Authors: Astrid Yrigollen
Kurten Wandsworth set his solid frame down across from Dekker.
“Our mutual friend says you are looking for safe passage?” Dekker inquired.
“Yes, for myself and my fiancée. Night passage if possible.”
“The only kind of safe passage there is really.” Dekker said bored. Kurten did not know what to say in response to this. All he knew is that he did not like this arrogant young man.
“Now passage for two, your fiancée is traveling with you?” Kurten nodded as his eyes darted side to side, a clear sign to Dekker he was a liar.
“Is she really your fiancée, because we do not tolerate kidnapping females for deviant purposes I’ll have you know. The last time a slave trader attempted to smuggle a girl out of port against her God given free will, we hung him up by his ha-has and let the sharks nibble his earlobes.”
“She’s my fiancée but she is ill. We wish to marry but her parents are against it so I am taking her somewhere nice so we can settle down. I wish to go to St. Marhen.” Kurten said roughly, knowing he had to control his temper with this dandy man. He did not want to complicate negotiations.
“Very well then. The best I can do is two nights from now. Meet me at midnight at the docks near birth 87. Do not draw attention to yourselves by having silly arguments on the dock. I will provide a suitable room with a double bed even, you will not be disturbed.” Kurten nodded standing up.
“I take payment now.” Dekker said not smiling.
After Kurten had left, Dekker made sure to give a portion of the fee to the old sailor after buying a round of drinks for every patron of the Wounded Crow. As the clock struck midnight, Horace walked in finding his way to Dekker’s table.
“There’s little wonder why you cannot seem to save money Dekker.” He said eying the empty glasses on the table.
“Never mind that Horace. I poured over the passenger logs for the last week and Mr. Lowood did not leave Hartsford by ship.”
“Yes, but what about the people who are not on the logs?” Dekker shook his head.
“No, you know very well that no one gets on any of these boats without me knowing and extracting a price. Why just tonight…” Horace held up his hand to quiet his friend.
“Yes, yes I know you are prince of the docks. I checked the carriage log and found that the carriage took Mr. Lowood to the train station. He took a connecting train to Desolation.” A horrified look crossed over Dekker’s face.
“The abandoned town full of…”
“It’s not full of anything Dekker, you are such a child. He went out there, clearly not trying to hide it. Perhaps we are misjudging Mr. Lowood, but I have to say I am curious to what he will say.”
“Yes, I feel the same way. So then, when do we go?” Dekker said, quickly forgetting his childhood superstitions.
“We don’t, he has a return ticket for the day after tomorrow and should be arriving sometime in the evening.”
“Then should we wait, or should we be present at Westwind when he arrives?”
“It might disturb him to know that we found the family skeletons, but I am concerned about Claren.”
“As am I.” Dekker said.
“I am not sure then.” Horace said.
“What we can do is arrive early at Westwind but hide out, somewhere near the house. After a time, perhaps when we think that they have had their chance to talk it out, we can pop in. Just to make sure everything is all right.” Dekker said.
“I think that might be the only way, so I agree.” The two men shook hands.
“We’ll have to ride out there, without a carriage you know.” Horace added apprehensively.
“Well if we want to be inconspicuous we will. I see no problem with that unless you are still afraid of horses?” Horace did not say anything.
“What the deuce! You
still
can’t ride a horse on your own?”
“Can I ride behind you then?” Horace asked sheepishly. Dekker’s face flushed red.
“You know I only ride on horses with
ladies
Horace,
ladies
.” Horace remained silent, a pleading look on his face.
“All right but do not touch me, wear a helmet or something because if you fall off I am not going to try and stop you.” Dekker relented as he raised his now empty glass high to order another drink.
Fredrick was on his last train back to Hartsford. He had made the long hike to the mines in Desolation. Walking around the entrance that he assumed was the mine he had been born in, he noted that it had been boarded up. He had never seen the complex from this side before. Being born in the mines he had only known it from underneath, then later when he escaped, the tunnel had opened up far away from the facility. The primitive electric fences had been deactivated long ago which made it easy for him to make his way through onto the compound. He had tried to find the exit that had been dug by his father years ago, but his memory was vague and he was not prepared for the tears that perpetually clouded his vision as he walked through the abandoned area.
Fredrick did not enter into the mines themselves. He had a nagging fear that it would not be safe if he went down in to them again. He instead, walked around the abandoned buildings and old laboratories. Barren, nothing green grew in this area, loose dirt, rocks and gravel were the only things that could be seen for miles around. He could almost hear the cries of the miners that had been dwelling below, the cries carried by the lonely wind. Reflecting on the pain that had been caused here, he knew that none of this was Claren’s fault. At one time he had thought about having her killed, so much was his anger and hate. But knowing her, her sweetness and gentle manner, he knew that she possessed none of the greed that her grandfather did. Sitting down in the dirt, Fredrick spent several hours watching the orange haze of the sun blaze against the sky. He realized that it was time to move on and leave his hate behind and go forth with Etrigan and Claren. It served no purpose to carry such venom in ones heart, infecting anyone who got close to him. Fredrick said his sorrowful goodbyes to all the silent dead who lay below his feet and had gone straight back to Hartsford.
****
Claren had neither eaten nor left her room since Horace and Dekker had left. She had not spoken to Etrigan either, not really knowing how to handle his feelings of mistrust for her. She felt like she could only follow his example and wait for his father to return to Westwind. Mrs. Whitby was exasperated and confused at Claren’s behavior.
“Why won’t you eat Miss?” Claren lay on her bed under her covers still in her nightgown.
“I’m not really hungry Mrs. Whitby.” She answered weakly.
Mrs. Whitby set the tray of food down on Claren’s writing desk and went over to sit by the young girl.
“Someone needs to tell me what is going on here Miss. Don’t tell me the young master has finally rubbed his ways off on you? You don’t eat, you aren’t leaving your rooms.” Claren said nothing but stared at the fireplace that had been lit. Hints of spring were in the air, the smell of sweet flowers beginning to blossom but the air still had a chill to it.
“Are you fighting again with the young master? Is that it? You can’t let the lad vex you so, you need to eat to keep your strength up for fighting!” When Claren did not answer, Mrs. Whitby stood up, her temper reddening her white cheeks.
“This has become a house of secrets it has. Master Lowood has been gone for days, you have been depressed and won’t eat.”
“Who’s depressed and not eating?” Mr. Lowood said in a happy voice from the hallway. Claren quickly sat upright suddenly feeling the same fear she had of him months ago. The door to Etrigan’s room opened violently as the dark young man entered the hallway.
“Father.” Fredrick was taken aback by Etrigan’s sudden wild and unkempt appearance. He was not used to his son walking about in the day time, especially with the help here. Fredrick had no idea what torment his son had been going through these last few days. Etrigan had been fighting the voices that said Claren betrayed him, but knowing that it was not her fault. Thinking that perhaps his life would have been different if her grandfather had never sold lives for profit. Etrigan raged high up in the tower, at the injustices that had been dealt to his family. But when the moon rose high, and he stood on the roof leaning against a stone gargoyle, he could see Claren’s face before him. He heard her cries at midnight and yearned to go to her, to hold her. Deep in his heart something stirred.
“Father, I need to talk to you, alone.” Etrigan said in low voice.
“Yes, of course, come into the library then.” Fredrick cast a worried look at Claren who looked pallid and frail in her bed.
“Claren, it’s nice to see you again.” Fredrick’s words seemed to sputter as he realized the stricken look on her face was caused by him. He followed Etrigan down the hallway in to the library where he sensed his son’s mood.
“What is going on here Etrigan? Why does Claren look so?”
“You would know better than I Father.”
“What the deuce is that supposed to mean?”
“Who is Claren really? To you, to me? Why did you really bring her here,
a Maidstone
?” Fredrick Lowood sighed feeling the weight of his past sins. He knew before he could forgive himself he would have to seek forgiveness and understanding from his son and from Claren.
He removed his coat and sat down in his chair.
“Bring Claren in here please, this involves her as well.” Etrigan called out to her from the hallway, not wanting to face her after the last few days of silence. Claren came in to the library and sat down while Etrigan remained standing.
“Are you well Claren? You look ill.”
“I am well Sir.” She answered quietly. He nodded not believing her.
“Today is the day that I reveal everything to you both. From this day forward there will be no more secrets.”
Fredrick Lowood went on to tell both his son and Claren of his childhood in the mines, how his parents had been brought to the mines and of his escape and his marriage to Etrigan’s mother, Emrah. As the sun set down behind the trees, he continued telling them his loss of his position, his first child and his wife.
“I had started life out in bitterness. With Emrah, I finally realized that life could be sweet, it could be happy again. Of course Emrah and Etrigan were my life, so when she died and left us, the old bitterness crept back in. I began to blame Maidstone for everything that had ever gone wrong in my life. In short I wanted revenge, revenge on your family Claren, then on you.” Etrigan glanced at Claren, feeling the weight of his father’s cruel words. He wanted to reach out to her not wanting her to hear anymore.
“I think I understand Father, but maybe we can continue this discussion at another time. As you see yourself, Claren is not well, and this conversation is not doing anything more to make her any better.” Etrigan had thought deeply upon Horace Bitwater’s account. He trusted the young man and felt that there could be truth to the account. Etrigan only needed confirmation from his father which he now received. Now that this thing lay bare and exposed like a festered wound, Etrigan did not know how to contain it, how to heal it as he so wished to do. He wanted desperately to go back to the way things were before his father went away, before Horace had come with his awful tale.
“You don’t understand Etrigan. While you yourself bore the sins of your father and of Claren’s family on your back, you never had hate for others in your heart like I have. I hated Claren’s family and I wanted to see them dead.” Claren winced at his harsh statement. Anyone who would have known her parents would have, for they were kind people. A thought like a crawling snake slowly entered in to Claren’s mind and she gripped the fabric of her robe tightly.
“Did you have anything to do with my mother and father dying?” Claren asked afraid.
“No! That I did not do Claren. I swear to you I didn’t. After everything, the planning and scheming, I turned out to be a coward, I wanted to hate you Claren and I tried. But after your parents died, it made me look at you differently. I grew to know you and your kindness and understanding. I often marveled at how such a person as yourself could have come from the line you did.”
“I cannot speak for my grandfather because I did not know him well, but my parents were good people.” Claren said passionately, feeling a lump in her throat rise painfully.