Whispers at Midnight

by Parnell, Andrea

  Her brows rose with just a hint of annoyance. Ryne made her blood feel strangely warm whenever he was near. It appalled her to think that she might be attracted as easily as any other woman was. But she couldn’t be. She disapproved of him on almost every count. Or was it possible to both like and dislike a man? If so, that was how she would sum up her feelings about Ryne Sullivan. He was an enigma to her and it was all the more disconcerting because he harbored an evident low opinion of her as well.

  Conscious of Gardner’s eyes on her, Amanda looked up to find an arrested expression on his face. Hopefully he would not ask her thoughts. She would be ashamed to have him know that in the last few minutes she had been comparing him with his brother. But most likely he would attribute her seriousness of mind to her interest in the chess set and her disappointment at having found the shop closed.

  His face brightened as a slight smile touched her lips. “We’ll try the shop again if you are ready,” he said.

  He made his way back in the space of a few minutes. Amanda was amazed at how easy it was to locate the building once she had gotten her bearings and seen how the streets were laid out. As they approached she could see that the curtains had been drawn open and that the shop appeared to be open for trade. But as Gardner pulled the carriage to a halt, her heart gave a sudden lurch. The chess set was no longer visible in the window.

  “Back so soon, miss,” the shopkeeper, a small wiry man with spectacles and a gray beard, said, coming forward as Amanda hurried in ahead of Gardner. “Oh, but you’re not . . .”

  “I beg your pardon,” she said.

  “Forgive me, miss,” he said, removing his spectacles and polishing them with a handkerchief. “My eyesight is not what it once was. I mistook you for someone else.”

  Amanda was beginning to have an odd feeling that something was not quite right. She knew she had seen the chess set not more than an hour ago. Gardner had seen it too. But now the table by the window held a crystal bowl with a large chip broken out of the edge. It was dusty, as were most of the other items in the shop.

  “The chess set,” Amanda said hurriedly. “You had a chess set in the window. We were here only an hour ago and saw it. Perhaps you heard us knocking.” She had not given up the idea that this man or someone else had been inside and refused to open the door.

  “There was a chess set,” the man said hesitantly. “Sold, I think.”

  Sold. Was it likely the set had been sold only minutes before they arrived? How strange, because the pattern the board had left in the dust indicated that it must have sat on that table for weeks, perhaps even months, without attracting much interest.

  “But you must know,” Amanda said, crestfallen. “We saw it here today. You couldn’t have forgotten so quickly.”

  The man seemed agitated. “You have missed my meaning. The set was sold some time ago. Just picked up today. Not more than half an hour before you came.”

  “Do you know who bought the set?” Gardner cut in.

  “That I don’t,” the man said. “Maybe you’d like a crystal bowl instead. This is a fine piece. He lifted the dusty bowl and held it out to Amanda.

  She shook her head.

  “No. I’m not interested in a bowl. Only the chess set. Do you remember when you acquired it?”

  “I don’t remember, but I do keep a record of what I buy. There’ll be a date entered when it was purchased. If you want to wait, I can look it up.”

  “Please, do,” Amanda said politely.

  He shuffled away through the curtain. Amanda thought she heard muffled voices coming from the back room, but it was possible the old man was murmuring to himself. He returned in a few moments.

  “Was purchased one month ago to the day,” he said.

  “Do your records also show who sold the set to you?” Gardner said.

  “I thought you’d be asking that. A Miss Fairfax brought the set in. Said it was an eyesore and she was pleased to be rid of it.”

  Amanda was too surprised to speak for a moment. Her eyes met Gardner’s and she saw the amazement there as well.

  “That’s impossible,” Amanda sputtered. “I am Miss Fairfax.”

  The man put a hand to the rim of his spectacles and peered intently at Amanda.

  “Oh, so it is you, Miss Fairfax. You look rather different with your hair done that way.”

  Amanda responded hotly, “We have not met before, sir.”

  “But you were here last month when you sold me the chess set.”

  “Last month I was on board a ship which sailed from London.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. I only know a woman who called herself Miss Fairfax brought the chess set in and sold it to me.”

  The shopkeeper had no more answers for their questions. He insisted he did not know who had bought the chess set and that it had been both purchased and picked up while he was out and only his helper was in the shop. And since the man could neither read nor write, he hadn’t taken the purchaser’s name. They asked to see the helper but were told he had left on a journey of several days.

  “It appears, Gardner,” Amanda said as the wheels of the carriage rolled them out of Williamsburg, “that someone might have been pilfering items from Wicklow and selling them outright.”

  “I fear you have hit upon a truth. Someone who is clever enough to have used your name.”

  “Not only that. To impersonate me. The man actually mistook me for that person. I wonder who could have schemed so carefully.”

  “I think the answer to that must be one of the servants. Mother was demanding. She was always replacing her personal maid. Seems half the women in the area worked for her at one time or another. Some undoubtedly bore hard feelings toward her.”

  “You think one of those women might have stolen things from the house?”

  “I think that is the only explanation. With Gussie’s hearing as it is, it would be easy enough for someone to gain entry to the house without her being aware of it.” He paused. “And there are many who know Gussie’s condition and were aware the house was otherwise unoccupied. You must check your inventory,” he added. “Our petty thief may have taken more things.”

  Though she couldn’t pinpoint why, the explanation did not satisfy Amanda. Tossing her head back with an air of authority, she spoke up abruptly.

  “I think the culprit may be more than a petty thief.” She was remembering the dreams that might not have been dreams, and the woman in the bedroom, as well as the elusive chess set. “Other things have happened that are equally as strange.”

  Amanda related the stories of the whispering and the blood and reminded him of the woman she had seen in the window the first time he visited her at Wicklow. She had wanted to believe those things had not happened. It would be much easier to accept that she had imagined them all. But now she was again swamped by doubts. It was possible someone wanted her to leave and meant to effect that end by frightening her away. Anyone could be responsible for the odd occurrences, even Gardner himself.

  She thought his eyes looked as if a curtain had fallen over them. And that was the worst thing about what was happening: it made her doubt everyone. Even if the person had shown nothing but kindness, as Gardner had.

  “Dear Amanda,” he said in a slow, gentle way. “You are putting things together that are not related. Nightmares are not so unusual at Wicklow.”

  “They are unusual for me,” she insisted. She had told him of those occurrences too. He was looking at her reassuringly, but still Amanda couldn’t help wondering if the darkness in his eyes was all due to concern for her. It troubled her too that Ryne had said almost the same words about her nightmares.

  “That odious statue,” he went on, “that bird appearing out of nowhere and chanting like a wizard. Wicklow was meant to bedevil people. It was built to satisfy some fetish Grandfather Jubal had to shock his visitors. He reveled in it.”

  Her eyes rested on him. She could almost think Gardner did not care for Wicklow. But of course he wa
s only trying to explain away what she had told him.

  “I am not bedeviled by Wicklow. I love the house and its strangeness. But I begin to believe someone may not be pleased that I am there.”

  “Who could not be pleased?”

  “Ryne, for one. Or someone who is angered at losing the opportunity to pilfer more items from the house. I don’t know, really. It’s only a feeling. But there is one thing to be sure of. I won’t be run out of Wicklow.”

  Gardner spent the remainder of the journey trying to convince Amanda she was letting her imagination become too lively. He blamed himself for not giving her the opportunity to rest since she had arrived.

  “I have whisked you away to Williamsburg twice in less than a week, when you should have been resting and recovering from your voyage.” His voice was as tranquil and smooth as thick, dark velvet. “You must forgive me, Amanda, for being overzealous. And you must promise me you will do nothing for the next few days but rest. I’m going to leave word with Gussie to see that you do, and I will ride out every day to confirm that my orders are being followed.”

  She would have resented such firmness coming from anyone else. But she was convinced Gardner was truly worried about her. He would have stayed at Wicklow through the evening, but Amanda knew he had appointments and that the Wellers would expect him at dinner. After much debate, he agreed to return to the city.

  While Amanda went to her room for a few minutes, he talked with Gussie and relayed his insistence that Amanda rest for the next few days.

  “I shall be back tomorrow,” he said, giving Amanda a chaste kiss on the forehead.

  “Come only if it does not interfere with your business.” She laughed. “I would not like to be responsible for your ruin.”

  Gardner had done his best to alleviate her misgivings. But he had failed. Her mind was in a furor once more. She wanted to question Ryne again about the chess set. If he were not responsible for its disappearance, it was possible he had directed one of his lady friends to take it and, posing as her, to sell it. Gardner might consider the matter a simple theft, but she believed the deed to have been initiated by a remarkably clever mind. And that she did not credit to a disgruntled maid.

  She was not sure why she supposed Ryne to be at the stable. But in any event it was time she saw Groom. If he had been at Wicklow all along, he might be able to tell if anyone other than Ryne or Gardner had visited the house in the last few months, though the stable’s being some distance from the house would prove to be a disadvantage for any regular observation.

  She set out for the building. It, like Wicklow, was made of red brick, but sat on the far side of the hill below the house. There was a ragged path beside what had once been an attractive boxwood maze but was now overgrown and showing the long absence of a gardener. Amanda sighed as she stopped to pull a handful of weeds from the fertile soil. Here was another spot that needed attention if it were not soon to be beyond reclamation.

  She hadn’t realized how near dusk it was nor how desolate the grounds could seem with the light fading. But as she walked along a gloomy avenue made by the high, tangled limbs of oaks that lined the carriage approach to the stables, shadows fell together on the ground and nearly enveloped her in darkness. She was glad to escape into the last bright rays of evening that fell on the clear patch of ground before the stable.

  Above, a weather vane twisted reluctantly in the thin breeze which came and passed on to the treetops, making their murky parasol of green leaves shiver and rustle. Amanda reached the wide double doors, which were large enough to accommodate a carriage. They were shut. But a smaller door beside them stood open a crack. From inside she heard a horse whinny as she pushed against the rough wood and slipped silently through the opening.

  The stable was dark as a crypt but full of sounds. She could see nothing in the darkness, but she could hear horses snorting, stamping, and swishing their tails. Mingled with their sounds she heard a man’s voice, speaking softly and gently in a rhythmic crooning. She paused, bound for a moment by the hypnotic quality of the sound, and then, not announcing herself lest it stop, moved quietly toward the stall from which the sound seemed to come.

  “Sleep, Libelia . . . sleep, sweet Libelia.”

  She listened to the sweet chords of a lullaby such as a parent might sing to a fretful child. It was a simple song but a beautiful one. Amanda moved on, drawn by it and wondering to whom the song was being sung.

  It did not occur to her that she might be intruding and ought to call out.

  Just as her eyes became adjusted to the darkness, something bumped heavily against her and then swung away. Startled, she sidestepped, only to have the object bump against her again. This time it became entangled in the ruffled trim on her skirt.

  Amanda flinched and pulled her gown free. The object that had bumped her was tied to a long cord suspended from the rafters supporting the hayloft.

  The spinning cord brushed her arm, and she caught hold of it, lifting it up as if she were drawing a bucket of water from a well. Her hands found the object tied at the end. The feel of it was repugnant. It was a cold, stiff mass of fur. She knew, even before her eyes focused on it, that she was holding the thing she feared most, a rat.

  Unable to move or cry out for a moment, Amanda threw the stiff little body out of her hands, and then, horrified at the thought that soon it would swing back to her, bolted wildly through the stable.

  As she ran, her skirt caught on the edge of a stall door. She heard the rending of the garment as she tumbled to the straw-covered floor of the stable.

  She was sobbing, struggling to her feet, imagining she could hear the sound of rats scurrying out of the darkness and coming at her. She clung to the wall, too weak to move. Her head spun wildly and she knew in a moment she would faint and be helpless there in the suffocating blackness of the stable.

  “Amanda. Where are you?” She heard someone call her name and it gave her the strength not to crumple to the floor.

  “Here,” she answered hollowly.

  A moment later she felt the strength of arms sweeping her up and she was tenderly carried out of that horrid black chamber.

  Chapter 7

  Eyes like two stars in a dusky sky smiled down at her. Arms gentle as they were strong nestled her head.

  “Who put it there?” she asked, swallowing a sob that had lodged in her throat. “Who?” Consciousness came back in a rush tinged with anger. Now that she was out of the stable and bathed in the fading blush of sunset, the rawness of her fears was fading as well.

  “Groom.” Ryne had carried her to a grassy plot beneath an oak. There she lay with his arms wrapped about her waist, her head resting upon his knees. She felt the cool softness of the grass beneath her hand, and in contrast, the firm warmth of Ryne’s body against her. He smelled of horseflesh and leather, strongly masculine, but oddly she found the scent comforting.

  “To frighten me?” Amanda tried to bring herself upright but met with Ryne’s gentle resistance to keep her in place. “I am terrified of rats.”

  “Keep still a little longer,” he said, pressing his palm to her forehead.

  “I am better,” she protested as she stirred slightly.

  “You are too warm,” he said as he moved his hand to her cheek and then to rest on the curve of her neck. She did not doubt that she was. He made her so, holding and caressing her in such a loving manner. And the way he looked with his shirt open fully on his chest, the warm smooth skin of his belly so near her face. She ached to touch him, to feel the hard flesh and silky dark path of hair that trailed down from his chest. Had he no idea her shallow breathing and trembling could be attributed to his presence and not the shock in the stable?

  “I’ll want to see the color back in your cheeks before you get up,” he said softly.

  She was struck by the anguish in his face and the way it made his features even more enticing. She smiled tenuously.

  “Why would Groom do such a thing to me?” She could feel the blood
flowing back to her brain, and with it a hundred questions. What could Groom have against her? Why had he suspended that ghastly creature from the rafters? She shuddered. “That horrible rat tied there where I would stumble into it.”

  “Dear Amanda . . .” Ryne lifted her to a sitting position so that her face rested against his bare shoulder.

  Amanda felt an internal jolt. His nearness overpowered her with its sweetness. She could feel the sinews of his chest crushing the softness of her breast. She could feel a tingling in her loins that puzzled and delighted her. She was so caught up in the sensations his body gave to hers that she barely heard his next words.

  “You truly are fixed on the idea someone is subjecting you to persecution.” He took each of her hands and in turn rubbed her wrists to bolster her circulation. “Try to think clearly,” he said. But how could she with those strange sensations flooding her body? “Groom could not have known you would come to the stable.”

  “Then why?” she asked, her mind floundering in a maelstrom of confusion.

  ‘“In all innocence,” he explained, letting go her hands and wrapping his arms around her. “Groom has taken on the job of raising a litter of motherless kittens. Vile as it seems, he tied the rat there to train the creatures to hunt. He never thought his mistress would wander into the stable.” His lips brushed lightly against her hair as he talked. “The old fellow will be in a stew when he learns what has happened.”

  Amanda did try to get her mind thinking clearly. For a frantic minute she stared at him. If what he said were true, she was a victim of her own paranoia and had no one but herself to blame for what had occurred in the stable. Yet as in other such instances when she had been frightened, here was Ryne close at hand, protesting his innocence of the deed and offering her comfort. Could she believe him?