cb.imajica1-第62部分
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s came along to kill the blooms and chill the chicks in their nests； there would be a surge of new life by May； as parents let their fledglings fly and set about a second brood for June。 More pessimistic souls were already predicting drought； their divining dampened when； at the beginning of March； the heavens opened over the island。
When…on that first day of rain…Jude looked back over the weeks since she'd left the Godolphin estate with Oscar and Dowd； they seemed well occupied； but the details of what had filled that time were at best sketchy。 She had been made wele in the house from the beginning and was allowed to e and go whenever it pleased her to do so； which was not often。 The sense of belonging she'd discovered when she'd set eyes on Oscar had not faded； though she had yet to uncover its true source。 He was a generous host； to be sure； but she'd been treated well by many men and not felt the devotion she felt now。 That devotion was not returned； at least not overtly； which was something of a fresh experience for her。 There was a certain reserve in Oscar's manner…and a consequent formality in their exchanges…which merely intensified her feelings for him。 When they were alone together she felt like a long…lost mistress miraculously returned to his side； each with sufficient knowledge of the other that overt expressions of affection were superfluous； when she was with him in pany…at the theater or at dinner with his friends…she was mostly silent； and happily so。 This too was odd for her。 She was accustomed to volubility； to handing out opinions on whatever subject was at issue； whether said opinions were requested or even seriously held。 But now it didn't trouble her not to speak。 She listened to the tittle…tattle and the chat （politics； finance； social gossip） as to the dialogue of a play。 It wasn't her drama。 She had no drama； just the ease of being where she wanted to be。 And with such contentment to be had from simply witnessing； there seemed little reason to demand more。
Godolphin was a busy man； and though they spent some portion of every day together； she was more often than not alone。 When she was； a pleasant languor overcame her； which contrasted forcibly with the confusion that had preceded her ing to stay with him。 In fact she tried hard to put thoughts of that time out of her mind； and it was only when she went back to her flat to pick up belongings or bills （which； on Oscar's instruction； Dowd paid） that she was reminded of friends whose pany she was at present not disposed to keep。 There were telephone messages left for her； of course； from Klein； Clem； and half a dozen others。 Later； there were even letters…some of them concerned for her health…and notes pushed through her door asking her to make contact。 In the case of Clem she did so； guilty that she'd not spoken to him since the funeral。 They lunched near his office in Marylebone； and she told him that she'd met a man and had gone to live with him on a temporary basis。 Inevitably； Clem was curious。 Who was this lucky individual？ Anyone he knew？ How was the sex： sublime or merely wonderful？ And was it love？ Most of all； was it love？ She answered as best she could： named the man and described him； explained that there was nothing sexual between them as yet； though the thought had passed through her mind on several occasions； and as to love； it was too soon to tell。 She knew Clem well and could be certain that this account would be public knowledge in twenty…four hours； which suited her fine。 At least with this telling she'd allayed her friends' fears for her health。
〃So when do we get to meet this paragon？〃 Clem asked her as they parted。 〃In a while；〃 she said。
〃He's certainly had quite an effect on you； hasn't he？〃 〃Has he？〃
〃You're so…I don't know the word exactly…tranquil； maybe？ I've never seen you this way before。〃 〃I'm not sure I've ever felt this way before。〃 〃Well； just make sure we don't lose the Judy we all know and love； huh？〃 Clem said。 〃Too much serenity's bad for the circulation。 Everybody needs a good rage once in a while。〃
The significance of this exchange didn't really strike her until the evening after； when…sitting downstairs in the quiet of the house； waiting for Oscar to e home…she realized how passive she'd bee。 It was almost as if the woman she'd been； the Jude of furies and opinions； had been shed like a dead skin； and now； tender and new； she had entered a time of waiting。 Instruction would e； she assumed； she couldn't live the rest of her life so becalmed。 And she knew to whom she had to look for that instruction： the man whose voice in the hall made her heart rise and her head light； Oscar Godolphin；
If Oscar was the good news that those weeks brought； Kuttner Dowd was the bad。 He was astute enough to realize after a very short time that she knew far less about the Dominions and their mysteries than their conversation at the Retreat had suggested； and far from being the source of information she'd hoped he'd prove； he was taciturn； suspicious； and on occasion rude； though never the last in Oscar's pany。 Indeed； when all three of them were together he lavished her with respect； its irony lost on Oscar； who was so used to Dowd's obsequious presence he barely seemed to notice the man。
Jude soon learned to match suspicion with suspicion； and several times verged on discussing Dowd with Oscar。 That she didn't was a consequence of what she'd seen at the Retreat。 Dowd had dealt almost casually with the problem of the corpses； dispatching them with the efficiency of one who had covered for his employer in similar circumstances before。 Nor had he sought mendation for his labor； at least not within earshot of her。 When the relationship between master and servant was so ingrained that a criminal act…the disposal of murdered flesh…was passed over as an unremarkable duty； it was best； she thought； not to e between them。 It was she who was the interloper here； the new girl who dreamed she'd belonged to the master forever。 She couldn't hope to have Oscar's ear the way Dowd did； and any attempt to sow mistrust might easily rebound upon her。 She kept her silence； and things went on their smooth way。 Until the day of rain。
A trip to the opera had been planned for March second； and she had spent the latter half of the afternoon in leisurely preparation for the evening； idling over her choice of dress and shoes； luxuriating in indecision。 Dowd had gone out at lunchtime； on urgent business for Oscar which she knew better than to inquire about。 She'd been told upon her arrival at the house that any questions as to Oscar's business would not be weled； and she'd never challenged that edict： it was not the place of mistresses to do so。 But today； with Dowd uncharacteristically flustered as he left； she found herself wondering； as she bathed and dressed； what work Godolphin was about。 Was he off in Yzordderrex； the city whose streets she assumed Gentle now walked with his soul mate the assassin？ A mere two months before； with the bells of London pealing in the New Year； she'd sworn to go to Yzordderrex after him。 But she'd been distracted from that ambition by the very man whose pany she'd sought to take her there。 Though her thoughts returned to that mysterious city now； it was without her former appetite。 She'd have liked to know if Gentle was safe in those summer streets…and might have enjoyed a description of its seamier quarter…but the fact that she'd once sworn an oath to get there now seemed almost absurd。 She had all that she needed here。
It wasn't only her curiosity about the other Dominions that had been dulled by contentment； her curiosity about events in her own planet was similarly cool。 Though the television burbled constantly in the corner of her bedroom； its presence soporific； she attended to its details scarcely at all and would not have noticed the midafternoon news bulletin； but that an item she caught in passing put her in mind of Charlie。
Three bodies had been found in a shallow grave on Hampstead Heath； the condition of the mutilated corpses implying； the report said； some kind of ritualistic murder。 Preliminary investigations further suggested that the deceased had been known to the munity of cultists and black magic practitioners in the city； some of whom； in the light of other deaths or disappearances among their number； believed that a vendetta against them was under way。 To round the piece off； there was footage of the police searching the bushes and undergrowth of Hampstead Heath； while the rain fell and pounded their misery。 The report distressed her for two reasons； each related to one of the brothers。 The first； that it brought back memories of Charlie； sitting in that stuffy little room in the clinic； watching the heath and contemplating suicide。 The second； that perhaps this vendetta might endanger Oscar； who was as involved in occult practices as any man alive。
She fretted about this for the rest of the afternoon； her concern deepening still further when Oscar failed to return home by six。 She put off dressing for the opera and waited for him downstairs； the front door open； the rain beating the bushes around the step。 He returned at six…forty with Dowd； who had barely stepped through the doo
