Amanda’s cheeks flushed in remembrance. She herself had been.
The ivory-and-silk fan moved lightly in front of her face. Until this moment she had not given in completely to her doubts. Now she half-expected to see her emerald earrings on the other woman’s ears. She stared at the couple so hard she thought Ryne must surely feel the burn of her gaze, but he did not look in her direction.
When he leaned close to his companion and whispered something to her, Amanda blinked back a threat of tears. She was glad the play had started and everyone’s attention was given to the actors. She did not want it noticed that the color had drained from her face.
At intermission Amanda walked with Gardner and the Whitneys to the garden, where a small refreshment kiosk had been erected.
“Can I bring you something to drink?” Gardner asked.
“Yes,” Amanda answered. “Something cool. It is as warm here as inside.”
She waited near a hedge on the outer fringe of the crowd, where she could not be easily seen. If Ryne and his companion should come out, she hoped to avoid them. She closed her eyes for a moment against memories that were sharp and painful as barbs. Had he really said those things? Asked her to marry him? Or was it all a dreadful dream?
“Amanda, I did not expect to find you in Williamsburg.”
She flinched at the sound of Ryne’s voice. She was not safe from him anywhere. It was as if he could appear wherever he wished. She turned to face him, hoping her voice would not waver when she spoke.
“That is evident.”
Ryne regarded her in his assessing way. She thought his smile held a peculiar dark humor, and it annoyed her that he should derive pleasure from her distress.
“Have you enjoyed the play?” he asked.
She crooked her head to one side and gave a brittle smile. “I have enjoyed both performances, Mr. Sullivan, and I am pressed to tell which is the better.”
One black brow rose sharply. When he spoke again his voice was low and husky and it did not fail to have the effect he intended. A shiver of fear and excitement shook her when he stepped shockingly close.
“You think I have deliberately misrepresented my intentions to you, my sweet. I should think a degree of trust would be in order between us.”
“How can you speak to me of trust?” There was an edge to her voice. “You twist the truth as it suits you.” She stepped back a pace, her face flushed and her eyes holding a look of tension. Almost of its own accord the question she had not meant to ask slipped out. “What do you know about the emerald earrings?”
A curious look flickered in Ryne’s eyes, giving a glimpse of deep, indecipherable thoughts, but then he smiled quite normally.
“Only that they would be divine on you.”
Her eyes darkened like a stormy sea. “I think you know a good deal more.”
His eyes changed from blue to black as he stared at her intensely. She saw so many emotions in his face that it frightened and bewildered her.
“Ryne,” she said in a weak, small voice, “I only mean—”
His face twisted with anger. “I think I know what you mean and who has given you this idea.”
“No one . . .” Amanda flinched. His hand was on her arm in a bruising grip.
“Don’t think you are finished with me, Amanda. I will not lose in this.”
Gardner returned as Ryne stalked away. He saw her stricken face and frowned.
“Ryne, wasn’t it? What has he said to you?”
“No, no. It’s nothing,” Amanda said quickly. “Just the heat. The cider will help.” She took a glass from Gardner’s hand and sipped the cool sweet liquid. “You see, I’m better now,” she murmured, lifting her head and forcing a smile.
But it was good that he could not see how Ryne’s black-browed scowl had set in her mind. And like a dark shadow, his threat hung ominously in her thoughts.
“I think we should not go back inside the theater,” Gardner said, taking her arm gently.
“I would not like to offend the Whitneys.”
“They’ll understand. I’ll tell them the heat has affected you. We’ll leave the carriage for them. You’ll be all right here just a moment, won’t you?” His voice was gentle and reassuring.
“Of course. But I’m fine, I tell you. This is completely unnecessary.”
He patted her hand. “Nevertheless, I insist. And if you are truly feeling well, I know a place that is much more exciting than the theater.”
Gardner took the empty glass from her and left. Amanda strolled along the hedgerow. Most of the audience had returned to their seats, and except for a few who hovered near the door, she was alone in the garden. She stopped beneath a lantern to wait for Gardner’s return, but even the golden light it spread failed to lift the veil of gloom she felt hanging over her.
“Come along,” Gardner said. “It isn’t far to walk, and I believe the night air will refresh you in no time.”
She took his arm and obeyed. They strolled to a tavern some few blocks away and he led her to a back room, which she was surprised to find filled with people at gaming or billiard tables. She sensed this was no usual assembly of persons, because all there were dressed in the finest of clothing.
“A gambling house?” she whispered to Gardner.
“Some call it that. I think of it as a mere diversion. Sport for the gentry. You will find in this room at one time or another the wealthiest of planters and merchants, as well as their ladies.” He laughed. “Even Mother was fond of the gaming table. Used to come here on the sly when she thought Ryne and I would not find out.”
“I am astonished. Aunt Elise a gambler.” Amanda’s brows rose. Perhaps she could believe it, though. Aunt Elise was such an impulsive person, and of course she would try to keep her folly from her sons.
“She thrived on the excitement, I expect.”
Amanda smiled. “And did she win?”
“More often, she lost. Then she would try to find some secretive way to pay her debt without our knowing.”
“How could she do that?”
“She would sell some trinket or trade some item from among her vast collections. Nothing of great value, mind you. She did not wager large sums. But as you would deduce, small ones add up.”
“Yes,” Amanda said softly.
Small ones add up. She waited unobtrusively behind him as he spoke briefly with a group. Chairs were brought so that the two of them might be seated at the leather- topped table where dice were being thrown. As Amanda took her place at Gardner’s side, she had a chilling thought. Had the angry voice she had heard in Gardner’s study been demanding payment for a gambling debt?
Amanda refrained from betting on the roll of the dice. It would have taken all that she had to match the wagers of the other players. But Gardner entered in with such devotion, he seemed as unaware of her as he was of the large amount of brandy he consumed. She watched silently for an hour, during which time Gardner’s luck waned, bringing a grim smile to his lips. But near the end he had a sudden burst of good fortune and began to win.
As he claimed a large purse of coins, he turned to Amanda, his eyes twinkling merrily.
“My dear, you are my luck tonight. I must bring you again.”
“I am happy you haven’t lost. Really, the amount of the wagers leaves me breathless,” she said, happy to take her leave of the gaming room. “I cannot imagine how—”
“This is a pittance, my dear. It is my brother Ryne who wagers high. I heard he once bet the entire Sullivan estate on a hand of cards. You can be sure I would never go as far as that.”
She had been shocked to see Gardner gamble. It did not surprise her to learn that Ryne was even more addicted. It explained, in fact, why he had no money and had bent his pride enough to ask to stay at Wicklow. But even so, she was horrified to learn he would wager the land. It seemed that no gentleman would go so far as risking property that had been in his family for three generations.
It was as they were making their wa
y through the rather thick, milling crowd that Amanda caught a glimpse of a familiar figure making a brisk departure through the doorway. She saw the gleam of a watch chain swinging from the pocket of a brocade waistcoat and got a view of a round face set in an agitated frown as he hurriedly donned his hat. She was absolutely certain the man was Cecil Baldwin.
Really it was shocking to learn the three men she knew best since coming to the colonies all shared the same weakness. Or perhaps she was being melodramatic. It seemed half of Williamsburg favored the gaming rooms.
“Do you still insist on returning to Wicklow tomorrow?” Gardner asked as they strolled along the street toward his house.
“Yes, I do,” Amanda answered. “I will not be frightened out of my house.”
“I wish you would wait until the mystery of this theft is cleared up. The culprit might come back.”
“I shall be sure to keep the doors locked at all times. I am afraid that we have been careless about leaving the house open. It would have been easy for someone to sneak in if Emma and Trudy and I were in the garden or out for a walk. Gussie would never know.”
Gardner breathed heavily. “I did not tell you, Amanda, but while you have been away, I sent one of my men from the distillery out to Wicklow to keep an eye on the place.”
Amanda smiled and squeezed his arm. “Why, Gardner. How thoughtful.”
“As you say, Gussie would notice little that went on in the house, and Groom is too busy with the horses to be aware of anything else. I wouldn’t want anything more to be stolen, nor any harm to come to anyone there.”
“You are too kind, Gardner. But surely your man will be needed at the distillery soon.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “The fellow will be wanting to get back to his family. So if you insist, my dear, on returning right away, I have a proposition I hope you will find agreeable.”
Though the night air had turned sultry and still, Amanda gave a little shiver. Ryne had said he had a proposition for her. Sometimes it seemed both Ryne’s and Gardner’s minds ran toward the same destination, though on widely different tracks.
“What is it?” she queried, hoping there was no tenseness to her voice.
He gave a disarming smile. “I am not needed at the distillery for a time and yet I have business on the estate that requires my close attention for a few weeks. If you do not object, I would like to spend a fortnight at Wicklow. It would save me the long ride each day and—”
“And you could satisfy yourself that I am all right.”
“Yes.”
His eyes were filled with such an earnest expression that Amanda could only regret her suspicion of his intent. Gardner was no scoundrel like his brother. His only concern was her welfare.
She smiled. “You are welcome at Wicklow if that is truly what you wish.”
“Then it is settled. We’ll go out together tomorrow. I’ll bring Mrs. Campbell to help. She can follow in the wagon. Perhaps we might even invite guests in for a dinner while I am there.”
“How nice that would be.” Amanda had not anticipated the sense of relief she felt over Gardner’s decision. She had been more frightened than she realized. But Gardner’s imperturbable nature would make it easier dealing both with Ryne and with the inexplicable happenings at Wicklow.
“The Wellers would favor an invitation, I am sure,” Gardner said as he swung open the gate of the white Chinese fence in front of the O’Reilly house. “I’ll send a note off to them tomorrow before we leave.”
A light burned brightly in the upstairs bedroom and a lantern had been left lit at the front door.
“I see the Whitneys are here ahead of us.”
“I must apologize for spoiling their evening. I hope they will not be offended that we left them at the theater.”
“No, no,” Gardner insisted. “Don’t trouble your head. We are old friends. They will think nothing of it.” He grinned and took Amanda’s arm, leading her from the brick-lined path and under the cool shelter of the trees, where a bench had been placed. He directed her to be seated. “In truth, I was anxious to leave and you gave me the excuse to do so.” Gardner seated himself beside her, and taking her hand, lifted it to his lips. “Now, tell me,” he whispered. “Are you pleased I am coming to Wicklow?”
Amanda squeezed his hand fondly. Yes, yes. She was glad, but as a twinkle of moonlight caught his eyes she noticed that the pupils had taken on a clear, catlike look. It would be the brandy making them that way. She could smell it faintly on his breath as he kissed her, almost chastely, on the lips. But why, then, did she feel the tiny spur of alarm twisting inside her again?
***
The road wound and wrapped through shadowy woodlands and around the low marshes and tidal pools near the river. Amanda had come to know the route well. And each time she made the trip, as the carriage drew near Wicklow, she could feel a swift change come over her, filling her with a strange, prideful bewilderment that the ostentatious old mansion should actually belong to her.
As predictably, when the carriage wheels rolled onto the grounds of Wicklow, past the orchards and under the overhang of the tall elderly oaks, she would be beset by a faint feeling of solicitude that there was something about Wicklow and its being bequeathed to her that she ought to know and did not.
She stared at the tall domed spires and the bright red brick and told herself she was only imagining those things. Wicklow had been designed to stimulate controversy, just as cathedrals were designed to inspire and awe.
She had learned enough about Jubal Wicklow from reading the old ship’s log to know somewhat how his mind worked. He liked to contrast the beautiful and the terrible. It shocked and unbalanced people, and that gave him the advantage he was evidently adept at using. She suspected Jubal had invited talk about the house even before he died. Strange tales would surely keep frightened servants in line.
Tobias, the big roan saddle horse Gardner had put on a lead behind the carriage, raised his head and whinnied loudly. Amanda shook herself. How had she let her mind go rambling off like that? She had been staring at the house for several minutes and was surprised to see that the others were not looking at her as if she were daft.
She smiled. “It is good to be home,” she said to no one in particular. This journey had been an amusing one. Emma was in the best of spirits because after the sale of her husband’s tools, there were to be a few pounds left for her and Cecil Baldwin had advanced her the money even though the final settlement was not done.
“Not a king’s purse, mind you,” she said as the carriage covered the last stretch of the lane. “But enough to make a poor woman rejoice. Give us a smile, won’t you, Trudy? Part of the money’s for you, you know. I insist.” Emma’s cheer could not be contained and her face beamed beneath the brim of her straw bonnet.
Trudy offered a rather piteous smile and murmured a thank-you to her aunt. Her lovely eyes bore none of the happiness that Emma’s did. The way her lids drooped, she looked as if she were about to burst into tears. She was surely the moodiest girl Amanda had ever seen, but Emma apparently took no notice of either her lack of enthusiasm or her sullenness.
Possibly the girl found the isolation of Wicklow difficult, although she had seemed happily content the week before. Or maybe it was that this trip had renewed old memories of the loss of her mother and the separation from her friends. If that were the case, then the dinner Gardner had planned for the following week would surely be good for Trudy.
***
“Well, look what’s come home,” Gussie exclaimed loudly when she saw Gardner’s luggage included with that of the women. “Couldn’t stand that Campbell woman’s cooking a day longer, I’ll bet.”
Gardner hugged Gussie and kissed both her plump cheeks. “Ahh, now you’ve hit close to the truth. But Mrs. Campbell and my man Pitt will be along with the wagon in an hour or so and will stay while I am here. Mrs. Campbell will give you a hand with the work.”
“Don’t need it,” Gussie said with a pout. “And
I won’t be having that woman in my kitchen. Got enough people scuffing around in there now,” she added adamantly.
Amanda laughed. The kitchen was Gussie’s territory and she resented even having anyone come in to get the kettle for tea. Amanda retreated a pace and left Gardner alone to find a way of convincing Gussie to share the space with another cook.
“But the point is, Gussie,” she heard him say, “I was hoping you could show Mrs. Campbell how to prepare some of my favorite dishes. Hers simply don’t measure up to what you can do.”
“Humph,” Gussie muttered. “Wouldn’t do her any harm, I guess. But she’ll have to watch and stay out of my way.”
He was most persuasive, really strong-willed and accustomed to having his way, but he did manage to get it in so much more subtle and acceptable ways than did Ryne. Gussie puttered away to the kitchen, no doubt pleased she would have the opportunity to dominate Mrs. Campbell.
Gardner swung around to Amanda, a wide smile of triumph lighting his face. It was at that moment that Ezra swooped down hawklike from his perch on the Turkish King and hooked his claws into the coppery curls on Gardner’s head. The attack lasted only an instant, and Ezra went by like a blur to the ledge of one of the round windows above the door.
“You blasted buzzard.” Gardner shook his fist. “I’ll wring your neck for that.”
Did he hate the bird? She would think so from the look of malice in Gardner’s eyes, the pupils wide and threatening, like a cat on the hunt. It was extraordinary that Ezra reacted to him that way. The bird seemed either indifferent to or fond of everyone else.
Gardner’s scowl lasted until he started up the stairs with Amanda’s bag. Emma and Trudy had gone directly to their rooms and Gardner had promised to have his man take their bags up when he arrived.
He pushed the door open and went inside the rose bedroom, depositing her bag on the narrow bench at the foot of the bed.
“I see you’ve made some order of Mother’s room,” he said. “The place was like a curio shop before.”
Whispers at Midnight Page 25