could ever do. I’m still not convinced that your explanation is a valid one. Yes, I want her. Yes, she’s made a rather strong intrusion into my dreams and apparently I have done the same to her. But love?” He grinned. “It could be plain old lust, you know.”
“It could.” Sidney smiled back. “But I think you and I both know it’s not.” He rose from his chair. “I will work some more on this, Adrian. I’d like to tell you to rest, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea at the moment. If you do sleep, try to stay away from Mrs. Edgeworth in your dreams. At least until I know more.”
Adrian nodded. “Agreed.”
“Oh, and give me a little more of your blood, would you? I’d like to run a comparison between today’s vintage and last month’s.” Sidney’s thoughts scuttled happily into the scientific realms where he felt so much at home.
Adrian’s thoughts were far less cheerful and his face reflected his mood.
Sidney paused. “Adrian. Remember one thing.” He rested his hand on his son’s broad shoulder. “A monster would not worry about killing. A monster would have already drunk his fill of Katherine Edgeworth without regard for her safety. He would only have thought of his own needs--his own satisfaction.”
Adrian was silent, listening to his father’s words.
“And a monster, Adrian, would not deny himself that which he desires most. A monster could not love .”
“So you are saying I must not think of myself as a monster?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You are no monster, Adrian. You are my son.”
Sidney allowed his voice to quaver, refusing to hide the emotion that flooded him every time he looked at Adrian. Truly he had come to regard this young man as his very own, such a closeness had they developed between them.
“I shall ever and always be proud to be called thus, Father.” Adrian’s hand rose to cover Sidney’s, and squeezed it hard. “Monster or no, there are some things that will not change. That is one of them.”
- - - -
Katherine’s sleep over the next few days was as refreshing and untroubled as she could have wished, and her recovery continued to please everybody including herself.
She was no longer weak or light headed, could enjoy a meal and began to yearn for the chance to step outside her sick room and stretch her legs.
“Soon, Mrs. Edgeworth, soon.” Mrs. Tooting smiled at her over the teapot after she voiced her umpteenth comment to that effect.
They’d quickly become accustomed to sharing a cup during the day, and Katherine had learned much of the Chesswell family from these friendly sessions amongst the bone china.
“I hope so. I look forward to the chance to step outside and see St. Chesswell’s Chyne first hand.” She smiled into her cup. “I must confess I’ve never seen a chyne.”
Mrs. Tooting snorted. “Not much to see really. Just a bit of a drop, a couple of rocks and some boulders. Rather a fuss made over nothing if you ask me.”
“But this whole house takes its name from there, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes…but that was hundreds of years ago. I daresay it was a lot more impressive back when our monk was living there.” Refusing to be anything other than casual about the local landmark, Mrs. Tooting shrugged. “Sir Sidney likes to tell the story of the monk, and the locals enjoy hashing it out over a pint or two on a Saturday night, but other than that…”
Katherine had learned the story of the original St. Chesswell, along with as much as she could subtly extract as to the nature of the current residents.
She’d been told of the miraculous return of Adrian Chesswell to his father’s bosom, and also of the dread malady afflicting him, preventing him from enjoying the sunshine.
“One of them terrible French things, Ma’am.” Mrs. Tooting had been quite distressed as she related the tale. “It’s a miracle anybody manages to live in that godforsaken place, if you ask me.”
And “ask me”
“It could.” Sidney smiled back. “But I think you and I both know it’s not.” He rose from his chair. “I will work some more on this, Adrian. I’d like to tell you to rest, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea at the moment. If you do sleep, try to stay away from Mrs. Edgeworth in your dreams. At least until I know more.”
Adrian nodded. “Agreed.”
“Oh, and give me a little more of your blood, would you? I’d like to run a comparison between today’s vintage and last month’s.” Sidney’s thoughts scuttled happily into the scientific realms where he felt so much at home.
Adrian’s thoughts were far less cheerful and his face reflected his mood.
Sidney paused. “Adrian. Remember one thing.” He rested his hand on his son’s broad shoulder. “A monster would not worry about killing. A monster would have already drunk his fill of Katherine Edgeworth without regard for her safety. He would only have thought of his own needs--his own satisfaction.”
Adrian was silent, listening to his father’s words.
“And a monster, Adrian, would not deny himself that which he desires most. A monster could not love .”
“So you are saying I must not think of myself as a monster?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You are no monster, Adrian. You are my son.”
Sidney allowed his voice to quaver, refusing to hide the emotion that flooded him every time he looked at Adrian. Truly he had come to regard this young man as his very own, such a closeness had they developed between them.
“I shall ever and always be proud to be called thus, Father.” Adrian’s hand rose to cover Sidney’s, and squeezed it hard. “Monster or no, there are some things that will not change. That is one of them.”
- - - -
Katherine’s sleep over the next few days was as refreshing and untroubled as she could have wished, and her recovery continued to please everybody including herself.
She was no longer weak or light headed, could enjoy a meal and began to yearn for the chance to step outside her sick room and stretch her legs.
“Soon, Mrs. Edgeworth, soon.” Mrs. Tooting smiled at her over the teapot after she voiced her umpteenth comment to that effect.
They’d quickly become accustomed to sharing a cup during the day, and Katherine had learned much of the Chesswell family from these friendly sessions amongst the bone china.
“I hope so. I look forward to the chance to step outside and see St. Chesswell’s Chyne first hand.” She smiled into her cup. “I must confess I’ve never seen a chyne.”
Mrs. Tooting snorted. “Not much to see really. Just a bit of a drop, a couple of rocks and some boulders. Rather a fuss made over nothing if you ask me.”
“But this whole house takes its name from there, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes…but that was hundreds of years ago. I daresay it was a lot more impressive back when our monk was living there.” Refusing to be anything other than casual about the local landmark, Mrs. Tooting shrugged. “Sir Sidney likes to tell the story of the monk, and the locals enjoy hashing it out over a pint or two on a Saturday night, but other than that…”
Katherine had learned the story of the original St. Chesswell, along with as much as she could subtly extract as to the nature of the current residents.
She’d been told of the miraculous return of Adrian Chesswell to his father’s bosom, and also of the dread malady afflicting him, preventing him from enjoying the sunshine.
“One of them terrible French things, Ma’am.” Mrs. Tooting had been quite distressed as she related the tale. “It’s a miracle anybody manages to live in that godforsaken place, if you ask me.”
And “ask me”
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