The Angel of Highgate

25 DINNER AT MIDNIGHT

When her husband was still alive, Constance Pennethorne had frequently dined in the late evening, usually around eight o’clock, but she had never dined as late as midnight. Now she and Algernon were the only customers in a small but fashionable restaurant in London’s West End. The restaurant normally closed at eleven, but Thraxton had paid the owners generously to keep the kitchen open and supply a single waiter. Even so, the restaurant seemed empty and desolate as the waiter drew a chair out for Constance and then seated Algernon next to her.

“Who is this young woman of Lord Thraxton’s,” Constance asked, “that we must dine in the middle of the night?”

“It does seem odd, even for Geoffrey.”

“Does she sleep during the day only to emerge from her rooms after dark like one of the ‘gay’ ladies who frequent pleasure gardens such as the Cremorne?”

Algernon’s eyes widened with alarm at Constance’s uncharacteristically spiteful tone, but he paused until the waiter had placed the napkin on his knee and stepped away before responding.

“Knowing Geoffrey there will be a reason. Probably a strange one.”

They heard the clatter of an arriving coach and moments later Geoffrey and Aurelia entered the restaurant. They were met by the owner, who greeted Lord Thraxton solicitously and took their coats and wraps.

“So that’s the mystery woman,” Constance whispered. “She seems a rather pale and sickly creature. I imagined Lord Thraxton’s tastes would run to a more robust woman.”

“Please, dearest,” Algernon chided, “do not be uncharitable.”

As Thraxton and Aurelia reached the table, Algernon rose to greet them.

“Constance, Algy.” Thraxton bowed and kissed Constance’s hand, then shook his friend’s hand.

“I want you to meet Miss Aurelia Greenley. Aurelia, these are my friends, Mrs. Constance Pennethorne and Mister Algernon Hyde-Davies.”

At the mention of the name “Greenley,” Algernon’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Thraxton’s mystery woman was wearing one of the mysterious blooms they had discovered at Highgate Cemetery. Suddenly all the dots connected: this was the daughter of his head gardener, the irascible Robert Greenley.

Aurelia, her head bowed, looked up at them and smiled shyly.

When they were all seated, Constance directed her gaze at the nervous Aurelia and began her interrogation.

“Tell me, Aurelia,” Constance purred. “Do you eat here often?”

“Oh… no.”

Just then the waiter arrived bearing a magnum of champagne, popped the cork, and soon champagne flutes hissed with foamy effervescence.

“London has so many wonderful restaurants,” Constance persisted. “Where then do you dine?”

“I… have never dined in a restaurant before.”

“Really? You must be very hungry, then.” Constance hid her smile by sipping her champagne.

Thraxton and Algernon squirmed in their chairs. For some reason Constance was enjoying being cruel.

“That is a very pretty necklace you have,” Aurelia said.

All eyes focused on the necklace dangling around Constance’s neck. Thraxton recognized it immediately: the gold Ankh he had snatched from Sir Hector Chelmsford at the British Museum and presented to her.

“Thank you,” Constance said, touching a hand to the Ankh. “It was given to me by Lord Thraxton. He is very impetuous when it comes to giving lavish gifts to ladies… but you must already know that.”

Thraxton’s face colored as Aurelia looked at him questioningly.

Aurelia wore no jewelry because she owned none, but Constance noticed the white bloom pinned to her dress. “That is a very lovely flower you are wearing.” Constance’s eyes danced across the bloom. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flower quite like it.”

Aurelia unpinned the flower (a Night Angel from her garden) and handed it across the table to Constance. “Please, Constance. I should like you to have it. You are so beautiful with your lovely hair and pretty dress, it would look much better on you than on me.”

The gesture, by its graciousness and generosity, took Constance by surprise.

“Oh, why… thank you. But you are very lovely yourself.”

“I am sure I must seem quite plain. Your dress is so very pretty. You have such roses in your cheeks, and your gentleman, Mister Algernon, is so fine and handsome. Together you are like a painting on a box of chocolates.”

Everyone laughed, except for Aurelia, whose hurt look revealed she believed they were laughing at her. But then Constance took Aurelia’s hand and squeezed it and it was obvious by the liquid glitter of her eyes that Aurelia’s simple honesty had touched her. Relieved that she was not the source of their amusement, Aurelia’s face brightened, and the laughter resumed.

Dinner was consumed with gusto by all, but from the confusion over which silverware to use and the way Aurelia waxed on rapturously about every course, it was obvious she had never enjoyed fine dining before. When the last of the plates had been cleared away, the owner of the restaurant hovered close by and it was obvious that he wanted to send his people home and head for his own bed.

Algernon went outside to awaken the slumbering carriage drivers, while Thraxton settled the reckoning. The two women conversed as they waited for their coats.

“Thank you so much for the flower,” Constance said. “It is exquisite. But I must give you something in return.” And with that she pulled the Ankh necklace over her head and then placed it over Aurelia’s head.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Aurelia. “No, I couldn’t possibly.”

But when Aurelia tried to remove the necklace, Constance held her hands to prevent it.

“Please, accept this as a token of our new friendship. It has brought me luck, for I met Algernon because of it. I am sure it will bring you luck, too.”

Aurelia’s eyes filled with tears as the two women hugged each other.

It was raining when they left the restaurant. The dark mares pulling Thraxton’s blue brougham clopped along wet cobblestones gleaming under the gas lamps. Inside Thraxton talked animatedly. “I thought that went swimmingly. They were very taken with you.”

Aurelia had a hand to her face, covering her eyes.

“What, what is it?”

“Dizzy… please… take me home.”

“But I thought we would drive around Hyde Park. We can watch the sun come up—”

“I want to go home — now!”

“It’s just the champagne, my darling. It will pass. You just need some air—”

Aurelia dropped her hand and glared at Thraxton. “There is so much you do not know about me!”

Stung by the venom in her voice, Thraxton lost his words.

“I cannot watch the sunrise,” Aurelia said. “I cannot go rowing on the Serpentine. This is my world — the darkness. It is the only world I can ever know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have… a malady. One which forbids me from that which all other humans enjoy. The sun, the daylight, is my enemy.”

Thraxton was finally beginning to grasp what she was saying. “So… the black curtains of your room… the paleness of your skin…”

“Yes. Light is a drop of slow poison oozing through my veins. The same malady killed my mother. In time, it will kill me, too.” Her voice softened. She gripped Thraxton’s hands. “I am like my flowers. During the day I remain tightly folded within myself. It is only at night that I may bloom. Geoffrey, you are a kind and good man. You have fine friends with fine manners and fine clothes. But you should forget me. I can never be a part of your world.”

“Yes you can. You must. I have money. A title. We can make a life together.”

She pulled her hands from his, shook her head and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

“There is a gulf between us more vast than you can know. I have lived most of my life alone in a darkened room. I never went to school. I have never strolled in a London park. Until tonight I’d never dined in a restaurant. The only friends I have are whores and beggars and the wretched poor. I know almost nothing of your world and can never know it. You and I may long for one another as day longs for night, but in the same way, we can never be together.”

A large tear streamed down her cheek.

“Never!”

Suddenly she snatched the door handle and flung herself out of the moving carriage. Thraxton reached out to grab her, but caught only a blast of cold night air. He yelled for Harold to stop, banging the ceiling with his walking stick. The carriage had barely slowed when his feet hit the wet cobblestones and he ran back to look for Aurelia.

But she had vanished into the night.