“Ryne?” The name came with misgiving to her lips. She did not think he had returned to the house, yet it was possible he had come in quietly by the back stairs. “I don’t like your playing tricks on me. It’s cruel.”
Amanda stood still and quiet. A reply would have been less frightening than the empty silence that followed her words. Her hands flew to her throat as she peered cautiously around. Was someone else in the room? She sensed it but could not tell. It was inordinately dark. Not even the moonlight sent in its pale beams, though Amanda was sure the moon was full. Evidently the curtains had been drawn so tightly that the faintest stream of light could not seep inside.
Frightened by the oppressive darkness and the strangeness of what had happened, Amanda turned straightaway to feel for the door. Her hands found the knob in a moment, but as she had feared, the latch was locked and no amount of twisting would free it. She was trapped— whether alone or with someone who had lured her inside, she could not be sure.
Who? Who? The question beat in her mind like a jungle drum. She wished she had brought a candle as she nervously gasped a breath. The darkness made her entrapment all the more alarming. But perhaps if she could open the curtains she could know if she were alone or if there was even more to fear.
She shut her eyes and breathed a prayer for safety. As she murmured the words, she shivered, feeling as if a second current of chilled air had swept mysteriously out of an unduly warm night and spread over her.
With a shudder, Amanda turned and threaded her way across the darkened room to where she remembered the windows being set. The room was small compared with the others on this floor and now seemed a tight dark cell. Amanda shivered with trepidation.
She found the brocade panels and hurriedly flung them back to let in the light. A cry of agony and surprise sprang from her lips. The outside shutters had been closed and locked and the window itself was fastened down so that she could not raise the sash. Only a few broken beams of moonlight filtered through the louvers and cast hazy strips of illumination in the room.
Her lips trembled and her heart pounded so fast she put a hand to her chest. Someone had planned this. Someone had tricked her inside. She breathed deeply. The smell of the incense was gone. Had it been there at all? Or was it only her imagination betraying her again? She tried to see across the room to where she believed she had heard the sound of footsteps.
“No!” she cried out. For there was someone emerging from the black gloom that had been the fireplace. Someone who had no face, no distinctive features at all. In a sudden desperate panic, Amanda fled toward the door, hoping against hope that this time the knob would turn and she could leave this dark, dreadful place.
When she crashed into the stark, looming form in her path, she screamed and went careening across the floor, kicking and striking at her assailant. He gave her one stout blow to the head as the two of them fell together. Amanda screamed and called for help. She could make out nothing in the dim light but that the horrid thing that had hit her was reaching out for her again.
She pushed and fought to free herself from the grip of her opponent. She had nearly broken loose when she was struck a blow to the head that sent her plummeting into blackness. There was an instant before the silence came, when she thought she heard the whisperer again. Then the grinding sound came once more. The tainted musty smell lasted a bit longer, and then Amanda knew her assailant was gone.
Frantically she struggled to her knees. Her eyes had adjusted to the faint light and she could see that she was plainly alone. Ezra was gone too. He must have flown out before the door shut. Several seconds passed before she broke into a wild fit of sobs and laughter.
There was no use shouting, no use calling for help. No one would hear her cries, not deaf Gussie and not Trudy or Emma on the third floor. And of Ryne, who could say? She wished she knew if he were in the house or if he might hate her enough to have plotted this.
Forlornly Amanda dragged herself to the daybed by the window. She found herself wondering if Evelyn had ever been so alone and so afraid in this room. She was beginning to believe that Wicklow was indeed evil and that Jubal did remain within her walls as a hostile, menacing host. She stretched out on the bed, making herself as comfortable as possible, accepting, as she had so many painful happenings since coming here, that she would have to remain in this stifling room until morning, when someone came looking for her.
***
“Miss Fairfax. Amanda. Where are you?” Trudy’s gentle voice stirred Amanda from a deep and heavy sleep.
She jumped up quickly and went to the door. The room was dark and still, the sunlight making no more entry than the soft rays of the moon had during the night. Hurriedly Amanda smoothed her wrinkled dress and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Trudy! Trudy!” she cried loudly. “I’m in here. I’m locked in.”
Amanda heard the pattering of Trudy’s slippered feet coming along the hall. A moment later the doorknob turned and Trudy burst inside, looking rather puzzled.
“I looked for you in your room,” Trudy said apologetically, seeing Amanda’s disheveled state. “I brought up tea and toast. Gussie reports you never take a large breakfast.”
“Oh, Trudy . . .” Amanda’s voice wavered. “I followed Ezra in here last night and got locked in. I was attacked and struck on the head and then left to spend the entire night locked in this horrible room.”
Trudy raised one finely arched brow. “The parrot has been in the main hall since early morning,” she said.
Amanda frowned in exasperation. She suspected Trudy did not believe what she had said.
“He must have flown out without my knowing, but then the door locked and I couldn’t get away.”
Trudy stared at her. “But the door was not locked,” she said hesitantly.
“Of course it was locked,” Amanda retorted crossly. “And I was attacked and left lying on the floor. Even the window sash was stuck so that I could not open the shutters to let in what little light there was.” Her eyes sped to the windows across the room. The curtains she could have sworn she had opened last night were once again pulled tight.
While Amanda stood in a state of semi-shock, Trudy crossed the dim room and drew back the curtains. Light flooded in the small window and brightened the room. When Trudy put her hands to the sash and raised the window soundlessly and effortlessly, Amanda could not hold back a surprised gasp. Had someone slipped back in the room while she slept?
“It was stuck,” Amanda protested weakly. “I couldn’t open it.”
Nearby an overturned coat rack lay on the floor and beside it a blue cloak. Amanda knew Trudy was thinking the object her attacker. But it was not. The attacker had been real. He must have been.
“Perhaps you had a dream,” Trudy said consolingly as she took Amanda lightly by the arm and led her to the rose bedroom. “You might have been sleepwalking. I remember a dream I had once that seemed terribly real. I—”
“I was not sleepwalking. I found Ezra locked in my room and was putting him out when I smelled a peculiar odor, like incense burning. And I heard a voice. It came from that room. The door was open and Ezra flew in. I followed him.” Amanda’s forehead was creased as if she might cry. “It was not a dream.”
Trudy was quiet for a few moments and then nodded. “Aunt Emma and I will wait downstairs for you. We have had our breakfast early with Mr. Sullivan.”
“Mr. Sullivan was here?”
“Why, yes. Did you not know? I understood you to say he lived at Wicklow.”
“Yes. He does. It’s only that I thought he would be away overnight.”
“I see,” Trudy answered, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. “We’ll wait in the drawing room for you . . . if you think you are well enough to come down.”
Amanda did not like the implication. “I am perfectly healthy,” she answered. “And will be down shortly,” she called after her. What was Trudy thinking? Clearly she did not believe her story about being locked in the
sitting room. Did she perhaps think Amanda had shared the night with Ryne and made up the story to explain her rumpled appearance? That thought brought her to another, more perplexing one. If Ryne had been in the house, why had he not responded to her cries? Could it possibly be that he had lured her into that dark room and locked her up?
***
“Nonsense,” Ezra greeted her as she passed him on the stairs.
“Nonsense to you, you blackguard. You left me in a tight spot.” Amanda grimaced and shook a finger at him. “A poor friend you are,” she reproached the proud old bird.
Amanda had bathed and changed her dress. She was determined that last night’s misadventure would not spoil her day and she was just as determined to discover who was behind that deed. She went first to the kitchen and spoke to Gussie. As always, it was a matter of endurance to converse with her. But by the time Amanda left and went to meet Emma and Trudy in the drawing room, she was certain in her own mind that Gussie had not been on the second floor late the night before.
“Amanda,” Emma said anxiously as Amanda entered the drawing room, “Trudy has told me of your experience. How dreadful. We must begin today by checking the locks in this old house. Such a thing must not happen again.”
Amanda smiled lightly. “You are right. I did not have a comfortable night.”
“Then let us begin right away,” Emma said. “Shall we start on your floor?”
But though they tested all the locks on the second floor, they found none that were faulty, not even that of the room where Amanda had been trapped. And though Amanda would not have put it past Jubal to have installed locks that held when they should not or opened when they should hold, she did not think that was the case. She was, in fact, all the more convinced that someone had deliberately shut her in. She did not, however, try to convince Emma and Trudy, lest they think her daft.
“I suppose I didn’t try hard enough to open the door,” she said. “I was frightened by the darkness. I may have turned the knob in the wrong direction.” This she offered though she knew full well she had nearly twisted the knob from the door.
“Don’t dwell on it, my dear,” Emma said. “Such a thing is not likely to happen again.”
Indeed it was not, Amanda concurred. She was not likely to enter a dark room again without a candle or her keys. But she had let that event distress her enough. By her plan this day was not to be given entirely to work. She insisted that Emma and Trudy join her for a long walk in the gardens. There the roses bloomed sweetly, and the flower beds, thought not tidy, were massed with colorful blossoms among the weeds. Emma insisted, on seeing them, that she would spend part of the afternoon weeding.
About an hour following the midday meal, Emma found the gardening tools and left Trudy and Amanda working in the house while she returned to the garden.
“Where shall we start?” Trudy asked, gathering a mass of cleaning rags and a bundled-straw broom.
“In my bedroom,” Amanda replied. “There’s a chest there I have not gone through and I would like to see what it contains.”
The chest was filled mostly with gowns that had long been out of fashion but which Aunt Elise for some reason had deigned to keep. Possibly they were garments that had sentimental meaning to her. One dress, Amanda was almost certain, had been a wedding gown. It was a pale lavender shade of silk, embroidered over with silver and gold threads.
With it were a pair of silver slippers and a sheer veil that must certainly have been part of a bridal ensemble. Beneath the dress Amanda found a small velvet jewel case.
“I suppose she thought it was safe here,” Amanda said as she lifted the case from the drawer and snapped open the lid. “Oh my! Look at this, Trudy. I had no idea there was any jewelry left which had not been given to Gardner or Ryne.”
Amanda withdrew a stunning pair of emerald earrings from the case. They must surely be worth several hundred pounds. Also in the case were a garnet necklace and a small pearl brooch of lesser value. The other pieces were less significant, a silver brooch and chain and several rings set with semiprecious stones.
She smiled. If the inventory showed the jewelry belonged to her, she would sell most of it. The proceeds should be enough to live on for a long time. The only item she really hoped to keep was the emerald earrings, and she told Trudy that was her plan.
“This one is broken,” Trudy commented, turning one of the earrings over in her long fingers.
“Which is probably why Aunt Elise put them away. No doubt she replaced them rather than having this one repaired.”
“Will you take it to a jeweler?” Trudy asked.
“Yes,” Amanda answered. “I’ll consult Mr. Baldwin. Surely he can recommend a jeweler who can do a satisfactory job. Perhaps one who would be interested in buying the other pieces.”
The opportunity came sooner than expected, but not from Mr. Baldwin. Gardner called the next day to satisfy himself that the women who were staying with Amanda met his approval. He examined the jewelry carefully, particularly the earrings, and assured Amanda the jewelry was indeed hers. Later he showed her the listing on the inventory Cecil Baldwin had given her.
“Those were among Mother’s favorites,” he said, holding the shimmering stones to the light and admiring their beauty. His expression stilled and grew serious before he dropped them back in the case and turned to Amanda. “Will you keep them or sell them?”
“I should like to keep them,” she answered, puzzled by his expression. Did Gardner think the emeralds should not belong to her? “But shouldn’t these have gone to Ryne or you?”
“No.” He nodded thoughtfully. “These were not given her by my father or Ryne’s. I’m sure she meant you to have them.” He smiled and made a dismissing gesture with his hand. “Actually Mother gave the most valuable pieces to Ryne and me years ago. I think she meant it as a subtle suggestion we ought to marry, but neither of us took the hint.”
“Do you ever mean to marry, Gardner?” Amanda asked abruptly, not knowing what had led her to inquire about such a personal matter. But she had suddenly remembered Ryne’s tormenting words.
Gardner laughed. “Well, now that I have met you, I must reconsider my confirmation as a bachelor. But if I cannot persuade you to have me, I mean to remain single.”
Amanda frowned and pretended to be offended.
“You are teasing me for my impertinence,” she said, tilting her little chin up coyly.
Gardner chuckled and patted her hand fondly. A few moments later Emma and Trudy joined them for an early tea and after that Gardner would hear of nothing but driving Amanda into Williamsburg to a jeweler he knew. It was his custom to have guests for dinner at his house each Friday evening and he wished to have Amanda serve as hostess for the occasion. He promised to have her back early the following day, and as she was anxious to arrange a sale of the pieces she had decided not to keep, she agreed to go.
“These are worth six hundred pounds,” Mr. Craig of the Golden Ball told her as he examined the emerald-and- diamond earrings. She would keep them. But if ever she were truly desperate for money, the earrings would be her salvation. “The stones are well-cut and as close to perfect as any I have seen,” Craig added. “I can give you fifty pounds for the other things. It’s a fair price and I can offer it only because I have a client who is interested in pieces of this sort.”
“Then it is agreed on at fifty,” Amanda replied. The sum sounded like a fortune to her. “And if you will deduct the cost of the repair for the earrings, we shall have settled the amount completely. When can I call for them?”
“Next week, Miss Fairfax. And if you do not mind my saying, the emeralds will be wonderful with your eyes. The color is little different.”
Amanda blushed as she took the money and the receipt for the earrings. She placed both in a small purse and secured it in her pocket.
“I thank you, Mr. Craig,” she answered softly. “I’ll call on next Friday for the earrings.”
“Good day to you, Miss Fairfa
x.”
Gardner had left her at the jeweler’s while he drove out to his distillery to attend some business that awaited him. She had an hour before he was due back to meet her at the Raleigh Tavern. She decided to use the time shopping for items that appealed to her feminine fancy. With her purse full for the first time in many months, she could afford to be just a little extravagant.
She purchased a bottle of jasmine scent that had long been her favorite, and a parcel of bath salts. It had become her custom to take a leisurely bath in the marble tub every evening, and she had used the last of the aromatics Aunt Elise had left.
Feeling generous and carefree, she purchased a small gift for each of the women at Wicklow. A new cap for Gussie, a lemon sachet for Emma, and a lace handkerchief for Trudy. She would have to be frugal with the remainder of her money, but today she felt just a little too happy with her improved status.
Amanda, laden with her bundles, was peeping in the window of a hat shop when someone tapped her shoulder.
“And which one of those frivolities would suit you, fair lady?”
That voice and the lighthearted tone were the last she had expected to hear today.
Straightening quickly, she stole a glance at his reflection in the glass before she turned.
“Why, Ryne,” she said, her own voice remaining equable. If he were guilty of trying to harm her, it did not show in his face. “What a surprise. What brings you to town?”
A slight twinkle shone in the depths of his blue eyes, as if he found it humorous that she was treating him with polite reserve.
“Even a horse trader must tend his business,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up a notch.
She flushed. He was making fun of her. “Of course, I didn’t mean . . .”
“Really, Amanda,” he said in that low melodic voice that sent a shiver over her skin. She was annoyed that she felt a quick response as he lifted a hand and slowly, sensuously stroked her arm. “Aren’t we a little beyond making polite chatter?”
Whispers at Midnight Page 21