by Jane Toombs
"I've money enough to travel. I have my own airplane-- we can literally fly away and we need never see Hallow House again."
"I don't care to discuss this any longer," Vera said stiffly and marched away from him toward the front of the house.
He didn't follow, calling to her, "Think about what I've said. Think long and well."
In the nursery, she found Johanna still asleep. Vera sat in the rocker near the crib and watched her. Leave Johanna? Never.
What was wrong with Vincent? Men had been interested in her before, but she had certainly never so overwhelmed one that he'd propositioned her as soon as he met her. Actually, she'd never been propositioned before. Surely Vincent wasn't serious.
She pictured his intent face, his hazel eyes probing hers. He'd acted as though he meant every word. It was odd a man as handsome as Vincent had never married. He must be close to thirty.
"I have money," he'd said.
Money wasn't important until you had none. She thought about her past year with no money.
"Travel," Vincent had said.
Her father had loved Italy, he'd wanted to take her there some day. He'd been a trusting man, her father. That's part of the reason there'd been no money when he died. He was always willing to help a friend, to see a patient, hard pressed for cash, free. And, unfortunately, too ready to trust those who offered get-rich-quick schemes.
Trust no one, she cautioned herself. What was Vincent's reason for this startling proposal? To get her away from Hallow House. Why? Because he was concerned for her safety or for some more nefarious purpose?
She sat forward, clenching her hands together. Was Vincent removing her to clear the way for someone else to eliminate Johanna? But why? None of it made any sense to her.
"Someone in the house is quite mad," he'd said.
Was it possible it was Vincent himself?
Johanna whimpered and Vera stood and grabbed her up so quickly the baby stiffened in surprise. She sat down again, the baby in her lap, facing her, seeing those gray eyes gazing at her with almost hypnotic intensity. As though Johanna was trying to communicate something without the words she was too young to speak.
"I won't leave you," Vera crooned. "I won't leave my pretty little girl. Not for anything."
Johanna smiled and cooed and, for a moment was almost pretty. The baby's trust caught at Vera's heart.
A knock at the door, startled her. When she unlocked and opened it, Johanna propped on her hip, Sergei stood in the hall. She thought again what a striking boy he was, with that radiant smile. Had Delores, she wondered, been as dark as the twins?
"I saw you outside with Uncle Vince," he said. "You probably don't want to go out again, but I could still show you the house."
Not wanting to disappoint him, she said, "Wait until I change the baby and I'll take her with us."
As they walked along the corridor, she said, "Where's Samara?"
"Studying. She's afraid old Grosbeck's going to be mad if she doesn't translate the passages he gave us from Ovid. I can't help her because he gives us different ones on purpose."
Catching her curious look, he added, "Grosbeck's our tutor. He thought we'd get bored over the Thanksgiving holiday so he gave us extra work."
"You don't go to school then?"
"There aren't any nearby."
"What are all these closed doors?" she asked after a moment. "All bedrooms?"
"Except for the schoolroom," Sergei said, stopping and pointing back. "Cousin Marie's across from you. The next room isn't used. Then mine. Samara's across from me. We're the only ones in this wing."
As they continued on, he added, "Aunt Adele and Theola have their rooms here by the stairs." When they passed the stairs, he opened a door that led into another corridor like the one they'd just left.
"Dad and Uncle Vince sleep along here. Daddy's business partner, Stan Aarons does, too, when he's here. And Mama used to." He walked rapidly along the hall past more closed doors, Vera following.
Sergei opened a door. "This was her room. My mother's."
Vera remained in the doorway, reluctant to enter the dead woman's room.
"Go ahead," he urged. "I like to come in here sometimes and--and think about her."
Vera had been to preoccupied with the motherless baby to think about the twins' loss of a mother. They must miss her terribly.
She saw a muscle twitch in Sergei's cheek as he pointed out a large oil painting on the far wall. "That's her," he said.
Delores had been as vivid a woman as Sergei was a boy. Her long black hair was caught up into an elegant chignon and the brown-black eyes stared out of the canvas to dominate the room as Delores must have done in life. A ruby gleamed on her white skin, nestling the cleft where the crimson gown showed the beginning swell of her breasts.
Looking around the bedroom, Vera found it curiously cold despite the reds of the Turkish carpet and velour draperies.
"My mother was a Leo," Sergei said.
"A what?"
"Don't you know the Zodiac signs?"
"I've heard of them, but that's all."
"She believed in horoscopes," he said.
"Do you?"
Sergei's eyes flickered and then he smiled. "I'm learning everything. There's so much to know about the world. I'm not sure what I believe yet."
The words rang slightly false and Vera decided he must be trying to impress her.
"What about Samara?" she asked.
"She's a worrier--afraid of knowledge, I think. She only studies to please old Grosbeck, not because she wants to learn."
Sergei opened the closet door and Vera stared at a closet full of the dead woman's clothes. Many shades of red here, too.
He stroked a crimson velvet robe, saying, "My mother used to wear this. She was very beautiful, you know. Everyone thought so."
Vera's heart twisted with pity for this boy who'd loved his mother so. "I can see from her portrait how attractive she was."
"She shouldn't have had to die."
"We often feel that way about death," Vera told him, hating the platitudinous words as she uttered them. But what else was there to say to this grief-stricken boy whose mother had died so cruelly?
When they left Delores's room, Sergei carefully shut off the red-shaded light before he closed the door.
"Would you like to see the top floor?" he asked as they walked back along the corridor. "Behind this door there's another flight of stairs. But maybe you don't want to climb up carrying Johanna."
"I think I can make the stairs," Vera said wryly. Did she seem old to Sergei, old at twenty? Maybe her coiled braids and her deliberately practical clothes made her appear older than she was.
"I suppose you're going to carry her around all the time now, aren't you?" he asked. "Because of whoever scratched her face."
"I'm certainly not leaving her alone in an unlocked room again," Vera said.
"It was a funny--peculiar--thing to do to her, wasn't it?"
"A terrible thing," Vera agreed. "She's a helpless baby."
"I wonder why it happened after you came," he said. "Don't you think that's odd?"
Vincent had called the act a mark of defiance. Was it? "I don't understand at all," she said.
"We don't use this top floor much," Sergei said when they stood on the upper landing with a small bulb giving a dim light above their heads. A choice of three doors confronted them.
"I've never seen a house with so many doors," she said. "And mostly shut."
"Don't you think that's exciting? You don't ever know what you'll find when you open one."
Exciting to a teen-ager, she thought. Maybe she was old at twenty if the thrill of exploration no longer appealed to her.
Sergei opened the door to his left. "This goes into the south tower." They entered an empty, dusty room whose eight narrow windows gave her a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside.
"The door on the opposite side is to the north tower," Sergei said. "Do you want to see it?
"
Johanna had begun to fret so Vera said, "I think I'll wait for another day." Leaving him in the south tower, she started down the steps. "Then you can show me what's behind the third door, too," she called over her shoulder.
"No, I can't," he said. "It's locked and my dad keeps the key. Didn't you take a good look at that door?"
Vera stopped and turned. The light streaming from the open south tower door clearly showed her what she hadn't noticed earlier. The middle door was black.
In the kitchen the next morning, Vera managed to feed Johanna a bit of cereal and part of her bottle before it was time for her to go into the dining room for her own breakfast. Everyone was at the table when she came in except the two old ladies. She slipped into her seat, arranging the baby comfortably on her lap.
Marie frowned. "Couldn't you have left Johanna with one of the servants?"
"No, she couldn't," John said, without explanation.
Vera thought Marie looked in better shape this morning. Her make-up was faultless and she wore a becoming aquamarine dress. She was quite attractive when she put her mind to it.
Marie sipped her coffee, replaced the cup in the saucer and said, "I don't see why I can't come with you."
Vera was taken aback until she realized Marie was speaking not to her, but to John.
"I'm taking no one with me on this trip," he said. "But you know there's no reason you can't go to San Francisco any time you please."
Marie shot him a sulky look, but said no more.
San Francisco seemed so far away, Vera thought. In time as well as distance. Had she only been gone two days? It seemed much longer.
"How about a horse back ride this morning?" Vincent said to her. "After the baby's asleep of course."
"I don't want to leave Johanna locked in the room for very long. Thanks, anyway." While that was the truth, she also didn't care to be alone with Vincent.
"You do ride?"
Vera nodded, thinking of St. Bianca School on the peninsula where riding had been one of her courses.
"What can possibly happen to Johanna if you have the key?" Vincent persisted.
"If I've gone out of the house with the key to my room, no one can get in. What if she cries?"
"I'll volunteer to hold the key while you ride with Vincent," John said.
Vera looked at him. "Aren't you leaving?"
"Not today. Tomorrow."
There was no reason not to give John the key. Since he'd hired her to look after Johanna, surely he had no reason to want her harmed. In any case, this was his house.
"I don't like to impose," she said, not quite certain she could trust anyone.
"Nonsense. You need some time to yourself. I'll be in the library most of the morning. When you're ready, bring me the key." He smiled and again she felt the warmth as her own, given to her, a gift from him."
She returned his smile. "Thank you."
She now had no choice but to go riding whether she wished to be alone with Vincent or not. Since she'd decided to pack her ancient riding clothes at the last minute, there was no excusing herself on that point, either.
Later, with Johanna sleeping soundly in her crib in the locked rooms and John holding the key, Vera left the house with Vincent. Stone paths fanned out from the front of the house and today Vincent led the way along one that led into the pine grove. Among the trees was a saint's grotto with a pink marble carving of St. Francis. Vera stopped to admire it.
"I don't believe I've ever seen an owl on his shoulder before," she said. "Usually it's a smaller bird and animals at his feet. Come to think of it, though, I did hear an owl hooting on the day I arrived."
"We have white ones here. Apparently St. Francis was Great-grandmother Tabitha's idea. He's supposed to protect Hallow House--or at least that's what my grandmother told me when I was a child. She said originally there was a deer on his right and a cougar on his left, but that was before I was born. The only animal I recall is a rabbit at his feet."
"That's missing, too," she said.
"It hasn't been gone long. Only since--" He broke off.
"Since when?" she asked
"The animals have kept disappearing until only the owl is left. I sometimes think it's as if the wards Tabitha must have hoped would keep Hallow House safe are failing one by one."
He hadn't told her when the rabbit vanished which she took to mean it must have disappeared after Delores died. Despite the fact Vera had no faith in the ability of statues, even of saints, to ward off calamity, she repressed a shudder. It was hard to remain rational in this place.
"The wolves at the gate are carved from the same pink marble," Vincent said.
"The marble is fabulous. But I didn't see any wolves."
"That's right, you arrived in a tule fog. They'll wait. They've been here since my grandfather built the place. I've told you the wolf symbolized his nature."
They walked on through the grove to the stables and, by the time they got there Vera found she was less uneasy with Vincent. She'd been dreading a repeat of yesterday's strange proposition but so far he was behaving himself.
Jose had saddled her a neat little mare--Arabian from her looks--called Anna K. The stocky young man who helped at the stables, Sal, held the bridle while Vera mounted. She smiled down at him, realizing he must be only a few years older than the twins.
She wondered if Sal ever rode with them and asked Vincent as they rode off.
He raised his eyebrows. "With Sal? Samara has her brother to ride with, she doesn't need an escort. As for Sergei--" Vincent paused and shook his head. "I'm afraid my nephew is not inclined to be friendly with the staff."
"Oh, but--" She cut her words off. Staff. Don't fraternize with the help. Too bad. With Sal so close in age, Sergei might have been able to find a companion in this isolated place. But it was really none of her business.
"Anna K. is a lovely mount," she said after a time.
"She was Delores.' No one rides her now. At one time Sergei always escorted his mother. Now he rides alone."
"Didn't you just tell me he rode with his sister?"
Vincent frowned. "She doesn't ride much any more."
Vera remembered how crazy she'd been about horses in her teens. Most girls who had a chance to ride, loved horses. She couldn't recall a single one at St. Bianca who didn't enjoy the riding course. Samara was different, apparently.
"What does Samara like to do?" she asked.
"Reads a lot. She and Sergei used to be inseparable, but not lately."
It occurred to Vera that Samara might not be feeling well. "Has she been ill?"
Vincent shook his head. "Not exactly. Lethargic, maybe."
"Has a doctor seen her?"
"No. Things have been unsettled here the last year or so. Delores wasn't--didn't look after the twins the way she had earlier. Or the house. And then--well, you know what happened just over a month ago."
Suddenly Vincent reined in his horse, cutting in front of her so sharply she had to pull Anna K. up short. Tsar, the handsome gelding he rode, whinnied and danced sideways. "What--?"
"Rattlesnake in the brush right there. "Damn, I forgot my pistol. Turn your horse and head for those trees."
As they angled off to the right, Vincent said, "Late in the season for rattlers. "The sun must have lured him out."
"I didn't even see the snake. And I've never seen a rattler. Are they common here?" Vera examined the ground somewhat apprehensively.
"We usually bring a gun when we ride in the spring and fall--that's snake weather. They stay put when it's too hot or too cold."
"Can a rattler kill a horse?"
"Not usually. Most horses will try to stomp the snake to death with their hooves. Which means the rider gets spilled."
"Do you have any other wildlife around I should know about?"
"Occasionally a cougar's attracted by the cattle," he said. "While there are black bear, I doubt you'll ever see one. Lots of deer."
They came to a grove of tre
es, the leafless branches of sycamores arching above the live oaks like skeleton hands pushing out from green sleeves A small stream lined with willows trickled through the grove.
Vincent dismounted. "You're a fair rider," he said.
"That's because Anna K.'s a reasonable horse. I don't know how well I'd do with a skittish one."
"Aren't you joining me? It's far too cool in the grove for snakes. There's a possibility you'll get to see one of our white owls--he roosts in the tallest of the live oaks.
Vera slid to the ground, hoping Vincent hadn't brought her out there to renew his bizarre proposal.
Trying to forestall any such attempt by keeping control of the conversation, she said, "Sergei took me to see his mother's portrait yesterday. She was beautiful."
"Undeniable."
"He showed me the towers, too," she went on. "What a breathtaking view."
"He didn't take you into that other room, did he?" Vincent's voice was harsh.
"You mean the room with the black door? No, he said it was locked and his father had the only key. I can understand why everyone would want to avoid that room after what happened."
"What was behind the black door had a bad reputation long before Delores' time. Our illustrious grandmother, Tabitha, practiced her weird rites inside. She died there, too." He took a deep breath. "So did my mother."
"Are you trying to frighten me?"
He smiled mirthlessly. "The truth sometimes is frightening. It was rumored Tabitha was certifiably mad. Mad or sane, her purpose was trying to ward off the Indian curse Grandfather Boris had incurred in building Hallow House. According to family tales, after their marriage, when Boris his new bride over the threshold, she fainted and didn't come to for hours.
She told her companion, who was also some kind of shirt-tail relation, that someone had whispered to her that all who lived in the house were doomed and that there was no escape."
Vera's nape prickled. No escape.. A moment later she was telling herself if Vincent knew this, its must be common knowledge in the family. Anyone could have been hidden outside by the front door in the fog and whispered similar words to her. It was even possible Vincent had.
"So there you have the infamous Indian curse, which picks off the Gregory brides, one by one. Tabitha, my mother, and now Delores.