by Anne Stuart
My self-destructive mind was busily hatching another plan. On the off-chance that this indeed was the dress, I was going to wear it to Adam’s little skating party. I seated myself on the bed and began sewing the tears with delicate little stitches, cheerfully contemplating the reactions of the others when they recognized the dress. I was naively convinced the murderer would betray himself, and this thought enabled me to ignore my pounding headache and work on.
We were spared Adam’s disconcerting presence until the night of the party. I was still fighting off a wretched headache and dizziness, determined not to miss the great effect my entrance was bound to have on all of that poor girl’s former acquaintances. Tomorrow, I told myself, as I buttoned the masses of tiny buttons on the long aqua sleeves, I could collapse. I gave myself a final check over in the mirror. My dusty red-blonde hair curled attractively around my flushed, excited face, and my eyes were over-bright. I supposed I had a slight fever, but at that moment it didn’t seem to matter.
I waited in the second-floor hallway until I heard Karlew and his faithful shadow, Fathimore, answer the door. I could hear Adam’s low tones as I descended gracefully, careful not to step on the long hem. The extent of the tears had precluded my shortening the dress in the brief time allotted.
All three faces were staring up at me through the murky hall with shock and horror. Even Adam seemed shaken. His green eyes were abnormally acute when they met mine.
“Where did you get that dress?” demanded Karlew hoarsely.
Fathimore’s face had a sickly gray tinge of terror, rendering him even more hideous than usual. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, unable to speak.
“Cousin Elinor and I found it in an old trunk of hers,” I said innocently. “We thought we could fashion some interesting skating costumes out of her old clothes. The others got their costumes from the same place.”
“Not quite the same place,” Adam said gently.
“Well, let us not waste our time chattering in this drafty hall.” Karlew made a shaky attempt at heartiness, and opened the door to the drawing room.
“Ah, there you are, Miranda,” Cousin Elinor greeted me in unaccustomed good spirits. I must have imagined the speculative look on her face when I first entered. She seemed to be at that stage in her nightly drinking when she’d had just enough Madeira to make everything rosy. Two more glasses and her particular distortion of reality would set in. “And how charming you look,” she complimented me.
“Thank you, Cousin,” I brushed her proffered cheek with mine. “You and Maxine are lovely tonight, too.” That was a lie. Maxine looked like an overdressed matron with that ridiculous red velvet. Whenever she moved, her tassels shook excitedly. Elinor merely looked washed out in a very unflattering shade of green.
“If you ladies are ready . . .” Fathimore said unctuously.
He was trying his urbane best, but something was troubling him. I could tell by the desperate, pleading expression in his watery eyes whenever they rested on me, the way he managed to brush his wasted body against mine. I jumped away, and in doing so fell against Adam.
His hands reached out to steady me, and I pulled away rudely.
“Oh, certainly,” Elinor fluttered. “Our wraps—”
“Adam and I shall get them,” Karlew quickly offered, steering him toward the door. I wondered what plan Karlew was cooking up now.
“That would be very nice,” Elinor said vaguely. “Maxine’s wearing the fox jacket, mine is the red cloak, and Miranda . . . what are you wearing, dear?”
“The black cape out there on the peg,” I answered. Karlew didn’t get his chance to talk with Adam, for Adam reappeared in a moment with my cape in his hands. I could see Maxine’s lovely face pale with anger as Adam draped it carefully around me. Though his hands never touched me I was very aware of them so close to my shoulders. My head began aching again.
I followed Elinor and Karlew out onto the front porch. The night was cool and crisp, clean and exciting, and the moon was bright overhead. Despite my headache I felt suddenly happy, and I turned, expecting to see Maxine. Instead Adam had come up beside me, and I could feel my heart speed up.
“A beautiful night, is it not?” he said conversationally.
“Yes, it is,” I said shortly. I was no longer so pleased with my daring in wearing the dress.
He seemed to read my mind. “Are you quite comfortable in that outfit? It’s very attractive, but somehow I shouldn’t think it would make you feel terribly . . . shall we say, safe?”
My heart lurched again. He was trying to unsettle me, and doing a good job of it. Of course, it was my fault in the first place for wearing the dress. “Mr. Traywick,” I said boldly, “I would never feel safe with you anyway, so what does it matter?”
A smile crinkled his mouth. “Miranda, that’s the most hopeful thing you’ve said to me yet.”
He took my hand and helped me into the third row of seats in the cutter. Before I or Maxine could protest he got in beside me. He looked very tall and dark sitting next to me in the winter moonlight. My hands shook slightly, and I clasped them together.
In a moment we were off up the hill, the sleigh bells jingling cheerfully. I sat as still as I could, trying to ignore the pounding of my head and the beating of my heart.
“And why would you never feel safe with me?” he asked after a while. “Apart from the fact that I am taking you and your modest fortune in exchange for my silence about a brutal murder?”
“You’re what?” My reaction was so extreme that even Karlew turned to glance back at me. “You must be out of your mind.”
“So some people would have you believe. Forget I said anything. Carly’s death would have nothing to do with you.”
“Carly?” I shuddered. The night suddenly seemed awfully cold for late November.
His eyes met mine thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that I hadn’t thought of her as a person . . . a human being with a name and all,” I admitted. Forget he said anything? How could I do that?
“She was a person, despite what your noble relatives happen to think. She merely happened to sell her body for a living, which most women end up doing to some extent or another. She just did it more honestly than most.” His voice was even colder than the night air.
Maxine must have heard his last statement. “Oh, Adam,” she turned around in the seat in front of us, her voice breathless. “Were you in love with her?”
He stiffened, and I rushed in. “Maxine, are you as idiotic as you seem to be? Or merely incredibly tactless?” For some reason I didn’t want to see him rip her apart with a few well-chosen sentences.
She sniffed and turned back to Fathimore’s more assiduous attentions.
“What did you think I was going to do to the little ninny?” Adam sounded amused. “Take out my trusty knife and carve her up before your eyes?”
“You may think that’s a proper subject for jokes, but I do not,” I said coldly. Right then I wasn’t any too fond of Adam Traywick. He was trying to upset me, and I was desperate not to let him. “Besides,” I was harking back to our earlier discussion, “most women may sell themselves for a wedding license, but from what you said earlier I seem to be buying you. Which would make you the prostitute in the case.” I smiled with satisfaction.
“Well,” he considered this, “that would be true if I intended marriage as part of the arrangement and if you lusted after me.”
Another jolt to my heart, but I remained outwardly serene. “Since, Mr. Traywick, I have absolutely no interest in marrying you or anybody else—and I wouldn’t be surprised if you already had seventeen wives—or if I wanted you which I certainly don’t . . .”
“Liar.” He laughed softly.
“How dare you?” I demanded in a furious whisper. “I expect women coast to coast fall a
t your feet, but I don’t happen to be one of them!”
“Are you so frightened of all the men you know?” he asked conversationally. “Your feelings for Karlew and Fathimore seem more contemptuous than anything else. So why are you scared of me and not the others? Is it simply because you think I’m the murderer?” He might have been discussing the weather for all the interest his voice held.
I was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if you’re the murderer. It . . . doesn’t seem logical that you would be.”
“Then why are you afraid of me?”
“I don’t know,” I said, unable to deny it. I’d already said as much. “But you needn’t count on anything. I’m not that frightened of you.”
“Oh, my lovely Miranda, you are petrified.”
I had been staring very hard at my boots when his hand touched my chin and forced me to look at him for a long, breathless moment. I shivered and tried to pull back, but his eyes hypnotized me. I sat there in the slowly moving sled, staring at his strangely compelling face, and I could feel myself drowning.
“I know exactly to what extent you are afraid of me, and I know why.” He moved closer, and I trembled with fright and anticipation. “Don’t worry, Miranda, my love. Not yet.” He let go of me and leaned back.
I sat there in shaken silence as the sled cut through the snow. I was trembling all over, and the cold seemed to seep into my bones so that I couldn’t stop shaking. I realized I was on the verge of hysteria, something I detest in most people, especially myself. I tried to force myself to stop shivering, but it only made it worse. I couldn’t breathe; spots began to form before my eyes, and I could feel myself slipping. The next thing I knew, gentle hands were wrapping a blanket around me.
“Take deep breaths,” Adam ordered quietly. I complied gratefully and slowly began to relax. After a moment I was aware that I was leaning against his hard yet somehow comforting shoulder. I felt too sick to move away. I shut my eyes and sighed.
“Miranda, are you all right?” My few seconds of peace were shattered by Maxine’s shrill voice as we pulled up to the pond. I sat up too quickly and felt my head spin.
“I’m fine, Maxine,” I said faintly.
Adam had dismounted and was reaching out to help me down. I looked down at his face and found he was watching me with a curious expression. In another person I would have said it was a look of concern and perhaps even more. I knew it must be the uncertain light. No one had ever looked at me that way. Nevertheless, I felt myself flush as my hand touched his.
It was a rare night in Northern Vermont when there was enough snow for sledding, cold enough weather to have frozen Daniel’s Pond safely, and yet warm enough for people to skate for long periods of time without running the risk of getting frostbite. Consequently, there was quite a large crowd out tonight, and already a few hardy souls were slipping around on the shiny surface. I saw Karlew frown with disappointment, and I tried to hide my smile.
“What’s so amusing?” Adam asked me, trying to avoid Maxine as he led me to one of the logs placed around the lake.
“It’s nothing.” I laughed, feeling a bit lightheaded. “I just fancied that Karlew wanted to bless the ice and now he’s missed his chance.”
I slipped away from him then and sat near Maxine. She had her skates almost fastened when a crafty look came onto her lovely face.
“Adam, aren’t you going to help two young ladies on with their skates?”
He turned and looked at us for a moment. I busied myself with my skate, pretending not to notice the enquiring glance he gave me. I felt rather than saw him head over to us through the crowds of people. He passed Maxine and knelt at my feet, taking the recalcitrant straps from me with deft hands. In a minute they were fastened. I saw Maxine glaring at us.
“Thank you,” I said unevenly.
“My pleasure.” He smiled and pulled me to my feet.
“Oh, I should wait for Maxine.” I tried to stall him as he started toward the lake.
“Maxine can take care of herself,” he said shortly and swept me onto the ice. For a moment I struggled and nearly fell. His hand held my arm in a viselike grip. I gave in and glided around on the smooth surface, and for the first time I felt almost at ease with him. It was the rhythm of the skating, I suppose, that lulled me into a sense of acceptance. I was feeling quite happy when an awkward couple tumbled into us, and I sprawled gracelessly onto the ice. I scrambled to my feet and met Maxine’s triumphant smile.
“Fathimore and I decided that it wasn’t fair—two good skaters together. We need your instruction.” She batted her eyelashes at a plainly uninterested Adam. It was so odd—why would he prefer to spend time with me rather than a bona fide beauty like Maxine. Was it really about the money and the murder?
Before I could protest, Fathimore had taken my hand in his boneless one and started across the ice.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Miranda?” His voice was soft and puffy like his hands.
“Yes, thank you,” I answered shortly. I looked across the expanse at Adam absorbed in Maxine’s chatter. My head began to ache again, aided by Fathimore’s prattle about the weather and various other things in which I had no interest. The longer I skated the more disturbed and upset I became. My mind kept remembering Adam’s hand on my arm, yet I couldn’t reconcile the fear with the trust I felt when I was with him. How could I feel frightened and safe at the same time?
But as tempting as Adam’s presence was, I wanted more than anything to be back in my room away from all these people, particularly Fathimore. I looked up and noticed we were at the deserted far end of the pond.
“Why are we over here, Mr. Wilby?” I demanded irritably. “It’s too dark here. Cousin Karlew will wonder where I am.”
“Oh, that’s all right, my dear,” he murmured, leading me off the ice onto the snowy ground. “He knows you’re with me.”
I was feeling strangely dizzy, and I didn’t protest. “I don’t feel terribly well, Fathimore,” I murmured, sinking down on a rock. The straps to one of my skates had come loose, and I took them off. I was feeling too sick to skate anymore, anyway. I stood up again and saw Fathimore staring at me with a hungry expression on his face.
“Mr. Wilby, I’d really like to go back now.” I was very nervous with him standing so close. He wasn’t overly fond of bathing, and his breath was rank. His nose had swelled in the cold. He loomed closer and suddenly seemed to jump on me. His blubbery lips were on mine, and his soft little hands were pawing at my dress. I tried to push him away, but for such an impotent-looking creature he was surprisingly strong. I felt nausea rising in my throat along with a black hysteria. I shoved him with all my strength, and he fell back onto the ice. Letting out a strangled cry, I ran blindly into the woods—anywhere away from his drooling face.
I don’t know how long it was before my panic left me. I stopped, gasping, by the giant maple tree that was somewhat of a village landmark and looked back the way I had come. There was a dead silence there. Not the usual peaceful silence I felt when I walked alone on the hill—this time it was somehow threatening. I couldn’t even see the lights from the skating party. I leaned against the tree, panting, and I suddenly knew I was not alone. There was something hideous and evil there in the dark with me.
“Ridiculous,” I spoke out loud. The darkness didn’t answer. I started walking slowly towards the lake. I was going through flashes of dizziness and lucidity that complicated the going. I kept my eyes forward, determined not to give in to fear. Something was following steadily behind me; I could hear the low, rasping breaths getting closer and closer. I started moving faster, but the hem of my dress seemed determined to trip me up. The path didn’t seem to be the same one I had taken—the lights should have been visible by now.
“Miranda.” It was a low, ghastly voice floating after me. I knew if I screamed or turned around I woul
d be dead. I ran.
There was a terrific crashing of underbrush following me as I raced wildly through the woods. I was sobbing in terror, unable to see where I was going, when my feet finally tripped me up and sent me sprawling on the snow-crusted ground. I lay there, rigid with terror, listening to the footsteps coming closer and closer. Two strong hands took me by the shoulders and yanked me up, and I was staring into Adam’s eyes.
“Why did you do that?” I whispered hoarsely, shaking. “Why did you chase me like that?”
“I didn’t chase you,” he said quietly. “I decided it was time to check up on you and heard someone running in the woods.”
“You had this all planned—a party on Barrett’s Hill on the anniversary of Carly’s death. I suppose you wanted to see if the murderer would kill again!” My voice was verging on hysterical.
“Apparently he tried,” Adam said, in a detached voice.
“Well, I’m sorry I ran so fast,” I snapped, trying to hide my angry tears. “Next time I’ll let myself be murdered so you can prove your point—whatever it is.”
“With all that hysteria you’ve probably made yourself sick.” His voice was cool and emotionless. Before I realized what he was doing he had picked me up and started back towards the pond.
“I do wish you’d put me down,” I said irritably. “I don’t happen to be a featherweight.”
He smiled slightly at that. “No, I must admit you’re not. You should know better than to try and run through the snow like that.”
“I hadn’t much choice,” I growled. “I trust you’re taking me back to my cousins?”
“I had thought I might carry you off to the next rise and have my wicked way with you, but then I decided it might be too cold for that.”
“I agree. You’d better wait till the summer. If you’re still around, that is.”
“Oh, I have no intention of waiting that long, Miranda.” He had a very seductive voice, low and enticing. It wasn’t fair that one man would be so beautiful, so powerful, and have a voice like that. I was cold and tired and dizzy again, which must have been why I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder. Before I shut my eyes I noticed a triumphant little smile on his face. But at that point I didn’t care.