More, by All Mores

Chapter 1-2

Meanwhile, Andrew continue to take me to dinner; he took me to shows in the West End; he never took me to bed. I could feel him growing further and further distant from me. Spending Christmas with him was a disappointment. I bought him a bottle of the most expensive aftershave I could find, and he’d smiled, although the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

“Didn’t you say you loathe that brand, Drew?” Robert sent a smug glance my way.

“Shut up, Robin. It’s fine. Thank you, St John.”

Of course it wasn’t likely I’d know, Andrew shared nothing of himself with me. As for his gift to me, it was utterly impersonal, a black tie with tiny crowns on it. Well, at least I’d be able to wear it on occasion.

* * * *

Dinner was finished, and Andrew’s sister sprawled in her chair. “I’m about to bust,” she announced with some glee.

I couldn’t help myself. “Anne, young girls should not use such vulgar terms,” I asserted.

“My name is Arianne.”

I had misheard her name, but before I could apologise, she sent a glare in my direction that seemed almost feral, and I shied back in my seat.

“If Drew don’t care what I say, why should you?”

“Andrew,” I corrected. We never used nicknames in my family—Father insisted it was too bourgeois—and waited for Andrew to side with me. He didn’t, and I knew here was another person who would make no effort to defend me. Nevertheless, I would let no one see this, and I hunched a shoulder and muttered to Arianne, “I am sure your brother would have said something eventually.”

Robert threw a piece of his roll at me. “Lighten up, Singe. She’s only fourteen.” But as if to pour salt in the wound, he turned to his sister and grinned. “Arianne, don’t say ‘bust’, it’s vulgar.”

“Oh!” I wanted to throw something at the aggravating man, but the table had been cleared for the most part save for a bowl of walnuts, which would not provide half the satisfaction as, say, pouring a tureen of Boucher’s excellent lamb stew over Robert’s head. Of course Father’s chef would not approve, but it was a lovely image.

Arianne stuck out her tongue at Robert. “I’ll have you know I’ll be fifteen shortly, brother mine.” She shifted in her chair to face Andrew. “What are we doing tomorrow, Drew?”

“It will be your last day here before going home to Dorincourt Place for the remainder of the hols, brat. What would you like to do?”

Her eyes lit up. “All my friends have been to Malossini’s House of Oddities. May we go? Please, Drew, please?”

“Oh, bother, that is such a ridiculous farce.” I announced. “Not in the least bit edifying, I assure you.” Everyone stared at me, and I prevented myself from biting my lip, tipping up my nose instead. “Well, I mean, really. A snake boy? It was so obviously someone got up with contact lenses and…and body makeup.”

“You’ve been there, Singe?” Robert seemed startled. Did the dratted man think my life revolved around his brother and I did nothing on my own? “Ain’t that beneath your son-of-a-viscount dignity?”

Apparently I had made myself too obnoxious. However, I refused to back down from him. “What I, as an adult, choose to do is certainly none of your affair, Robert Dorincourt.”

I watched in reluctant fascination as Robert reached for a walnut in the bowl at the centre of the table. He cracked it neatly between his fingers, something I could never do, and I watched as he began to eat the meat. “Adult? Affair? Now that’s an interesting choice of words for you.” His words hurt more than he realised, but I refused to permit him to see how much.

The conversation returned to the exhibits the House of Oddities held. And I heard myself saying, “Do you know, it sounds as if you will have such fun that I believe I must come with you!”

Even as I insinuated myself into his family’s plans for their outing to Malossini’s House of Oddities on Boxing Day, I knew it was simply a matter of time before Andrew would sever our relationship, such as it was. It was not the first time I had been spurned, and it wouldn’t be the last, I was sure. But I wasn’t ready to stop seeing him. I assured myself it had nothing to do with his family, and more especially with Robert, that abominable brother of his.

I forced a smile and listened to this family banter back and forth, leaving me out.

* * * *

The house was empty when Andrew came to get me the next day, although I said something about not wanting to disturb the family. Father and Garrick were away and the servants had all been given the Christmas holiday off. I didn’t invite him in, just closed and locked the door behind me and followed him to the car parked at the kerb.

I wore the tie Andrew had given me, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t wearing the aftershave I’d given him.

“We’d better hurry,” he said, waiting for me to get in the car. “The Siblings will be at the House of Oddities before us.”

“Sorry,” I muttered and climbed in.

He was right. His siblings were already there.

* * * *

I had visited the House of Oddities a number of times before, finding its contents intriguing—at least not the living ones, which disturbed me—and I couldn’t resist showing off my knowledge of the Ymir from Twenty Million Miles to Earth and the Cyclops from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, not that anyone seemed very impressed.

To my great relief, there were no animals on exhibit. I’d hurried out the sole time the snake boy had been on view—such a sad display. The snake didn’t appear healthy, and the snake boy looked lethargic. I’d called in a complaint to the RSPCA but had been told all the animals at the House of Oddities had permits and began to brush me off.

“I am the Honourable St John Ashford,” I informed them in a tone that would have done Father proud.

They’d simply said, “Who?” and when I repeated myself, took down the information and hung up. Perhaps they had done something, considering none of the animals were on display.

Now, while we waited for Arianne and Priscilla to emerge from the ladies’, Robert, for a change, did not snipe at me relentlessly and frown at my prissy responses to his teasing. Instead he ignored me, an action so similar to my father’s I wondered why this felt worse.

Andrew frowned when Priscilla returned but his little sister did not. Tension seemed to vibrate off him, and abruptly a scream shattered the quiet of the lobby.

The cry for help seemed to come from downstairs, and Andrew and his brothers pelted out of the lobby. I exchanged glances with Priscilla. The last thing I wanted to do was take those stairs to the cellar.

Priscilla studied me thoughtfully, then shrugged. “They’re my family.” She left me standing there, but I in spite of my fears, I couldn’t remain there, and reluctantly I followed down to what proved to be a nightmare of a cellar.

None of the Dorincourts, least of all Andrew, who was supposed to be my boyfriend—or Robert, whose boyfriend I would have preferred to be—had any idea of the aversion I had to below ground rooms or what it cost me to descend those steps into the dim, musty cellar.

Thomas kept Priscilla behind him, a hand on her arm.

I stood behind Robert and peeked around him.

Robert glanced at me, and his eyes widened. He squeezed my shoulder and murmured, “Good man.”

I could have laughed, although it wouldn’t have been out of amusement. He thought I was being brave, and I wished with all my heart that was the truth of the matter, but the simple fact was I was terrified out of my wits. I couldn’t understand it, but I attributed it to my brother frightening me in the cellar of Haynsworth House years before, when I hadn’t been more than five or six, which made my reaction now all the more shameful. Surely I should have outgrown that fear by now?

To the side, Arianne was sprawled on the floor like a ragdoll. Growls came from…Andrew? I shook my head. No, it couldn’t be—it must be a sort of ringing in my ears. Andrew crouched above a naked man. I stared, stunned, as my blasé boyfriend wrapped his hands around the man’s throat and squeezed. I swallowed a whimper and found myself gripping Robert’s sleeve and shivering.

Abruptly, there was a flurry of movement, and Andrew was tossed off the naked man to land against a wall with a sickening thud. I’d never seen anything like him—long-ish black hair with strange highlights, odd-coloured skin…no testicles? I realised it must be the snake boy. I swallowed, then swallowed again, afraid I might vomit.

The snake boy rose and rose. My mouth went dry as I took in the naked body that had to stand almost seven feet tall. He hadn’t seemed that tall in the tank that had contained him the only time I’d seen him, but my God, he was thin. I could count each vertebrae and rib, as well as a small protuberance just above the crevice that separated his buttocks.

The snake boy approached a man I didn’t recognize—an unsavoury character if ever I’d seen one—and the snake boy drew back his hand. What good is punching this man going to do? I demanded wildly of myself.

But it must have done something, because the man screamed, high-pitched and desperate, and blood blossomed on his shirt. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t, and I watched as the snake boy ripped out the man’s heart.

A flicker of action caught the corner of my eye, and I could see Arianne struggle to her feet. Robert grabbed her and virtually threw her into Alan’s arms, then pushed them both toward the door. “Get her out of here!” he ordered Thomas. Robert realised I was standing there. “St John, you’d better go, too—”

“I am not leaving, Robert.” I could see he was going to object, but Andrew began speaking with him, and I seemed to be forgotten. I stayed out of the way, so terrified I couldn’t hear a word of what Andrew and Robert said above the thundering of my heart. I watched as they interacted with the snake boy, as Andrew spoke with him, and I wanted to shout, “How can you do this? Does all the blood not disturb you in the least?”

I forced myself to stand fast, but I knew it wasn’t going to be for long.

Fortunately, finally, Andrew ordered Robert to take me home. Oh, thank God. By the time Robert hurried me out of the House of Oddities, I was biting down hard on my back teeth to prevent myself from vomiting. It was not simply because of the man lying on the floor, a rictus of terror on his face, his chest caved in from the snake having constricted his torso, or the blood-streaked python with its head blown off. No, it was the sight of the snake boy stuffing a still-beating heart into its owner’s mouth that would likely haunt my dreams forever.

“Get in the car, Singe.”

“Don’t call me that, please.” But I barely paid attention to what he’d said. I eased into the front seat. Desperate to erase that image, I began speaking of inanities, trying to divert my thoughts, to fill the silence in Robert’s Jaguar. “I knew this afternoon would be a total waste of time.” I gave a sniff of disdain. I had no idea what I was saying. “I knew there was nothing edifying in that place. And now it is going to snow. I hate snow. It is wet and…and cold, and it makes my eyelashes stick together.” It wasn’t working. I could still hear the screams, see the gore, smell the overlying scent of death. As horrid as it was, it should not have triggered such a panic, should not have had me speaking more rapidly. “And I stepped in something down there. I hope it was nothing more than blood. I will have to throw these boots out. They are ruined and were quite my favourite pair. Do you have any idea how expensive these boots are? They were custom crafted, and it takes weeks to have them properly made, and even more weeks to be delivered. And—”