Whispers at Midnight (6 page)

Amanda shed no tears as Elizabeth drove away
in the coach that would take her to board a schooner to
Philadelphia. There had been enough tears in the months since her
mother died. So with a last wave to Elizabeth, she said good-bye to
that remnant of her life that had belonged solely to Sarah Fairfax.
It was ended and a new, promising stage beginning, even if it was
fraught with questions.

Amanda dropped her hand as the coach rumbled
away in the dust. With a purposeful tilt of her head, she turned
toward a silversmith’s shop on Duke of Gloucester Street to ask
directions. Here on the bright streets of Williamsburg the memory
of last night’s puzzling dreams once more faded quickly from her
mind. She needed to find the man who had sent her a letter
informing her of the terms of her inheritance.

Cecil Baldwin, Elise’s lawyer, had written
that she must see him immediately upon her arrival in Williamsburg.
She learned from the silversmith that Cecil Baldwin was both a
solicitor and an agent who dealt in the trade of tobacco and other
goods. His office was on the same street and not too far distant to
walk.

In a short while she had reached the white
clapboard building where Cecil Baldwin’s name was posted on a
wooden sign beside the door. The small building was set to one side
of a handsome residence, a house with the same grayed shingles and
dark shutters as the Baldwin office.

“Amanda Fairfax to see Mr. Baldwin, please,”
she said to a short, wiry-haired clerk in the outer office. “He is
not expecting me but I do believe he will want to see me,” she
added when the portly man hesitated a few moments to gape before
acknowledging her presence.

“Yes, Miss Fairfax. He’ll want to see you.
To be sure.” The fellow pushed back his chair and rose clumsily.
“Please do be seated while I tell Mr. Baldwin you are here.” He
smiled and motioned toward an armchair covered in a light green
damask.

Amanda contented herself with appreciative
looks at the furnishings as she waited what seemed an indescribably
long time. The walls were cream-colored, the wainscoting painted a
light green. Beside her chair was a round three-footed pedestal
table of polished walnut and on it a bowl of fragrant white roses.
The scent reminded her of Aunt Elise’s rose-essence perfume.

In the narrow space between the two front
windows were three fine prints. Amanda’s eyes were on them when
Cecil Baldwin himself appeared from behind the wide door of his
office.

“Miss Fairfax, how delightful,” he commented
in a soft, pleasant tone.

She liked his voice right away. It was
friendly and welcoming and fit his merry eyes and surprisingly
youthful face. Cecil Baldwin was a handsome man for his advanced
years and despite the extra poundage that rounded his middle. His
eyes, gray and circular as an owl’s, continued to twinkle as he
came toward her. A snowy white wig capped his head. His skin had a
slightly reddish hue and he bore one of the kindest smiles Amanda
had ever seen.

Cecil ran his hand absently over the gold
watch chain swinging from a pocket of a waistcoat of charcoal
velvet that succeeded somewhat in camouflaging his thick middle.
His linen shirt was as white as his wig and greatly ruffled at the
neck. Cecil was quickly at Amanda’s side, taking her hand and
greeting her as if she were his own daughter.

“Welcome to Williamsburg, Miss Fairfax. I’d
have met your coach had I known you’d be arriving so soon.” He
coughed and cleared his throat, flushing his cheeks to a cherry red
as he did. “We did not expect you until mid-September.” He escorted
Amanda into his private office as he chattered away. Once inside,
he drew a chair up near his desk and held it for her to sit. A
moment later Cecil Baldwin had taken his place in the mahogany
chair behind the desk.

“It took less time than I thought to settle
my business in London. I was able to book an earlier passage but
there was no time to advise you of the change.”

Amanda glanced at her surroundings.
Apparently Cecil Baldwin was a successful man. His office was even
more luxurious than the outer one where she had waited. It was
paneled in rich, shiny walnut, with row upon row of leather-bound
volumes on the shelves behind his desk. The desk itself was of
rubbed mahogany, a most carefully crafted piece of furniture. The
chairs, like the one in which she sat, were Chippendale with green
brocade seat coverings. The draperies, open to let in the light,
were also of brocade in gold and green and had tasseled ties
keeping them drawn to one side.

Amanda drew in her breath appraisingly.
There was a look of pride and contentment on Cecil Baldwin’s face.
He had surrounded himself with beautiful things. The candelabra and
even the inkwell were of hammered silver. Behind his desk was a
dark oil painting, exquisitely done. Amanda knew if she could see
the artist’s name it would be one well known. She smiled inwardly.
It seemed a good businessman could be quite successful in the
colonies.

Cecil laced his plump fingers together. “I
see you appreciate beauty, Miss Fairfax.”

“Everyone does, Mr. Baldwin.” Amanda smiled
sweetly. She did like Cecil Baldwin. He had good manners and a
friendly disposition. After her meeting with Ryne Sullivan she
greatly valued those qualities in a person.

“Perhaps not everyone, Miss Fairfax.” His
wide smile was a jolly one. “If I had been alive to know Jubal
Wicklow I would have questioned his taste in the finer things of
life. He was a wealthy man, but Wicklow House is more a curiosity
than a monument to good taste.”

Amanda laughed. “You are not calling Wicklow
an eyesore, I trust.”

Cecil smiled warmly, his eyes glistening
with gaiety. “I’ll not go as far as that. It is built of excellent
material,” he said, rising and glancing at her as if he had been
struck by an afterthought. “Can I offer you a glass of sherry, Miss
Fairfax?”

“Thank you, no, Mr. Baldwin. It is early in
the day for me. And please do call me Amanda. I prefer it.”

Cecil nodded and opened a decanter on his
desk. He poured a glass of the sparkling liquid for himself.
“You’ll want to see the house again, of course, before you decide
what to do.” Cecil paused to sip his sherry. “Meanwhile, you will
be a welcome guest in my home. An inn is no proper place for a
lady.” He walked toward his desk. “I admit I was surprised when you
wrote and said you would be coming to the colonies to see your
inheritance.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “It would have been
simple for me to dispose of the estate and transfer the proceeds to
you in London.” Pausing again, he finished the glass of sherry in
one long swallow, then continued to stroll across the room. Cecil
chatted as he went, his back to Amanda all the while. “But I
understand that there may be personal mementos of Elise’s you would
want to choose and keep.”

A line of disappointment creased Amanda’s
brow. So Mr. Baldwin too had formed an opinion without knowing her.
He expected she would want money and that the house itself meant
nothing to her.

“Mr. Baldwin,” Amanda started to speak.

“I would be honored if you would call me
Cecil,” he said, turning and gracing her with a broad smile. “I
believe I have a buyer for the place if we don’t delay too long. A
better price than might be expected—”

“Mr. Ba . . . Cecil,” Amanda said hurriedly.
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to sell Wicklow. I want to live
in it. I already am. Since last night. I believe Aunt Elise left a
small sum to maintain the house if I should choose to live
there.”

Stunned, Cecil stopped beside his desk. “She
did. Hardly enough to live as you are accustomed, but I suppose you
have money from your mother’s estate as well.” He nodded. “I had
the good fortune once to see your mother perform at Drury
Lane.”

Amanda’s eyes dropped briefly to her lap.
Even in the colonies, Sarah Fairfax was not unknown.

“My mother did not accumulate great wealth,
Mr. Baldwin,” Amanda said without emotion. “She preferred to enjoy
her rewards as they came to her. I’m afraid there was nothing left
once she died.” Boldly she looked up at him, the traces of sadness
masked in her eyes. “Wicklow and the sum Aunt Elise left are all
that I have.”

She saw the quick veiled surprise in his
eyes. “I see,” Cecil Baldwin responded, pursing his lips. “How will
you manage?”

“I will manage, Cecil,” Amanda said softly.
“The important thing is that I have a home. After years of living
in inns or one rented house after another, a home of my own is
something I desire very much. I believe Aunt Elise left Wicklow to
me because she knew I would love it and care for it just as she
did.”

Cecil paced across his office, lines of
concentration deepening on his brow.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Elise was
foolish about that house and it appeared neither of her sons had
any desire to live there.” Cecil paused to stuff the bowl of a pipe
he had taken from a drawer of his desk. “Though I caution you they
were both seething when they learned it had been left to you.” He
took a moment to light the pipe and draw a few puffs, filling his
office with the heavy, pungent odor of tobacco. “A colonial
practice I’m fond of,” he said, smiling as he held the pipe from
his lips briefly.

“And one that has spread to England as
well,” she commented. So Gardner too was displeased that the house
had been left to her.

Cecil’s eyes searched Amanda’s face and
seemed to see past the brave front reflected there. He puffed
heartily on his pipe before he spoke again. One gray brow lifted
into a slight curve as he pursed his lips slightly.

“Forgive me, my dear, but I always looked
after Elise’s interests, and not just business matters, mind you.
We were quite close and I felt a much stronger obligation to her
than to other clients. Now I feel I can offer you no less.” He
paused as if he must deliberate on what he would say. “Since you
are determined to stay at Wicklow, there may be a way that I can
help you.”

“Please tell me,” Amanda said earnestly.

Encouraged, he went on. “Would you be
agreeable to taking a pair of boarders? I know a young lady and her
aunt who are in need of accommodations, and it only just occurred
to me that the three of you might find such an arrangement mutually
advantageous. They could pay you a small sum for room and board and
I am certain would be willing to do their share of work.” He rolled
his head sympathetically from side to side. “The poor lass arrived
in Richmond recently expecting to live with her relatives, only to
find her uncle had died and her aunt in dire straits.”

“I’d like to meet them,” Amanda said. What a
stroke of luck that would be! “Please do bring them to
Wicklow.”

“Very well,” he responded. “You need not
make your decision until you have met them.” He sounded pleased, so
Amanda was puzzled by the sudden look of concern in his eyes.
“Amanda,” he said hesitantly. “You may count me foolish for telling
you of such things, but I feel I must if you are to live in that
house. There are reports of strange happenings at Wicklow.” Beside
her chair now he took her small hand and squeezed it between both
of his. “Some have talked of sights and sounds for which there is
no explanation. Inventive talk, most certainly. But I would not
forgive my lassitude if you should hear it from other quarters or
be frightened by some occurrence.” Cecil raised her hand to his
mouth and bent to kiss it. “You will be careful.” His voice was
heavy and serious.

Amanda withdrew her hand from his. What
unusual eyes he had, round and soft but surprisingly deep with
concern. And she appreciated his candor, whether his words were
meant to reassure or to warn. But she could not suppress a smile as
she thought of the irony of a shrewd, successful agent and
solicitor being such a sensitive man.

A moment later her gay laughter challenged
his grave expression. Certainly he looked as if he took the stories
far more seriously than she did. Even the strange sounds at Wicklow
and the perplexing dream of last night would not make her believe
in ghosts. “I’ve heard the tales, Cecil. If Gussie will stay on and
if I agree to take the boarders, I’ll not be alone and I am not
easily frightened.”

Two dimples appeared in his round cheeks
before he joined her laughter. “You’d be hard put to get rid of
Gussie. Gardner had the devil of a time getting her to tend his
kitchen while his own cook is ill.”

Amanda stiffened momentarily. “Then Gussie
isn’t at Wicklow now?”

“No, not for the last few days. She’s been
at Gardner’s house here in town. But I’ll send word to him that
you’ve arrived. She’ll be glad to get back to Wicklow and to meet
her new mistress.”

Now she had caught a touch of alarm, but she
wouldn’t let him see it. She had thought that Gussie’s being in the
house would somehow account reasonably for all the odd things that
had happened or seemed to have happened. But the housekeeper hadn’t
been there at all.

Amanda rose from the chair. “I thank you,
Cecil,” she said with a deliberate bright smile. “You’ve been kind
to see me when I wasn’t expected, but I am sure I’ve kept you from
your business long enough. I bid you good day and shall look
forward to seeing you again soon.”

Cecil frowned. “To my regret, I do have an
appointment shortly, Amanda. But in a few days I’ll have all the
papers ready concerning the estate.” His round head nodded
woodenly. “I have my carriage. I’ll arrange for my driver to take
you back to Wicklow.”

“That is kind, but no,” she responded. “I’ve
some shopping to do and I’ve arranged for a carriage.”

The lines gone from his face, the merriment
back in his eyes, Cecil Baldwin linked her arm through his and
escorted her to the front office. Amanda’s eyes met his once more
as she said another good-bye. It would be good to have an ally in
Williamsburg. She knew instinctively she could count on Cecil
Baldwin to befriend her. How welcome that friendship would be.