The Burning Bride Read online

he could find, cleared an area for dancing in front of the imposing fireplace, and hauled several large boxes of wine up from Mrs. Prothero’s cellar. Phillip’s economic concerns did not apparently extend to hers. Silas liked to be active, and was happily distracted from frustrating thoughts; furthermore, he had not had any kind of conversation with anybody, which was a comfort. His godmother had hurried in to supply refreshments of sandwiches and tea now and again, but otherwise the household seemed to be occupied elsewhere, of which he was rather glad.

  Having just secured a swag, he thought he heard her approach again, and looked down to see that it was his first tormentor of the morning instead. This time she had no ghoulish costume, however, but simply the smart, slightly old-fashioned sort of attire she had worn yesterday. In her hands she bore a small plate, on which was an exquisite little cake.

  ‘I’ve come to say sorry,’ she told him, ‘and this is a peace offering. I made it myself. Mrs. P tells me it’s your favourite kind. Will you come down?’

  She did not speak with sarcasm, and smiled sweetly, so he was inclined to accept her gift. He climbed down the ladder, received the plate, and sat on a bench. She took the place beside him.

  ‘So you bake now, do you?’ he asked, about to take a bite.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’m a perfect little Cinderella,’ she claimed, stretching lazily and resting her head on her hand to look sidelong at him. ‘I bake, clean, iron, and pick dead wives out of the ashes.’

  He smacked the plate, with its cake untasted, on the nearest table, and glared at her.

  ‘Oh! Sorry. I forgot I’m here to apologise.’

  ‘Are you really? It sounds very much like you’re here to rub my nose in my mistakes. There’s no need to be so sly about it. Take a leaf from Phil’s book. He was kind enough to tell me off in no uncertain terms.’

  ‘He would. But you’re not special for that, Silas. He tells everyone off, every five minutes. I said sorry, though, didn’t I? I wouldn’t dream of rubbing your nose in anything, unless I thought you secretly liked it. Besides, I’ve no intention of defending Bianca. To hear Phillip talk you’d think he was her dearest friend, but if he knew her as well as I did, he wouldn’t pretend to be half so outraged.’

  Silas eyed her shrewdly. ‘You knew her very well, of course.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go so far as very, but it didn’t take much to fathom her, inside and out. She was stupid.’

  Silas laughed in surprise. ‘Was she now! Stupid to stay with me, I suppose you mean.’

  ‘No, just stupid altogether,’ she replied dismissively.

  He was puzzled, and turned to study her languid expression. She seemed to warm to the attention, so he looked away again and reached for the plate.

  ‘Even if that were true,’ he said, ‘you still have no right to say so to my face. But you know very well it isn’t true. Perhaps you speak four languages, like she could? Something tells me you do, “Smith”.’

  ‘Oh, the languages! I forgot those. Yes, well, I’ll grant you that. She had something tedious to say in every one of them, no doubt.’

  ‘But nothing spiteful,’ he reproved.

  ‘That’s true. She was never spiteful.’

  He made to take a bite at last.

  ‘Just tedious,’ she mused. ‘I’m glad she’s dead.’

  ‘What?’ Down went the plate again. ‘How can you say that?’

  She laughed, and moved in closer on the bench. ‘To provoke you,’ she whispered, and then leaned back, resuming her normal volume: ‘But it’s so easy, there’s hardly any fun in it. The truth is I don’t care— what’s one Bianca more or less to me?’

  ‘A great deal, I’d say,’ he answered darkly. He paused, and then said with resolution: ‘Listen, are you going to tell me what this is all about? Do we have to talk in circles all day? Bianca, it’s me— won’t you speak your mind, as you always did? Say what you feel— you must be longing to! You of all people have a right to scold me, and I wish you would. I wish you’d stop this pretence and be honest.’

  She seemed unmoved by his plea, however. ‘Honesty! Good grief. Another one of her shining virtues. How could someone so shining be so dull? Ah, but I should be kinder, sorry. You’re a grieving widower, you’re not in your right senses. But I’m here to encourage you, Silas, to recover.’

  ‘My senses are perfectly in order, thank you. It’s you who’s acting strangely.’

  ‘Quirkily,’ she corrected. ‘I act quirkily. It’s one of my most endearing traits— but then, I have so many you may have missed it. Which one do you like best?’ She beamed, and quickly pouted. ‘Don’t say my resemblance to your dead wife! No-one sees that except you. Take a good look.’ She smiled again and sat up in a pose.

  Silas gave a sigh. ‘Alright. Let’s pretend you’re not Bianca, if that’s how you want it. You’re Smith. Fine. So then, Smith, tell me: why are you treating me like this? If you’re just some casual acquaintance, why are you hell bent on riling me?’

  ‘You’re so irresistibly rilable,’ she purred.

  ‘But what is it you want?’ he snapped. ‘An apology?’ His tone softened. ‘It’s yours. It really is.’

  ‘Hmm. You’re mistaking me for your wife again. I’m nobody’s wife.’

  He folded his arms. ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite believe that.’

  ‘Only because you’re so vain.’

  ‘Vain, now! Another vice for me.’

  ‘Yes.’ She folded her arms too to mimic him. ‘Vain enough to think a woman would come back from the dead for you. Believe me, this woman would do no such thing. Once I get up into Heaven it’ll take more than a man like you to bring me back down.’

  He laughed frustratedly and held up his hands. ‘Yes, yes, yes, I’m not good enough for you! I’m receiving your transmissions loud and clear! But just out of interest, what sort of man would it take?’

  ‘To lure me out of Heaven!’

  ‘You’re not there yet. I’m afraid you’ve a long way to go.’

  ‘But Silas, I am in Heaven,’ she replied with a conceited smile, and spread her hands to include the whole room. ‘I make it so.’

  ‘I see! And remind me— who called me vain?’

  She tutted twice, plucked the glacé fruit from the top of his cake and ate it before he could protest.

  ‘Well, what’s your answer?’ he pressed, retrieving the plate once more. ‘What sort of man could tempt you? Is he anything like me?’

  She gave him a sly glance, as if about to serve some pointed rejoinder, but then simply shrugged. ‘Oh, I’m not too particular. I don’t want a man to be any more than your average hero of every other book or movie.’

  ‘Not particular at all! Just your average hero.’

  ‘Well, he’s what I’m supposed to want, I imagine, since he’s set up for my admiration so often. A man who can kill men and rape women as casually as possible, isn’t that a hero?’

  ‘Do you ever give an honest answer?’

  ‘Do you ever ask an honest question? You interrogate me as if I’m somebody else— and somebody both dead and dull for that matter— but it’s hardly credible you could really mistake me for Bianca.’ She poked him in the ribs. ‘I know what you’re up to, comparing me to your dead wife! It’s a plot to flirt with me.’

  Silas was gravely quiet. When he responded at last, it was in a stern, measured voice. ‘If I didn’t think you are Bianca, I wouldn’t even look at you.’

  That remark silenced her in turn, and she scrutinised the garlands with annoyed interest.

  A door slammed somewhere upstairs, and there was a rumble of raised voices and running feet. Silas and his companion pretended not to notice, and stared forward fixedly. Soon their solitude was interrupted, however. One of Daphne’s bridesmaids dashed into the room, looking harassed.

  ‘Where’s Mrs. Prothero?’ she cried. ‘Have you seen her? She went to find her thimble.’

  Neither responded, so with an impatient expression she rushed out again.

/>   ‘What was that about?’ Silas asked, from between tight lips.

  ‘Daphne’s trying on her dress for the last time,’ came the equally flat reply. ‘I mean the last time before tomorrow.’

  The house around them seemed to have erupted into commotion, and soon the second bridesmaid was before them, even more flustered than the first. ‘Where’s Mrs. Prothero?’ she shouted.

  ‘She went to find her thimble,’ the pair responded in inadvertent unison, but the bridesmaid did not stay to remark on it.

  ‘It sounds like the dress doesn’t fit,’ said Silas, more casually.

  ‘Oh, eat your cake!’ she returned pettishly, and stood up to leave.

  Silas thought better of further argument, and took a bite of the cake at last. There was an unpleasant-sounding crack, and he yelped with pain.

  ‘Ow! What have you put in this? You’ve broken my tooth!’ He spat out the mouthful, and probed his teeth for damage. ‘What are you trying to do? There’s metal in it!’

  At this moment, the door boomed open for a third time, and Phillip strode in. ‘Where is my godmother?’ he boomed angrily.

  Silas was too angry himself to take any notice. Prizing apart the spittled crumbs, he picked out a golden ring. ‘You put this in the cake?’ he raged. ‘Do you want to choke me?’

  ‘I asked you two a question!’ interrupted Phillip, with equal fury. ‘This is extremely important!’

  ‘I asked you a question!’ Silas demanded of the cake’s baker, who merely gazed at him with mild surprise. ‘You put a metal ring in the cake? Was it on purpose?’ He held it out to her, and