Page 41 of Infamous

Yours,

Eddie

Chapter Sixteen

The first week at Bede House was a dream.

The weather bucked up its ideas and the house was almost permanently lit by soft, syrupy autumn sunshine that made them all feel indulgent and lazy. The days settled into a pattern; those who were awake early would drift about the house or convene quietly in the parlours to drink tea and warm up by the fires, and then Nash would emerge just before noon and they would eat a breakfast that was logistically more of a luncheon and lasted hours. This was followed by a walk around the island, an expedition that Nash led with military enthusiasm while Liza entertained those who remained in the Oak Parlour. Everybody went their separate ways in the afternoon, bedding down in various corners to read or write or nap, until it was time to dress for dinner. Kitty set up in the South Parlour so that she could stand at an easel looking out over the lake and paint; as a result it constantly smelled like oils, and anybody who sat down on the furniture was liable to come away with flakes or smudges of paint somewhere about their person.

Rose expressed an interest in expanding her reading on the subject of abolition, and she and Mr Akerele took to sitting out on the south patio in the bright afternoons engaged in long, involved discussions about his work; sometimes Eddie joined them, but mostly she used the time to write, sitting either at Nash’s desk in the library – which to her knowledge, he hadn’t used once – or curled up in the corner of the South Parlour in a patch of sun, watching Kitty paint, her gaze often wandering to the backs of Dayo’s and Rose’s heads through the window. Albert ambled through every now and then, complimenting Kitty on her work or asking Eddie how things were going before disappearing again. He seemed to enjoy being in a constant state of motion, going for walks by himself in addition to the scheduled daily afternoon excursion. By contrast, Valentine always seemed to be stationary, taking long naps whenever possible in odd places and remonstrating loudly when roused from them. They only seemed to come fully alive in the evenings, and would often entertain the others with snatches of songs and enthusiastic performances on the pianoforte, somehow managing to keep a pipe or a drink in one hand the entire time.

It was as if Eddie had opened a door and stumbled into a world that she had always longed for, but never quite dared believe existed: a world where tradition and propriety were practically obsolete, and ladies and gentlemen treated one another as equals, without any of the usual daily fuss or pointless rituals to maintain acceptable standards. Nobody bothered standing when she entered a room; equally, nobody batted an eyelash when she came to breakfast with her hair unpinned or with ink smudged the lengths of her fingers. At Bede House, Nash was king – and he was extremely lenient with his subjects.

It was almost like the freedom of childhood, except that people kept handing Eddie glasses of wine.

‘The thing about the island,’ Nash said to Eddie the first time they set out for a walk, ‘is that it looks both smaller and larger than it is. If you whizz around it by boat on a windy day it looks minuscule, barely big enough to hold the house. But the woods are tricksy and quarrelsome, and even the best of men might find themselves lost in them.’

Valentine, who only attended this first walk and then declared the whole business unsavoury, snorted. ‘You meanyouget lost in them after too many drinks or one of Kitty’s special pipes.’

Eddie discovered on this walk that the woods almost encircled the island completely. The only bare patches were the rocky outcrop that led to the cliffs and the stunted, sloping lawns around the house. Various genres of waterfowl inhabited the underbrush and the stony beaches that poked out from the trees. When they reached the boathouse, Eddie peered through the cobwebby window and discovered that it did in fact contain a rowing boat, which looked as if it had been made for a child, and all manner of other miscellanea: an old kitchen table; a stained and torn chaise; a broken bathing machine with only two wheels; a net and bucket; and a half-sanded rocking horse.

‘Well,’ Dayo remarked, ‘this looks rather cursed.’

Eddie enjoyed their walks, primarily because Liza always stayed up at the house. She was beginning to notice that Liza liked to insert herself into conversations between Nash and Eddie, or to call Nash away to some task whenever they snatched a moment of privacy. It seemed that her desire to be ever-present did not overpower her aversion to walking loops around the island. In fact, after the first two, participants narrowed down to only Eddie, Nash, Albert and Dayo, the latter of whom were happy to lag behind, going at an ambling pace rather than a brisk trot. It was not in Nash’s nature to amble or to make accommodations for those who did, which came as somewhat of a surprise to Eddie, who had seen him engage in quite an impressive amount of lounging. The dog took their walks very seriously; she gave Nash baleful looks when Eddie tried to induce her to chase a stick or a pebble, as if Eddie were embarrassing herself.

‘She’s far too high-minded for that sort of thing,’ Nash said at the end of the week, watching as Eddie tried to make a bit of tree branch look more enticing with a seductive wiggle. ‘Not for her the baser joys of dirt and twigs. Recite poetry for her instead. She loves a bit of Pope, don’t you, Juno?Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?’

He had raised his voice to a shout, and in response the dog wagged her tail and barked; Nash was delighted, giving her a firm rub about the ears and then slipping her something from his pocket.

‘What on earth was that?’

‘Ham,’ he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

‘You have pocket ham?’

‘Everybody should have pocket ham when setting out on an expedition,’ he said seriously. ‘You never know when you might fall and twist your ankle and be at the mercy of whatever you thought to pack. Oh, look there – a nest!’

There was indeed a very crude bird’s nest in one of the trees ahead; when they approached it, they found two perfect, smooth eggs.

‘You see,’ Nash said triumphantly. ‘I would now have a perfectly good breakfast of ham and pigeon’s eggs in my pocket, and what would you have?’

‘No pockets,’ Eddie said, holding up her empty hands.

‘You would starve, unless we hadbothfallen and twisted our ankles, in which case I suppose I should give you half my provisions.’

Nash reached into the nest.

‘Oh, don’t,’ said Eddie. ‘Leave the pigeons be.’

‘Nonsense, they’ll only lay more. Listen – we shall take them up to the house and candle them to check for occupants. If they’re empty, we have provided for ourselves magnificently. If not .?.?. I suppose we’ll have to train them to race, and carry letters, and defecate on debt collectors and newspaper editors.’

He pocketed the eggs along with the ham and they stomped companionably on through the woods, the sound of Albert and Dayo talking reduced to a gentle murmur behind them.

‘How’s the writing going?’ Nash said as he held out a hand to help Eddie traverse a large log.

‘Very well! I cannot help but be inspired here. My heroine is currently emboldened by her victories, throwing herself headlong into her new life, the obstacles as yet unseen.’

‘You must let me read some. My curiosity is piqued, and I cannot unpique it until I have imbibed the words of the great Edith Miller.’