Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Snow fell, blanketing the London skyline in a perfect powdery whiteness.
It felt good to be indoors. The lit fireplace warmed the study.
An array of books lined the shelves, and I stood back to admire them.
I’d selected the finest publications, covering many diverse subjects.
Such a collection would make any scholar ecstatic.
I held on to the hope that Jacob would soon be whiling away the hours in here, and I’d have him all to myself.
Thinking back to my own childhood, I remembered my father and the tales he’d tell.
When the right time came, I’d bring Jacob here.
With a deep sigh, I strolled into the adjacent study, this room above all was easily my favorite.
I hoped it would become Jacob’s. I’d procured a large oak writing table for him and placed it in the center, taking great pleasure in organizing paper, ink, and a feathered fountain pen, essential items to make him feel at home.
Finding one of my ornate letter openers, I placed it near the other items.
Long, sweeping black drapes hung from the tall window.
Looking out past them, I viewed the muggy, grey nightscape of London’s skyline.
Running my fingers over the mahogany mantelpiece and along the engraved design, I admired the ornate carving that was the room’s focal point, chiseled by one of the city’s finest carpenters.
Although I’d not played the violin in months, the notes struck up inside my imagination. Not fighting the flow, I allowed the music to carry me away. Indulging in my imagination, haunted by the promise of spending time with Jacob, my mind drifted.
I left the room and descended the sweeping staircase.
The vastness of Belshazzar’s meant that I could go for days and not see anyone.
I seemed to be the only one who enjoyed the vastness of the manor.
On many an evening, I strolled along the pitch-black corridors, my cloak sweeping behind me, lost in memories and captured by possibilities.
Sunaria enjoyed more visceral pleasures. To placate her, I’d agreed to join her on a visit to one of her more bohemian vampire friends – a promise I had no intention of keeping.
Marcus had also searched out new acquaintances, widening his social circle within London’s underworld. I declined his frequent offers to join him, preferring my own company, when I wasn’t in that of my son’s, albeit from a distance.
Culture and class beckoned nightwalkers from afar. Regardless of my desire to hold back time, it unraveled, relentlessly betraying me.
Despite it being Christmas evening, Sunaria and Rachel braved the elements. Not even a harsh English winter could deter Sunaria from the erotic spoils of city life.
I took a seat in the corner of our lavishly decorated lounge and opened Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, resting the book on my knees.
A bloodhound sluggishly settled at my feet.
This was the first room Sunaria had furnished, and she’d spared no expense.
We were immersed in decadent colors, lush textures, and sweeping curtains.
The far wall was painted a deep red. Despite my initial reservations, the color complemented the décor and went well with the candelabras positioned here and there, providing a soft yellow illumination.
I barely looked up from my well-worn novel to greet Marcus.
Quietly judging my mood, he joined me, taking the seat opposite.
I glanced up at the bookcase, now half-stocked.
Sunaria enjoyed assisting Rachel with her collection, and I’d granted permission for her to shelve it here.
Though I preferred a more modest setting, this room had become the center of activity in the house, and tonight I desired company, if only for a while.
I broke the silence. “The doctor accepted the money?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Marcus said. “He’s a man of integrity, which is—”
“A good thing.”
“He needed some gentle persuading,” Marcus added. “I just told him the money came from a grateful custodian, and as you’re always calling Jacob your rock, I told him the gentleman’s name was Roch.”
“You must have intrigued him.”
Marcus opened his mouth to reply but then chose not to.
I saved my page and closed the book.
“The money will be used for Jacob’s education,” Marcus said.
“And Jacob?”
“He looked well. He has your eyes.”
Unable to be that close to my son and not embrace him, I’d sent Marcus.
“He has his mother’s eyes,” I said, correcting him. “And that other matter?” I pulled at the frill beneath my white ruffled sleeve.
“Our third orphanage has just been purchased, and the children are being schooled,” he said. “Do come and visit.”
“I prefer not to.”
Marcus’ knuckles were white as he clutched the armrests – not that I cared.
“Sunaria tells me that there’s a place in London where mortals mingle with our kind?” I asked.
Marcus smiled. “Madam Rouge’s. Where the wine flows like water and so does the blood.”
His voice faded into the background. Entranced, my thoughts wandered as I stared out the window, hypnotized by the gently falling snow. A robin jumped onto the sill and pecked at the glass.
I breathed in the scent of burning oak. The log had almost turned to ash, and, as though striving for life, fresh flames burst up around it.