Thunder Heights

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  He seated her with a gallant flourish in which there was a hint of mockery. “What do you mean by a good day, Mother? Can any of us remember such a thing in this house?”

  Hortense made the small moue of a flirtatious girl. “At least we’ve been rid of Mr. Granger’s dour company for a few days.”

  Camilla had hardly given Ross Granger a thought since she had entered the house, but now she wondered about his place in this group.

  Booth had come to seat Camilla at Hortense’s left, while Letty slipped quietly into her own place across the table.

  “Granger is back, you know,” Booth told his mother. “He came up on the same boat with Cousin Camilla. So now I suppose there’ll be the devil to pay.” He smiled wryly and shrugged as he sat down at Hortense’s right.

  Hortense glanced quickly at Camilla. But if she meant to ask a question, she changed her mind. “In any event, since the gong has rung and he’s not here, we shan’t wait for him.”

  Tonight, in the candlelight, her hair seemed a softer red, with tints of gold brightening it. But no mellowness of light could change the unhappy drooping of her mouth, or change the hard restlessness in her eyes.

  Grace, young and inexpert, brought in a silver soup tureen and placed it before Hortense. Then she scuttled back to the kitchen as though she could hardly wait to escape.

  “Grace is new,” Hortense informed Camilla. An emerald gleamed on her hand as she began serving soup with a silver ladle. “Our maids are always new. The village girls these days have notions above themselves, and they don’t last long with me. One would expect them to be grateful for an opportunity to work for a family of our distinction. But only Toby and Matilda have stayed with us from the old days, and they are both getting old.”

  The silver, Camilla noted, was monogrammed with an ornate “J,” and monograms had been embroidered on each linen napkin. The entire service, indeed the very room, spoke of great days of luxury long past, and the gradual decay of fine possessions. She felt a little saddened by the deterioration that she saw everywhere in the house. How shining and rich everything must have been in the heyday of the past—and could be again, if only someone cared. It was not lack of wealth, but a disintegration of spirit that lay behind the neglect.

  “Our mother always preferred dinner at night, instead of at noon,” Hortense went on, picking up her soup spoon. “And she liked to dress for dinner, so I try to continue the custom. Such things are proper for a family in our position. Of course, since you have only a suitcase, Camilla, I don’t expect you to comply while you’re here.”

  Her aunt’s delusion that the Judds were superior in position and worth to everyone else seemed rather pitiful under the circumstances, but Camilla merely thanked her for her consideration and did not mention that her trunk would be arriving soon. It seemed unlikely that Aunt Hortense would be pleased by such news.

  The cream of potato soup was good, and she found that she had a healthy appetite. But as she ate she noted that Letty was watching the door and that she only toyed with her spoon.

  “How long may we expect to enjoy your company, Cousin Camilla?” Booth asked, and again she sensed the light touch of mockery in his words. Perhaps directed toward those about him, or perhaps himself? She could not tell.

  “That depends on Grandfather,” Camilla said. “I promised that I would stay as long as he wanted me here.”

  Letty gasped softly, and Camilla saw that she was staring at the dining room door. Ross Granger stood in the doorway, his expression unsmiling, an angry light in his gray eyes. Hortense and Booth exchanged a quick, understanding glance.

  “I see you’re back—and late for dinner,” Hortense said plaintively. “You know how Papa abhors any lack of punctuality.”

  Ross did not answer her. His bright chestnut hair shone in the candlelight as he took his place at the table beside Letty, and he thrust a lock of it back with an impatient gesture. Camilla waited for some greeting from him, some sign of recognition, but he gave her none. He seemed lost in a dark anger that set him apart from the others at the table. When Hortense filled his soup plate and passed it to him, he picked up his spoon and began to eat without paying attention to the others.

  Letty coughed in gentle embarrassment, with her handkerchief to her lips, and turned to Camilla, seeking to break the uncomfortable silence.

  “I’ve noticed your bracelet, my dear,” she said. “How well I remember it.”

  Camilla held up her wrist, fingering the peach stone medallions. “It was my mother’s. I’m very fond of it.”

  Hortense stared at the bracelet. “I don’t know why Althea chose anything so valueless to take with her. She left behind a diamond bracelet that might have kept you all in food and shelter for a long while.”

  “We were never in want, Aunt Hortense,” Camilla said quietly.

  “How have you been keeping yourself since your father’s death?” Hortense asked.

  “I’ve been working as a governess for the last four years,” Camilla told her. “There are always positions of that sort in New York.”

  “Do you enjoy the work?” Letty asked with interest.

  “How could she?” Hortense broke in at once. “A governess is hardly more than a genteel domestic servant waiting on other people’s children.”

  Camilla had come to the table still hoping to win Hortense, to placate her, and, if possible, reach some sort of friendly footing with the family. But the scornful words made her stiffen. Beside her, Booth watched with an amused interest that irked her further. Ross merely stared at his plate, as if he cared nothing about what went on around him.

  “That isn’t quite true, Aunt Hortense,” Camilla said, her tone carefully restrained. “The role of a governess is an important one in any household. If the parents realize it, she can do a great deal for their children. I’ve always regarded the work as interesting and worthwhile.”

  It had given her independence too, she realized, enabling her to remain in control of her own life. That was something she would not like to lose.

  Ross had been listening after all, and now he surprised her. “Good for you, Miss King!” he said. “Don’t let them patronize you. Stand up for yourself.”

  Camilla said nothing. She was not altogether sure she wanted him on her side if it meant further alienation from the family.

  “At least it’s a good thing you have some sort of work to return to,” Hortense said. “I suppose it’s respectable enough work for an impoverished gentlewoman—which seems to be the condition brought upon you by your parents.”

  Booth flashed his mother a quick, ironic smile. “Oh, come now! Surely Grandfather Orrin will leave her a bit of a legacy? Perhaps she has that small hope to look forward to.” He nodded kindly at Camilla. “There is still time for him to include you in his will.”

  Ross turned grimly to Hortense. “Yes, there’s always time to change a will. I suppose that’s why you wanted me out of the way for the last few days? So you could keep me from him?”

  Hortense turned a furious red, but Booth only smiled. “Do you think, Granger, that we don’t know how you’ve been trying to influence Grandfather lately? Why wouldn’t we prefer your absence to your presence when we know how much you disturb him?”

  For an instant Camilla thought Ross might rise angrily and leave the table, but he controlled himself and stayed in his place.

  Grace cleared away the soup plates and returned with the meat course, while Letty chatted nervously about how much good today’s rain had done her garden. No one paid much attention to her, and no one else spoke, but Camilla was aware of a mounting tension beneath the surface affecting everyone at the table. Hortense and Ross had behaved inexcusably, she felt. And Letty was too silent. Only Booth had tried to consider her own comfort and welfare. In any case, she shrank from this discussion of wills while Grandfather might lie dying. She remembered uneasily his warning about “vultures.”

  When Grace left the room again and Hortense was serving the ro
ast beef, Ross was the first to speak.

  “I’d like to know just why you had me sent off on this wild goose chase to New York,” he said. “You wanted more than to get me away. What have you been up to in my absence?”

  “You are insufferable!” Hortense cried.

  Letty put her hands to her temples, rocking her head back and forth as if it hurt her. “Oh, please, please! Let’s have peace during dinnertime at least. What is Camilla going to think of us with such talk as this?”

  “One might wonder,” her sister said tartly, “what she will think of you. I am innocent enough.”

  Letty looked as if she might burst into tears, and Booth turned to her gently and began to speak of the gardens of Thunder Heights in a quiet, relaxed manner. Hortense watched her son, and Ross listened without comment, his eyes upon Camilla.

  It was a relief when the floating island was served for dessert and the meal finally ended. By that time, Camilla felt that her nerves were strung on fine wires unbearably tight. The antagonism in the room was almost tangible, and though she was bewildered by it, she was drawn to a high tension herself.

  When they rose from the table, she would have liked to excuse herself and go upstairs to the seclusion of her mother’s room, but Booth walked beside her, guiding her across the hall to the parlor, and there was no easy way to escape.

  FIVE

  Apparently it was the custom for the family to have coffee in the parlor after dinner. Several lamps had been lighted in the great room that ran along the river side of the house, and a wood fire crackled in the grate. The room was crowded with an overabundance of treasures from the Orient. Much of the furniture was of carved black ebony, with cushions of black satin embroidered in gold thread. There were Chinese screens and rich Oriental rugs, and on every table and shelf and whatnot stand were objects of jade or coral or brass, of Satsuma and cloisonné. The ceiling was high and the room’s huge windows were oversized, requiring vast quantities of material for the acres of curtains and draperies.

  “Cheerful little museum, isn’t it?” Booth said to Camilla. “Can you imagine what this stuff might bring at an auction?”

  Again he puzzled her. She had a feeling that his seemingly cynical manner, the callous gloss he wore, hid some depth he was not willing to display to the casual observer. He could be lightly mocking, with a certain insouciant charm, yet she sensed a passion in him that might be his real core. What drove this man, what motivated him, she could not tell, but he held her interest.

  Young Grace skated in, sliding once or twice on the rugs, and managed to place the coffee service safely on a teakwood table by the fire, before darting away with the air of an escaping doe. Flames danced in miniature across the gleaming silver surface of the coffee pot, as the family drew about in stiff, uncomfortable chairs. Only Ross had absented himself, not joining the family. Mignonette, the cat, awaited them by the fire, moving over just enough to be within reach of Letty’s stroking toe.

  “The evening ritual,” Booth said as he brought Camilla her cup and offered cream and sugar. “For an hour or so every night we sit here enjoying one another’s brilliant company and sipping coffee in cups that are exquisite, but too small. Fortunately there are more comfortable rooms in the house where we can withdraw later. So endure, Cousin Camilla, the time will pass.”

  Hortense laughed uncomfortably, as if she were not always sure how to take this man who was her adopted son. “Booth loves to tease,” she said. “You mustn’t believe his little jokes. Papa always thought it a good idea to draw the family together here after dinner. He liked this hour when we were girls and we’ve always kept it up.”

  Camilla thought of the old man lying helpless upstairs and remembered his sad question, “Where did I go wrong?”

  Hortense ran on, as if silence was something never to be suffered for too long. Waving a beringed hand, she pointed out various objects around the room, explaining their significance and relating incidents connected with their purchase when she had gone abroad with her mother and father as a child.

  “Did you go with them too on these trips, Aunt Letty?” Camilla asked, when Hortense paused for breath.

  About Letty there was still a vague air of listening. Occasionally she cast a furtive glance toward the doorway, as though she did not want to be caught in her watching. She jumped a little when Camilla spoke to her, and stirred Mignonette with her toe. The little cat moved closer to Letty’s chair and began a monotone of purring.

  “I went to England and Scotland once after I was grown up,” Letty said and reached for a basket of crocheting at her side, nervously searching it for her crochet hook. “But I was never strong enough for very much traveling.”

  “I was always the one with endurance,” Hortense said in satisfaction, and went on to describe hardships met abroad that Letty could never have borne.

  As they talked, Camilla glanced at Booth, who had taken a chair well back in the shadows. He sat with his long, elegant legs crossed and one slender hand upon the chair arm. Though his face was lost in obscurity, she knew that he too listened to something that was not taking place in this room. When a footstep sounded on the stairs, he leaned forward, his eyes upon the door, and Aunt Letty jumped uneasily, startling the cat.

  Ross Granger came into the room with a strong, vigorous step, and once more anger was bright in his eyes as he viewed the group about the fire with clear hostility.

  “Mr. Judd was too weak to talk to me,” he said. “The nurse tried to shut me out. She told me she had been given orders to keep me out of the room. By whom, may I ask?”

  Hortense answered quickly. “Dr. Wheeler said Papa was not to be disturbed or worried in any way. We all know that you irritate him lately. It was I who said you were not to see him until he feels better.”

  “An order you knew I would disregard. I’m not the one who disturbs him—”

  Booth stood up with his usual easy grace and leaned an arm along the mantel, his features somberly handsome in the flickering light.

  “Look here, Granger, we know you detest us, and we’ve stood a good many of your insinuations because of your former usefulness to Grandfather Orrin. But you must admit that you upset him badly the last time you saw him. From what the nurse has told us, we gather that it’s you who wants his will changed for some purpose of your own.”

  Camilla could only admire the control Booth displayed as he spoke so calmly to Ross. The latter was clearly far closer to losing his temper.

  Letty’s crochet hook moved in and out of her work with quick silver flashes, and she had stopped watching the door. When she spoke in a small breathless voice, the others looked at her in surprise, as if they had forgotten her presence.

  “How can you blame Ross for trying to persuade Papa to change his will? Haven’t we all been concerned about the same thing?” she asked.

  There was an instant’s dismayed silence, and then Ross pounced on her words. “So you did want me out of the way, just as I thought. And what was this change to be?”

  Hortense said, “It’s none of your business. It doesn’t concern you, Ross. Indeed, none of the affairs of this family now concern you.”

  “They concern me,” Letty said, and again everyone stared at her. “I’m in perfect agreement with my sister,” she hurried on. “What would I do with half my father’s fortune, even if it were left to me, as the will reads now? My needs are modest, Ross. I should hate the responsibility of all that money.”

  “So you’d let your sister sign your birthright away?” Ross said impatiently. “At least I can prevent that move—when he’s well enough to listen to me. Even if he won’t follow a plan I think wiser.”

  “Even if he won’t cut you in as repayment for your years of—ah—faithful service?” Booth asked quietly.

  Listening, Camilla shrank again from the scene before her, with its talk of wills while Orrin Judd lay upstairs desperately ill. It seemed callous to a degree that she could not understand. Even Ross, who was an outsider, had
been associated with Grandfather Orrin for years and must surely have some liking for the old man. It seemed heartless of all of them to be quarreling over Orrin Judd’s wealth. While he still lived, all their thoughts should be for his health and well-being.

  Once more Ross managed a semblance of control and addressed himself to Hortense. “I’d like to know exactly what brought on this heart attack. When I left for New York, Mr. Judd was no better or worse than he had been for months. What happened after I left for New York?”

  The room was so still that a bit of charred wood falling in the grate made an explosive sound and Mignonette’s purr was like a kettle boiling. Booth shrugged and sat down, dropping again into the shadows. Letty’s crochet needle paused in mid-air. Hortense clasped her fingers tightly together in her lap. Tension crackled through the room.

  “Well?” Ross said. “I gather that something unpleasant did happen. I’d like to know what it was.”

  Hortense was the first to find her voice. “Why don’t you ask Letty? Booth was in the village at the time, and I was in the cellar. Letty was with him. I’m sure we’d all like to know a little more than she has told us about what really happened.”

  Letty’s work dropped into the basket and she covered her face with her hands. “It’s true, Ross—I was there. But I didn’t intend—I never meant—”

  “What was it you said to him, dear?” Hortense pressed her. “Or is it something that you did?”

  Letty turned her head a little wildly from side to side. “No—you mustn’t ask me. I can’t talk about it. You must believe that I meant well.”

  Ross crossed the room and put a hand forcefully on her shoulder. “Try to tell us, Miss Letty. It may be important for us to know.”

  But Letty had begun to weep into her lavender-scented handkerchief, and it was Booth who came to her aid.

  “Let her alone, Granger. Can’t you see how upset she is over her father’s illness? What does it matter whether we know exactly what happened? There’s no undoing it. And you can’t believe Letty meant him any harm. My mother likes to talk. Come along, Aunt Letty—I’ll take you up to your room.”