Barrett's Hill

by Anne Stuart

  “Naturally,” I echoed, trying to control the nausea I felt over the vision of Fathimore slicing up Carly’s body on that cold, dark hill. I knew then that my disgust and hatred of Fathimore had always been justified.

  “But Fathimore told Karlew,” Elinor’s voice was tearful, recalling it. “He promised he’d never tell a soul, but he told Karlew, and he told him it was his fault, which I suppose it was. So Karlew had to promise to help protect me. He married me just as soon as we got rid of Adam.” She looked pleased with herself.

  “Did Adam know of this?” If he had, I decided there and then that I’d run screaming out of this house.

  “Of course not!” she scoffed. “Do you think we could have kept Adam silent? But he had no proof. And no real idea of what had happened. He keeps trying to get me to tell him about Karlew and Fathimore, never guessing that I was the one who did it. But I was too smart for him.”

  “Of course you were,” I agreed, relief flooding through me. Maybe I could trust Adam after all. “But Elinor, who killed Roxie? And why?”

  She looked troubled. “I don’t know,” she said plaintively. “It’s so confusing. That’s why I had to tell you. I thought you might be able to puzzle it out. It doesn’t make any sense to me at all.” Her eyes were clouded with the effort of concentrating.

  I waited for a moment, but she’d worn herself out. Her eyes were drifting closed. “You’re such a good girl, Miranda. Much nicer than my own daughter,” she murmured. “Maxine was always a thankless child.” She sighed. “I think I can sleep now. I just needed to explain what happened to someone.”

  And it had to be me, I thought. “Thank you for telling me all this, Cousin,” I said, realizing how ridiculous it sounded, as if I was thanking her for sharing a recipe for apple butter. “Why don’t you lie down on your bed and have a rest, and I’m sure your head will feel much better.”

  “Yes, I think I will,” she said dazedly. She said nothing more as I helped her over to the bed. I’d pulled the pink satin coverlet over her limp form when a horrible thought came to me.

  “Does anyone know you’ve told me all this?” I asked her sharply, trying to penetrate the quickly settling fog of the laudanum she’d taken.

  “No,” she murmured sleepily. “I told them I wanted you to rub my head. I don’t really have a headache at all . . . I’m just so tired of all this . . .” Her voice faded. I turned away and knew a moment of pure terror. It seemed to me as if the door had just been closed very carefully. Someone could have been listening to everything we’d said.

  I ran out of the room and tripped on the doorjamb, sprawling face down on the turkey-red carpet running the length of the hallway. It was fortunate, for although the hall was by that time innocent of all eavesdroppers, there was freshly tracked mud directly under my nose. I stood up and found more traces of dirt all over my dress, still wet from the outdoors. Someone had been listening. I was no longer safe in this house.

  If I ever had been in the first place.

  Chapter 18

  IN A SPURT OF absolute panic I raced down the stairs, making a terrible racket with my lack of grace. Karlew was just coming out of his study, and he gave me a stern look. I could have laughed with the absurdity of it all. His wife was upstairs confessing murders, and he was reprimanding my manners.

  “Couldn’t you behave with a bit more decorum? After all, you’re twenty now, it’s about time you settled down,” he admonished me.

  “Yes, Cousin Karlew,” I said breathlessly. Who else could be upstairs if it wasn’t Karlew? “Oh, Cousin . . . ,” I tried to sound guileless, “have you seen Fathimore around today?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him. What do you want with him all of a sudden—I thought he was your worst enemy on earth?” Suspicion was stamped on his ruddy features.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing at all. I just thought I’d seen him upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” said Karlew. “What would he be doing up there? And why didn’t you ask him instead of running away?”

  I was getting in deeper and deeper. “I mean I thought I saw him from an upstairs window, leaving the house. I thought he might have some idea how bad the storm’s going to be.” I felt justifiably proud of my inventiveness.

  “Storm? Are we due for a storm?”

  “Look outside,” I offered, and strode over and opened the front door. The sky had indeed become black and threatening in a very short time. Trees were bending in the wind, and the dark clouds rushed frantically overhead.

  “You’re right, it looks like we’re in for quite a blow,” he remarked, peering out. “I trust you left your Cousin Elinor feeling better?”

  I couldn’t decide whether there was anything more than casual interest in the question. I studied the violent landscape for a moment as I tried to arrange my thoughts.

  “She’s fine now,” I answered truthfully. “She took bit of her laudanum to help her sleep. She should feel better when she wakes.”

  He nodded his approval. “Did she . . . did she say anything?” he asked casually. I wasn’t fooled for a moment. I could always see through Karlew’s playacting, be it for his congregation or his long-suffering family.

  “She just rambled a bit about being afraid of storms,” I improvised glibly. “Fortunately she’ll sleep through this one.”

  “Yes,” Karlew agreed, deep in thought. Without another word he wandered back into his study, shutting the door behind him, and I felt a little thrill of fear run through me. What if Adam decided to wait in town till the storm was over?

  I walked slowly toward the kitchen, hoping for companionship and comfort. Instead I found only Maxine, busily eating the last of the cookies I’d wanted to steal.

  “Oh, hello,” she greeted me, a bit too casually.

  “Where is everyone?” I felt bereft without Nanny and Cook. The kitchen itself suddenly seemed a cold, unfriendly place without their presence.

  “In the village,” she answered blithely. “Daddy gave them the day off.”

  “Lovely day for it,” I remarked, looking out the window. The sky was almost black. “Why have you got your cloak on?”

  “Oh, I’m going, too. Daddy wants me to pick up some stuff for him, and he gave me enough money to buy a new sash for my blue dress.” She gave me an accusing look. “You’re just lucky you didn’t hurt it beyond repair.”

  “And what would you have done if I had?” I taunted her.

  She made no answer, merely started for the door. I thought better of my nastiness and followed her. “Maxine . . .” I hated to have to ask her for anything, but I was truly terrified to stay in that house alone.

  “What?” she snapped, fussing at her buttons.

  “Could you possibly wait till someone gets back before you go? Your father’s shut up in the library, and your mother’s sound asleep. I just feel . . . a bit uneasy.” I wouldn’t let myself plead.

  Maxine’s beautiful eyes were bright with malice. “When have you ever done anything for me? I don’t see why I should give up my pleasure for some hysterical whim of yours.”

  I could feel panicked tears welling up in my eyes, but I refused to let her see them. I could handle this situation. I could handle any situation if I just stayed calm and used my head. “I knew I could count on you.” Sarcasm covered my fear. If I had confessed to her how frightened I was she probably would have stayed, but I couldn’t ask her for anything. Without another word she sailed out the door, and I was, for all intents and purposes, alone in the old brown house. At least, I dearly hoped I was alone.

  Purposefully, I marched over to the stairs and looked up into the darkness. I could hear the wind moaning about the windows, sounding absolutely terrifying, as if it would pull the house from its moorings. With great calm I sat down on the landing with my back against the wall, secure in the knowledge that whatever creature of th
e night was going to murder me it would have to show itself first. Everything that had frightened me in this house was hidden in shadows, lurking. If I got a good look at it, at him, it would lose its power to terrify me.

  I concentrated on the dark above me fiercely, so fiercely that I didn’t hear anyone enter the house.

  “Miranda.” The soft voice was right beside me, and I screamed at the top of my lungs, not recognizing it. In another moment I found myself being shaken into silence by a windblown Adam, as Karlew slammed out of the library.

  “What’s going on here?” Karlew demanded angrily, his face redder than usual, his eyes glittering in the murky shadows.

  I stood there, silent, trembling. I would have fallen had it not been for Adam’s strong hands on my arms. It should have calmed my fears. It did calm them—just not enough.

  “I must have startled her,” Adam said smoothly, his green eyes running over me in a distant fashion. “We’ve all been on edge.”

  “Yes, we have,” Karlew said icily. “I would appreciate it if you would keep your voices down. I’ve had quite enough turmoil in the last few days, the last few months. In fact, ever since you arrived, Miranda, everything has been topsy-turvy. Were you as much of a curse to your good father?”

  “He insisted I was,” I said flatly, remembering my cold father’s withering disdain.

  “He should have warned me before he left you in my care,” Karlew said dismissively.

  “Ah, but she came with all that nice money, Karlew,” Adam said swiftly. “How could you have objected?”

  Karlew gave him a disgusted look before stomping back into his study and slamming the door closed behind him, and I was left alone with Adam.

  “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he said.

  I nodded. I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know how much I trusted him. There was something wrong in Elinor’s story—Carly had died of knife wounds, not a head injury. Adam was either my salvation or my doom, and in that wild, stormy afternoon I couldn’t be sure which one. I opened my mouth, unsure what to say, when he suddenly signaled me to be quiet. He glanced around the gloomy hall. Then, taking my arm with his strong hand, he led me upstairs into the dark, and I went, unresisting. The only person I was trying to fool was myself. I would follow him anywhere, even if it were to certain death.

  We stopped for a second in the hallway for him to light the kerosene lamp that was always kept on the table there. “Where’s Elinor?” he whispered, bending close to me.

  “In her room. She took some laudanum.” He nodded his approval. I wondered why. I continued behind him to the third floor and watched with horror as he opened the attic door.

  I pulled back. “I don’t want to go up there,” I said in a desperate whisper. He paid no attention to my protest, starting up into the blackness alone. I waited for a moment then scurried after him. Any place was preferable to being left, and any place with Adam was preferable to being safely with any number of people. If I was sealing my own fate then so be it.

  I kept my eyes averted from the bloodstains on the stairs as I came to the top. Adam was in the middle of the room, the lamp held high above his head, casting weird shadows into the corners. Rain was already pelting the windows heavily, and, as I stepped into the room a crack of lightning lit it momentarily. I stifled an involuntary shriek, and Adam turned to look at me, his face intense and almost brutal. For the hundredth time I questioned my wisdom in trusting him. But I had no one else, and I knew very well that wisdom had nothing to do with the matter.

  He set the lamp down on the floor and signaled me towards the old brass bed. I managed to raise my eyebrows quizzically, but my expression was lost in the gloom. I was so nervous I thought I could hear heavy breathing at the bottom of the stairs, but I knew that was ridiculous and dismissed it from my mind. I was going to do as Adam wanted. I sat down on the bed in front of him, the springs making a dreadful racket.

  “All right, what’s happened?” he asked shortly, taking off his coat and laying it on a nearby trunk.

  It was too late for lies. I repeated everything that had gone on in the last two hours in as few words as possible, even relating Elinor’s bizarre confession. He listened, saying nothing, and in the strange light of the kerosene lamp he looked very tall and menacing—the shadows on his face made him a stranger. I thought I could hear rats scrabbling down near the stairs, and my fear began to build again. The interplay of the lightning and the thunder outside added to my uneasiness, and even the usually peaceful sound of rain beating on the copper roof seemed threatening. I pulled my feet under me and moved across the bed surreptitiously, away from Adam’s suddenly dangerous presence.

  “Elinor’s a fool,” he said absently. “Karlew, too, for that matter. All they had to do was read the autopsy report to find that Carly died from knife wounds, not a slight concussion.” He took off his tie and tossed it beside his coat.

  I moved farther away, and the bed creaked ominously. “Then Fathimore must have killed her.” It should have been a statement, but it came out far too much like a question.

  Adam seemed barely aware of my presence. “That’s the only possible conclusion that makes sense. It had to have been him or me, and I know it wasn’t me.” For some reason his words weren’t allaying my fears. “I always thought he was the one. I just couldn’t understand why Karlew and Elinor were acting suspiciously.” He removed his vest, and it followed the coat and tie. The smell of kerosene was incredibly strong; I decided the lantern must be faulty. Its beam, however, though slight, was steady.

  I wanted to ask him what he was doing, but I was mesmerized by his hands, his body in the darkness. “What are we going to do about him?” I finally asked as the thunder crashed directly overhead.

  “About Fathimore? I don’t know yet.” He was unbuttoning his shirt. I tried to move farther back, but I had come to the end of the mattress. “What are you doing?” he asked suddenly, coming towards me.

  “I might ask the same of you,” I said breathlessly, my heart pounding. I didn’t care, I told myself. He could do anything he wanted to me, and it didn’t matter. I loved him, and if he were evil, a murderer, then I’d rather he kill me than live with that knowledge.

  But killing wasn’t what he had in mind. He smiled slowly then, and, taking my shoulders in his strong, capable hands, leaned over and put his mouth on mine, and I knew my illogical fear of him was absurd. I knew, I knew that he was innocent. He might not love me, but he wasn’t going to hurt me. And in that knowledge the last bit of wariness left me, and I slid my arms around his neck, pressing against the smooth, warm skin beneath the open shirt.

  He pushed me back on the creaking bed, his body stretched out over mine, pressing me into the mattress as his hands roamed over me, touching me everywhere. A good girl would have slapped him away. A smart girl would run away herself. I pulled him closer to me in a wanton gesture and kissed him back, melting into the heady delight of it, wanting more, more, as his hand reached the hem of my skirt and began pulling it slowly up my leg, when I heard a sudden noise from below. A crackling, roaring sound as smoke billowed up the stairwell.

  With an obscenity I had often thought but never spoken aloud, Adam leapt off the bed and ran toward the stairs. Smoke was filling the room, and I could see the red-orange flames licking their way around the steps. Voices shouting from down below as I sat there in a daze, my hands still shaking from the first physical passion I had ever known.

  “Get the blanket,” Adam ordered me, between muffled shouts to the people below. I did as he asked, and he began beating at the flames with it. I stood behind him, trying to make out who was down there. I could see Karlew, busy with a bucket of water which he proceeded to throw at the fire, successfully putting out only about one square foot.

  “He’ll have to do better than that, or we’re going to die,” I said calmly. Adam looked
at me in surprise then grinned.

  “We’ll put it out, don’t worry,” he promised cheerfully. “You and I have some unfinished business to attend to.” I hoped my face was red enough from the stifling heat of the flames not to show my reaction to that. He didn’t seem to notice. “In the meantime, you might look out the windows and see if you can find where Fathimore ran off to.”

  Fathimore! Of course it was Fathimore, I thought gratefully. I nodded and moved to the back of the house. My dress was pulled and rumpled around my hot and sweaty body. I was choking slightly on the smoke and decided that I couldn’t be bothered straightening out my clothing. Let them think what they like, I thought defiantly. If it weren’t for Fathimore, my innocence would be long gone, and I wouldn’t have cared who knew it. I cursed him for stopping us. Focusing my stinging eyes out the window, I spied my quarry. Sure enough, there was Fathimore scrambling through the mud and rain. The spring run-off had already made the hill hazardous going, and the current downpour slowed him to a crawl.

  “He’s trying to make it up the hill,” I shouted to Adam, who paid no attention.

  He beat at the flames a bit more. “Are there any more blankets in this junk heap?” he called through the thickening smoke. Without bothering to answer I ripped the tattered brown cover from the bed and brought it to him, choking.

  “Wrap it around yourself,” he ordered. “Especially around your head.” I stared at him uncomprehending, and with a curse he grabbed it from me and flung it over my head. A second later I felt myself picked up and tossed over his shoulder. For a moment I had an impression of a great roaring in my ears and incredible heat, and then we were down and out of the way.

  I fought my way out of the enveloping folds in time to see Adam racing down the stairs. Constable Putnam was beside me passing buckets of water along, and I yanked at his arm, spilling half of the precious stuff.

  “Constable Putnam, you’ve got to go after them!” I cried.