1892
Summer on the Coast of Maine is fleeting, but it is a glory
the locals are willing to endure
the harsh winters for. In Collinsport, the air is moist from the
sea, and the sounds of
summer weave throughout the cobbled streets, lending a sense of
urgency to the town.
Summer is a long time coming to most of Collinsport, but
for Quentin Collins, it was the
autumns, the winters, the springs that slipped too quickly from
his grasp. Already four
cycles of the seasons had passed since he had made his escape
to Bowdoin, and summer
was upon him again. In what was to be the last fulfilled promise
of his life, he had
honored the commitment to his grandmother, had in fact gone beyond
what she had asked,
not only attending college, but excelling. Like most things, learning
came easily to
Quentin, not only in the lecture halls, but in the boarding houses,
where the mill girls had
enhanced his education. This, in turn, enhanced his standing with
Laura, for it was
Quentin's conceit to exploit his prowess, be it with a starry
eyed innocent, one of the
women from the docks, or his brother's wife.
Now, as he stood waiting for the stable boy to collect him
for the ride to Collinwood, he
both dreaded and anticipated this reunion with his family. Carl
and Judith were easily
ignored, Edward less so given his entanglement with Laura, who
herself would be
impossible to avoid. His grandmother he was eager to see, he knew
he had pleased her,
and knew how much that would annoy the others. Jamison he had
genuinely missed.
It had begun as a diversion, this relationship with his
nephew. Seeking refuge from
Laura's demands he had chosen the nursery, a room even the most
indiscreet of mothers
could hardly contaminate. Somewhere, amidst the piles of tin soldiers
and games of
pat-a-cake, they had come to love one another, Quentin and Jamison.
Over the past four
years they had grown up together, the toddler becoming a boy,
the youth becoming a man.
If any love he felt for the rest of the family was compulsory
at best, it was fierce with
Jamison, and he burned with a passion to give his nephew all the
affection he had never
felt as a child. It amused him that he so readily flaunted the
attachment with Jamison
while taking such great pains to keep his involvement with Laura
secret: if Edward had
any sense at all, he would realize that it was his son's loyalty
that was the true treasure.
There were times when Quentin was tempted to tell Edward.
He pictured his brother as a
bellows, puffed full of self importance, and could well imagine
deflating him with a single
squeeze of the truth. If Laura meant anything to him at all he
would tell, but Laura was
nothing really, only a convenience at some times and a nuisance
at others. In the years
since it began he had found that what she offered was not the
rare quantity she had led him
to believe. Quentin had learned many things in his years at Bowdoin,
none that served him
so well as the awareness of women. More specifically, the awareness
of his affect on
women.
Quentin Collins loved women, most in general and none in
particular. He loved the way
they moved, the way they laughed, the way their bodies molded
to the curve of his arm.
He loved the way they loved him, and greedily fed on their passions.
They were all the
same to him, the debutants or the whores on Lisbon Street - he
had sex with them all, but
made love to none of them. He made many promises, but extracted
only one in return:
that they not expect him to stay the night.
That was the one intimacy he would not allow. They could
touch him, taste him, could lay
beside him, beneath him, atop him. But he would not fall asleep
until he was safely alone,
behind his own locked door.
This he had learned from Laura. Women could be desireable,
pleasurable, even
companionable.
But never trusted.
When it all had come to pass, they would look back on this
summer as the last of their
times together. Each would remember it differently, but none would
ever see it as it really
was.
Edith Collins was growing tired, she wanted to rest, to
put the business of settling her
grandchildren behind her. When they were younger it had all seemed
so precise, the
standard of primogenics, an inalienable of the upper class, was
something she and her
husband would never have called into question. When she sat back
to look at these four,
she halfway wished that standard had not leap-frogged in her own
generation, that she had
not been left with the responsibility of assuring the continuation
of the Collins dynasty.
There were two certainties she had to allow for: Judith
and Carl. Not even the fondness
that colors a grandmother's affection could delude her into imagining
a day when Judith
would leave Collinwood to head her own household. It was too late
to regret not sending
Judith away from her brothers, now she could only contend with
the girl's prospects for
the future.
If Judith's options were limited, Carl's were even more
so, for Carl would always be a boy.
He would always need tending to, but it could not be done is so
obvious a manner as it
would be for Judith. In the world of Edith Collins, the weakest
of males still deserved
more respect than the strongest woman.
Edward, she knew, could be trusted to see to Judith and
Carl, but she was not so sure he
would do right by Quentin. His distaste for his youngest brother
was palpable - he would
resent either Quentin's presence at Collinwood, or the money it
would take to keep him
safely out of Edward's range. Already she could sense Edward's
unease at how well
Quentin had proved himself at Bowdoin.
So, this was Edith's dilemma: to secure a position for each,
while giving none the
wherewithal to exclude another. It was to this end she concluded
her meeting with the
family retainer.
"So, you are quite sure you understand exactly, Evan?"
Evan Handley nodded, with an understated deference he reserved
for his dealings with
Edith Collins. He understood very well, Quentin was to be put
to another test. Quentin
had proven himself adept at placating his grandmother, but he
had underestimated her
determination. With Evan's help, Quentin could be made to realize
how important the
next few years would be. How Quentin conducted himself in his
promised time away from
Collinwood would be the telling factor. Of this Evan was certain.
And pleased, very pleased. Instinct told him that Quentin's
sensibilities were far closer to
his own than Edward's - yes, Quentin would be far easier to cultivate.
The smile he turned
on Edith was genuine.
"Yes, Mrs. Collins, I understand. Exactly."
Evan Handley despised the law, which was one of the two
reasons it was his chosen
profession. As a youth, contemplating his future, he had reasoned
that a knowledge of the
law would be useful in subverting it.
His second reason was equally practical - Evan loved money.
He had a passion for the
finer things in life, and no intentions of ever regretting desires
that had gone unfulfilled. In
this, the law also served him well, providing a handsome income,
yet little necessity of
spending it. So skilled was Evan at his craft, his clients were
the frequent unwitting
benefactors of his lavish life style.
On the hot Hong Kong nights of the summer of 1894, it was
the money of Edith Collins
Evan spent in the opium dens and geisha houses. Any sense of legitimacy
the
companionship of the old woman's grandson may have lent to his
pleasures, he
counteracted with subterfuge. When accounting to Edith, Evan marked
the considerable
entertainment expenses of the two men "lodging". When
it came to their actual quarters in
the city, they relied on the hospitality of whatever woman Quentin
happened to favor with
his attention at the time. It was an arrangement Quentin had become
quite practiced in,
and found much more to his liking than the tradition of paying
for his board.
Quentin was well aware that Evan's extended visit had been
orchestrated by his
grandmother, and found it amusing that the older man had been
sent to assess his
behavior. Free from the confines of Collinsport, Evan had embraced
the Orient with the
relish of a man who fancied himself worldly. Lacking Quentin's
finesse with the ladies,
Evan gave himself over to other seductions. Quentin did not share
his friend's affinity for
the sweet intoxication of the pipe, he had no moral objections,
but could not appreciate
the way the drug drained his vitality.
Their nights were given to sensual pursuits, the first commonality
that forged their
friendship. In this, Quentin was the teacher, Evan an eager, if
somewhat clumsy, pupil.
Having none of Quentin's natural poise, his manner was affected
- he often tripped himself
on his own presumptions. The fluid speech he had perfected in
his days since law school
did not translate to the gestures he now had to rely on to communicate.
All of which
amused Quentin immensely, as his own body spoke with an alliteration
more persuasive
than words.
Evan was not bothered by his lack of social grace - while
he found the enticements of the
night pleasurable, he had other intents on this visit. For Evan,
the main purpose of his stay
in the East was the seduction of Quentin Collins.
Behind the mask of the barrister, Evan Handley was another
man, one who reached into
the corners of darkness with a fervor most men reserve for business
or family. His beliefs
were, in fact, his religion, and Quentin was to be his convert.
To this end, he let his selves
merge, and led Quentin into the shadows as deftly as he led a
witness into testimony. If he
was originally skeptical, Evan's closing argument erased all doubts...
"These are matters I would never trust to Edward."
And so Quentin learned: learned of ritual and sacrifice,
learned to find the darkness
within himself, learned that things are rarely as they appear.
The friendship deepened, the
men become conspirators. Quentin was, as always, a quick study,
and easily absorbed the
intricacies of his new art.
When autumn came, and it was time for Evan to sail home,
they parted with a genuine
sadness, and with a new understanding. Evan would report favorably
to Edith, for
Quentin was doing well, very well indeed. When they met again
in the spring, at home in
Collinsport, Quentin would impress his grandmother with his new
maturity, reaffirming
the assessment of his character that Evan would advance. His coalition
with Evan was
one more rung on his ladder of ascension.
And Evan, as mentor, would rise with him.