening party! Can’t we cross her off the list?”

  Henry groaned. “No. We must be careful about how to address this, son. I don’t doubt Margaret means her word, but she will more likely act on it quicker if we strike too soon. We must cut her away more carefully.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked, hearing a tiny hint of slyness to my tone.

  Henry noticed it and glanced at me. “Éva, use caution,” he said, using his thumb to work the tobacco in his pipe. “It’s not ladylike to nurture hostility like this. It’s not becoming.”

  I shook my head slowly. “I don’t want to compromise our family’s good name, Sir,” I insisted. “But she has offended me where I will forgive no blow. Please understand.”

  Henry gave me a warning glare, and my heart immediately sped up, as I half-expected his eyes to turn bright red. But then he nodded, folding one leg across his other knee. I smiled sweetly, turning my attention to the window behind him. The glass was sodden and distorted with the constant streams of rain.

  Behind a composed and gentile facade, my own plans began to seethe. I would not let Margaret forget me, nor the fact that she would ultimately bring ruin upon herself because of it.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A few weeks later, Christine arrived at Weaver House with her few meagre belongings, and I greeted her warmly in the foyer before taking off her bonnet and leading the way through to meet baby Norman. I lifted him from his crib and turned him to Christine. Her eyes lit up when she saw his sweet face, and she took him out of my arms with a gasp of delight.

  “Miss Éva,” she cried, “he’s lovely!”

  “Thank you so much,” I said, smiling as she tickled him under the chin. Baby Norman laughed blissfully and snatched at her hand, wrapping his tiny fingers around her thumb. Christine giggled, hugging him.

  “I’m planning to have George join us here too, at some point,” I carried on, stroking my son’s head. “Henry has mentioned to me that he is in want for a new valet. Do you think he’ll accept?”

  “I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t,” replied Christine. “He thinks a lot o’ you, Miss.”

  “It’s the least I can do, for all both of you have done for me.” I tapped her cheek warmly. “Now, come, let me show you to your room. It’s just across from the nursery.”

  Adjusting her grip on Norman, Christine nodded and followed me obediently, marvelling at the magnificent vestibule that surrounded the staircase. Her wide eyes reminded me, in a strange way, of myself when I had first set foot inside the house.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find your way around quickly enough,” I assured. “And you won’t need to sweep a single hearth again.”

  Christine put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I don’t know what to say, Miss. You didn’t need to do this for me, like, or for George. We are indebted to you.”

  “Nonsense,” I said, looking around at her with a gentle grin. “I would have no-one else.”

  As I’d promised, she soon became used to life in the grand hallways, although the notion of having her own servant was something that truly caught her off guard. I was there to hear her concerns, having experienced them too after my own unassuming beginnings. But she felt better when I also secured George’s employment, and I always ensured that their days off were consistent, so they could return home to see their mother.

  Baby Norman grew well; I could swear he was a little larger and rounder with every night that passed. It was a joy to watch him, and I often shed a tear. Christine would play with him all day: as good a nanny as I believed she would be. And when I had time with him myself, I would clutch him close to me, while Benjamin put his arms around both of us in a protective and loving embrace.

  When August came, it was time for the baptism ceremony. Benjamin and I dressed ourselves in our best clothes; then met on the landing before heading down the stairs. Christine was already there, holding baby Norman in his lacy christening gown. He gurgled, pulling at one of the folds over his stomach. I smiled broadly at the sight of him. I couldn’t believe he was three months old already.

  We rode carriages to the church, already filled with guests who looked genially on us as we entered. I nodded to them on the way towards the font; then caught sight of Margaret in one of the pews. Our eyes locked for a moment in cold animosity before I looked away, unwilling to let her spoil the day.

  After the ceremony, we returned to Weaver House, where Henry had hired a photographer to prepare his apparatus in the parlour. Christine held baby Norman while Benjamin and I took a moment to tidy our clothes. I reached up, adjusting his tie, smoothing some stray hairs over his forehead.

  “Turn around,” Benjamin said. I did, feeling him push a couple of pins back into my bun. Then he slid the clasp of my locket behind my neck so it wouldn’t be seen. His hands appeared on my arms, running softly down them until he reached my elbows. I let him lead me into the room, where I took Norman from Christine with a small wink.

  “Please stand over here, Mr and Mrs Jones,” said the photographer, pointing us towards the far wall. It was the plainest area of the room, and lit well from an overhead window. Mirrors had also been placed around the area to further emphasise the light. I squinted against it, but reminded myself to keep my poise, forcing my eyes open fully.

  We took positions beside each other, Benjamin on my right. Norman’s ivory gown contrasted strongly against the green of my dress. But all I could think of was how happy I was to be out of mourning clothes at last, and not be wearing black for the portrait.

  “My darlings,” Benjamin whispered as the photographer disappeared beneath a sheet at the back of the camera. “You’re both perfect.”

  I nuzzled against him, fleetingly kissing his cheek. Then I looked in fond affection at my baby’s plump face. He put a hand towards me, and I took hold of it gently, pressing his tiny knuckles to my lips. The sunshine bounced off his hair as he moved. It had thickened somewhat since his birth, and was now a distinct feature of his appearance.

  I suddenly felt my heart skip a beat. In such good light, I noticed the colour vividly. It wasn’t black like mine, and although
a similar blonde to Benjamin’s, it was a shade lighter, with a slight honey tone to it.

  James.

  My eyes lost all focus. James had told me he doubted that full demons as old as him could have children. But even though I’d mentioned the possibility of it, I began to truly wonder if my suspicion had been correct after all.

  I shot an anxious glance at Benjamin. He didn’t notice; too busy brushing some lint off his jacket. So I looked away again, focusing on my reflections in the wall of mirrors. My mouth was slightly agape; my fingers stiffened amongst the folds of baby Norman’s gown as the dilemma raged within me

  Whose was he? My husband’s... or not?

  You’ve brought this upon yourself, the mirrors seemed to whisper icily. You were unfaithful; let yourself be taken advantage of in a moment of desperation. And now you pay for it, Éva. This is your own sin you suffer!

  “Alright, everyone!” called the photographer, holding up his finger in readiness. “Stand very still now.”

  I hurriedly complied, tightening my hold on Norman. Benjamin’s hand appeared on my waist in a fond yet subtle gesture. There was an explosion of bright light from the camera, leaving white spots dancing at the edges of my vision. I fought back the urge to hiss in discomfort, and prepared myself for a second shot.

  I would have to feed again soon. I’d gone without blood for months; the last time I’d had any was while I was still pregnant. And now my throat was beginning to hurt in the tell-tale sign that I needed to act fast. I looked at Henry dubiously, disguising my worry with a smile.

  The photographer asked for our attention once again. I turned to look into the round lens; then another notion occurred to me, drawing forth a quiet gasp. In my mind, I saw the framed picture which sat atop the piano just a few rooms away.

  Two decades on from when that had been taken; Benjamin, Norman and I were standing in almost exactly the same position as my own parents had with me.