Mildew Manor, or The Italian Smile
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by Kim Newman |
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BALSAMO: Hist, some party approaches...
EITHNE: I heard nothing.
BALSAMO: That's because you're not a bandit. I'm sensitive to every twig that breaks. You need your wits about you if you are to live a life of brigandage and deception.
JOHN: I'll say.
Footfalls are heard.
BALSAMO: I don't like the sound of that tread. It's... unnatural. And, behold, a pale face appearing in the gloom, strangely familiar, yet...
EITHNE: Why it's only Auntie Linoline!
JOHN: Indeed, but white-faced and staring-eyed, with a thick red scarf around her neck.
LINOLINE: Eithne, come away with me.
BALSAMO: There's something not quite right about Linoline. I wonder how she would react were I to raise my pectoral cross in her direction.
LINOLINE: Ssssss!
EITHNE: What sharp teeth, Auntie. I'd never noticed before.
BALSAMO: This isn't your aunt, child, but a foul revenant in her shape. Have no fear, she shall not pass. I draw my sword...
JOHN: Watch out, she's swift as a cat.
Crack!
JOHN: Merciful heaven, she's kinked his neck with one twist, turning his head the wrong way round!
LINOLINE: Crick-crack! Break a bandit's back! Crack-crick! Give his neck a lick!
EITHNE: Auntie! You are drinking that poor man's blood!
JOHN: Hold, unnatural creature!
LINOLINE: No kisses for your old auntie, little Eithne? Such an ungrateful girl.
EITHNE: John, I don't know what to do.
LINOLINE: Usually, under such circumstances, you faint. Tiresome habit, but there you are.
EITHNE: I do not faint! I swoon occasionally, but that's as far as it goes.
LINOLINE: By the way, did you know there was another secret entrance to this cave?
JOHN: No, why?
NICHOLAS: Because you are apprehended from behind, scoundrel. Here, this stout cudgel should see you into unconsciousness.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
EITHNE: John, your head is unprotected. Have a care! I must say, Mr Goodman, I am taken aback that you should serve this fellow so ill.
VALERIA: You faint now?
EITHNE: I think I might.
Thump! Clatter!
VALERIA: Such a pity. No one catch her this time.
NICHOLAS: At last, things are as they should be. Back at Mildew Manor, this pair will be served as they merit.
***
NICHOLAS: This will settle your hash, Master Straight. In these long-disused crypts, where remain instruments of persuasion used by witchfinders of old, it pleases me to introduce you to the Warlock's Settle. At a mere touch of a lever, razored spikes will protrude from the seat and arms, causing you no little discomfort.
JOHN: You fiend! Agh!
NICHOLAS: I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that. Did I happen to tickle you with the razored spikes? Are you in some discomfort? Valeria, fetch balming oil for our injured guest.
VALERIA: Certainly.
Manly yelps.
JOHN: That hurts, dreadfully.
NICHOLAS: Foolish woman. Did you perhaps apply vinegar by mistake?
JOHN: Stay away from Eithne, villain.
NICHOLAS: I merely wish to stroke her long, lovely hair. To consider her beauty as she sleeps. So fair, so constant, so wealthy... so ripe.
JOHN: If I weren't shackled...
NICHOLAS: It strikes me as ironic that after a life filled with so much sin and deception, my old friend Sir Eustace should at the end make one wise, virtuous decision... to entrust the guardianship of his daughter to one as trustworthy and honest as I. We shall be married before the week is out.
VALERIA: Married!
NICHOLAS: Of course. Anything else would not be respectable. One does not rescue a maiden from desperate banditti and refrain from marrying her.
VALERIA: This colourless, fragile thing! Married to you! After all another has done in your cause!
NICHOLAS: I really don't know what you mean. Do stop being so tiresomely Italian.
VALERIA: I scratch her eyes out!
NICHOLAS: No.
Snick!
VALERIA: My throat!
NICHOLAS: You hold your neck, I see. Blood seeps between your fingers. Come, Valeria, take your hands away.
VALERIA [gurgling]: No.
NICHOLAS: Let me see. Ah, that's better.
An emptying noise.
NICHOLAS: At last, the Italian smile.
EITHNE: Oh, Mr Goodman, I had such a terrible dream. A throat cut from ear to ear... Auntie Linoline a red-eyed vampyre frothing with unspeakable lusts... my poor dead father's pale spectre... Father Balsamo's head turned entirely backwards. And John, honest and dear John, shackled to the hideously cruel Warlock's Settle. Thank providence that it was just a mare of the night... ah...
LINOLINE: Too witless with terror even to scream, dear niece?
NICHOLAS: Sweet Eithne, you have had a narrow escape. But everything is as it should be now. You are in the arms of your tender, devoted guardian... I am the man to whom you are to be wed.
EITHNE: Mr Goodman.
NICHOLAS: Let me kiss you.
JOHN: Don't...
A struggle, then the smack of wet lips.
EITHNE: Mr Goodman!
NICHOLAS: Indeed. Oh, good heavens, she's gone again. Into a swoon. You were right about that tiresome habit, Linoline. But awake or asleep, it matters not. Eithne is mine. I have taken a deep draught of the cup of villainy. I admit it. There is no excess I will not commit, no passion I will keep pent. I see it clear at last. Crime and sin are my meat and drink. And now, I shall have my feast.
And so, from the highest of intentions, Nicholas Goodman finds himself numbered among a company that, but a few days ago, he could hardly have expected to consider his peers. Vampyre and spectre, murdered bandit and smiling Italian, helpless maiden and tortured swain, and, before all, the Dark Figure of Mildew Manor. As to the sequelae of these events, you will have to form your own opinions.
Against all probability, does John Straight find the strength to break free of his shackles and interpose his sturdy frame between the degenerate Nicholas Goodman and the object of that formerly worthy gentleman's unhallowed desires?
Or, unhappily, does Nicholas proceed unhindered with the worst of his crimes, and contrive to live out his days with the fair and biddable Eithne as plaything and her great wealth and influence his to dispose of as he sees fit?
Or, it is possible, does Nicholas Goodman find himself thwarted at the last not by the efforts of the virtuous John but by his own crimes, which have raised against him a party of the malign dead?
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