Part 8-9: Julian and Charles Darwin.

Part 8-9: Julian and Charles Darwin.
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Julian stroked his hand over the crown of the dog’s velvet covered skull, and, as the warm leather of Alexander’s padded nose prodded his palm in welcome, he smiled.

“Hello, boy,” Julian said quietly, “Supper time.”

Stalking through the doorway, as he expected, the dining room table was laid for one, and the log fire had been stoked into a fiery orange glow that draped the room in golden splendour. Julian was a wealthy man, and a philanthropic one. Try as he might, he could not spend enough money. Julian smiled wryly. A vampire’s needs are...modest.
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Every time he struck dread into his bank manager’s heart by appearing for an unannounced early evening update on his funds, he found that the pile of white pound notes that he withdrew for his latest overseas expedition had already spawned many more. Mr. Henderson “the third” gladly went along with the deception that Julian Wouldham was also of the third generation, and handling his grandfather’s financial affairs.

Julian watched Mr. Henderson pacing around his office, always keeping his five feet square, walnut Victorian partners desk between them, and Julian was put in mind of a very nervous lion tamer.

Julian smiled as he said briskly, “You are funding the refuge, still. And the new hospital is fully equipped?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Julian frowned, “Well, Mister Henderson, you’ll have to look harder. There must be research, or a project of some kind, that needs a benefactor...something.”

“There’s the slums, at Bethnal Green.”

“No,” Julian barked and Mr Henderson fell back a pace. “Nothing goes into the East End. The layer of scum is too thick. They enslave street-urchins, forcing them in to picking pockets, and prostitute the young girls...nothing goes to those scoundrels, do you hear?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll look for something. Build an orphanage, maybe?”

Julian cocked his head, his eyes alight with interest. “Find me the land. You have three months.”

That had been two weeks ago. Julian wondered how many more decades it would take before he could bury his revulsion and pain. He was tired of feeling it, but the dark alleyways of Bethnal Green had been where he had thought to find a killer. He even thought he had seen the running man of his nightmares...the one with the blade in his hand dripping with Eva’s blood. But no...instead, he had found Nathaniel, a vampire that had crushed his arm as he had slammed him into a brick wall. He had laughed as his searing bite had dragged across Julian’s throat like splintered glass, and he had stolen the gift of death. How long before I forgive?

He knew that he was not a bad man. His attachment to Garrett and Charles told him he could still empathize, and remembering his friend’s tearstained, tortured sleep brought Julian back to the present.

“I have Charles to attend to first,” he muttered, “I need to give him the boot up the backside he needs to get him moving, make him live again.”

Julian crossed to the hearth and stood needlessly warming his legs, adopting the pose of a relaxed gentleman with Alexander’s heavy muzzle resting on the toe of his boot. Every few seconds he moved, feathered his fingers over his thumb, rubbed his nose, and swallowed needlessly. All parts of the performance he had honed as pretend human. In truth, it was hard work, and left to himself he would stand as stone, unblinking for hours. But that will never do.

Footfalls heralded the appearance of Garrett. His gray hair glistened like spun silver in candlelight that etched creases on to his face. If Julian’s youth were unnerving to Garrett, then the same was true of the footman’s aged countenance. It reminded Julian that decades were passing by, and that he had many more to endure...alone.

“Garrett.” Julian smiled.

“Master Julian.” Garrett smiled in his turn, as he unloaded the contents of a silver platter onto the dining table. “Venison tonight, Sir. Rare.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “You spoil me, Garrett. Thank you.”

Garrett was a picture of perpetual movement. Never quite meeting Julian’s regretful gaze, he busied himself re-arranging the cutlery, refolding the starched white napkin, and finally, reversed from the room, his head bobbing in deference.

Julian heaved a sigh. He would like to have sat in the winged-back leather chair and watch Garrett drink wine, and listen to his tales about the children that he knew he had sired. “But, that would be the end of us...of our delusion.”

Julian sat down at the table, shook out his napkin and laid it over his knees. He poured a measure of claret, picked up the tepid glass that felt like a hot stone in his icy palm. Swirling the contents in a mesmeric rotation colored the clear crystal crimson, and reminded him of the blood that he had washed from his skin barely an hour before.

He rehearsed the wording of the letter that he had decided to write to Charles until the copperplate print of his handwritten message was engraved clearly into his mind. In a final flourish, he swallowed the wine, lifting his chin as it seared a path down into his gullet, and he suppressed a cough. Always good to practise, he thought, although it had been a long time since he had been forced to pretend to eat.

Patting his thigh brought Alexander to his side, and he casually fed pieces of carved venison into the dog’s eager mouth, careless of the enthusiastic canine chewing on his fingers as the dog’s tongue lapped at his master’s hand.

With the meat gone, Julian crossed to the fire and scraped his knife across the plate, watching as the hungry flames devoured the rest of the meal. Julian replaced the fine bone china, lined up the silver-plated cutlery, and rang the copper bell which would summon Garrett to clear the table. His mind already racing on ahead, he left the room to cross the hall and take a seat at the desk in his study,

Flipping the tails of his jacket out behind him, he settled down to write. Taking the bull by the horns, Julian picked up a pheasant quill, and penned the letter that would shake things up, and give Charles that much needed kick.

To be continued...