Chapter 10
ten
. . .
rupert
It’s not until I’m back in my rooms that the pounding of my heart slows.
Oh, bollocks. What have I done? I should never have gone downstairs, not to a common area, even if it was the middle of the night. I was a fool. This all could have been prevented.
But if she reacted this way to seeing me tonight, what says tomorrow would have been different? No. No one can see this form. No one can tolerate me. I’m too hideous.
Surely she's going to leave, just like every housekeeper before her has.
I don’t sleep that night, and I don’t emerge the next morning, even when Kellen comes knocking at my door.
“Mr. Edgewood,” he says through it, which he knows I hate. “I heard what happened.”
I don’t answer. It doesn’t require an answer.
“She was simply frightened to find you in the kitchen at night. She thought you were a bear.”
A bear? That’s the silliest excuse I’ve ever heard.
No, she saw me. She screamed because I am a disgusting, monstrous thing that should not exist in this world.
“I have breakfast for you,” Kellen says after a minute of silence. “From Ms. Austin.”
I hear the clatter when he sets the plate on the table by the door, and his footsteps fade as he departs. Cautiously, I step out and bring the plate inside.
At least she hasn’t done a runner. That’s something at least.
Sitting in the middle of the plate are two perfect crepes filled with hazelnut spread and bananas, with caramel drizzled over the top and smattered with pecans. Beside them is a note.
I am so sorry, Mr. Edgewood. I didn’t mean to scream. I hope you will still join me for dinner tonight. I’ve prepared a menu for you, but it’s a secret.
-P
The way she signs with a flourish at the end, I think she is mocking me.
I crumple the note, all my anxiety about last night mutating into rage. She is apologizing for her natural reaction to me, to seeing something so foul, and she is trying to humor me.
That is, perhaps, even worse. Now she will condescend to me, look down on me for being such an abomination. Perhaps she pities me.
Yes, that is what this note reeks of. Pity and disgust. It is most certainly worse than if she were frightened.
I grind my teeth together, ripping the note in half, then in half again before I dump it in the trash. Then I stomp away down the hall to the den, where I slam the door and lock myself inside. I fall into my chair in front of the fire as my hope fully dissolves, evaporating into nothing.
I drop my head into my big, clawed hands, cutting into my own flesh.
I will not attend her stupid dinner. I will not be humored or mocked or pitied. I have nothing if not my dignity, and dignity may be all I have left.
peony
All my nerves are on high alert even though I barely slept. After the creature that I assumed to be Mr. Edgewood vanished, I used the phone in my room to call Kellen, waking him up from a dead sleep. I’d apologized profusely, trying to explain with my shaking voice what had happened.
“Fuck,” was all Kellen said before he hung up. I met him in the kitchen, the plate still smashed on the floor. He just shook his head.
“That was Mr. Edgewood, wasn’t it?” I’d asked him, just to be sure my suspicion was right.
He nodded slowly as he crouched to pick up one of the broken pieces of the plate. “Yes. Now you understand, don’t you?”
After we cleaned the kitchen together in silence, Kellen went back to bed with no sage words, no wisdom or advice. He did not comment on how I had reacted, but I could sense the disapproval rolling off him.
I’d screwed up. I’d frightened an already skittish animal, and by the hunch of his shoulders as he shut his door, Kellen didn’t seem to think there was any saving it.
But I won’t give up. Not after I saw what I saw last night.
Kellen’s right. I do understand now why Mr. Edgewood is the way he is, why he would hide a body so strange and foreign. I’d only seen parts of him, those highlighted by the light streaming out of the fridge, but it was enough.
His face was certainly not human. He had a snout of sorts, a wide one that reminded me of a lion, but scaled, like a lizard. At his throat, hair took over in a billowing mane, and the rest of his huge body was covered in thick, brown fur.
That explains the rugs.
His hands were clawed, and his feet too, with high ankles so he walked on his toes. His extremities also appeared scaled—as did his long tail.
His very, very long tail.
I saw no more detail than that, but I didn’t need to. Everything is crystal clear now.
Mr. Edgewood hides because he is an amalgamation, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And whatever this form is? It’s not what he’s always been. No, I get the sense from talking to Kellen about Mr. Edgewood’s past that whenever this happened to him, he became a recluse soon after.
But how did a man become a monster? I have so many questions and no answers.
When Kellen drops off Mr. Edgewood’s breakfast plate, there is no note, and the note that I left for him is gone.
I bite my lip, wondering what it means. I hope he’ll still come to dinner tonight. Perhaps now that I’ve seen him, the worst of it is over.
To distract myself, I put all my focus on making the best meal possible.
My prep work last night paid off and my savory custard set perfectly.
I’ll serve that before the entree—the whole fish, which I’ve already begun cooking so that I can scoop it out and make a mousse to go inside the cavity, which I’ll top with fried fish skin.
Soon, I set about making my cakes, using the specialized tin we purchased yesterday, and fill each one of them with love, hoping it will make Mr. Edgewood happy after my fumble last night.
The hours pass quickly as I work, squaring away each element of the meal. I plan to bring out the appetizer in a glass dome, which I’ll fill with wood smoke before serving it.
I pause partway through the day to make lunch, a plate which also returns with no note. Perhaps Mr. Edgewood’s simply saving his words for later, when we’ll get to meet properly. No need to communicate in notes any longer.
Finally, it’s six o’clock, the time we agreed dinner was scheduled to start. I stand at the foot of the table, where three places are set—one at the head for Mr. Edgewood, one for me, and one for Kellen halfway down. I drew up a menu and set one at each plate, so they’ll know what’s in each course.
Kellen is here now, seated and waiting. Neither of us speaks.
We wait. And wait. Eventually I go back into the kitchen to turn off the smoker so it doesn’t overheat, and then I return to the dining room, hoping Mr. Edgewood will come.
Minutes tick by until it’s almost 6:30. Kellen checks his watch, then sighs and looks up at me with a pitying expression.
“He’s not going to come.”
Kellen’s words sound so final, but I don’t want them to be. I glare at him, willing him to take them back so I can still hope.
I wanted to show this to him. Especially now that I know the truth. It’s no wonder Mr. Edgewood’s been alone and isolated for so long if he’s afraid of how he appears to others.
But I had imagined him appearing in that beastly form anyway, sitting at the table, experiencing each course like any human man would, enjoying it despite his appearance. I wanted to show him that I don’t fear him, that he’s safe to have a meal with me.
Biting back tears, I stomp into the kitchen and prepare the appetizers anyway.
I tuck each flan under the glass dome, topped with charred fennel, then pump them full of wood smoke.
I bring them out one at a time, setting one at Mr. Edgewood’s place, then Kellen’s, then mine.
I sit down firmly and lift the lid, trying to enjoy the experience I set out to create.
But it means nothing to me. Kellen attempts to eat it, tipping the dome back and letting the smoke escape, inhaling it before he takes a bite of his food.
When he’s done, I take all the plates away, including the untouched Mr. Edgewood’s. Then I return with the entree, which I can’t bring myself to eat either. Kellen is a sport about it, tasting and complimenting my work, but it all rings hollow.
I can’t even summon the energy to prepare dessert. When I bring out the chocolate shells I tempered and hardened inside their silicone molds, I start snapping them, one at a time. I’m crying now, breaking and smashing the chocolate until Kellen comes into the room and notices what I’m doing.
“Stop, Peony,” he commands, but I ignore him, pulling the cakes out of the fridge and ripping them from their molds, throwing each one in the trash. “Stop at once, Ms. Austin!”
I glare at him. “Why? Who cares? Nobody!” I dump the next cake, my vision growing blurry. “All this for nothing, when I didn’t do anything wrong!”
I hurl the entire tin into the garbage, then turn and stomp away, unable to hold it in any longer. I’m throwing a tantrum like a toddler, I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
It hurts too much. I showed my soul on that plate, and Mr. Edgewood couldn’t even be bothered to show up.
rupert
Of course I do not attend the dinner. I don’t require additional humiliation.
A little after seven, there comes a very loud rapping at my door.
“Open up!” Kellen calls out, louder than is characteristic. “Open this door, Rupert!”
He is using my first name. That’s not a good sign.
Worried that something has happened to Ms. Austin, I rush to the door and yank it open. Standing outside is a dangerously furious Kellen Castle.
He jabs a finger at me. “You didn’t come tonight.”
I furrow my brow, but that pointed finger is enough to send me stepping back over the threshold. Kellen follows me inside, then slams the door closed behind him.
“I did not,” I agree. “I know how Ms. Austin feels about my form. It was plain as day when she saw me last night. I will not inflict it upon her further.”
“She told you she wanted you there.” Kellen’s scowl deepens. “We shopped all day yesterday. And then today, from the moment she woke up, she was working on her meal. Preparing an entire experience. Just for you.”
I hiss as he encroaches on my space. I’ve never seen Kellen so angry before.
“Well, I didn’t want it.” I cross my arms petulantly.
“Don’t lie to yourself!” The volume of Kellen’s admonishment takes me by surprise. “You wanted to go. She wanted you to go. But you didn’t go, and for what? All you did was make a woman cry.”
I balk. “She cried?”
“Of course she cried.” Kellen is no longer shouting, but talking in a very low and dangerous voice, as if he is the predator here, the monster, and not me.
I didn’t realize how possessive he had become of Ms. Austin, not until now.
“She was devastated. She had done all sorts of science experiments to impress you. She wanted to show you an evening of enjoyment, but your pride was too big, wasn’t it? ”
I want to argue with him. I want to tell him that I don’t need her and he should sack her. But it’s not true, and I know it. I do need Peony Austin, and now I’ve damaged the fragile thread between us.
I fall back to sit in my chair. I didn’t intend to make her cry. I didn’t intend to hurt her.
“What should I do?” I ask at last, dropping my head in my hands. “I ruined it.”
“That you did.” Kellen strokes his chin. “Apologize, at least.”
My hand curls into a fist. I know he’s right, but apologizing doesn’t come naturally to me.
“It’s worth a try if you don’t want her to leave,” he says.
Leave? I can’t have Ms. Austin leaving. I imagine her sleeping in her car again, trying to find another job, and it fills me with rage.
Fine. Then I’ll apologize if that’s what it takes.