Whispers at Midnight (22 page)

A faint humor shone in his eyes.

“So you mean to be groundskeeper, maid, and
mistress of Wicklow?”

She answered with a smile. “And whatever
else is required that Wicklow might have the dignity and pride it
deserves. I am certain both your Grandfather Jubal and your mother
would expect no less of me.”

He laughed. “It has taken you only a short
while to gain a fierce love of home and land. Virginia will soon
claim you as her own.”

“I can imagine a worse fate for a woman,”
she remarked.

Their walk had taken them back over the
circuitous route through the gardens and to the hitching posts on
the side of the house.

“This cannot be Libelia,” she said as they
approached the bay mare.

“Indeed not,” he answered. “Libelia is back
in my own stable and due to drop her foal any day now.”

The horse’s reins were tied to one of three
posts made with iron bases and topped with a circle of grillwork
made in the same pattern as the three windows above the entrance to
Wicklow.

“Has this design some significance?” she
asked, tracing the weblike grille with her hand as Ryne tightened
the saddle girth he had loosened while the mare stood at rest.

“Possibly,” Ryne answered, untying the mare
and looping the reins about her neck. “But none that has been
recorded. It must have had some meaning to Grandfather Jubal. The
same design is carved into his tombstone.” He swung himself astride
his mount. “You may remember there is a family cemetery just beyond
those trees.”

The horse stepped impatiently toward the
lane. Amanda thought he would take the mare to the stable, but it
appeared he intended to leave again, even though it was already
late in the evening.

“Are you going?” she asked, surprised at the
disappointment the prospect brought. “I thought perhaps you might
be here for dinner.”

He smiled. “Libelia must be watched
carefully.” His tone of voice softened. “If you like, once the foal
has arrived you can ride over to the lodge with me and see them
both. Libelia’s foal will be the firstborn of my new breeding
stock.”

“I’d like that,” she answered, gratified
that he had not forgotten her request to see the mare and wondering
if he remembered that day as vividly as she did. “I shall look
forward to it.”

Ryne nodded. “Good-bye,” he called as he
gave the horse her head and she leapt into a gallop.

“Good-bye,” Amanda replied softly, knowing
the pounding of the horse’s hooves made it impossible for him to
hear.

Her hand rested on the hitching post as she
watched him ride out of sight. She had made her peace with Ryne,
and though it made no sense at all to think so, she felt she had
lost in the bargain.

So that she would think of him no more, she
turned her attention to the intriguing circle of the hitching
posts, and the unusual shadows they cast on the ground. She studied
the design a moment, wondering if she had not seen it somewhere
else at Wicklow other than in the windows.

Possibly she remembered it from the
tombstone. She seemed to have a vague memory of visiting the plot
years ago. One evening she would walk out and put flowers on the
graves. But not today. The sun would soon be sinking and Gussie
expected her at dinner in just a short while.

But by the following morning Amanda had
forgotten about visiting the cemetery. Emma Jones and Trudy were
scheduled to arrive in a few more days and she was so occupied with
her work inside Wicklow that she forgot almost everything else.

Except for a few rooms on each floor,
Wicklow was cleaned to her satisfaction. And now, with the ghostly
covers removed from the furnishings and the draperies drawn open in
all the rooms, the house was not nearly so oppressive as it had
been at first. She had not yet opened the master suite. Somehow she
could not, after Gussie had told her the room was unchanged since
the time it had been occupied by Jubal Wicklow and Evelyn. But she
was sure that soon her curiosity would win out and she would have
to explore that memorable room as well.

She had spent almost an entire day searching
for the chess set, unsuccessfully, leaving little doubt that the
set she had seen in the shop was Aunt Elise’s. But the day had not
been completely fruitless. She had learned many of Wicklow’s
secrets. First she had discovered a secret compartment beside the
mantel in the downstairs parlor. She had been cleaning one of the
gargoyles carved below the mantel when a door had popped open right
above her head. Since then she had discovered almost every room had
such a compartment as well as some dreadful creature in the
decor.

She was quite certain Jubal Wicklow had
added the stone dragons above the doors, and faces of mythological
beasts in the moldings, to create a frightening atmosphere. No
small wonder nightmares abounded in the house. Who could sleep
soundly with such roommates? She often wondered what the man was
like.

One small room near the master chamber had
been hung with black scrolled wallpaper. She had discovered it once
when the door shut of its own accord. The few furnishings which
remained in the room were covered in black velvet. No amount of
daylight could ever make the room bearable, and Amanda could not
imagine a use for the strange chamber.

“Who could say?” Gussie replied when Amanda
asked about the black room. “Can’t think of a decent use for it.
But by all accounts he was a devil himself. Had to be, or his soul
could rest.”

“A devil, Gussie? Really, your imagination
is freer than mine.” But perhaps there was some truth in what she
said. Jubal had done his share of vile deeds. Perhaps even in his
later years he had harbored a sinister and dark side. Was that why
Evelyn went to desperate lengths to leave him?

Other rooms were more ordinary. As Amanda
went through them and compared the items to those listed on her
inventory, she found them complete, but there was still much to
check. She had come to believe Gardner right in crediting the theft
to a disgruntled servant. And though it saddened her that the chess
set, for which she had deep sentiment, had been the one thing
taken, she reluctantly accepted the loss.

She had little chance of recovering it, as
there was no way to prove it was the one from Wicklow. Nor was
there a way to trace it.

Amanda worked long and hard. By week’s end
the lack of company had begun to dampen her spirits. She no longer
let her eyes stray to the dragons or beasts who dominated the
rooms. When she could bear them no longer she would retreat to the
rose bedroom, which was free of such creatures. Often she took a
book from the library and read the long hours away.

She had not thought the isolation would
affect her, but found to her surprise as the days passed that more
and more she missed the companionship of others. When Gardner sent
his driver one afternoon with a message inviting her to
Williamsburg for dinner, she was overjoyed to accept. Mrs. Weller
enclosed a note begging her to come, since they would also be at
Gardner’s house.

Anticipating an evening of good company and
a lively conversation with Mrs. Weller, Amanda dressed with care in
a silk dress of Aunt Elise’s. To occupy her time in the evenings,
she had begun doing needlework and fortunately had completed the
restyling of several gowns. The one she chose to wear was a
particular favorite. It was champagne-colored, almost as pale as
her skin, and had a bodice beaded with black jets. Large puffed
sleeves dipped low from the shoulders. It had been necessary only
to nip in the waist and change the lines of the skirt to bring the
gown up-to-date.

Amanda found a black fringed shawl which
complemented the gown, and with her hair piled high on her head,
climbed into the carriage for the ride to Williamsburg.

They were no more than a quarter-mile from
the house when she heard the sound of another horse coming at a
gallop. Like a ball of rolling fire, the bay mare and her rider
approached the carriage.

Amanda was pleased to see Ryne in the
distance. He had spent so few hours at Wicklow recently that she
had not actually seen him for days. She leaned from the carriage
and called out a friendly greeting. The now familiar ripple of
excitement flared within her, but Ryne, wearing a look as black as
his garb, and without so much as a nod, thundered past her toward
Wicklow.

Midafternoon of the following day Gardner
drove her home. The dinner had been a celebration, with dozens of
friends and associates coming by Gardner’s house to wish the
Wellers Godspeed on a trip to Baltimore. Little cause was needed
for such a gathering to become a merry-making. Musicians had been
brought in and the furniture in the parlor cleared back for
dancing.

The night had been long, the festivities
lasting until past midnight, and after a short sleep, a new throng
of guests had arrived for breakfast on the day of departure.

Much of the spirit of frivolity lasted with
Gardner and Amanda even as they climbed the steps of Wicklow.

“Step here, m’lady,” he said.

Amanda, in her day gown of pale green silk
with ivory-colored lace flounce, wore a calash of matching fabric
tied snugly beneath her chin. Her hair, which she had elected not
to pin up, streamed from under the cap and over her shoulders like
a veil of satin. Her eyes were the deep color of emeralds compared
with the light shade of the gown. They sparkled with merriment as
Gardner took her in his arms and whirled her through the steps of a
dance she had first learned in his parlor.

“You have the grace of a gazelle, my sweet.
I should have claimed more dances with you last evening.”

His display of footwork led her in a
delightful dancing ascent to the studded front doors of Wicklow.
The game ended with a swishing of her skirts beneath the looping
tendrils of ivy that wrapped the entrance. As they brushed against
her face and shoulders, she made up her mind to trim them away, and
told Gardner so.

“Evelyn planted the ivy, you know. With
cuttings brought from her father’s house in London. I don’t imagine
she ever thought it would actually seem to swallow up the portico
as it does now.”

“I’m sure she never meant it to, and I think
she would not be offended if I made an effort to tame the vines
before I am caught in them again.” It was eerie, but she had the
oddest impression that she really ought to have Evelyn’s approval
first.

Suddenly Gardner whirled her around again.
Breathless, but showing no sign of exhaustion, Amanda laughed
gaily. Her eyes still sparkled with the memory of the usually
serious Gardner being the first to lead off the dancing last
evening and the last to leave the floor when it was done.

“I repeat,” he said, “I regret I did not
dance with you more often.”

“You might have had the time, had you not
danced so many with Ariel.”

His brows rose momentarily but soon he had
Amanda gripped in his arms and was leading her in a quick series of
steps over the portico.

“It was a matter of obligation. But I
believe I slighted myself in the process. You are lighter of foot
and take to a new step far more quickly than any partner I have
known.”

“Perhaps that is because, to satisfy my
mother, I studied dance in Paris for a season. With my experience
it is not difficult to follow a new dance. None, in fact, are
difficult if you have practiced as I have.”

He spun her to the edge of the portico and
paused there to draw a deep breath. Gardner, she was sure, had not
slept at all. He still wore the white silk shirt and scarlet stock,
the blue linen breeches and white silk ribbed stockings he had
donned for last night’s gathering. Though his feet were momentarily
still, the silver buckles on his shoes gleamed in the bright
afternoon sun and the silver embroidery on his waistcoat glistened
like newly minted coins.

“Ahh,” he said. “On the next occasion I will
call on you to teach the steps.”

“I hope there will be such an occasion. I
enjoyed the evening immensely. You were thoughtful to include
me.”

“How could I not? Mrs. Weller has taken a
special liking to you, and had I not sent for you, she would have
done so herself.” He laughed. “And she is not a woman to be
denied.”

“That I can imagine. She has a spirit almost
unknown in a woman, but one I admire her all the more for.”

“One thing you can be sure of.” Gardner
chuckled. “If Mrs. Weller approves you, all Virginia will follow
suit. But enough chatter. If you are as weary as I, you will want
to rest now and I will say my good-byes.”

She stood with her back to the grounds,
completely unaware of the rider who had dismounted and watched from
beneath the thick spreading branches of the oaks along the lane.
Gardner gripped her shoulders and bent his head low to slowly kiss
her first on one cheek and then the other.

“I’ll see you inside,” he said, wrapping his
arm about her waist and leading her through the door. “Gussie can
pass the time with me as the horses rest awhile. I daresay you’re
anxious for a nap.”

Amanda felt an involuntary shudder as she
walked inside and Gardner swung the weighty front door shut. The
hall seemed inordinately dark except for the three spots of light
which bored in through the round windows high above and lit a
skittish pattern across the chest of the Turkish King. She
shuddered again as Ezra raised his wings and turned his two
berry-black eyes on them.

“He knows,” the bird trilled, and with those
two words drained the merriment from her spirit. It was as if the
moment she stepped into those long, eerie shadows cast by the king,
she suddenly felt all the weariness that had been suppressed by her
lingering excitement.

“Good-bye, Gardner,” she said, noting by the
look on his face that he too was affected by the atmosphere of
Wicklow. “Will I see you again soon?”