Whispers at Midnight (14 page)

He reached out his hand and cupped her small
chin, stretching her face up to his. Even though his grasp was
gentle, she was frighteningly aware of the strength in his fingers
and how easy it would be for him to snap her neck. The tip of her
tongue moved nervously over her lips. She could see in his eyes
that he detested the fear he read in her face, just as she detested
feeling it.

With a quick turn of her head, she pulled
her chin out of his grasp. The action surprised him and brought a
thin-lipped smile to his face. Amanda breathed a sigh of relief to
see that he had won out over his rage and there would be no worse
reprisal.

“Then you have no reason to be angry,” she
said resolutely.

He glared at her. “I have every reason to be
angry. Here I have you cast upon me, and meddling in my life at
every turn, accusing me of persecuting you, stealing from you. I
suffer to think what delusion will come into your mind next while I
am forced to beg your hospitality.”

“Now, look here, Ryne,” Amanda started.

“No. Only hear this before I go. Through
some lapse of wisdom, my mother cast us into a situation so that we
must at least tolerate each other. I suggest we attempt no more. I
will do my part by staying out of your way while I am here.”

His tone aroused her anger once more. “That
should remedy much of the problem,” she retorted.

Ryne whirled and stomped away toward the
back stairs. Amanda went to the window at the end of the hall,
wanting a breath of air before she went down. She had forgotten all
about her guests and now she worried that they might have heard the
angry exchange between Ryne and herself, yet she couldn’t face them
until her pulse had stopped pounding and the flush had left her
face.

On the grounds below near the side entrance
to Wicklow a horse stood tied to a hitching post. The mare was such
a lovely creature that Amanda couldn’t take her eyes away for a
moment. She was chestnut-colored, with fine dainty legs and small
ears, and hadn’t a white mark on her other than a spot on the tip
of her nose that looked as if someone had spilled milk on the
velvety muzzle. The rest of her coat shone like red gold in the
sunshine. There could be no doubt of the fine bloodlines.

Amanda watched the chestnut mare’s head go
up proudly. The horse stamped her feet coquettishly on the ground
and gave an eager, welcoming whinny as Ryne rounded the walkway.
Amanda watched a little longer as Ryne tenderly stroked the mare’s
neck and cooed in her ears. With a frown of exasperation Amanda
drew back from the window. Was no female immune to his charms?

***

By the time Amanda arrived in the parlor,
Gussie had served tea and a plate of scones.

“Good afternoon,” Amanda said as she entered
the room where Cecil Baldwin sat with a matron and a surprisingly
pretty young woman.

Cecil quickly replaced a porcelain figure he
had taken from the mantel and hurried toward Amanda. He took her
arm and led her across the room to make the introductions.

Amanda smiled. Mrs. Jones was indeed a
solid-looking woman, but with an open, friendly disposition. The
older woman got to her feet and once they had exchanged greetings
gave Amanda an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Why, my dear, you are almost as much a
child as Trudy.”

“Oh, hardly as young or as attractive,”
Amanda responded, turning her eyes to Trudy.

Emma’s niece stood at her side and smiled
rather shyly. She had large brown eyes and was strikingly
fair-haired, her long curls hanging freely from beneath her

bonnet. Trudy was an extremely pretty girl
and perhaps four or five years younger than Amanda. She had an
attractive mouth and full rosy lips that seemed to be set in a
permanent pout.

Amanda’s eyes were drawn to the narrow hands
that held a china teacup. Trudy’s fingers were long and rather
bony, perhaps the only detraction from the young woman’s
prettiness. Her dress was a dark brown color trimmed with a white
satin collar, and Amanda noted that it was of exceptionally good
cut and cloth for someone in dire circumstances. But then Trudy
Cole had only recently undergone a change of fortune. Actually
Amanda felt an immediate kinship with Trudy and her aunt. They were
all victims of misfortune and it seemed destiny that they should
all come together at Wicklow.

Cecil Baldwin patted her hand. “Amanda,
dear, I hope we haven’t come at a bad time. Gussie told us you were
sleeping. You aren’t ill, I trust.”

“No. I’ve seldom felt better.” It was true,
barring the disagreement with Ryne a few minutes earlier. The long
sleep had succeeded in restoring her spirits and enthusiasm about
owning Wicklow. She could dismiss all she had felt last night and
the night before. She had been exhausted, but now that she was
rested she had a clear perspective of what the future held. She
would not again let herself be thwarted by nightmares or ghostly
whispers or the likes of Ryne Sullivan.

“Splendid. Now, do sit down, Amanda, and
have your tea. We’ve gone ahead. Gussie told us we shouldn’t
wait.”

“And a very fine cup it is,” Emma added. “It
isn’t everyone who can make a decent cup of tea,” she went on as
Amanda poured a cup for herself.

“Gardner says Gussie is the best cook in the
colony.” Amanda nibbled one of the delicious scones on the tea tray
and decided he was right. She must remember to tell Gussie how good
they were.

Cecil took another cup and plied it with
sugar and cream, then leaned back in his chair. Once they were all
settled, he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Now, ladies, let’s determine if this
arrangement I’ve proposed can be agreed upon.”

The conversation progressed through Emma
telling about her husband’s death and her shock at learning she had
no claim to the house they had lived in. Emma pulled a handkerchief
edged in black from her pocket and dabbed at her nose.

“And what with Trudy coming to me at that
time, I don’t know what I might have done if Mr. Baldwin hadn’t
said you might be wanting someone here at Wicklow.” She sniffed.
“It’s lovely, your coming to live in the house just at this time,
its standing empty and all.”

Trudy laced her slim fingers together and
glanced quickly at Cecil Baldwin. He returned the look and gave a
slight nod. She immediately looked toward Amanda, her eyes wide and
dewy. Before she spoke, her lips seemed to tremble a little.

“We are so hopeful that you will want us to
stay. Really we will be no trouble and ever so much help if only
you decide we are to come to Wicklow.”

Amanda’s heart immediately gave a little
lurch. The poor child was evidently afraid of what might happen to
her and her aunt if the possibility of staying at Wicklow should
come to naught. Amanda could easily understand her fears after
having had so many recent traumas.

In the end it was agreed that Emma and Trudy
would be back with their belongings in two weeks’ time. The women
would pay a small sum and help with the maintenance of the house in
exchange for room and board. When all terms of the arrangement had
been discussed, Amanda, at Emma’s request, showed them to a suite
of rooms on the third floor. It was no use trying to persuade Emma
to take the rooms next to her own.

“These will do fine for us,” Emma insisted,
walking through the two bedrooms, which were joined by a smaller
room. That small room had once been used as a school, and one of
the adjoining rooms occupied by Gardner and Ryne’s tutor. In the
years since, the schoolroom had been refurbished as a sitting
area.

Though the hall was narrow and dark, the
rooms were large and pleasant. All three were decorated in the
lavish Oriental style peculiar to Wicklow. They were the peacock
rooms, by Gussie’s account, so called because the blue-green colors
were those from the decorative male peacock’s tail. The walls and
upholstery were in those deep shades of blue and green, but were
sunny, as they each had dormer windows along one side. As in the
hall downstairs, urns of peacock feathers were placed around the
rooms.

Amanda could not understand the uneasy
feeling she had as they looked over the suite. She found herself
wanting to hurriedly usher the entire party downstairs and away
from the third floor. She supposed it was only that she thought it
inhospitable that Trudy and Emma should have to climb a second set
of stairs to reach their rooms.

The other two rooms on the third floor were
not furnished for occupancy and had for decades been used solely
for storage. Both were locked, as attested by Cecil’s attempt to
open them for inspection. Despite Amanda’s objections, Trudy and
Emma were quite pleased with the suite that was to be theirs.

“This way we’ll be out of one another’s hair
and Trudy and I can feel like we’ve got our own little place.”

So, thought Amanda, relieved as the party
reached the foot of the slate stairs, only two days at Wicklow and
she had pulled together a sort of ragtag family: one deaf and
stuffy cook, a reluctant cousin, and two needy strangers. Perhaps
they would be all the family she would ever have. But at least the
house would be alive with people again. Even the Turkish King
looked a little gayer than usual. And Emma, remarkable woman that
she was, hadn’t said a word about the old fellow.

They were about to depart when Amanda
remembered she hadn’t told them about Ryne.

“Emma, Trudy,” she said, “I believe I
neglected to tell you that Ryne Sullivan will be staying at Wicklow
for a time. You’ll not mind that, will you?”

“No, not a bit,” Emma said with a smile. “It
will be nice having a young man in the house.”

Amanda’s eyes, however, were on Cecil
Baldwin. He smiled and the movement made his round cheeks flush and
jiggle. But Amanda thought that for just a moment she saw surprised
displeasure in his face.

“I’ll take care of the rooms myself!” Amanda
shouted.

Her voice was strained after a frustrating
hour of conversation following Gussie around the kitchen while the
old woman got a pot of soup started. Once her new plans had been
explained to Gussie, Amanda returned to her room gratified to have
established a better understanding between them.

A wide smile of acceptance had come
unexpectedly when Amanda told her she intended to put Wicklow in
order and that both Ryne and the two women would be staying. Amanda
smiled to herself as she opened the door to Aunt Elise’s wardrobe.
She wanted to look through the dresses and choose some she could
restyle for her own use. She took out several and gave then a
thorough inspection. The work would keep her busy in the evenings
until Emma and Trudy arrived.

The gowns selected, Amanda put them aside,
finding she was impatient to begin cleaning the attic rooms. The
entire floor needed a proper airing. As was true all through the
house, a layer of dust needed cleaning away and the furniture
coverings had to be removed and packed up.

She had told Gussie she would undertake the
job on her own, and now she saw no reason to wait. It would be
torture to send Gussie climbing the narrow, dark stairs at the back
of the house, and the beautiful slate ones only served the second
floor. Besides, Gussie had made it clear that the garden required
her attention for the duration of the afternoon. With the
infirmities of weight and age, Gussie was bound to be a little more
adept at wielding a hoe than climbing steep steps.

Amanda quickly changed her dress and hurried
down once more to the kitchen, where she found an apron and a
broom. A further search netted her a pail and cleaning cloth there
as well. Soon she had a kerchief tied over her hair and was
mounting the stairs to the third floor, where she opened the
windows to the wind and set about putting the rooms in order.

Aunt Elise had kept even these seldom-used
rooms pleasantly furnished. Once the stale air had been chased out
and everything freshly washed, they would be far finer quarters
than the shabby little house Emma had described to her.

Amanda rolled her sleeves to the elbows and
wrung out her cleaning cloth. What a sad state of affairs when two
women could be turned out of their home with nowhere else to go.
That could be the plight of a woman without a man. How fortunate
that Emma had been acquainted with Cecil Baldwin and that he had
brought them to her. Indeed, fortunate for Amanda too, for now they
could serve one another’s needs.

Amanda made her broom fly over the dusty
floor. Here at Wicklow she’d see that Emma and Trudy had cheerful
and clean rooms and never the need to worry about having a roof
over their heads.

Her cleaning cloth landed in the bucket with
a plop. After hours of scrubbing, the job was done and Amanda spun
around and surveyed her work in the sitting room. It gave her great
satisfaction to look at the gleaming surface of the newly polished
wood. The teak panels and the oak floors shone with a rich luster
in the afternoon sun. Even the gargoyles carved into the mantel
looked harmless when bathed in the bright sunshine. Soon the long
shadows of evening would darken the room, but for now there was an
abundance of light that showed the blue-green color scheme at its
best.

Each room had large cupboards built into the
wall, and at each fireplace Amanda had discovered hidden
compartments. Though none had turned up even a shred of paper, and
she did not dare to hope to find the rumored gold, Amanda felt she
was getting to know Jubal and Evelyn Wicklow as she learned the
secrets of the house.

Sometimes as she handled an article or used
a piece of furniture installed by those two, she could feel a
near-physical presence in the room. It was odd, but she was
beginning to change her opinion of them. For now it seemed that
whatever had happened at Wicklow had not come from disharmony but
rather from a severed harmony caused by an outside force. She hoped
one day she would learn the truth about Evelyn and Jubal
Wicklow.