Read Online Ancient Appetites by Oisin McGann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Oisin McGann
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come close to losing everything. Roberto Wildenstern had been courting her by this time and, with her father facing ruin, Daisy did some simple arithmetic and then did what any good daughter should. She married into money.
It wasn't that Daisy didn't love her husband. She could have done a lot worse. Berto was kind, considerate and sensitive; an amusing and entertaining companion. He would read her poetry and sing to her. He took her rowing on lakes on long summer afternoons.
But he lacked ambition. He had a wonderful way with people – he was warm and witty and had scores of friends – and that seemed to be all that mattered to him. He paid no attention to all the plotting and back-stabbing that went on in the Wildenstern family, preferring instead to laugh at their vanities and taking a perverse delight in infuriating his father at every opportunity. There were times when she suspected he had only courted her because the family considered her to be nouveau riche and therefore unsuitable for him.
She would never forget the month of torture when he decided to teach himself the trumpet – deliberately choosing a small room directly below his father's study to practise. Thankfully he stopped when the Patriarch finally responded by having the room's doorway bricked up . . . with Berto's trumpet still inside.
There was a less frivolous side to Berto too. She knew he had secrets; there were times when she detected shame in his voice when she innocently enquired where he'd been. She wondered if there were things about this unusual family that he still had not told her.
'Where's Tatty?' Berto asked abruptly, hoping for some more sympathetic company.
'She's out playing with the spaniels,' Daisy replied. 'I think she's looking for a way to sneak in and see the beast.'
'I think I'll go and join her.'
'Just let me finish your shoes first.'
He was a devil to draw. He fidgeted constantly and kept heaving great sighs. Looking over at her, he tilted his head to one side. She glanced up at him and then back at the paper. The drawing was almost finished. It wasn't one of her best.
'I know what you're thinking,' he said.
'I have no doubt.'
'You're thinking that Nate had something to do with Marcus's death,' Berto told her solemnly. 'He hadn't.'
Daisy laid the board on her lap and met her husband's gaze.
'I wasn't thinking that,' she said. 'But now that you've brought it up, perhaps we should talk about it. You have a rather . . . special family, Berto.'
'I like to think so.'
'You know what I mean,' she retorted impatiently. 'There aren't many families that encourage murder. They say Marcus's death was an accident, but who really knows? Isn't that what you do here? Somebody does away with somebody else and it's all covered up? Your so-called "Rules of Ascension"?'
'That's old hat.' Berto waved his hand dismissively. 'It hasn't happened in years . . . decades.'
'How do you know?' she persisted. 'How many of your relatives have kicked the bucket under mysterious circumstances? But that's not the point, Berto. The point is that this is Marcus we're talking about. He was the Heir. He dies, and the whole family changes. And who benefits most? Nathaniel, that's who. Everybody knew he'd be put in charge of things if anything happened to Marcus. How can you not be suspicious?'
'But I'm the Heir now!' Berto protested. 'And Nate just wouldn't . . . he just wouldn't do that, Daisy. I was next in line, so I had most to gain. You might as well be suspicious of me!'
'Oh, Berto, who's going to suspect you of murder?' She put the drawing board down, gathered the bulky folds of her tiered skirt and moved over to the chair next to him, taking his hand. 'You wouldn't hurt a fly.'
'I might,' he sniffed.
Daisy smiled despite herself, but she worried that Berto's loyalty to his brother might be blinding him. He always took Nate's side when she criticized him.
'Nate's not like you,' she said softly. 'He's cut from the same cloth as the rest
It wasn't that Daisy didn't love her husband. She could have done a lot worse. Berto was kind, considerate and sensitive; an amusing and entertaining companion. He would read her poetry and sing to her. He took her rowing on lakes on long summer afternoons.
But he lacked ambition. He had a wonderful way with people – he was warm and witty and had scores of friends – and that seemed to be all that mattered to him. He paid no attention to all the plotting and back-stabbing that went on in the Wildenstern family, preferring instead to laugh at their vanities and taking a perverse delight in infuriating his father at every opportunity. There were times when she suspected he had only courted her because the family considered her to be nouveau riche and therefore unsuitable for him.
She would never forget the month of torture when he decided to teach himself the trumpet – deliberately choosing a small room directly below his father's study to practise. Thankfully he stopped when the Patriarch finally responded by having the room's doorway bricked up . . . with Berto's trumpet still inside.
There was a less frivolous side to Berto too. She knew he had secrets; there were times when she detected shame in his voice when she innocently enquired where he'd been. She wondered if there were things about this unusual family that he still had not told her.
'Where's Tatty?' Berto asked abruptly, hoping for some more sympathetic company.
'She's out playing with the spaniels,' Daisy replied. 'I think she's looking for a way to sneak in and see the beast.'
'I think I'll go and join her.'
'Just let me finish your shoes first.'
He was a devil to draw. He fidgeted constantly and kept heaving great sighs. Looking over at her, he tilted his head to one side. She glanced up at him and then back at the paper. The drawing was almost finished. It wasn't one of her best.
'I know what you're thinking,' he said.
'I have no doubt.'
'You're thinking that Nate had something to do with Marcus's death,' Berto told her solemnly. 'He hadn't.'
Daisy laid the board on her lap and met her husband's gaze.
'I wasn't thinking that,' she said. 'But now that you've brought it up, perhaps we should talk about it. You have a rather . . . special family, Berto.'
'I like to think so.'
'You know what I mean,' she retorted impatiently. 'There aren't many families that encourage murder. They say Marcus's death was an accident, but who really knows? Isn't that what you do here? Somebody does away with somebody else and it's all covered up? Your so-called "Rules of Ascension"?'
'That's old hat.' Berto waved his hand dismissively. 'It hasn't happened in years . . . decades.'
'How do you know?' she persisted. 'How many of your relatives have kicked the bucket under mysterious circumstances? But that's not the point, Berto. The point is that this is Marcus we're talking about. He was the Heir. He dies, and the whole family changes. And who benefits most? Nathaniel, that's who. Everybody knew he'd be put in charge of things if anything happened to Marcus. How can you not be suspicious?'
'But I'm the Heir now!' Berto protested. 'And Nate just wouldn't . . . he just wouldn't do that, Daisy. I was next in line, so I had most to gain. You might as well be suspicious of me!'
'Oh, Berto, who's going to suspect you of murder?' She put the drawing board down, gathered the bulky folds of her tiered skirt and moved over to the chair next to him, taking his hand. 'You wouldn't hurt a fly.'
'I might,' he sniffed.
Daisy smiled despite herself, but she worried that Berto's loyalty to his brother might be blinding him. He always took Nate's side when she criticized him.
'Nate's not like you,' she said softly. 'He's cut from the same cloth as the rest
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