Patrick deWitt - Undermajordomo Minor

“I suppose so, sir.”

“One who has rerouted the fates?”

“Perhaps, sir.”

“And was this a very difficult exercise for you?”

“It was, sir, yes.”

“Was it tedious?”

“I don’t know if I would use the word tedious specifically, sir.”

“Well, it certainly sounds tedious. But, what do I know, eh? With my head full of stuffing? Happy to have you back, at any rate.”

“Thank you, sir. But I’ve not come back.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, sir. In point of fact I’m here to tell you I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Mr Olderglough said, as if the very thought were an eccentric notion.

“Leaving sir, yes, and just now.”

“But why would you do that?”

Lucy said, “It seems to me there is no longer any reason for us to stay, sir.”

“Oh, but that’s not true at all, boy.”

“Is it not correct that the Baroness has left again?”

“It is correct.”

“Then is it not likely the Baron will once again devolve, as before?”

“It is more than likely. But I don’t see what that has to do with the abandonment of my position, and so no, I shan’t so much as entertain the thought.” Mr Olderglough shivered and sniffed, and he returned his attentions to Peter who had, Lucy noticed, gone quiet once more.

“Has he misplaced his tune again, sir?”

“Hmm,” Mr Olderglough replied. He shivered and sniffed a second time, and in looking at him, Lucy could see that all sense had left the man. He was making a kissing noise at Peter now; and as if speaking to the bird, he said, “I will perform my functions. I will do right by my master.”

“But if your master cannot do right by you, sir?” said Lucy.

“That is none of my affair.”

“It is every bit of it yours.”

Mr Olderglough shook his head and lapsed into silence. Lucy could think of nothing more to say, for there was nothing more, after all, and he was turning to go when Mr Olderglough called after him, and in a tender tone of voice, “Do you know, Lucy, I’ve come to think of you as the son I never quite knew.” Now he set the birdcage onto the vanity, and folded his hands on his lap. Looking out at the village, and the green-forested hills running away and to the horizon, he said, “I believe I could spend the rest of my days simply peering out a window, boy.”

“Any window, sir?”

“Any one, yes. This one, for example.”

Mr Olderglough stared. Lucy left the room.

Lastly, there was the Baron. Lucy found him in the ballroom, standing before one of the portraits of his forebears, hands cinched at his back, rocking to and fro, and humming to himself. He was barefoot, and when he turned to face Lucy it was evident the madness had once more taken root in him. He wasn’t possessed by it yet, but was existing in some middle plane, straddling either reality. Lucy wondered just what had occurred over the preceding days; for it was as if some ill-wishing cloud had passed through the valley and rendered everyone simple.

A crooked smile hung on the Baron’s face, and at the start he couldn’t quite place the person who stood before him. “Lucy!” he said finally. “And how are you, boy? Someone told me you’d vanished into thin air.”

“Hello, sir. Yes, no, I’ve not vanished. How are you?”

The Baron nodded gladly, then resumed his portrait-gazing. Lucy took up a spot beside him and the Baron explained, “This is my great-great-grandfather, Victor Von Aux. He was responsible for the construction of the castle. What do you know of him, may I ask?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“You’ve heard no stories?”

“No, sir.”

“That he was a hot-air balloonist who dabbled in the black arts?”

“I didn’t know that, sir.”

“That he was an expert marksman with a penchant for opium?”

“No.”

“That he bred Arabian horses? That he was known to entertain his guests with executions?”

“No, sir.”

“Well. I’m surprised you haven’t heard any of this.”

“Yes, and so am I,” said Lucy. “He was a complicated man, by the sound of it.”

“A demon,” said the Baron flatly. He sidestepped, and was now standing before the portrait of the Baroness. He said, “She’s gone away again, boy.”

“Yes, sir, and I’m sorry to hear it.” Lucy also sidestepped. “Do you know where she’s gone to?”

“To the ocean, she says. She tells me she won’t be coming back this time.”

“Who can say, sir.”

“She can, and did. I’m inclined to take her at her word.” He looked at Lucy. “She claims to have no affection for me any longer. What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know, sir. Just that it seemed to me she did.”

The Baron nodded. “Yes, and to me also, boy. Well, possibly she did once. But apparently this has passed.” He swallowed, and cleared his throat. “Love leaves us like luck leaves us,” he said, and he turned and walked clear of the ballroom. Lucy stood by, looking up at the Baroness and considering these words. He took up his valise and left the Castle Von Aux forever.

The conductor enquired after Lucy’s destination and Lucy asked if his coin would take him to the ocean. “It will, just,” the man replied, and Lucy settled into an empty compartment. An hour passed, and it grew darker. The strain of his recent adventures had worn him down; he felt so weak, and that he might sleep for days. He gave in to fatigue, his dreams little more than static black curtains and certain colder temperatures. Sleeping through the night, he awoke to a surprising fact, which was that his old friend Father Raymond was sitting across from him, an eager look on his face. The moment Lucy opened his eyes, then did the priest rejoice, reaching over and clasping Lucy’s hands in his own. “I didn’t want to disturb your slumber, boy,” he said, “but it was sheer torture not to, I can assure you.”

“Hello, Father. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve just come from Listen. I’ve a sister there, perhaps I’ve mentioned it before.”

“You never have, no. Was it a pleasant visit?”

“It was not. In truth I couldn’t get away from her fast enough. What was I thinking in travelling all that way to see the likes of her? She of the dying dogs and loamy aromas?”

“I don’t know what.”

“She doesn’t cook, boy — she scalds.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“At any rate, I’m heading back to Bury, now, and that suits me well enough. But what of you, I wonder? Will you tell me your news? How are things at the castle? You must be living very fine these days, I would think.”

“No, I’m not. Actually, I’ve just come away from there.”

“Come away? Not permanently, I hope?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And why is that?”

“Any number of reasons.”

“Possibly you’ll tell me one of the reasons, or two?”

Lucy didn’t know where to begin. He said, “I found it to be an unhealthy environment.”

“Unhealthy?”

“Unhealthy and somewhat dangerous, yes.”

Father Raymond shook his head. “That’ll never do, boy,” he said. “But don’t you worry, we’ll get you some other, better position back home.”

“No, I’ll not be returning to Bury.”

“What? And why not?”

“As it happens, I’m chasing after a girl, Father. For it has come to pass that I’ve fallen in love.”

Father Raymond leaned in. “In love, you say?”

“Just so.”

“And what is that like? I’ve often wondered about it.”

Lucy said, “It is a glory and a torment.”

“Really? Would you not recommend it, then?”

“I would recommend it highly. Just to say it’s not for the faint of heart.”