Amanda found a black fringed shawl which complemented the gown, and with her hair piled high on her head, climbed into the carriage for the ride to Williamsburg.
They were no more than a quarter-mile from the house when she heard the sound of another horse coming at a gallop. Like a ball of rolling fire, the bay mare and her rider approached the carriage.
Amanda was pleased to see Ryne in the distance. He had spent so few hours at Wicklow recently that she had not actually seen him for days. She leaned from the carriage and called out a friendly greeting. The now familiar ripple of excitement flared within her, but Ryne, wearing a look as black as his garb, and without so much as a nod, thundered past her toward Wicklow.
Midafternoon of the following day Gardner drove her home. The dinner had been a celebration, with dozens of friends and associates coming by Gardner’s house to wish the Wellers Godspeed on a trip to Baltimore. Little cause was needed for such a gathering to become a merry-making. Musicians had been brought in and the furniture in the parlor cleared back for dancing.
The night had been long, the festivities lasting until past midnight, and after a short sleep, a new throng of guests had arrived for breakfast on the day of departure.
Much of the spirit of frivolity lasted with Gardner and Amanda even as they climbed the steps of Wicklow.
“Step here, m’lady,” he said.
Amanda, in her day gown of pale green silk with ivory-colored lace flounce, wore a calash of matching fabric tied snugly beneath her chin. Her hair, which she had elected not to pin up, streamed from under the cap and over her shoulders like a veil of satin. Her eyes were the deep color of emeralds compared with the light shade of the gown. They sparkled with merriment as Gardner took her in his arms and whirled her through the steps of a dance she had first learned in his parlor.
“You have the grace of a gazelle, my sweet. I should have claimed more dances with you last evening.”
His display of footwork led her in a delightful dancing ascent to the studded front doors of Wicklow. The game ended with a swishing of her skirts beneath the looping tendrils of ivy that wrapped the entrance. As they brushed against her face and shoulders, she made up her mind to trim them away, and told Gardner so.
“Evelyn planted the ivy, you know. With cuttings brought from her father’s house in London. I don’t imagine she ever thought it would actually seem to swallow up the portico as it does now.”
“I’m sure she never meant it to, and I think she would not be offended if I made an effort to tame the vines before I am caught in them again.” It was eerie, but she had the oddest impression that she really ought to have Evelyn’s approval first.
Suddenly Gardner whirled her around again. Breathless, but showing no sign of exhaustion, Amanda laughed gaily. Her eyes still sparkled with the memory of the usually serious Gardner being the first to lead off the dancing last evening and the last to leave the floor when it was done.
“I repeat,” he said, “I regret I did not dance with you more often.”
“You might have had the time, had you not danced so many with Ariel.”
His brows rose momentarily but soon he had Amanda gripped in his arms and was leading her in a quick series of steps over the portico.
“It was a matter of obligation. But I believe I slighted myself in the process. You are lighter of foot and take to a new step far more quickly than any partner I have known.”
“Perhaps that is because, to satisfy my mother, I studied dance in Paris for a season. With my experience it is not difficult to follow a new dance. None, in fact, are difficult if you have practiced as I have.”
He spun her to the edge of the portico and paused there to draw a deep breath. Gardner, she was sure, had not slept at all. He still wore the white silk shirt and scarlet stock, the blue linen breeches and white silk ribbed stockings he had donned for last night’s gathering. Though his feet were momentarily still, the silver buckles on his shoes gleamed in the bright afternoon sun and the silver embroidery on his waistcoat glistened like newly minted coins.
“Ahh,” he said. “On the next occasion I will call on you to teach the steps.”
“I hope there will be such an occasion. I enjoyed the evening immensely. You were thoughtful to include me.”
“How could I not? Mrs. Weller has taken a special liking to you, and had I not sent for you, she would have done so herself.” He laughed. “And she is not a woman to be denied.”
“That I can imagine. She has a spirit almost unknown in a woman, but one I admire her all the more for.”
“One thing you can be sure of.” Gardner chuckled. “If Mrs. Weller approves you, all Virginia will follow suit. But enough chatter. If you are as weary as I, you will want to rest now and I will say my good-byes.”
She stood with her back to the grounds, completely unaware of the rider who had dismounted and watched from beneath the thick spreading branches of the oaks along the lane. Gardner gripped her shoulders and bent his head low to slowly kiss her first on one cheek and then the other.
“I’ll see you inside,” he said, wrapping his arm about her waist and leading her through the door. “Gussie can pass the time with me as the horses rest awhile. I daresay you’re anxious for a nap.”
Amanda felt an involuntary shudder as she walked inside and Gardner swung the weighty front door shut. The hall seemed inordinately dark except for the three spots of light which bored in through the round windows high above and lit a skittish pattern across the chest of the Turkish King. She shuddered again as Ezra raised his wings and turned his two berry-black eyes on them.
“He knows,” the bird trilled, and with those two words drained the merriment from her spirit. It was as if the moment she stepped into those long, eerie shadows cast by the king, she suddenly felt all the weariness that had been suppressed by her lingering excitement.
“Good-bye, Gardner,” she said, noting by the look on his face that he too was affected by the atmosphere of Wicklow. “Will I see you again soon?”
“In a few days,” he answered. “I have business downriver that requires my attention. Your boarders should arrive before I return.”
“Yes,” Amanda answered. “The day after tomorrow.”
“Good. I will worry less over you once they are here.” He smiled. “Good-bye for now.”
Amanda bade him a second good-bye and climbed the slate stairs. Even the scarlet wall panels could not overcome the dismal atmosphere the house held. She wondered if she would ever get used to the way the house exerted a mood of its own. Or was it only the shadows? She would tell Gussie to light the candles earlier or she would undoubtedly begin seeing apparitions there as well.
She entered her room and was grateful to see the draperies drawn open so that bright warm light flooded in. Within a few minutes she had discarded her dress and petticoats and loosened the lacing on her stays. She had a desire for fresh air and crossed to the window that overlooked the front grounds and unlatched it. The soft wind rippled the lace on her chemise and caught her hair tousling it around her shoulders as she peered out to see Gardner’s carriage below. He never failed to visit awhile with Gussie. Both brothers were inordinately fond of the old woman and she of them.
Breathing deeply, Amanda stretched her arms languorously as she turned her back to the windows. This room had a little of her imprint in it now. She had removed many of Elise’s curios so that it appeared less cluttered, and rearranged others in a way that better suited her.
She was beginning to feel the rose bedroom was truly hers. Especially since nearly a week had passed without a return of the dreams or the whispering. She did not expect them to return at all now. So it was with a smile and a sudden feeling of peacefulness that she climbed into her bed with its fat pillows and pink covers. Here she could rest a few hours, or if she wished, until morning.
Three-quarters of an hour after she had fallen asleep, Gardner started his team of bays on the return trip to Williamsburg. As his carriage rolle
d away, a lone rider crested a rise of ground above a copse of trees and rode toward Wicklow.
“What’s this?” Ryne asked, coming up behind Gussie in the kitchen and lifting the cloth that covered the tray in her hands.
“It’s her supper,” she answered. “Mr. Gardner said she best be takin’ it in her room this evenin’. Said she’d be wantin’ her rest and not care to come down.”
Scowling, Ryne shuffled over to the fireplace and poured coffee into a pewter mug. Legs spread wide apart, he stood staring at the lively flames while Gussie moved at her snail’s pace toward the main house.
“No doubt,” Ryne mumbled gruffly to himself. He took one sip of the coffee before tossing the contents of the mug into the fire. His brother was a fool and would ruin everything if something were not done to prevent it. And since Gardner evidently couldn’t see beyond courting his way into Miss Amanda Fairfax’s bed, it was left for him to take care of things. “Wanting her supper in bed,” he mumbled. In the grate the flames sputtered and died back for a moment, then flared up as brightly as before. “No bloody doubt.”
***
Amanda enjoyed her rest and the light supper Gussie served her in the bedroom. She hadn’t known the extent of her exhaustion until she had lain down to rest, nor that the scant hours of sleep at Gardner’s had left her so needy of more. When the meal was consumed and she had attended her toilette, she returned to bed and slept without interruption until morning.
It was only a few minutes after she had come downstairs for her breakfast that she saw Ryne. His face was completely without expression.
“The foal has come, a fine colt,” he announced.
“How delightful.” Amanda smiled pleasantly. It never seemed to matter how moody he was, she found him attractive even at his worst. “Did it arrive last night?”
“No. Two days ago. The day you left.”
“Oh.” Remembering that he had promised to take her to see the foal, she wondered if he had been coming for her when she had passed him that day on the way to Gardner’s. “And are you pleased with this first foal?” she asked, motioning Gussie to hold her breakfast as she walked out with Ryne.
A tendril of ivy caught in her hair as she passed through the front door. Ryne turned quickly and unsnared the vine from her curls, his hand lingering to fondle a soft ringlet as he shook his head. The slight touch sent her pulse racing.
“More than pleased,” he answered. “He’s got the legs of a champion already, and if his appetite is a measure, he’ll be sturdy to boot.”
“You sound like a proud father,” she said gaily. “Don’t forget you have promised to show me this foal.”
“No,” he said, his eyes narrowing speculatively as he looked away a moment. “I have not forgotten. If it is amenable to you, I’ll come back at three to drive you to the lodge.”
“At three, then,” she replied. “I shall be ready.” She smiled. She would enjoy the trip. Not only to see the foal and the other horses on Ryne’s farm but also to be with him and to prove to herself that the magnetism which seemed to draw them together was only her imagination. And deep back in her mind she wanted to satisfy herself that the lodge was indeed being repaired and that the family Ryne spoke of was actually in residence in the cottage.
Emma Jones and Trudy were to arrive the following morning. Cecil Baldwin had spoken to Amanda at Gardner’s house and promised to drive them out himself. Amanda had many things to do before three o’clock, not the least of which was to discuss the purchasing of household provisions with Gussie. She wanted also to assure the old woman that other than increasing the amount of food she prepared, nothing more would be expected of her when the women were in residence at Wicklow.
After lunch, Amanda found a pair of shears and set about the task of trimming the heavy growth of ivy around the front door. She had been at her work for some time, having brought out a footstool from the library to aid her in reaching those spots above her head, when she decided she had done all that was possible without a tall ladder.
She was pleased with her labor and she thought that Evelyn would have preferred this neater appearance. At least now the vines did not seem to be reaching out menacingly at anyone who approached the door. And though the work left her hot and in need of a cool drink, she was satisfied she had made another step in returning Wicklow to its best.
The gilt clock in the drawing room chimed out two bells. She had only an hour to change her dress and freshen her appearance before Ryne came. Hurriedly she selected a light blue gown of chintz that looped over a white petticoat, trimmed with yellow bows and box plaiting around the hem and sleeves.
She combed her hair and pinned it high on her head and had just splashed a bit of scent on her throat and wrists when she heard Ryne’s voice from below.
“Amanda,” he called, and she heard his heavy steps on the stairs and then a silence as he stopped. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she hurried out of her room and toward the staircase, the light slippers she wore not making a sound as she walked.
“Fill the cup,” Ezra squawked. “Fill the cup.”
“I endeavor to do so, you green-feathered devil,” Ryne quipped.
He stood on the first landing, where he was almost at eye level with Ezra’s perch on the king’s shoulder. Ryne had not seen Amanda approach, nor did he notice that she stopped on the first stair and watched as he leaned dangerously far over the rail in an attempt to reach the bird.
“Fill the cup.” Ezra opened his hooked beak and ruffled his feathers threateningly at Ryne.
Amanda frowned. Did he intend to harm the bird? She started to cry out a protest but silenced it as Ezra fluttered his wings and took flight. The bird landed on the rail beside Ryne and thrust his beak into Ryne’s outstretched hand to quickly devour some delicacy.
“There now, you stuffy old beggar,” Ryne said softly as Ezra flapped his wings. “Thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know Ezra could be so friendly,” Amanda commented as she caught up her skirts and started down to the landing. “I think he only tolerates me in the house. You seem to have him charmed.”
“He likes the apple I bring him. Here”—he placed a small chunk of apple in her palm—”Hold out your hand.”
Amanda placed her open palm on the rail. “Here, Ezra,” she offered. As he had before, Ezra flew to the rail and made a show of ruffling his feathers before he devoured the bit of apple. When he had finished he made a quick hop to Amanda’s shoulder.
“I believe you are the charmer. He used to ride Mother’s shoulder as she walked down the stairs each morning. I’ve never seen him do it for another. He would say—”
“Lovely,” Ezra interrupted.
“Now what am I to do with him if we are to leave the house?” Amanda asked.
“If he abides by his old tricks, he’ll fly back once you are down the stairs. But I think you must now expect his attention each morning.”
As Ryne had predicted, Ezra lifted his wings and flew away when she stepped to the hall floor. Actually it pleased her that Ezra had decided to treat her as he had Aunt Elise. It seemed to bring her closer to truly being mistress of Wicklow.
***
They took the town road, which forked about a quarter mile down from the house and ran almost parallel to the river. It was less than an hour’s drive to Ryne’s lodge, though he said the time could be shortened if one rode across the fields rather than kept to the road. Her exhilaration grew with each mile. Ryne had such a potent vitality about him that it was impossible to sit so near and not be affected. She loved the feel of the wind on her face and the rhythmic clumping of the horses’ hooves striking the packed dirt road. The land they passed was lusciously green with forests, or else the fertile fields had been cultivated and were abundant with crops. Ryne pointed out extensive acreage planted with tobacco and told her the field was his.
Eventually he turned off into a narrow lane that ran under an avenue of tall oaks. Beyond the trees, past
ure-land was fenced on each side. Where the lane ended, a stone house of two stories stood, its roof blackened and collapsed.
“How did the fire start?” Amanda asked, mindful of the relief she felt that he had been telling the truth about the lodge.
“Lightning hit the roof and started the shingles ablaze. We hadn’t enough men here at the time to get it out before the roof was gone.”
“You don’t seem to have made much progress on the repairs.”
“More than is evident,” Ryne answered, turning the horses to the left and heading them toward another stone structure. “We’re replacing the timbers inside and cutting new rafters.” He pointed to his left. “That’s the cottage over there in the trees.”
Amanda spotted the house, which to her mind was somewhat large to be called a cottage. Several small children played on the porch.
“Mrs. Deane is much improved,” Ryne said.
“Mrs. Deane?”
“The overseer’s wife. Mother of the five little ones. She’s on her feet again.” So he had been truthful about that as well.
A turn in the lane took them out of sight of the cottage, and a few minutes later Ryne had halted the buggy beside the stable, a wooden structure with a wide gambrel roof. He helped Amanda down and led her around the side and through a wooden gate that opened into a large paddock.
She heard the anxious whinny of a black mare as Ryne fastened the gate. The foal, a long-legged sorrel colt with a bold white blaze, bounded to the mare’s side. Though he pressed against his mother for protection, his head was high and his small ears tilted curiously forward.
“He’s beautiful,” Amanda exclaimed. “What a magnificent stallion he will be.”
The mare gave the foal a comforting nuzzle and started forward, leerily at first, until Ryne spoke to her.
“We’ve come to see your baby, Libelia. You won’t mind showing him off now, will you?” he said softly and melodically. At the sound of his voice, the mare perked up her ears and whinnied again. “It’s her first, and she’s nervous about him,” he whispered over his shoulder to Amanda.
Whispers at Midnight Page 17