“How charming.”
“You won’t make me feel bad about that, Noemí. The strong survive, the weak are left behind. I think you’re quite strong,” he said. “And what a pretty face you have. Dark skin, dark eyes. Such a novelty.”
Dark meat, she thought. Nothing but meat, she was the equivalent of a cut of beef inspected by the butcher and wrapped up in waxed paper. An exotic little something to stir the loins and make the mouth water.
Virgil stood up, rounding the desk and standing behind them, a firm hand resting on the back of each of their chairs. “My family, as you might know, has strived to keep the bloodline clean. Our selective breeding has allowed us to transmit the most desirable traits. Our compatibility with the fungi in this house is the result of that. There’s one tiny problem.”
Virgil began walking around, circling them, looking down at the desk and toying with a pencil. “Do you know that chestnut trees that stand alone are sterile? They require cross-pollination from another tree. This seems to have become the case with us too. My mother gave my father two living children, yes, but she had many stillbirths. It’s the same story when you look back in time. Stillbirths, crib deaths. Before Agnes, my father had two other wives, neither of which was any good.
“On occasion you need to inject new blood into the mix, so to speak. Of course my father has always been very stubborn about these things, insisting that we must not mingle with the rabble.”
“Superior and inferior traits, after all,” Noemí said dryly.
Virgil smiled. “Exactly. The old man even brought earth from England to ensure the conditions here would be like the ones in our motherland; he wasn’t about to entertain the locals. But the way things have gone, it has become a necessity. A question of survival.”
“Hence Richard,” Noemí said. “And hence Catalina.”
“Yes. Although if I’d seen you before, I might have picked you rather than her. You’re healthy, young, and the gloom rather likes you.”
“I suppose my money doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, that’s obviously a prerequisite. Your stupid Revolution robbed us of our fortune. We must get it back. Survival, as I said.”
“Murder, I think that’s the word. You murdered all those miners. You made them sick, you didn’t tell them what was wrong with them, and your doctor, he let them die. And you must have killed Ruth’s lover too. Although she paid you back for that.”
“You’re not being very nice, Noemí,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. He sounded peeved and turned to Francis. “I thought you had smoothed things out with her.”
“Noemí won’t try running again,” Francis said, sliding his hand upon her own.
“That’s a good first step. The second step is that you are going to write a letter to your father, explaining that you will remain here until Christmas, to keep Catalina company. Come Christmas, you’ll inform him that you’ve been married and intend to live with us.”
“My father will be upset.”
“Then you’ll have to write a few more letters, to assuage his concerns,” Virgil said smoothly. “Now, why don’t you start writing that first letter.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Come here,” Virgil said, patting the chair he had been occupying behind the desk.
Noemí hesitated but stood up and took the seat he was offering. There was a sheet of paper ready and a pen. Noemí stared at the writing instruments but did not pick them up.
“Go on,” Virgil said.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Write a convincing message. Because we wouldn’t want your father visiting us and maybe falling ill with an odd disease, would we?”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered.
Virgil leaned down, gripping her shoulder tight. “There’s plenty of space in the mausoleum, and as you pointed out, our physician is not very good at treating illnesses.”
Noemí shoved his hand aside and began writing. Virgil turned away.
She kept scribbling, finally signing the letter. When she was done Virgil came back to her side and read the letter, nodding.
“Are you happy?” Francis asked. “She’s done her bit.”
“She’s far from done her bit,” Virgil muttered. “Florence is rummaging around the house, trying to find Ruth’s old wedding dress. We’re to have ourselves a wedding ceremony.”
