If so, his mind should have been set at rest that first night, for dinner was merry and Madeleine’s happiness complete.
As they left the men to their wine, Janet took her arm and squeezed it. “You have brought back the old Roderick.”
Madeleine smiled. “I’m glad to see him so comfortable,”
As though to prove the point, Roderick made love to her that night in her new bedchamber. When she woke in the morning, although the connecting door was open so that the glass ceiling was visible from the bed, Roderick still lay wrapped around her. That meant more than anything.
In the morning, Madeleine made official the arrangements she had suggested to Graham and Sonya before departing. A new maid, Lizzie, and a footman called George, who had been taken on in a temporary capacity, were made permanent.
The eerie cobwebs that had so enticed Madeleine in the gallery were now gone, and the whole house was clean and bright. As she walked around it with satisfaction, Madeleine felt the house was grateful.
After that, she rode with Roderick around the estate and the village, being introduced to the people who lived and worked at Usher. They greeted her with respect and friendliness but interestingly, although they were polite, they seemed…not afraid of Roderick precisely, but wary. Madeleine supposed ruefully it was not surprising. Lord knew what rumors had circulated about him since he came home. Before that, it was his brother who had run the estate. Roderick hadn’t lived here since he was a boy.
For his part, he listened, frowned over the neglect he perceived, and promised to have it seen to. And before the day was out, the arrangements were made.
As they retired to bed that night, he said abruptly, “It’s as if you’ve drawn me out of a fog. What did you even see to love?”
She came and put her arms around him from behind. “The same man I see now. He was just a little more wounded then.”
Around dawn, she woke to movement in the room and opened her eyes to see the indistinct figure of her husband slipping through the connecting door to his old glass-ceilinged chamber. She supposed there would always be times like these.
That day, while Roderick involved himself in the necessary estate work, Madeleine began throwing open the ground floor rooms of the turret part of the house. She pulled back shutters and curtains, drew off Holland covers, and roughly folded them in heaps on the floor. Then, she walked through each room, back and forth, gazing out of windows, thinking and absorbing the atmosphere.
She imagined she could feel the presence of previous ladies of Usher, stretching back for centuries, all gazing down at her to see what she would do next and decide whether or not they approved. The last lady, of course, would have been Roderick’s mother, of whom she knew little. Roderick rarely mentioned her, although the Verne connection that had first brought her and Daniel here from the Hart Inn, had been through her. To Madeleine, she was a shadowy figure whose strong presence was felt in the decoration and the furnishings of the house.
When Madeleine had asked Roderick about her, if she had been a strong woman, he had given a rather lopsided smile. “Strong? I suppose she must have been to deal with my father. Shall we go out?”
It was little enough to inspire her imagination, and yet Madeleine could almost feel her in the room, approving of her devotion, yet daring her to fail in her duty. She shivered, imagining gentle, ghostly fingers trailing across her arm, and spun around.
Roderick stood in the doorway to the sitting room. “What are you doing?”
Madeline let out an embarrassed laugh. “Scaring myself with sheer imagination! I was wondering about making one of these rooms our drawing room? And then the sitting room would be yours, and you could be as untidy as you wish and splash paint where you wish without inconveniencing the rest of your family or visitors.”
“But how could I paint you in the evenings if you were sitting in here and I through there at my easel?”
She laughed. He had begun a portrait of her as she sat at the pianoforte last night. “When I say it will be yours, I don’t mean I shall never go in.”
“Good.” He walked into the room almost warily, and she guessed there were memories here that he had been avoiding. He slipped his arm loosely about her waist and exhaled with something very like relief. “These rooms are quite charming. I had almost forgotten.”
“Which room would make the better drawing room? The farther one has the more spectacular view over the loch, but this one is probably cozier. Or could we knock it into one large room?”
He considered. “We could have a summer drawing room and a winter one. And it would still leave one for private conversations in comfort, if such were necessary.”
“Best of all,” Madeleine improved. “I’ll begin on the farther room then, henceforth the summer drawing room!”
“Talking of private conversations, how long is your brother planning on being here?”
“I don’t know,” Madeleine confessed. “Not long, I imagine, for he’ll get bored living so quietly. I was just so pleased he’s reconciled to our marriage, that I haven’t spoken to him about departure. Should I drop him a hint?”
“No, no, it’s of no moment. I was just curious, particularly as I had a letter this morning from my old friend Durham. We served together in Spain, then I met him again at Kintyre’s ball. He’s prosing to visit next week. With his wife. Shall I write back to confirm or put him off?”
“Of course they must come,” Madeleine exclaimed. “We have plenty of room, even if Daniel is still here. And I am determined we shall have the summer drawing ready in time, too!”
Roderick kissed her and went off to write back to his friend.
For Roderick’s sake, Madeleine was delighted that his friends were visiting again, and she could tell his aunt and uncle were, too. As well as the pleasure involved, it marked a huge step forward in his recovery.
She discussed menus with Mrs. Menteith, had her old bedchamber swept out, and prepared for the visitors. But she concentrated most of her time on the summer drawing room. When they could be spared, George and Lizzie were set to cleaning, beating the carpets, polishing the wooden floor and wall paneling, and cleaning the windows outside and in. Fresh curtains were found and hung. The piano was moved in from the sitting room. Furniture was rearranged and polished where necessary, and the room thoroughly aired.
Once this was completed to her satisfaction, Madeleine began a slower, less thorough revival of the middle room. Releasing George and Lizzie to their less hectic normal duties, she polished the wall panels herself. She found she rather enjoyed it, especially when Roderick was in the sitting room, painting or playing on the old spinet which he had moved down there, or on his Spanish guitar. It was a pleasant companionship, a contented background in which to work and think her own thoughts.
Once, she had drifted so deeply into her own world, that she didn’t notice when Roderick left the sitting room. She only realized it when she saw him outside, striding past the window toward the stables. She smiled, for he was subject to sudden starts, and he didn’t always remember to tell her.
She returned to work, but an unexpected shuffle in the sitting room distracted her. “Sonya, is that you?”
There was no answer, so she rose from her knees and walked through the connecting door. The room was quite empty. Shrugging, she returned to the middle room and picked up her rag. Something dragged across the ceiling above. Sonya’s chamber. The sound was curious enough to make her frown, for it was not heavy enough to be furniture being moved or even footsteps. It was more of a swishing sound.
Or was she mistaken, and the sound came from somewhere else entirely, merely echoing oddly as sounds tended to in Usher House. She knelt down at her wall panel again, just as a sudden bump from above made her jump. She leapt back to her feet, dropping the rag, and strode back to the sitting room. Using the spiral staircase for speed, she ran up to the passage above, and on to Sonya’s chamber.
She knocked perfunctorily. “Sonya?”
> Pushing open the door, she found it quite empty. The chamber looked as it always did, neat and tidy apart from the books and papers on the desk which occasionally spread themselves onto the bed and the floor.
“Sonya?” she said again, just to be sure. From habit, she picked a paper off the floor and replaced it on the desk. As she did so, she couldn’t help seeing that it was a letter in Sonya’s hand which had got no further than, My dear love.
Hastily, she turned and let the room. It was, after all, none of her business. Though it was curious. Did Sonya have a new love? She felt slightly piqued that she had not told her. Though perhaps she was afraid of Madeleine’s reaction.
Just as she was closing Sonya’s door, she heard again that peculiar swishing sound, and again it came from above. From the large chamber that had once been Roderick’s. Frowning, she returned to the spiral staircase and went up.
The upstairs room was locked, but on impulse, she unlocked it and went in. Hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Her heart was beating too fast. There was a presence here. She could feel it. A presence which hid and played tricks was not…comfortable.
And was most likely to be human.
Something slid against the wall, causing her to spin around. The swishing seemed to go higher, and she realized it was on the far side of the wall, on the spiral stairs leading up to the roof.
Graham had warned her of the danger, but she would not put up with this nonsense. She all but ran to the stairs and up as quickly as she could. Even before she got there, she could feel the draught from the open door.
She stepped out under the gray, ominous sky. “Who is up here?” she demanded. “Come here.”
No one came, and yet she was sure she could hear breathing on the wind. Ice shimmered down her spine. She walked around the parapet, glancing frequently over her shoulder. She walked the whole way around and saw nobody.
She paused, gazing over the edge, and thought inevitably about Robert’s tragedy, which was also Roderick’s. How easy would it be to fall?
Suddenly sure someone lurked behind her, just waiting to shove, she stumbled back from the edge, and spun around. She could have sworn a shadow flitted silently inside the door and down the stairs.
Her heart lurched. She had to force her feet to follow.
She locked the door carefully behind her. But she encountered no one on the staircase as she walked all the way back down to the sitting room.
As she went out into the hall, Graham strode along the passage. “Graham, have you been up to the roof today?”
“No, ma’am, not for ages.”
“Has anyone else?”
“No, they’re not allowed,” Graham said flatly. “Why?”
I’m going mad. She managed to smile. “No reason. I just thought I heard something.”
Captain Durham and his wife arrived in time for tea in the garden. Madeleine recognized him at once as one of the officers who’d greeted Roderick so enthusiastically at the Duke of Kintyre’s ball, and she was glad to see him do so again. She could not recall seeing Mrs. Durham, a down-to-earth lady with a friendly rather than a conventionally beautiful countenance.
“I remember you, though,” Mrs. Durham said. “You caused quite a stir.”
“She was taken ill,” Daniel said smoothly.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that! But I meant earlier, when you were there. Everyone was bowled over by your beauty. I was quite flabbergasted when I heard it was you Major Usher had married—though delighted, of course.”
Madeleine thought she wasn’t quite delighted. On the contrary, she was suspending judgement. Madeleine, on the other hand, liked Louisa Durham immediately because she so obviously cared about Roderick.
Although Roderick had been slightly nervous before their arrival—he had been pacing more again, and was quite clearly restless—he seemed to relax quickly back into his old friendship. The two officers reminisced and bantered, telling stories against themselves and each other, and laughing over other people’s pranks.
“I’m so glad you came,” Madeleine said impulsively as the ladies entered the summer drawing room after dinner. “It does him so much good to see old friends.”
“We would have come before,” Mrs. Durham said. “In fact, my husband did, shortly after he came home, but his presence so agitated Roderick that he did not stay. I have to say, he seems a thousand times better. Is that down to you?”
“To time, largely, but I like to think I helped give him an extra pull.”
“A reason, perhaps.” Her clear eyes met Madeleine’s. “You are not what I expected.”
“A social butterfly who married him for his fortune?”
“Something like that. I’m sorry. One should not listen to rumor, or judge with no evidence, but he was so…vulnerable after Waterloo that I suppose I am over-protective. We both are.”
“I am glad he has such good friends,” Madeleine said warmly.
For the first time since her marriage, Madeleine retired alone that night, leaving her husband deep in conversation, laughter, and brandy with his old friend. She smiled into her pillow and fell asleep.
She woke around dawn as his body landed in bed beside her.
“My life, my love,” he whispered, and made love to her with thrilling urgency before falling asleep in her arms.
It was only later, when she rose for the day, that she saw his bed had been slept in, too, likely before coming to her.
The day spent with the Durhams was a good one. The beginnings of friendship blossomed between Madeleine and Louisa, and their husbands seemed well content in each other’s company. Since the morning was fine, they rode out and ate an al fresco luncheon in the hills surrounding the loch.
Roderick seemed a little distracted on the way home, missing one or two points of the conversation and tending to drift into his own world. It seemed he wasn’t yet used to quite so constant company, apart from her own. And in fact, during the afternoon, when they were driven indoors by the rain, she glimpsed him from the window, striding out alone into the woods as though oblivious to the weather.
During dinner, he seemed to have recovered his equilibrium. There was only one bad moment, when Durham mentioned his brother.
“I was so sorry to hear about Robert,” he said with quiet sincerity.
To Madeleine, it struck just the right note to be acceptable to Roderick—no overt emotion or pity, just the acknowledgement of a friend for a loss he understood. But Roderick turned on him with such a look of fury that the conversation at the table suddenly halted.
Durham didn’t back down, merely held Roderick’s gaze until the anger faded from his face to be replaced by a rueful smile.
“Thank you.”
The moment passed, but it made Madeleine uneasy, and she noticed as the gentlemen stood for the ladies’ departure from the dining room that Roderick’s hand seemed not quite steady.
To her relief, he was more himself when he entered the drawing room. He even clowned at the pianoforte with Durham, and then asked Madeleine to play a Russian song he particularly liked. But as the evening wore on, he grew more restless, his movements quick, almost nervous as they had been when Madeleine had first come to Usher. She was glad that the Durhams’ early departure in the morning precluded another late night, for it seemed to her that Roderick was physically ill. When she touched his hand on the way upstairs it felt hot and fevered. And although she fell asleep wrapped in his arms, he made no effort to make love to her.
She woke to darkness and the sound of a terrified cry. The nightmare was upon him.
Hastily, she rose to get out of his way, as they had agreed, and lit the candle by the bed. “Wake up, Roderick, you’re dreaming,” she said as calmly as she could while she lit the lamp and brought it closer. “Roderick!”
With a gasp, he stilled his writhing and pushing, He opened his tormented eyes and she went to him at once, putting her arms around him. He clutched her close, and she could feel the heat and the trembling of h
is body. His breath came in pants. He was not calming.
She loosened her hold and rose from the bed, drawing him by the hand. “Come, we’ll go to your own chamber where it’s more open.” She led him like a child through the connecting door, and he immediately lay down on top of the bed, gazing up at the stars. She thanked God the clouds had cleared and left a brightness to the night.
Sensing he needed to be alone, she kissed him and turned away. He caught her hand as she went and pressed it to his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Madeleine.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said in pity.
He tugged gently at her hand. “Stay with me, if you like.” He drew back the cover so that she could climb under them. They lay side by side under the stars, holding hands.
She had always known there would be bad days, times of relapse and difficulty, but it still made her uneasy.
Chapter Eleven
He was gone by the time she woke in the morning, so she rang for Mercer and washed and dressed before going down to breakfast. She found the Durhams and Sonya in the breakfast parlor, helping themselves from the dishes on the sideboard.
“Is Roderick not here yet?” she asked in surprise, for she had assumed he would wish to spend the last hour with his friend.
“He’s in the sitting room,” Sonya said. “Painting.”
“He’ll have lost track of the time,” Madeleine said. She hurried back and out and across to the sitting room, where Roderick was indeed painting with massive, almost desperate concentration. He wore no coat, and his shirt was splashed with paint, as was the floor and the chair nearest him.
From the pile of canvases on the floor, he had recently begun new paintings. Two were covered up in his usual style, and as soon as he saw her, he bent and threw a rag over his current work. He didn’t look pleased to be disturbed.
“Are you not coming for breakfast with the Durhams?” she asked. “They will be gone in an hour or less.”
“Ah, they’re up already? I’ll come in a minute.”
The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides Page 33