10 The death angel or a shapeshifter?

  At lunch, Joseph sat on a chair and placed a handkerchief on his lap out of habit although he wasn’t hungry.

  “My lord,” Mr. Lancaster said, joining him in the dining room.

  “Sit, Thomas,” Joseph said, motioning for Mr. Lancaster to sit across him. “What is it that needed my presence?”

  The servants started serving food. “My Lord,” Lancaster said, “the Duke of Nowkey is getting married.”

  “Nathaniel Trout?” Joseph asked, looking more interested than he should have been. Lancaster hadn’t seen Joseph’s excitement in a long time. It was surprising. “He’s getting married? To what poor young lady?”

  Mr. Lancaster coughed shortly. It was the first time he heard Joseph’s rude comment. “Pardon?” Lancaster said.

  “I studied with him. He’s an awful man, I assure you.”

  “Well, he’s getting married in a week.”

  “Good for him.”

  “And he has invited you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shall not attend.”

  “I’m afraid you must, My Lord.”

  “I’ll send you. They know I’m sick.”

  “You were sick. Everyone knows you’ve recovered, and you’ve never been better.”

  Joseph chuckled. That sentence sounded stupid. “As a widowed, heirless man who recently deceived death, life can’t get any better. Is that what you think?”

  “I did not mean that.”

  “I know you didn’t, Thomas. I know.”

  Mr. Lancaster sat silently and hesitated to lift his fork to his mouth. He had lost his appetite just like Joseph.

  “Let us attend that wedding then,” Joseph said without looking Thomas in the eye.

  Thomas glanced up at him with a relieved expression. “Wise decision, indeed,” he said. “It would be expected from you to attend.”

  Joseph nodded indifferently. “Expectations drain you, Thomas. I only wish to take advantage of his winery. Nathaniel Trout has the best alcohol collection, or so do they say.” He cut a piece of meat and put it in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing it, he added, “But I shall not tolerate any statement toward my marital status. Pointless persuation from young ladies will only dissuade me. You must ensure no one disrupts my peace.”

  Thomas thought for a few seconds while looking at Joseph. “What?” Joseph asked.

  “You seem quite...”

  “Quite what?”

  “Different.”

  Joseph went deep into his thoughts. “Hmm…”

  “I did not know the public bothers you much, My Lord. You’ve always enjoyed the society.”

  “I’ve never been a social man, only acted as one. Fear of loneliness makes one beg for intimacy from anyone, even the people you secretly despise. But now that I’ve embraced solitude, I no longer seek validation or the company of shallow minds.”

  “Loneliness brings unhappiness, My Lord.”

  “My unhappiness has nothing to do with my loneliness. Sorrow is rooted in my heart. Fate watered it every chance it got.”

  Mr. Lancaster felt sorry for him. “I shall have you protected from unwanted gossip and dances, if that’s your wish.”

  “We’re attending a wedding. I find it complicated.”

  “Do not worry. I shall be prepared for everything.”

  “All right then. Make preparations. We’ll part a few days later in the morning to be there in time. I wouldn’t want Donkey Nowkey to be upset with me.”

  Mr. Lancaster snorted, and his food got stuck in his throat. He coughed a few times, then sipped from his glass of water and looked at Joseph with widened eyes.

  “It was a nickname they had given to the duke of Nowkey when we were at Oxford,” Joseph explained. “I never called him that. I don’t know why it slipped my tongue.” The explanation seemed to be insufficient. Mr. Lancaster was still looking at Joseph with his shocked expression.

  “Do you need a pat on your back?” Joseph asked.

  “No,” Mr. Lancaster said, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief and eating again. It was unlike Joseph to call someone with a mean nickname. Thomas worried he would cause trouble now that he was barely sober.

  Drinking was a new solution for Joseph. He tried to be present for work, but his mind didn’t cooperate with him. Mr. Lancaster didn’t involve Joseph much since he discerned his languid state.

  Joseph roamed the mansion with a bottle and tried to find something new. He was curious. Perhaps there was a sign of his wife or son that he had missed. Or maybe he tried to feel connected to anything in that house. While wasting his time, Joseph found himself interested in only one thing.

  The hooded man.

  A mysterious savior with extraordinary powers. Who could that be? A ghost? Or an angel? He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. For some reason, he had to know about the so called ‘Pedlar’, or else he wouldn’t be able to live in peace.

  As the valet said, the Hoffman orphanage was the only place that knew about the Pedlar. So, Joseph decided to visit the orphanage and ask the nuns about the healer. The orphanage looked too empty. Joseph wondered where all the boys were. While waiting for the superior nun, he noticed his wife’s portrait on the wall of the main hall. Margaret seemed elegant and beautiful in that painting. Joseph smiled, feeling content to see his wife’s face again even if it was only in a frame.

  The superior nun approached Joseph. She could smell the alcohol on him.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Lord Mainwood,” she said with a slight frown. “What brings you here?”

  Joseph took a deep breath to focus. “Can we speak at your office?” he asked, stepping toward the room since he knew where it was, but the nun didn’t follow him. He stopped and looked at her with a frown. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “Forgive me, My Lord. But you cannot enter the orphanage while drunk. This place is sacred.”

  “Sacred?”

  “Yes. The orphanage is no different than a church. Please state your request or come back when you are sober.”

  Joseph sighed, feeling disrespected but also understanding. “All right.” He fixed his sleeves and looked at her. “I want to know about the Pedlar.”

  The superior nun looked surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I know you used the Pedlar’s help to heal the orphans.”

  She looked both ways to check if anyone was near. “You are drunk, Lord Mainwood. Please, do not humiliate yourself further.”

  “I am sober enough to come here and ask you about a man I saw when I was dying, sister.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please. If Father sees you and hears your claims, he shall be very furious.”

  From the look on her face, Joseph realized that the priest had not permitted the pedlar to heal the orphans.

  “I only wish to know who he is,” he said.

  “Lord Mainwood.”

  “Only his name.”

  “I wouldn’t possibly know.” She lowered his tone. “He had a mask and a long cloak, and you ask if I know his name?” So she really had seen him. The nun gulped hard, realizing she had admitted to seeing the healer. “Or that’s what I’ve heard about him,” she added, “I wouldn’t know.”

  The nun was scared. Her fingers clutched her long veil as she spoke. Joseph really wanted to know about the man in hood, but there was nothing more that the superior nun could know.

  “Please leave,” the nun said.

  Joseph nodded and walked toward the exit. He understood why the nun looked perturbed. Using the help of a masked healer was not perceived well, especially for a nun. Now he was left with no more information than he already knew.

  Before he closed the door, someone stopped him by grabbing his coat from behind. Joseph turned in confusion and lowered his gaze. A little boy was there.

  “Hello, sir,” the little boy said, not recognizing him as the Lord, but Joseph didn’t mind.

  “Hello,” Joseph said. The child looked like Francis. If Francis were alive, he would be almost the same age as him. “It’s cold out here. What are you doing?”

  “I heard you talking with Sister Jane.”

  “I was.”

  “About the death angel.”

  “The death angel?” Joseph frowned in confusion. “You mean the healer?”

  The boy nodded.

  Joseph smiled. “A death angel won’t heal others, son.” He knelt to be the same height as the boy. “What is your name?”

  “William, sir.”

  “The same name as my father.” Joseph patted the boy’s hair, and something heavy weighed on his chest. Those children needed parents just as much as Joseph and Margaret needed a child.

  “It’s good to know you, William,” Joseph said, extending his hand. “My name is Joseph.”

  The boy nodded, shaking his hand. “You have fancy clothes, Joseph.”

  “I do?” he asked, realizing he looked different than men in the orphanage. “You could have these clothes if you want.”

  “It’s too big for me.”

  Joseph smiled. “You’re right. Silly me. Then perhaps another set of clothes that will fit you?”

  “And shoes?”

  “And shoes.”

  The boy smiled. “Like yours?”

  “Yes. Do you like them?”

  “I hate them.”

  Joseph laughed. It was refreshing to talk to an honest child. “You could have one that you like.”

  “Sister Jane might not allow it.”

  Joseph hated to hear that. He sighed. “Is she always this distressed?”

  The boy shook his head. “Since the death angel came to save me.”

  “He saved you? You are the sick boy who needed help. Did you see the angel?”

  William nodded.

  Joseph’s heart skipped a beat. “You did? How did he look like?”

  “Like a death angel.”

  “But how is a death angel?”

  “Shadowy.”

  “Hmm…” Joseph couldn’t get answers from a child. That boy could be only creating an illusion in his mind. William grabbed Joseph’s hand and put something in his palm. Joseph looked down and saw the single black glove.

  “He left this with you?” Joseph asked, turning it around to inspect every detail.

  The boy nodded. “You can have it. It scares me. Sister Jane says if we speak about the death angel, he will return to take me to my Mama and Papa.”

  Joseph frowned. Sister Jane sounded like an idiot. “Nothing will happen to you. Sister Jane is being dramatic.” He closed his fist. “This shall stay with me. Thank you for telling me about him even though you’re scared. You’re a very good boy, William.” He patted his head again and got on his feet.

  “Will I see you again, Joseph?” William asked.

  Joseph nodded. “Now, please return inside before Sister Jane gets upset with both of us.”

  William walked away without protesting, and Joseph left. He was even more curious about the hooded man. The single glove had a different sewing and shape than what Joseph had ever seen. He sat on his wife's bed and sniffed the pillows. He had done it many times before and knew there was no scent, but he still hoped to smell something.

  When his drink finished, he went to the kitchen to find something to eat. An old maid was in there.

  “My lord?” the maid said.

  “Do we have something I can eat?”

  “Of course.” She went to prepare food for him, and he sat on the floor. “Not on the floor, My Lord!” she said.

  “It’s all right,” Joseph said. “I won’t die.”

  “But it’s cold.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  She brought him a bowl of soup and hesitated to put it on the floor. Joseph couldn’t even hold the bowl.

  “Do you want me to feed you, My Lord?” she asked.

  “Please?”

  The old maid sat next to Joseph and started feeding him. The valet came and saw them both. “What is going on?” he asked. “My lord! Please get up!”

  “Don’t intervene, Jack. I’m all right,” Joseph said.

  “What has happened to you?”

  “Life.” He chuckled, pouring soup on his clothes.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” the maid said.

  “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

  The valet came and lifted Joseph from the floor. He helped him go to his bed and fed him from the bowl of soup as the old maid nervously watched him do so.

  “Do you think the Pedlar is still in town?” Joseph asked with his weak voice.

  The valet gulped. “I don’t know, My Lord.”

  “Do you think he is a real character, or everyone is creating narratives about him?”

  The valet sighed. He put the bowl of soup on the table next to his bed and looked into Joseph’s eyes. “You mustn't mention his name, my lord.”

  “Why not?”

  “No one likes a man with higher power. They will accuse you of using witchcraft.”

  “If she is a woman, then she could be a witch. Who knows?”

  “I do not think he is a woman,” the old maid said.

  The valet and Joseph both looked at her. “What?” Joseph said.

  “He’s neither a man nor a woman,” she added, looking confident in what she was saying.

  “What does that even mean?” the valet said.

  The maid got closer to Joseph and made sure her voice was in a whisper tone. “The Pedlar’s story is very ancient. We heard it when we were kids. My grandmama always told us stories about the traveler that shape shifted.”

  Joseph chuckled. “Shapeshifter? Are you serious?”

  The valet and the maid were surprised to see Joseph laugh. “Do you not think it true, my lord?” the maid asked.

  “Of course not!”

  “My grandmama was an old maid. She didn’t talk much. She would tell stories in her last days. We used to think she was just an old lady on her deathbed. But then everything she said came true with time. I myself have heard of the Pedlar, who has been helping folks in the village for many years. They are ashamed to speak of him. But they sure seek his help when needed.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Joseph said. “You can go now.”

  The old maid curtsied and left the bedchamber. Joseph fixed his posture on the bed. “What do you think, Jack?” he asked the valet.

  The valet nervously pulled at the side of his jacket. “I’m not supposed to say it. It’s dangerous.”

  Joseph was too drunk to be serious, yet he cared too much about the Pedlar to let the topic slide. “Speak now,” he said firmly.

  The valet sighed. “I don’t know what to believe in. What I do know is that the Pedlar is no ordinary human. When no physician could heal you, the Pedlar did. He walked fast as if he was floating. And he only appears when it’s dark. Maybe Mary is right. Maybe he is a shapeshifter. Perhaps he is a woman by day and a man by night. I met him when it was dark but couldn’t see his face. Who knows what shapes he shifts into when it’s daylight?”

  Joseph sighed. “I cannot believe no one knows anything about him.”

  “Why are you obsessed with him?”

  “I’m not obsessed,” Joseph said, even though he was becoming fanatical. “I just have to confront him. I want to know how he does what he does.”

  “You must find him then,” the valet said.

  Joseph looked at him again. “What?”

  “You must find this mysterious man... If it has occupied Your Lordship’s mind this much.”

  “It hasn’t occupied my mind.” That was a lie. He had nothing else to care about. With Lancaster managing the estate, Joseph’s life was dull.

  “I was unable to pay him, My Lord,” the valet said. “If you find him, you must pay and thank him for saving your life.”

  Joseph didn’t add to the conversation. The valet’s suggestion was a silly idea. Finding a man only by a simple glove was impossible and pointless. Joseph had many questions but didn’t care enough to search for the hooded man.

  Or did he?