The Thirteenth Tale-第69章

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ed　to　strength　inside　her。　the　cry　that　had　woken　me；　and　the　cries　that　continued　to　resound　all　around　the　house；　were　not　hers　but　adeline’s；　and　they　did　not　cease　till　morning；　when　emmeline’s　infant；　a　boy；　was　delivered。

it　was　the　seventh　of　january。

emmeline　slept；　she　smiled　in　her　sleep。

i　bathed　the　baby。　he　opened　his　eyes　and　goggled；　astounded　by　the　touch　of　the　warm　water。

the　sun　rose。

the　time　for　decisions　had　e　and　gone；　and　no　decision　had　been　made；　yet　here　we　were；　on　the　other　side　of　disaster；　and　we　were　safe。

my　life　could　go　on。

　。。　



The　Thirteenth　TaleFIRE

？小｜说网
miss　winter　seemed　to　sense　the　arrival　of　judith；　for　when　the　housekeeper　looked　around　the　edge　of　the　door；　she　found　us　in　silence。　she　had　brought　me　cocoa　on　a　tray　but　also　offered　to　replace　me　if　i　wanted　to　sleep。　i　shook　my　head。　“i’m　all　right；　thanks。”

miss　winter　also　refused　when　judith　reminded　her　she　could　take　more　of　the　white　tablets　if　she　needed　them。

when　judith　was　gone；　miss　winter　closed　her　eyes　again。

‘how　is　the　wolf？“　i　asked。

‘quiet　in　the　corner；“　she　said。　”why　shouldn’t　he　be？　he　is　certain　of　his　victory。　so　he’s　content　to　bide　his　time。　he　knows　i’m　not　going　to　make　a　fuss。　we’ve　agreed　to　terms。“

‘what　terms？“

‘he　is　going　to　let　me　finish　my　story；　and　then　i　am　going　to　let　him　finish　me。“

she　told　me　the　story　of　the　fire；　while　the　wolf　counted　down　the　words。

i　had　never　given　a　great　deal　of　thought　to　the　baby　before　he　arrived。　i　had　considered　the　practical　aspects　of　hiding　a　baby　in　the　house；　certainly；　and　i　had　a　plan　for　his　future。　if　we　could　keep　him　secret　for　a　time；　my　intention　was　to　allow　his　presence　to　be　known　later。　though　it　would　no　doubt　be　whispered　about；　he　could　be　introduced　as　the　orphan　child　of　a　distant　member　of　the　family；　and　if　people　chose　to　wonder　about　his　exact　parentage；　they　were　free　to　do　so；　nothing　they　could　do　would　force　us　to　reveal　the　truth。　when　making　these　plans；　i　had　envisaged　the　baby　as　a　difficulty　that　needed　to　be　resolved。　i　had　not　taken　into　account　that　he　was　my　flesh　and　blood。　i　had　not　expected　to　love　him。

he　was　emmeline’s；　that　was　reason　enough。　he　was　ambrose’s。　that　was　a　subject　i　did　not　dwell　on。　but　he　was　also　mine。　i　marveled　at　his　pearly　skin；　at　the　pink　jut　of　his　lips；　at　the　tentative　movements　of　his　tiny　hands。　the　ferocity　of　my　desire　to　protect　him　overwhelmed　me：　i　wanted　to　protect　him　for　emmeline’s　sake；　to　protect　her　for　his　sake；　to　protect　the　two　of　them　for　myself。　watching　him　and　emmeline　together；　i　could　not　drag　my　eyes　away。　they　were　beautiful。　my　one　desire　was　to　keep　them　safe。　and　i　soon　learned　that　they　needed　a　guardian　to　keep　them　safe。

adeline　was　jealous　of　the　baby。　more　jealous　than　she　had　been　of　hester；　more　jealous　than　of　me。　it　was　only　to　be　expected：　emmeline　had　been　fond　of　hester；　she　loved　me；　but　neither　of　these　affections　had　touched　the　supremacy　of　her　feeling　for　adeline。　but　the　baby…　ah；　the　baby　was　different。　the　baby　usurped　all。

i　should　not　have　been　surprised　at　the　extent　of　adeline’s　hatred。　i　knew　how　ugly　her　anger　could　be；　had　witnessed　the　extent　of　her　violence。　yet　the　day　i　first　understood　the　lengths　she　might　go　to；　i　could　scarcely　believe　it。　passing　emmeline’s　bedroom；　i　silently　pushed　the　door　open　to　see　if　she　was　still　sleeping。　i　found　adeline　in　the　room；　leaning　over　the　crib　by　the　bed；　and　something　in　her　posture　alarmed　me。　hearing　my　step；　she　started；　then　turned　and　rushed　past　me　out　of　the　room。　in　her　hands　she　clutched　a　small　cushion。

i　felt　pelled　to　dash　to　the　cot。　the　infant　was　sleeping　soundly；　hand　curled　by　his　ear；　breathing　his　light；　delicate　baby　breath。

safe！

until　next　time。

i　began　to　spy　on　adeline。　my　old　days　of　haunting　came　in　useful　again　as　from　behind　curtains　and　yew　trees　i　watched　her。　there　was　a　randomness　in　her　actions；　indoors　or　outdoors；　taking　no　notice　of　the　time　of　day　or　the　weather；　she　engaged　in　meaningless；　repeated　actions。　she　was　obeying　dictates　that　were　outside　my　understanding。　but　gradually　one　activity　came　particularly　to　my　attention。　once；　twice；　three　times　a　day；　she　came　to　the　coach　house　and　left　it　again；　carrying　a　can　of　petrol　with　her　each　time。　she　took　the　can　to　the　drawing　room；　or　the　library　or　the　garden。　then　she　would　seem　to　lose　interest。　she　knew　what　she　was　doing；　but　distantly；　half　forgetful。　when　she　wasn’t　looking　i　took　the　cans　away。　whatever　did　she　make　of　the　disappearing　cans？　she　must　have　thought　they　had　some　animus　of　their　own；　that　they　could　move　about　at　will。　or　perhaps　she　took　her　memories　of　moving　them　for　dreams　or　plans　yet　to　be　realized。　whatever　the　reason；　she　did　not　seem　to　find　it　strange　that　they　were　not　where　she　had　left　them。　yet　despite　the　waywardness　of　the　petrol　cans；　she　persisted　in　fetching　them　from　the　coach　house；　and　secreting　them　in　various　places　around　the　house。

i　seemed　to　spend　half　my　day　returning　the　cans　to　the　coach　louse。　but　one　day；　not　wanting　to　leave　emmeline　and　the　baby　asleep　and　unprotected；　i　put　one　instead　in　the　library。　out　of　sight；　behind　he　books；　on　an　upper　shelf。　and　it　occurred　to　me　that　perhaps　this　was　a　better　place。　because；　by　always　returning　them　to　the　coach　house；　all　i　was　doing　was　ensuring　that　it　would　go　on　forever。　a　merry…go…round。　by　removing　them　from　the　circuit　altogether；　perhaps　i　might　put　an　end　to　the　rigmarole。

watching　her　tired　me　out；　but　she！　she　never　tired。　a　little　sleep　went　a　long　way　with　her。　she　could　be　up　and　about　at　any　hour　of　the　night。　and　i　was　getting　sleepy。　one　day；　in　the　early　evening；　emmeline　went　to　bed。　the　boy　was　in　his　cot　in　her　room。　he’d　been　colicky；　awake　and　wailing　all　day；　but　now；　feeling　better；　he　slept　soundly。

i　drew　the　curtains。

it　was　time　to　go　and　check　on　adeline。　i　was　tired　of　always　being　vigilant。　watching　emmeline　and　her　child　while　they　slept；　watching　adeline　while　they　were　awake；　i　hardly　slept　at　all。　how　peaceful　it　was　in　the　room。　emmeline’s　breathing；　slowing　me　down；　relaxing　me。　and　alongside　it；　the　light　touch　of　air　that　was　the　baby　breathing。　i　remember　listening　to　them；　the　harmony　of　it；　thinking　how　tranquil　it　was；　thinking　of　a　way　of　describing　it—that　was　how　i　always　entertained　myself；　the　putting　into　words　of　things　i　saw　and　heard—and　i　thought　i　would　have　to　describe　how　the　breathing　seemed　to　penetrate　me；　take　over　my　breath；　as　though　we　were　all　part　of　the　same　thing；　me　and　emmeline　and　our　baby；　all　three　one　breath。　it　took　hold　of　me；　this　idea；　and　i　felt　myself　drifting　off　with　them；　into　sleep。

something　woke　me。　like　a　cat　i　was　alert　before　i　ever　had　my　eyes　open。　i　didn’t　move；　kept　my　breathing　regular；　and　watched　adeline　from　between　my　lashes。

she　bent　over　the　cot；　lifted　the　baby　and　was　on　her　way　out　of　the　room。　i　could　have　called　out　to　stop　her。　but　i　didn’t。　if　i　had　cried　out；　she　would　have　postponed　her　plan；　whereas　by　letting　her　go　on　with　it；　i　could　find　out　what　she　intended　and　put　a　stop　to　it　once　and　for　all。　the　baby　stirred　in　her　arms。　he　was　thinking　about　waking　up。　he　didn’t　like　to　be　in　anyone’s　arms　but　emmeline’s；　and　a　baby　is　not　taken　in　by　a　twin。

i　followed　her　downstairs　to　the　library　and　peeped　through　the　door　that　she　had　left　ajar。　the　baby　was　on　the　desk；　next　to　the　pile　of　books　that　were　never　reshelved　because　i　reread　them　so　frequently。　next　to　their　neat　rectangle　i　saw　movement　in　the　folds　of　the　baby’s　blanket。　i　heard　his　muffled　half　grunts。　he　was　awake。

kneeling　by　the　fireside　was　adeline。　she　took　coals　from　the　scuttle；　logs　from　their　place　by　the　hearth；　and　deposited　them　haphazardly　in　the　fireplace。　she　did　not　know　how　to　make　a　proper　fire。　i　had　learned　from　the　missus　the　correct　arrangement　of　paper；　kindling；　coals　and　logs；　adeline’s　fires　were　wild　and　random　affairs　that　ought　not　to　burn　at　all。

the　realization　of　what　she　intended　slowly　unfolded　in　me。　she　would　not　succeed；　would　she？　there　was　only　a　shadow　of　warmth　in　the　ashes；　not　enough　to　relight　coals　or　logs；　and　i　never　left　kindling　or　matches　in　reach。　hers　was　a　mad　fire；　it　couldn’t　catch；　i　knew　it　couldn’t。　but　i　could　not　reassure　myself。　her　desire　for　flames　was　all　the　kindling　she　needed。　all　she　had　to　do　was　look　at　something　for　it　to　spark。　the　incendiary　magic　she　possessed　was　so　strong　she　could　set　fire　to　water　if　she　wanted　to　badly　enough。

in　horror　i　watched　her　place　the　baby　on　the　coals；　still　wrapped　in　his　blanket。

then　she　looked　about　the　room。　what　was　she　after？　when　she　made　for　the　door　and　opened　it；　i　jumped　back　into　the　shadows。　but　she　had　not　discovered　my　spying。　it　was　something　else　she　was　after。　she　turned　into　the　passage　under　the　stairs　and　disappeared。

i　ran　to　the　fireplace　and　removed　the　baby　from　the　pyre。　i　trapped　his　blanket　quickly　around　a　moth…eaten　bolster　from　the　chaise　lounge　and　put　it　on　the　coals　in　his　place。　but　there　was　no　time　to　flee。　i　heard　steps　on　the　stone　flag