House of Masques by Fortune Kent Page B

aren’t you? To the masquerade?”
    â€œProbably.” She was cautious. “At first I thought not, then Clarissa said a gown had come for me from New York. Such a bother and expense for Josiah. I should go, if only to please him. Yes, I think I’ll go.”
    â€œGood, I enjoy masquerades. ‘What shall I wear?’ the ladies ask, while the men shrug and pretend an unconcern. Don’t be deceived. They care, oh, how they care, and choose their disguises every bit as carefully as do their ladies. At times it seems to me the costume is the truer man, the man who might have been or should have been. His day-to-day face is in actuality the mask.”
    Kathleen was about to reply when she realized he had led her far from her purpose. “The gun,” she said. “Please give me my gun.”
    He stood, pressing down on the table with his fingers to steady himself, and walked with exaggerated precision to the far corner of the room where he pushed aside a trunk and a black satchel. He brought back a small metal box. “Here, I’ve unloaded and cleaned your revolver.”
    â€œPlease,” she said. “Load the gun.” She looked more closely at the satchel.
    Edward Allen sat on the floor and opened the breach and inserted the percussion caps and bullets. He laid the gun on the table.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Kathleen got up and moved past him to stare down at the black bag.
    â€œGo ahead, look inside. It’s not locked.”
    She undid the clasp and pulled the top apart so the bag yawned open. A stethoscope curled within. Like a snake, Kathleen thought.
    â€œDr. Gunn’s bag,” she said. “What are you doing with…” Still kneeling, she turned to stare at him. He smiled. “There is no Dr. Gunn,” she said accusingly. “You’re Dr. Gunn.”
    â€œYou’re right and you’re wrong. Wrong to say Dr. Gunn doesn’t exist. There is a Dr. Gunn somewhere. But you’re right about my being the doctor. At least I was yesterday.”
    â€œYou must think me a simpleton not to have known.” She closed the bag and stood facing him.
    â€œNot at all. My performance would have convinced the most doubting of Thomases. Why, I suspect, no, I’ll wager you, the next time Mrs. Lewis requires a physician she’ll wish the learned Dr. Gunn was available.”
    He pushed a four-inch-thick book across the table and she sat so she could read the title: New Domestic Physician or Home Book of Health. The title page promised “many valuable rules for avoiding disease and prolonging life”.
    â€œMy source,” he said, “for Dr. Gunn’s theories. You’ll notice he’s the author. I borrowed the book from the Worthington library.” He touched his whiskers. “If you were wondering about the beard, it’s detachable.”
    She handed back the book. I will not underestimate Edward Allen again , she told herself. Or Josiah, who had chosen him. She watched Edward place the New Domestic Physician beside his own manuscript. Without thinking she tried to read the words upside down.
    â€œNo,” he said, gathering the papers into a pile. “Tm sorry, the world isn’t ready yet. Soon, but not yet.” He didn’t smile. “I’m putting everything down. This is the true story, my justification you might say. Josiah would use a different term. My expiation, he would probably label it.”
    Again she heard the rumble from afar. “Listen,” she said, “thunder.”
    â€œI heard nothing.” He stood and paced back and forth, glancing at the papers in his hand, lips moving as he murmured the words to himself.
    â€œAre you writing a history?”
    â€œNo, a piece for the theater. A tragedy.” He stopped beside the table to sip more of the liquor. “Wait.” He shuffled through the pages and selected one “A few lines I composed tonight. Here, tell