Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Madelaine 2 - In the Face of Death

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CHELSEA QUINN YARBRO, of Berkeley, California, is an award-winning fantasist
perhaps best known for The Saint-Germain Chronicles and other vampire tales, one of which,
"Advocates," was co-winner of the prestigious World Horror Award for Best Novelette. "In the
Face of Death," tangentially linked to the Saint-Germain series, describes a plausible "period-
piece" affair between a fascinating vampire and William Tecumseh Sherman (1820-1891), a West
Coast banker who became one of the Civil War's most important Union generals, second only in
importance to U. S. Grant. Sherman's military genius was surpassed by his hatred of war; his
alleged penchant for bloodiness was a reputation reportedly engineered by his enemies in the
South and North. According to Ms. Yarbro, Sherman's family was indeed absent from the scene
during the period in which her story takes place.
I know of no courage greater… than the courage to love in the face of death.
-WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN TO QUEEN VICTORIA
FROM THE JOURNAL of Madelaine de Montalia
San Francisco, 18 May,
At last! And only four days later than anticipated when we left the mountains. Had I been
willing to travel on the river from Sacramento, we would have arrived on the date anticipated…
My native earth should be in one of the warehouses, waiting for me, which is just as well, as 1
have got down to less than a single chest of it.
My escorts brought me to a very proper boarding-house on Sacramento Street, and have
gone on themselves to find suitable lodgings. A Mrs. Imogene Mullinton, a very respectable
widow from Vermont, owns this place and takes only reputable single women. She has given me a
suite of three rooms at the top of the house, her best, and for it I am to pay $75 a month, or any
fraction of a month, a very high price for such accommodations, but I have discovered that
everything in San Francisco is expensive. The suite will do until I can arrange to rent a house for
three or four months…
Tomorrow I will have to pay off my escorts, which will require a trip to the bank to
establish my credit here, and to begin making my acquaintance with the city. Doubtless the
excellent Mrs. Mullinton can direct me to Lucas and Turner; the documents from their Saint
Louis offices should be sufficient bona fides to satisfy them.
At the corner of Jackson and Montgomery, the new Lucas and Turner building was one of
the most impressive in the burgeoning city; located near the shore of the bay and the many long
wharves that bristled far out into the water, the bank was well situated to sense the thriving
financial pulse of San Francisco.
Madelaine, wearing the one good morning dress she had left from her long travels,
stepped out of the hackney cab and made her way through the jostling crowds on the wooden
sidewalk to the bank itself. As she stepped inside, she felt both relief and regret at once again
being back in the world of commerce, progress, and good society. Holding her valise firmly, she
avoided the tellers' cages and instead approached the nearest of the desks, saying, "Pardon me,
but will you be kind enough to direct me to the senior orncer of the bank."
The man at the desk looked up sharply. "Have you an appointment, ma'am?" he asked,
noticing her French accent with faint disapproval, and showing a lack of interest that Made-laine
disliked, though she concealed it well enough. He was hardly more than twenty-two or -three and
sported a dashing mustache at variance with his sober garments.
"No, I am just arrived in San Francisco," she said, and opened her valise, taking out a
sheaf of documents, her manner determined; she did not want to deal with so officious an
underling as this fellow. "I am Madelaine de Montalia. As you can see from this-" she offered
him one of the folded sheets of paper "-I have a considerable sum on deposit with your Saint
Louis bank and I require the attention of your senior officer at his earliest convenience."
The secretary took the letter and read it, his manner turning from indulgent to impressed
as he reviewed the figures; he frowned as he read through them a second time, as if he was not
convinced of what he saw. Folding the letter with care, he rose and belatedly gave Madelaine a
show of respect he had lacked earlier. "Good gracious, Madame de Montalia. It is an unexpected
pleasure to welcome you to Lucas and Turner."
"Thank you," said Madelaine with a fine aristocratic nod she had perfected in her
childhood. "Now, if you will please show me to the senior officer? You may use those documents
to introduce me, if that is necessary."
"Of course, of course," he said, so mellifluously that Madelaine had an urge to box his
ears for such obsequiousness. He opened the little gate that separated the desks from the rest of
the floor, and stood aside for her as she went through, her head up, the deep-g-een taffeta of her
morning dress rustling as she moved. "If you will allow me to go ahead and…" He made a
gesture indicating a smoothing of the way.
She sighed. "Is that necessary?"
He made an apologetic grimace. "Well, you see, there are very few wealthy young women
alone in San Francisco. And you were not expected." Again he gestured to express his concern.
"No doubt," she said, and halted in front of a large door of polished oak. While the
secretary rapped, Madelaine examined her brooch watch, thinking she would be fortunate to be
out of the bank much before noon.
"Come in," came the crisp order from a sharp, husky voice.
The secretary made a slight bow to Madelaine, then stepped into the office, discreetly
closing the door behind him, only to emerge a few minutes later, all smiles and half bows, to
open the door wide for her in order to usher her into the oak-paneled office of the senior officer
of the bank.
The man who rose behind the orderly desk surprised Madelaine a little; he was younger
than she expected-no more than his mid-thirties-sharp-featured, wiry and tall, with bright-red hair
and steel-colored eyes, and a pinched look about his mouth as if he were in constant discomfort.
His dark suit was neat as a uniform, and he greeted her with fastidious correctness. "William T.
Sherman, senior officer of Lucas and Taylor in San Francisco, at your service, Madame de Mon-
talia." She took his hand at once. "A pleasure, Mr. Sherman," she said, liking his decisive
manner. "I hope you will be willing to help me establish an account here."
His face did not change, but a glint appeared in his eyes. "Certainly." He signaled to the
secretary. "Jenkins, leave us to it. And don't close the door."
Madelaine saw that the secretary was flustered. "But I thought-" he said.
"I will handle the opening of this account. Given the size of this woman's resources, such
an account would need my authorization in any case." He came around the end of the desk not
only to bring a chair for Madelaine, but to hurry Jenkins out of his office. He carried the Queen
Anne chair to a place directly across the desk from his, and held it for Madelaine. "Madame?"
As she sat down, Madelaine smiled up at Sherman. "Thank you," she said and noticed a
quick frown flicker across his face.
Taking his place behind the desk once more, Sherman spread out two of the letters in her
packet of documents on the wide expanse of leather-edged blotter. "I see you deposited ninety-
five thousand pounds sterling in the Saint Louis office of this bank in 1848. The most recent
accounting, from a year ago, shows your balance only slightly reduced." He regarded her with
curiosity. "That is a considerable fortune, Madame. And odd, that it should be in pounds sterling,
not francs."
"I inherited most of it," she said, not quite truthfully, for in the last century she had been
able to increase her wealth far beyond what her father had amassed. "And I have lived in London
for more than ten years before I came here. Much of my money is in England." She made no
mention of funds she had in France, Italy, and Switzerland.
"And you have not squandered it, it would seem. Very prudent. Unusual, you will permit
me to say, in a young woman." He looked at her with increasing interest. "What do you want me
to do for you? How much were you planning to transfer to this bank? In dollars?"
"I would think that twenty-five thousand would be sufficient," she said. "In dollars."
He coughed once. "Yes; I should think so. More than sufficient Unless you are
determined to cut a dash in society, you will find the sum ample. That's five times my annual
salary." He confided this with a chuckle and a scowl. "Very well, Madame," he went on affably.
"I will put the transaction in order. In the meantime, you will be free to draw upon funds up to…
shall we say, five thousand dollars?"
Madelaine nodded. "That would be quite satisfactory, since you are able to contrive to
live on it for a year, though prices here are much higher than I anticipated. Still, I should be able
to practice good economy."
"You certainly have until now, given the state of your account." He cocked his head, a
speculative light in his eyes, his long fingers moving restlessly as if searching for a pencil or a
cigar. "Unless these funds have only recently been passed to your control? In that case, I would
recommend you seek an able advisor, to guide you in the matters of investment management-"
"Mr. Sherman-" she interrupted, only to be cut off.
"Forgive me. None of my business. But I can't help but wonder how it comes about that
you want twenty-five thousand now and have spent less than half of that in the last seven years?"
He braced his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, his chin propped on his joined hands.
"My studies did not require it," she answered, determined not to be affronted by his
directness.
"Ah. You were at school," he said, his expression lighten-ing. He slapped his hands on the
blotter and sat back, his question answered to his satisfaction.
"Something of the sort," she responded, in a manner she thought was almost worthy of
Saint-Germain.
San Francisco, 23 May,
Mrs. Mullinton has given me the address of an excellent dressmaker, and the first of my
new clothes should be delivered tomorrow. There are six other ensembles on order, to be
delivered in three weeks. Once I have settled in, I will need to order more… I suppose it is worth
getting back into corsets for the pleasure of wearing silk again.
There is a private concert tomorrow afternoon that Mrs. Mullinton wishes to attend and
has asked me to accompany her to. Now that she knows I have money and social position, she is
determined to make the most of both of them, convinced I will add to her consequence in the
town. If I am to remain here for three or four months, I will need to enlarge my acquaintances or
risk speculation and gossip, which would do me no good at all… Perhaps I will find someone
who is to my liking, whom I please, who is willing to be very, very discreet. In a place like this,
lapses are not easily forgotten by anyone…
My chests are at the Jas. Banner Warehouse near where Columbus and Montgomery
Streets converge. I must make arrangements to retrieve them soon, not only because I am low on
my native earth, but because the costs for storing the chests are outrageous. I had rather keep
them in the safe at Lucas and Turner for such sums…
The house on Jackson Street was a fine, ambitious pile, made of local redwood timber and
newly painted a deep-green color, unlike many of its paler neighbors, with the trim of yellow to
contrast the white-lace curtains in most of the windows. It faced the street squarely with an
Italianate portico of Corinthian columns; it was set back from the roadway and approached by a
half-moon drive.
When Mrs. Mullinton alighted from the rented carriage, she fussed with her bonnet before
stepping aside for her guest to join her.
Madelaine de Montalia had donned her new dress, an afternoon frock suitable for early
suppers and garden parties, and as such, unexceptionable for this concert. It was a soft shade of
lavender, with bared shoulders framed by a double row of niched silk. The bodice was fitted and
came to a point in the front over a skirt of three tiers of niched silk spread over moderate
crinolines. For jewelry, she wore a necklace of pearls and amethysts; her coffee-colored hair was
gathered in a knot with two long locks allowed to escape and fall on her shoulders. An
embroidered shawl was draped over her arms, and in one hand she held a beaded reticule. As she
descended from the carriage, Madelaine silently cursed her enveloping skirts.
A Mexican servant, whose angular features revealed a significant admixture of Indian
blood, ushered them into the house and explained in heavily accented English that the host and
hostess were in the ballroom to receive their guests, while bowing in the direction they should go.
"We are not the first, are we?" Mrs. Mullinton asked, afraid that she had committed an
intolerable gaffe.
"Oh, no. There are others here already," the servant assured the two women with a
respectful lowering of his eyes.
"Thank goodness," Mrs. Mullinton said in an undervoice to Madelaine as they went along
the corridor to the rear of the house. "It would not do to have it said we came early."
"Whyever not?" asked Madelaine, who had become more punctual as she grew older.
"My dear Madame," said Mrs. Mullinton in shock, "for women to arrive while only the
host and hostess are present smacks of impropriety, particularly since you are new in town." Her
long, plain face took on an expression of consternation as she considered this outrage.
"Then it would be better to arrive late?" asked Madelaine, trying to determine what Mrs.
Mullinton sought to achieve.
"Heavens, no, for then it would seem that we did not appreciate the invitation," said Mrs.
Mullinton. "I am very pleased that we have made our arrival so well." She raised her voice as she
stepped into the ballroom antechamber. "You may find our entertainment sadly dull, Madame,
after the excitement of London."
"Possibly," said Madelaine. "But as I have not seen London for eight years, I think what
you offer here will suit me very well." She smiled at the couple approaching them-he of medium
height and bristling grey hair; she a very pretty woman with a deep bosom and fair hair, in a
fashionable dull-red afternoon dress that did not entirely become her; she was at least a decade
her husband's junior.
"Mrs. Mullinton," said their hostess. "How nice of you to join us." She took Mrs.
MuUinton's hand and kissed the air near her right cheek. "This must be your new guest." She
turned to Madelaine. "I am Fanny Kent."
"And I am Madelaine de Montalia," she said, curtsying slightly to her hostess before
taking her hand, though they made no other move toward each other.
"My husband, the Captain," added Fanny, indicating her partner. "My dear, you know
Mrs. Mullinton. And this is Madelaine de Montalia."
Horace Kent bowed over Madelaine's hand. "Enchanted, Madame," he declared, and then
shook Mrs. Mullinton's hand in a nominally polite way.
The four other couples in the room were presented, and by that time another pair of guests
had arrived, and Madelaine gave herself over to the task of learning the names of the people in
the room, hoping she would not confuse any of them as their numbers steadily increased.
"I have already had the pleasure," said the latest arrival, some twenty minutes later.
Sherman bowed slightly to Madelaine.
"Yes," said Madelaine, taking refuge in a familiar face. "I met Mr. Sherman on my second
day in the city."
"At the bank, I suppose," said the man accompanying him, another foreigner, with a
Russian accent. He beamed at Madelaine and continued in French. "It is an honor to meet such a
distinguished lady traveling so far from home. We are two strangers on these shores, are we not?"
Sherman looked from one to the other. "Madame, let me present Baron deStoeckl. Baron,
Madame de Montalia."
"Delighted, Baron," said Madelaine, and went on, "I had thought that everyone in
California except for the Indians were here as strangers, and far from home."
"Touche, Madame." As the Baron kissed her hand, he said, still in French, "I hope you
will excuse my friend's curt manner. There is no changing him."
"And remember," said Sherman in rough-accented French, "he understands what you
say." With that, he gave Madelaine a polite nod and passed on to greet General Hitchcock, who
had just entered the ballroom.
"He misses the army, or so it seems to my eyes," said the Baron to Madelaine. "If you will
excuse me?"
She gestured her consent, and a moment later had her attention claimed by her hostess,
who wished her to meet Joseph Folsom. "He is one of the most influential men in the city,"
Fanny confided. "You will be glad to know him."
Madelaine allowed herself to be led away; she saw Mrs. Mullinton deep in conversation
with an elderly lady in lavish half-mourning, and thought it best not to interrupt her.
It was almost an hour later, after the string quartet had beguiled them with Mozart and a
medley of transcribed themes from Norma, that Madelaine once again found herself in Sherman's
company. He had just come from the bustle around the punch bowl bearing a single cup when he
saw her standing by the window, looking out into the fading day. He strolled to her side, and
remarked, "The fog comes in that way throughout the summer."
She turned to him, a bit startled, and said, "So Mrs. Mullinton has warned me, and
advised that I carry a wrap no matter how warm the day." She went on, "What do you think of
these musicians?"
"More to the point, Madame, what do you think of them? Undoubtedly you have more
experience of these things than I do." He sipped from his cup and then said, before she could
answer his first question. "I would fetch you something, but that would cause idle tongues to
wag. With my wife away, I cannot risk giving any cause for gossip that would distress her."
"Certainly not," said Madelaine, regarding Sherman with some surprise. "On occasions
such as this-"
"You will forgive me, Madame, for saying that you do not know these sniping cats who
have nothing better to do with their conversation than to blacken the reputations of those around
them." He bowed slightly and was about to turn away when he looked down at her. "You may
find it difficult to move about in society, single as you are. If you were not so beautiful a young
woman, Madame, and so vivacious, there would be little to fear, but-" And with that, he was
gone. As Madelaine and Mrs. Mullinton were taking their leave of the Kents at the end of the
concert, Fanny Kent drew Madelaine aside, with signs of apprehension about her. She made
herself come to the point at once. "I could not but notice that you and Mr. Sherman spoke
earlier."
Madelaine knew well enough not to laugh. "Yes, some minor matters about when I could
sign certain papers at the bank. Mr Sherman wished to know when I would be available to tend to
them. I gather they will be ready earlier than I had been told."
Fanny looked reassured, her rosy cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Oh, Madame. I
am so sorry. I have mistaken the… But as you have just come here, and have not yet learned… I
was afraid you were wanting to fix your interest… oh, good gracious."
"Dear Mrs. Kent," Madelaine said pleasantly enough but with grim purpose, "I am aware
that Mr. Sherman is a married man."
"Yes, he is," said Fanny Kent flatly. "With three hopeful children."
"I have no intention of making his life awkward for him. What a goose I should be to do
such a foolish thing. Great Heaven, Mrs. Kent, he is my banker. I rely upon him to look after my
financial welfare while I am in San Francisco." She smiled easily. "And because he is, I will have
to speak with him upon occasion, and call at his office to take care of transactions that married
women leave to their husbands to perform, but which I must attend to for myself. I hope that
people understand the reasons are those of business; I have no motives beyond that."
"Of course, of course," said Fanny hastily.
"It would be most inconvenient to have to contend with malicious speculation over such
minor but necessary encounters." This time her smile had purpose to it.
Now Fanny let out a long sigh, one hand to her opulent bosom. "It is very sad that Mrs.
Sherman has had to be away from him just now," she said. "The run on the bank left him
exhausted, and his asthma, you know, has been particularly bad.
To care for those two children as well-" She put her hand to her cheek. "Not that you have
any reason to be concerned. I'm sure the worst is behind him. He managed the crisis of the run
quite successfully, and now Lucas and Turner is likely to stand as long as the city. It would be a
terrible thing if scandal should fix to his name after he has won through so great a trial."
Madelaine blinked as she listened, and realized that Sherman had been right to warn her
about gossip.
San Francisco, 29 May,
I must look for a house. I need someplace where I can lay down my native earth and
restore myself through its strength, and I do not want to pay Mrs. Mullinton another $75 for my
apartments, pleasant though they are. A few of the other women here are starting to question how
I live, especially my refusal to dine with them, and I must make an effort to stop their
speculations as soon as possible. If I had an establishment of my own, and my own staff, I could
deal with these problems summarily. No doubt Lucas and Turner can assist in finding what I
want… "This is an unexpected surprise," said Sherman, coming out of his office to greet
Madelaine shortly before noon two days later. He motioned Jenkins aside and indicated that he
wanted her to follow him. "I have the papers ready for you to sign. They'll go off on the next
ship, and the funds will arrive as quickly as possible after that. In these days we can handle these
transactions in less than two months. But let us discuss your matters less publicly. If you will be
kind enough-?"
"Of course. And I thank you for giving me a little time; I am sure you are very busy." As
she made her way back to his office, Madelaine realized that many of the customers and about
half the staff in the bank were staring at her, either directly or covertly. She knew it was not just
because she had worn her newest walking dress-a fetching mode in grape-colored fine wool; she
drew her short jacket more closely around her as she took the chair Sherman offered, aware that
once again, he had left the door half open.
He settled himself behind his desk and held out a pen to her as he reached for the papers
needing her signature. "Now then,
Madame, what more are we to have the pleasure of doing for you?"
Madelaine squared her shoulders. "I want to rent a house. At least through August,
possibly for longer."
Sherman stared at her. "Rent a house?" he repeated as if she had spoken in a language he
did not adequately understand.
She went on without remarking on his surprise. "Yes. Something not too lavish, but as
comfortable and suitable as possible. And I will need to hire a staff for it." She swiftly reviewed
the permission form and signed first one, then the second, the pen spattering as the ink dried on
the nib. "Probably no more than three or four will serve me very well."
"You want to rent a house," Sherman said again, as if he had at last divined her meaning.
"But why? Is there something not to your liking at Mrs. Mullinton's?"
"Only the price and the lack of privacy," said Madelaine as politely as she could. "That is
not to say anything against Mrs. Mullinton. She has been all that is courteous and attentive, and
Mrs. Mullinton's establishment is a fine one, but not for what I am engaged in doing."
"And what might that be?" asked Sherman, disapproval scoring his sharp features.
"I am writing a book," said Madelaine candidly.
Sherman's glower vanished only to be replaced by an indulgent smirk; Madelaine decided
she liked the glower better, for it indicated genuine concern, and this showed nothing of the sort.
"A book?"
"On my studies here in America," she said with a coolness she did not feel.
"Have you any notion of what must go into writing a book? It is far different than making
entries in a diary; it requires discipline and concerted effort." He continued to watch her with a
trace of amusement.
Stung, Madelaine said. "Yes. I have already written three volumes on my travels in
Egypt."
"When you were an infant," said Sherman. "You told me you have spent your time here at
sphool, and before that-"
"Actually, I said I had been studying," Madelaine corrected him. "You were the one who
said I had been at school."
Sherman straightened in his chair as he took the two papers back from her. "You were not
in the convent!" he declared with conviction. "You have not the manner of it."
Madelaine had managed to regain control over her impulsive tongue; she said, "That is
nothing to the point. All that matters is that I find an appropriate house to rent. If you are not
willing to help me in this endeavor, you need only tell me and I will go elsewhere."
This indirect challenge put Sherman on his mettle. "Certainly I will do what I can. As
your financial representative, I must question anything that does not appear to be in your best
interests." He gave her a severe stare. "If you will let me know your requirements and the price
you had in mind to pay, I will have Jenkins begin his inquiries."
"Thank you," said Madelaine, her temper beginning to cool. "I will need a small- or
medium-sized house in a good location, one with room for a proper study. I will need a
bedchamber and a dressing room, a withdrawing room and a parlor, a dining room, a pantry, and
a reasonably modern kitchen, with quarters for a staff of three." She had established these
requirements for herself over eighty years ago. She added the last in an off-handed way. "Also, I
must be able to reach the foundation with ease."
"The foundation!" Sherman repeated in astonishment. "Why should the foundation
concern you?"
Madelaine thought of the trunks of her native earth and felt the pull of it like exhausted
muscles yearning for rest "I have learned that it is wise to know what the footing of a house may
be," she answered.
"Most certainly," Sherman agreed, pleasantly surprised that Madelaine should have so
practical a turn of mind. "Very well. I will stipulate that in my instructions to Jenkins: easy access
to the foundations." He regarded her with the manner of one encountering a familiar object in an
unfamiliar setting. "How soon would you like to occupy the house?"
"As soon as possible," said Madelaine. "I want to get my work under way quickly, and I
cannot do that until I have a place where I may examine my notes and open all my records-I
assure you, they are extensive-for review; at the moment most of them are still in trunks and are
of little use to me there." She smiled at him, noticing for the first time that he had dark circles
under his eyes. "If you will excuse me for mentioning it, you do not appear to have slept well,
Mr. Sherman. Are you unwell?"
He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "My son was fussy last night; he is very
young and misses his mother. I wanted to comfort him, and so I…" He made a brusque gesture of
dismissal, then relented. "And for the last few days my asthma has been bothering me. It is a
childish complaint, one that need not concern you, Madame."
Madelaine regarded him with sympathy. "I know what it is to suffer these conditions, for
I, myself, cannot easily tolerate direct sunlight." She hesitated, thinking that she did not want to
create gossip about the two of them. Then she offered, "I have some preparations against such
continuing illnesses. If you would let me provide you with a vial of-"
"I have nitre paper," Sherman said, cutting her off abruptly. He stared at the blotter on the
desk, and the papers she had signed. "But I thank you for your consideration."
"If you change your mind, you have only to let me know," said Madelaine, noticing that
Sherman's face was slightly flushed. "Think of it as a gesture of gratitude for finding my house."
He nodded stiffly. "If you will call back on Monday, I will let you know what Jenkins has
discovered. What was the price you had in mind again?"
"Anything reasonable. You know better than I what that would be, and you know what
my circumstances are," Madelaine said as if she had lost interest in the matter. "And you know
what is a reasonable amount for a landlord to ask, even with prices so very high."
Sherman nodded, his expression distant. "And the matter of staff? You said two or three?"
"If you will recommend someone to help me in hiring them, I would appreciate it." Why
was she feeling so awkward? Madelaine wondered. What had happened in the last few minutes
that left her with the sensation that she had done something unseemly? Was it something in her,
or was it in Sherman?
"There are employment services in the city," said Sherman, looking directly at her. "I will
find out which is most reputable."
Madelaine was startled at the intensity of his gaze. "I don't know what to say to you, Mr.
Sherman, but thank you." He rose stiffly. "On Monday then, Madame de Montalia." She took his
hand; it might as well have been made of wood. "On Monday, Mr. Sherman."
摘要：

CHELSEAQUINNYARBRO,ofBerkeley,California,isanaward-winningfantasistperhapsbestknownforTheSaint-GermainChroniclesandothervampiretales,oneofwhich,"Advocates,"wasco-winneroftheprestigiousWorldHorrorAwardforBestNovelette."IntheFaceofDeath,"tangentiallylinkedtotheSaint-Germainseries,describesaplausible"p...

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