The Grenadillo Box: A Novel Read Free

precisely the servant he believed me to be), and I had presumed to speak to him without the deference he expected. My face flamed at the crispness of his rebuke, but I understood his drift. He was an invited guest in this house, a noble one at that; I would be prudent to adopt a more subservient manner.
    I murmured an apology and busied myself as best I could. I relit my candle, pushed back Montfort’s head, and probed his neck for signs of life. His skin was already clammy from the bone-chilling air; there was no flicker of a pulse. By now my eyes had become more accustomed to the gloom, and I thought I discerned a lozenge of glistening black, about as long as my thumb, wedged between his fleshy jowls. I screwed up my eyes, pushed his head back again, this time at a slight angle, and leaned forward to examine his neck. Imagine then my surprise when I discovered that the black shape was not alone but one of several. Gingerly I touched one. It fell into my hand, pulsating and slimy, leaving a bead of garnet blood on Montfort’s neck.
    “Dear God!” I exclaimed, flicking my hand violently to dislodge it.
    “What is it?” asked Lord Foley impatiently.
    “There are leeches on him.”
    Scarcely had I uttered these words than a surge of nausea rose in my belly. I became feverishly hot within my costume, my head boiled beneath my wig, yet my face and hands grew cold and clammy as death itself. I began to shudder uncontrollably. This only doubled my distress. I was mortified to make such a pathetic display of myself before Lord Foley, and yet I was incapable of suppressing any of it. And at that moment a further discomforting thought occurred to me. The spectacle I made was no different from one I had witnessed, without comprehension, not five minutes earlier. I was reacting precisely as Elizabeth Montfort, wife of the unfortunate victim, had done when she first heard the gun blast.
    Foley lit another light and brought it close. He stared unblinkingly at Montfort’s neck. He saw the creatures I’d described, and his lip curled with scorn. “Come, come, man,” he said, flaring the nostrils of his hawkish nose, “you are very squeamish. To be bled is a common enough occurrence—a panacea for multiple ills.”
    I gulped a mouthful of air and swallowed deeply to stem the sickness that was growing stronger by the minute. “I am well aware of the benefits of bleeding, sir…. Only the leeches took me by surprise. I had not expected them…in these…these…circumstances.”
    “I grant you they are unsightly,” said Foley, bending low to study Montfort’s neck, on which I could now detect half a dozen or more leeches were feasting, “but they are hardly the horror you make them.” He glanced at me once more, steely-eyed, and must have read the queasiness in my face. “If you wish to retch, man, go quickly and do it from the window.”
    Groaning incomprehensible words of apology, I staggered across the room towards the open window. I stooped my head beneath the sash, slumped out over the sill, and the steamy contents of my stomach ejected to the ground below. Thank God I had my back to Foley and he was shielded from the worst of my degradation, though I knew he could hardly fail to hear my spittings and splutterings. The knowledge only compounded my torment. All the while my stomach was racked by spasms and disgorged itself, my mind was snarled in similar turmoil. This was the first body I had witnessed, and as I’ve said, until the moment I clapped my eyes on it I’d believed myself to be impervious to fear or squeamishness. Now I’d shown myself I’d no more pluck than a rabbit.
    Foley displayed not a jot of interest in my plight. He continued his monologue while I vomited from the window, although I was too incapacitated to pay any attention to him until the worst of my seizure had subsided. Even when I listened more attentively, most of his words were no more than indistinct babble. The only phrase I caught quite