Jane again called out to him. "Lord Asher, one more thing, please. I need to ask you something important."
With one hand on the door he glanced back at her, his mouth drawn in tight lines. She looked like she hated to ask him for anything, but was driven by despair.
"Yes?"
"I need to bring my pet Orville to Town. He is causing havoc without me at the Van Helsing estate."
"Orville?"
Embarrassed, Jane explained, "My pet ostrich."
"You have an ostrich for a pet?" Asher asked, intrigued in spite of himself. That was the kind of a pet Clair Frankenstein would have.
She nodded. "My grandfather brought him to me when Orville was just a hatchling. I am his mother. But the major hates him. He said he would chop off his head and stuff him if we didn't let Orville come and live with us immediately."
"Your father is quite good at killing things, isn't he?" Asher retorted mockingly. The backstabbing bastard. Glaring hard at his small, voluptuous wife, Asher decided the fruit didn't fall far from the tree. Even if her fruits were entrancing.
"Please. Orville has done nothing to earn your enmity," Jane beseeched. She loved Orville as much as she loved Spot, her dog. She couldn't live without her two pets near her. Originally she had planned on asking this favor of her husband after they had made love, because Clair had advised her all husbands were putty in their wives' hands after a rigorous bout of lovemaking. However, since she doubted hell was going to come into an ice age anytime in the near future, and espying no flying elephants out her bedroom window, Jane had little choice but to place her request before this cruel, indignant vampire now.
Swallowing what little dignity she had left, Jane pleaded, despising herself for groveling. But love for her pets was stronger than her pride, humiliation or anger. "Please. I beg you. Let Orville come to London with his keeper, Bert."
"You have the nerve to request a favor of me? After all you have done?" How queer, he mused, an ostrich for this silly goose. It was another surprising facet to his wife's nature. He wondered what else was in store over the long years of matrimony ahead.
"Please!"
"What utter unmitigated gall you Van Helsings have!" he snapped. And with those words, he threw open the door.
"Asher, please!"
He turned and paused, then finally nodded. Then, glancing down at her feet, he remarked with surprise, "Is that a spider I see?"
Jane screamed, and she jumped a good two or three feet off the floor. "Where? Where?" Glancing back to the door, she saw her husband disappear down the hall, chortling.
The sneaky vampire had lied to her. There was no spider. Slamming the door shut, Jane could still hear his chuckles. "Well, I guess that's that. The honeymoon is over."
Waking Neil, Divine
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.
Yes, Jane thought, as she walked down the hallway; Charles Dickens was right, and he had accurately described her first four days as the vampire's bride.
Asher had been conspicuously absent, leaving Jane to her own devices in his majestic Town home and in the massive ornamental gardens outside. Jane frowned, knowing her husband was avoiding her as though she had the coughing sickness—or that she was someone who had tried to stab him in the back.
Asher had communicated with her only twice, by note sent on a bronze platter. Jane recognized that the action was a small way to demean her. Asher was an inventive vampire. It was almost scary to think of all the small ways he could demean her in their married life to come. He was so thoroughly ignoring her now, she had began to despair of ever having a chance to set things right. Still, men liked to pout, even her brother Brandon.
She knew she could be strong in the face of adversity. Her father had taught her that lesson early. It was odd: The more things changed, the more they remained the same.
She only wished she were smarter. How could she care for a vampire who so obviously held her in contempt? Jane liked the fact that Asher was a handsome creature who knew his own worth. He was a pleasure to watch and to look upon. She admired his dignity and his loyalty, when he chose to give it. Her husband had a droll wit and a fine mind. He was interesting and exciting. She was intrigued by the mystery of him, and bound by an invisible pull that kept butterflies tickling her stomach whenever he was near, which unfortunately was rare since their abortive wedding night. She was definitely ready for the "for better" part of married life.
Yet, in spite of her recent travails, hope sprang eternal in her breast. She was finally married, a feat she had truly feared would never happen. In years of exile at the Van Helsing country estate, Jane had often envisioned herself at forty, an old maid, leaping out at strange men with large fangs, lurking about servants quarters, listening to maids gossiping about where their mistresses' love bites were strategically placed, and just who had placed them. Often, late in the night, Jane had seen the dreary years marching by, while she made endless trips to the church filling bottomless vials of holy water. Countless trips to countless cemeteries had haunted her dreams. And really, when a person had seen one big yard full of dirt holes, she had seen them all.
But now, her whole world was changed. She had a new life, and she was not going to let some pesky detail like her husband's intense dislike of her stop her from making a good marriage based on trust and affection.
Although his company was not the best, the same could not be said for Asher's London residence. The house was an imposing structure, four stories tall, with a steeply pitched gabled roof done in pale red. Large iron balconies lined the second- and third-story windows. She had wonderful times exploring her new home, to her heart's content and to Renfield's disgust.
The elaborate mansion was located on the outskirts of London, with extensive formal gardens that were well maintained. Marble statues of alabaster white and cerulean blue, with ornate flowing fountains, were placed strategically around a lovely wooded area. The area abounded with birds of all kinds, from robin redbreasts to softly cooing doves. Jane had been ecstatic upon first spying them. Not only could she traipse about and watch birds to her heart's content, but the gardens were also big enough that Orville would have plenty of room to run, play and terrorize anyone foolish enough to bring food anywhere near him.
All, in all, the Wolverton London home was magnificent; and unbelievably Jane was mistress of the impressive domain. She had even caught herself pinching her arm last night to see if she was dreaming. When she was a small girl, she'd dreamed of being mistress of just such a place, and of being cherished and adored by a devoted husband.
Passing a footman on her way down the large marbled stairway, Jane smiled briefly. At least she could say honestly that Asher's household was run with rigid precision. His butler, two of the butler's sons, who were also footmen, the housekeeper; and three of her daughters, who were maids and an assistant cook, had been with the earl since they were quite young. That was continuity in its extreme, since these same servants' great-grandparents, grandparents and parents had served the earl, the housekeeper had explained upon Jane's arrival. Although vampires kept knowledge of what they were on a strictly need-to-know basis, Jane had deduced that the earl's closest servants needed to know, and had been somehow sworn to secrecy by a blood oath. She shuddered at the bright red images that evoked in her head.