An Earnest Favour

XXVIII

"Nothing manipulates people more than the desire to please." Zoe Durlock, Silent Remains: The Caruso Chronicles

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XXVIII.

Christmas went relatively smoothly, and a good time was had by all. Even Claire managed to forget about the silver rattle which was still hidden in the pocket of her coat above stairs. But not entirely.

The day after Christmas was a more sombre affair. Gone was the joy of the season, and in its place was a house in mourning. Of course, the house was no longer in full mourning, or even half mourning, but it was a day of reflection and remembrance

Seeing Jack deeply saddened only increased the guilt she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. But she couldn't upset him further. She could not make this day about her own foolishness. Jack had asked for her help, and by God she was going to give it.

Claire wished that she knew Jack's father, even a little, so that she might have something to say about him that might bring Jack comfort. Grace was the only one who really knew the duke outside of his family, and Claire remembered her sister telling her about reading Dante's Divine Comedy to Peregrine during his last weeks and days.

Such an anecdote was the inspiration behind Jack's Christmas present from Claire. She had not realised the significance of the day after Christmas, only while they were in London, she had procured a copy from a print shop. She was certain Jack had a copy somewhere, but she thought he would appreciate it, nonetheless. And he had. He had spent an hour on Christmas night reading to her from Dante's Inferno.

Cecily left for the tomb early, according to Adam, and on this day she wore her mourning attire. Susanna followed her mother an hour later, and Adam and Grace journeyed down with Perrie at noon.

Claire busied herself with some embroidery while Jack quietly read. She knew that he would not want to interrupt anyone, especially his mother.

"My father wanted to read this in its entirety before he died," Jack said suddenly, after a long while of silence. "I think, as he came to grips with his own mortality, he believed that reading through the three stages of this book, Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso, the paradise being Heaven, that it would cleanse his soul."

Claire abandoned her embroidery on the seat cushion next to her. "What a powerful tale," she murmured.

"Indeed," agreed Jack. "Did you know I studied Dante at Cambridge?" he asked.

"No, I didn't," replied Claire. "I don't really know much about him." She definitely felt very ignorant about a lot of things. Her world was very small compared to Jack's.

"Dante Alighieri is perhaps the most famous poets to have ever lived," Jack informed her softly. He closed the book and sat up on the bed so that he could look over at her. "In his Comedy, he writes of his final guide through Heaven, the symbol of beatific love and divinity, and her name was Beatrice. We were taught that Beatrice was a real person, a girl whom Dante met only twice, but he fell in love with her at first sight and carried his love for her always. I remember thinking at the time how could one person so affect another after one meeting."

Claire smiled serenely. "She must have been quite an extraordinary lady for Dante to consider her so perfect."

"I always thought he must have been a little mad," admitted Jack, "but then, I didn't know until it happened to me, and I found that perhaps we all are a little mad."

Jack's eyes narrowed with a glimmer of intensity and Claire recoiled slightly. He was speaking of her. Why would he think such things about her? "How could you ever equate me with someone divine?" Claire stammered; her unease evident in her voice.