Nature or Nurture Ch. 47

After a good night's sleep, they wake with the coming of daylight, and Catherine is already excited.

'I've always wanted to ride a horse, Nelly's were never used for riding, just for farm work. Let's go, I can't wait!'

Vincent can't help but smile at such enthusiasm, with such a tiny body riding will be quite an effort, even sitting in front of an adult. But her happiness is very catching, and Vincent realizes he has never seen her so obviously carefree before. A toddler, constantly aware of danger around her? That is just heartbreaking, they really need to find that lady and convince her to leave them be, willy-nilly.

But not now, they are safe here, outside the reach of the enemy, and they are going to spend a week in carefree enjoyment, starting with a ride through the country. They'll all have muscle cramps tomorrow, but Catherine will have her ride. And so will he, frankly he is looking forward to riding as much as his girl is.

It is great fun to go out together, Adison astride, very indecent to the rest of the world, but quite normal to Vincent, Cathy used to ride astride in their better days, before her father died and Hindley came back.

What?

No flashback, just a normal memory, of someone he never actually knew?

Purposely concentrating on Adison, Vincent can see she is having more difficulty finding her balance than he has, but still she copes admirably, and Catherine is sitting in front of her granddad with glee, holding on to Sparkles' mane fearlessly.

The estate is very beautiful, very well-kept despite Thomas' age, he must have a good steward, or be an expert manager himself.

They cannot ride more than an hour without getting totally stiff with the unfamiliar exercise, but in that time they manage to work up to a little canter, and whilst Thomas keeps Sparkles back, Adison and Vincent gallop over a few hills, Adison knowing exactly where to go, of course.

To think she grew up here, and chose to live in London as a nurse, though of course despite her having lived here most of her life, none of it is actually hers, on her father's death everything will revert to her brother, whom she hasn't seen for at least five years, probably more. Leaving Adison to live off his charity, at his mercy for the rest of her life.

Seen that way, Vincent can easily understand that her current life is a much better choice. All in all, freedom is a better choice than wealth, and of course she has added love to her life, being independent also means marrying where she likes. For Vincent has no doubt that if her father had refused his consent, they would have married eventually in defiance of him, once she turned twenty-one. Adison and himself are meant to be together, nothing can stop their love.

Adison's hair flows behind her as she gallops beside him, her elegant little riding horse keeping up easily with his larger but heavier cob. Her face mirrors his own, total exhilaration, speeding like this feels heady. She is beautiful, his lovely small lady, and so strong and sweet.

The horses tire soon, they're clearly not used to hard work, and they circle back until they see grandfather and granddaughter again, deep in conversation, Sparkles ambling on, though pricking up his ears at the sight of his stable mates running towards him.

Thomas does rein him in a little, good, he's taking no chances with Catherine in front of him.

They turn back towards the stables altogether, ready for coffee. Vincent offers to help with the horses, but the stablehand is glad to do the work himself, he doesn't have to exercise two spirited horses today, saving him at least two hours of work.

Vincent is looking forward to meeting Thomas' friends tonight, he has already heard a lot about them from Adison, there are four of them, three men and a lady, all over sixty years old by now. Apparently, they choose a subject each time they meet and discuss that amongst them, reviewing all the sides they can think of. But since this is the first time they have seen Adison in years, they have decided not to discuss anything but just to chat with her and her husband.

After his reception by Thomas, and yes, his conversation with Adison yesterday evening in bed, Vincent is not afraid of meeting Thomas' friends, more enlightened souls than they are probably nowhere to be found in the country. And anyway, Adison was right, Mr Alexander and Mr Wilde didn't blink at the looks of him, they seemed in fact eager to see him play.

Maybe he is a bit over-sensitive, but who wouldn't be if they saw skin devoid of any colour in the mirror, and eyes the colour of a bird of prey's, with the same intense gaze.

To be totally frank, he got worse glares when he was still swarthy as a gypsy, eyes black but no less intense. Actually, the people gawking at him were often actively hostile, the people in Gimmerton looked down on him, even hated him without knowing him, just because he looked different than they did.

That changed when he came to London, people were not so afraid of the exotic there, and women started to eye him with interest, his proud stance and yes, the suppressed violence in him, it attracted them like a beacon.

Looking about, he sees Adison in front of him, and he waves her to come over for a moment. When she is walking beside him he asks, 'Remember your father's advice?'

'About recording your memory returning?'

'Yes,' Vincent replies, 'I think I have the ultimate entry: I remembered facts of my former life twice today, but without flashback. Just as memories offer themselves, unasked for, almost randomly, and very detailed but without feelings attached to them.

I remembered that Cathy always rode astride before her father died and Hindley returned, and I remembered getting nasty looks all the time and comments on my swarthy gypsy appearance when living near Gimmerton, and attracting a lot of interest of the ladies once I moved to London. Do you think my memory has returned in full? Just like that?'

Adison does not look happy.

'What is the problem, Adison? It's good to have my memory back without having to live it all, isn't it?'

'Things happen as they will, Vincent, but you are so different from Heathcliff, will they be your memories returned, or someone else's intruding on your new life? You'll certainly be a lot safer, instantly remembering people you have known in your former life, but what if his character starts influencing you?'

Stopping dead in his tracks, he takes her in his arms, and states, 'I didn't think of that, but I promise I'll keep telling you everything, we'll work it out together.

I'm going to spend an hour digging up memories, see if I can find out who the Master is, whether he is a man or something else, where he stands in the pecking order of evil, and most of all, whether it is him behind these new attacks. Maybe the real enemy is someone or something else?'

'Vincent, this is why the creature made his last appearance yesterday, he must have been your link to your memories from before death, somehow. I've never seen you cry, not even when in agony.'

Startled, he remarks, 'I didn't ever, did I? I guess I never felt the need with you close to me, you always made my pain and fear bearable. My other self must have sensed this happening, he did me one last service, making me admit to my fears, so you'd understand.'

Then he adds, dryly, 'I cried for days after Cathy died, I had nothing left to live for.'

Realizing what he just said, he looks at Adison in dismay.

'This is what you meant. I remember as if it was me, which makes him part of me. I've never loved Cathy, I should not remember her at all, let alone remember mourning her.'

Straightening her back, and looking right in his eyes, she kisses him on the lips and says with determination, 'As you said, Vincent, we'll work it out together. You always managed to accept the flashbacks, you'll find a way to live with these memories.'

Then, with humour, 'It may all turn out for the best, you'll have a lifetime of experiences to use in your acting.'

'You're right, I won't worry, not until we run into a problem anyway. Though I would like to tell your father's friends, see what they have to say about it.'

And with that, they have arrived at the house, where Catherine and Thomas are waiting for them with a cup of coffee and a lovely slice of pie. As Adison tells them after coffee that she is going to haunt the library with Catherine, Thomas describes where to find the books her mother left her, they are in an iron bound wooden chest with strange markings, in the back of the left gallery, with the books on travelling.

They walk off together, and Thomas and Vincent pour another cup of coffee and sit back in their chairs.

'I'm very glad to see my daughter with you, Vincent,' Thomas says, 'she is obviously very happy, there is so much love between you. And Catherine is just like Adison, I keep forgetting they're not mother and daughter by birth.'

That affects Vincent a lot, such a nice thing to say!

'Thank you, Thomas, I'm very relieved to find you so approving of me. I was quite anxious you'd find it hard to trust me.'

'My dear boy, why are you so insecure all of a sudden? In all her letters Adison has always portrayed you as being the height of stability and self-assurance, a successful actor, the strong man she relies on. Why all the doubt?'

Who can resist such open friendliness?

Vincent replies frankly, 'You are obviously Adison's father, you get straight to the point. She thinks it's because I gave up a place where I felt very safe, the theatre where the actor in me was born, to move up a step in another, much more serious theatre.

I'm probably afraid the other actors won't accept me. I'm from very humble origins, I realize as we speak how incredibly humble, a beggar child saved from life in the streets, and I look like nobody else, never did actually. The other actors are all of much higher birth and very handsome. Why should they accept me as one of their own?'

'You neither look nor sound humble or low-born, you speak beautiful English, what you say makes sense, your stance is very proud, and though you certainly look different from other men, it attracts the eye instead of repulsing it.

There is something vaguely dangerous about you, I suppose you are a very good fighter? Your daughter told me proudly that you killed a gytrash by yourself. Is that true? She said she saw the body a day after, but did you kill it all by yourself?'

Vincent bows his head to affirm he did.

'I did, and it wasn't even very hard. I'm incredibly strong and fast, and I've developed my own style of sword-play, a combination of traditional fencing and Chinese martial arts. The thing didn't stand a chance.'

Thomas is impressed, but he wants to know, 'Why did you get attacked by a gytrash? I've read those books Adison is probably leafing through right now, and they take an enormous amount of energy to create. You must have a powerful enemy.'

'I thought I'd tell you tonight, when your friends are here. Tell all of you how I met Adison, got those scars and lost my colour. My memories returned today, all of them, suddenly they're just there, acting like normal memories.

Except they aren't, I'm not the same person I was before I lost them, and now I'm afraid they'll change me, change how I feel about Adison, for I had a violent, possessive love for Catherine's natural mother in that lifetime.

And I fear a change of heart about my acting, for I was an utterly charming, utterly dangerous villain, working for an evil master. Will I be able to continue pursuing an acting career, knowing what I did to innocents, with cynical comments and reminiscences always in the back of my mind? I hope to get some expert advice from all of you, how to keep from going mad.'

'And you shall have it, my son, don't worry. Adison is also very strong, I am very certain that no evil shall take root in you as long as you are with her. Trust her, as she trusts you.

Will you demonstrate your abilities with that sword now? I only fenced in college, but I appreciate seeing a master at work. And I suppose you need to practise anyway.'

Which Vincent does, outside in the garden, where there is plenty of space to move. It has started to rain slightly, but rain has never bothered Vincent, and his exercise enables him to empty his mind, giving him a few moments of peace before he will sit somewhere quiet to gather his courage and start digging in his memories to find out who the enemy is.

Thomas watches him with rising wonder, how can one man acquire so many skills in one lifetime? In Adison's opinion, and judging by the results of his audition, also that of Mr Wilde himself and Mr Alexander, chief of the St James theatre and a well-know actor, he is a gifted actor, on his way up through the ranks.

And he has seen him ride a horse like a professional horseman, so subtle his leads were hardly visible. And now the sword-play. Thomas knows about Chinese martial arts, and he has seen superior fencing in his days at college, and this man's style is indeed a perfect meshing of the two. The speed is incredible, and the technical moves are astounding in their complexity.

How can such a gifted man worry about a few scars in his face, and the colour of his eyes and skin? Who cares about such trivialities?

His curiosity is whetted, and he can hardly wait to hear what happened between Adison and him to create the almost tangible bond between them, and how his daughter's husband became the man he sees in front of him.

As he was practising, Vincent had a blessed moment where his mind was empty of all thoughts and especially memories, but now he has retreated to Thomas' study to piece together an image of their enemy, and his memories intrude on his thoughts once more.

Heathcliff's fearful reputation may have sprung mostly from his barely suppressed rage, he did have training in formal fencing from the moment he could afford it, in the service of the Master in London. Even then he had a talent for it, though of course just normal strength and agility. It explains why Vincent has picked it up so quickly, the basics were already there in his muscles, if not in his memory.

His preference for romantic poetry, too, however incredible that may be, it originated in Heathcliff, maybe his neglected soft side?

Letting his mind associate freely, he encounters memory after memory, not a very scientific method, but very suitable to getting deeper and deeper into his past. There is no record of a Mrs Poole in Heathcliff's memories, he is certain of that, she must be a new player in the field, she seems to have had no connection to the Master.

The Master now, Heathcliff did see him quite often, drinking a glass of wine together, wine that resembled blood, thick and strong and deep red in colour, almost brown. He was a very powerful looking man of middle age, short hair, clean shaven face, rather bland facial features.

Vincent supposes he might be called handsome, though a little too indistinct to be truly beautiful. More notably was his charm, one might almost call it seductive. He didn't so much force a person to do his will, he seduced people, though he could be very cruel, even to his own people, as Mina told him when they were drunk together.

But to Heathcliff he was very friendly, at least at first, in hindsight that friendliness was calculated to sink his predecessor in ever deeper debauchery, tempting him to cross his moral boundaries time and time again, getting him to hurt even Cathy, mentally at first, using her instability to drive her ever further away from reason, then physically, first as his victim, then to their mutual torment. For Cathy did not suffer in silence, she gave as good as she got.

The vampiric creature that held Mina, it was also a servant of the Master, of more or less the same rank as himself. There was a lot of contention between them, the thing wanted to just kill as many people as it could with its harem of turned women. It turned one each night on average, and laid with them.

Mina was the only exception, she was not his to do with as pleased that vampire thing, she worked by herself, with the rabble of the street, and that thing accompanied her sometimes to guard her. It loathed that duty, and it hated Heathcliff, for trying to stop its murderous pillage through the city, the number of victims the creature was leaving behind was alerting the guard, frightening the people, making Heathcliff's job that much harder.

That job was very confusing indeed. Most of the Master's plots caused destruction and often heartbreak, mayhem in the streets and blood spilled, often innocent blood, for no apparent reason, no financial gain, no rise in status, just panic in the streets, lives and property lost.

But somehow, every one of those actions seemed to have given rise to some form of progress, like the horrible textile mill replaced by a machine operated mill, like two cases Miss Yves rooted out, now clearly remembered, a very public and messy assassination of a respected priest that caused an outcry and general grief, until he turned out to have abused a lot of children.

And the humiliation of a respected council member by setting him up with a lady of sin, in a very compromising position, then having him caught at it by his own brother-in-law. His overthrow shocked half the town, but ended in the ascent of a truly righteous and philanthropic man, a man who got a lot of laws passed to improve the quality of the river-water, and who was now working to get child-labour restricted.

Why? Why would someone sow murder and mayhem to reap progress? Wouldn't progress just happen by itself? Vincent's mind is spinning.

After an hour, Vincent is worn out and rather sad, Heathcliff endured so much in his youth, Hindley's humiliations, and the constant rejection of the people of Gimmerton, and he repaid it all with interest, to those who generally didn't deserve it. Cathy might be the only exception, she didn't just suffer from him, she inflicted her share of pain and humiliation on him even before he succumbed to rage, contributing to his fall.

The door opens and Adison enters. Without a word, she sits on his lap and embraces him, again taking away the pain, reminding him he is someone else entirely. Her love has saved him from the heartbreaking conclusion to Heathcliff's woeful life, wreaking even more violence as the will-less vessel of the Master's invention, and she will save him from any danger these memories may bring.

Sitting together like this in total silence for some time, she eventually breaks it.

'That was an hour love, and I can see that is more than enough time to spend with those memories. Do you want to talk about it?'

'I promised, remember?'

He kisses his beloved tenderly, she is so beautiful, but most of all so good, so free of jealousy, of smallness.

'The memories were bad, but they're mostly not really mine. They feel like useful information, though I feel sorry for Heathcliff for having had such a miserable life.

Of course that may yet change, but though I'm shocked at what he did, I don't feel responsible. It wasn't me. But Adison...'

She looks up at him, some relief and a lot of love in her features.

'...you did save me. Heathcliff was not hopeless, he was angry and damaged, but I'm certain you might have saved him as well as you saved me. Cathy made it worse, she played him, teased him, tormented him. They were each other's punishment as well as greatest love.'

He kisses her again, then says resolutely, 'And now I want to play with my daughter, cuddle her and hear her laugh. Are you coming?'

Adison just nods, her eyes are burning and her throat is shut very tightly, but she knows their love is going to help him turn those unwanted memories to their advantage, help him protect his little girl.