“Then you approve of what I have done.”
“More than approve.” he nodded. “The house looks splendid. Who would have thought a pampered English girl would work so hard? A lesser person . . .” He stopped and looked questioningly at Amanda, having strolled across the room to the chair where a black silk shirt had been tossed carelessly over the back.
His eyes narrowed and as she saw the look of belligerence on his face she knew he had guessed how the shirt came to be there. She stiffened, and stains of crimson appeared on her cheeks.
“I was not pampered,” she said ineffectually.
Gardner spun around.
“Amanda,” he said, his face unreadable as a wall, “you are probably tired. I’ll have Gussie make up a room for me.” A moment later he was shutting the door behind him and she could hear the heavy thump of his feet in the hall.
She moistened her dry lips. There was no use in reproaching herself for what had happened. Ryne had not seduced her, though earlier she might have tried to excuse herself by believing he had. No, she had wanted his embrace. They had been drawn together by some madness as intangible and unexplainable as the midnight whispers that haunted her at Wicklow.
She laughed at the absurdity of it all. Perhaps she was a little mad herself. She had come to Wicklow thinking to find an uncomplicated life, but instead found herself beset on every front by mysteries and complexities greater than she had ever imagined.
It was about an hour later when the wagon arrived, and Amanda went downstairs to meet it. Pitt drove around to the kitchen entrance and hitched the team to a rail. The lanky fellow helped Mrs. Campbell down and then began unloading the supplies Gardner had ordered: several hams, a rasher of bacon, a large cut of beef, a small barrel of oysters, and an array of vegetables. Gussie was fussing over the bountiful arrival and, to Amanda’s surprise, being cordial to Mrs. Campbell.
Amanda soon surmised the two cooks had matters under control and no need of her help. When the women had gone inside, she directed Pitt to drive the wagon to the stable, where Groom would help him with the horses.
Gardner, she had learned from Gussie, had ridden off on the roan and would not be back until near sundown.
How would it be to have both brothers in the house? she wondered as she took the path to the river. By Gussie’s account it had been five years since a civil word had been spoken between them. Some feud over a woman had started it—she might have known that would be the cause—and even the death of their mother had not been enough to reunite them.
It occurred to her that Ryne might stay away when he learned Gardner was there. But on the other hand, she did not see Ryne backing away from anything. He was not that sort. No. Ryne Sullivan would crash in on the devil himself if it suited him to do so.
She need not think the sudden presence of his brother in the same house would cause him any distress.
***
Gussie outdid herself, probably as much to impress Mrs. Campbell as anything else. The dining room was decorated with freshly cut flowers and Gussie had brought out the best bone china and etched-crystal goblets. Crystal candelabra sat at each end of the long table and bright flames reflected brilliantly from each glass of wine. Gardner sat at one end of the table, Amanda at the other, Emma and Trudy facing one another on the sides. A fifth place had been set for Ryne, although Amanda thought it presumptuous of Gussie to expect him tonight.
“Isn’t this cozy?” came a deep, smooth voice from the hall. “I see I am not too terribly late.” He strode in, giving a nod to Gardner and pausing to bow lightly to the ladies before he seated himself beside Trudy.
Pitt stepped from the doorway and poured a glass of wine for Ryne and Gussie was there in a moment, loading his plate with a large slab of roast meat. When they were finished he lifted his glass and drank deeply.
“Excellent,” he said. “From your cellar, brother, or from the Wicklow racks?”
“From mine,” Gardner answered cordially. “I don’t know if Amanda has found the Wicklow cellars.”
“No, I haven’t,” Amanda spoke up. I didn’t know there was a cellar.”
“Quite a large one,” Ryne said. “More like a set of dungeons. I’ll show you the wine racks one day,” he added in his lighthearted, deceptive way. “Very fine vintages down there, I seem to recall.”
Amanda’s face colored slightly and she sipped her wine to disguise the fact. It was difficult to know with Ryne if he was being rude or just being himself or if the two amounted to the same thing. Nevertheless she told herself she was relieved when he turned his attention to Trudy, who sat silently beside him.
“You are looking especially lovely tonight, Trudy,” Ryne said, his eyes warmly washing over her. “The dress becomes you.”
“Does it really?” Trudy asked, a look of delight spreading over her face.
“Of course,” Ryne assured her. “Pink is the color for you. With that fair hair, you should wear nothing else.”
Trudy giggled. “You are teasing me.”
“Never!” Ryne said, frowning playfully.
By the time dessert was served, a fat apple pie Amanda was to learn was a shared favorite of Ryne’s and Gardner’s, no one could have guessed they were not a friendly, affable group. Trudy, broken out of her mopishness, chattered away with joviality the remainder of the evening, and Emma, always of light mood, kept them entertained.
The meal ended and they retired to the drawing room, where Amanda poured glasses of sherry for all. But after a little while Emma and Trudy begged their leave and went upstairs. It was then that Amanda felt a prickle of discomfort, for somehow all evening she had felt that both Gardner and Ryne were masking angry words that would eventually find their way out. Before the hostility could erupt, Amanda bade them both good night. Still she hesitated to go upstairs, and elected instead for a short walk in the garden first.
It was peaceful out in the moonlight. She walked the path almost to the river and returned unobserved to the house, hoping to slip in and up the stairs without alerting either Ryne or Gardner. But as she moved toward the staircase, she wished fervently she had gone to her room earlier. As she had feared, an argument had started between the two men. The loud roar of their voices echoed into the hall.
“What affair is it of yours?” Ryne shouted.
“Bloody fool, I know what you are after. It’s the gold, not her you want.”
“And what do you want, now that you’ve set up camp at Wicklow?”
“Not the same as you, my scheming brother. She needs protection.”
“From what?”
“From you, most likely.”
Ryne scoffed. “Whom do you fool with your pretense of gallantry? You believe the story too—you think there is gold here.”
“Maybe. But dammit, man, she’s a lady.”
“A lady. Ha! You’ve been rutting round her since the day she arrived. But you’re too late. I’ve taken the lass.”
“And what do you intend to do about it?”
“As I have said, old man, it’s not your affair.”
Amanda heard the scrape of a chair being pushed aside and the angry stomp of feet. She hurried up the stairs and out of sight as Ryne charged out of the house. It seemed only moments later that she heard a bold knock on her sitting-room door.
“Amanda, are you up?” Gardner called.
“I am,” she answered, opening the door and beckoning him inside.
“I have just had a talk with Ryne,” he said, his shoulders set rigidly as he paced the room. “Not a productive one, but enough so that I understand what happened here.”
Amanda braced herself and answered as casually as she could, “He did not seduce me, Gardner, if that is what you think.”
He sighed heavily. “Of course he did. I know my brother. What I want to know is, are you and Ryne to be married?”
She felt her disappointment like a tight, painful knot inside.
“No. We are not,” she answered.
“A
manda,” Gardner said, his voice breaking, “will you marry me?”
Her face blanched. “Gardner, what are you saying?”
“I am saying it is a matter of family honor. If my brother will not marry you, then I feel I must.”
“You don’t love me, Gardner.”
“I believe I am beginning to.”
She smiled and took his hand.
“You are beginning to feel responsible for me. It isn’t the same. I thank you, but my answer must be no. I cannot marry you.”
Chapter 12
“Do you think the story true?” Trudy asked.
“Perhaps,” Amanda said.
Amanda and the younger girl sat in chairs by the window in Amanda’s bedroom, talking idly together as they looked over the pages of Jubal Wicklow’s old log. Since Gardner had come to Wicklow, nothing amiss had happened. But for Amanda’s sadness at Ryne’s betrayal, she could have been completely contented and happy.
Trudy, however, had been vivacious since the first evening, when Ryne had been so attentive to her. Only the day before, Amanda had seen them walking up from the river just before sunset. While Emma stopped and sat on a bench to remove a pebble from her shoe, Ryne had drawn Trudy behind the shelter of a tall hedge and kissed her lightly on the lips.
The sight of them together had made Amanda immeasurably forlorn. Ryne, it seemed, was intent on yet another conquest.
It had crossed Amanda’s mind at that moment that she ought to give Trudy some warning about Ryne. She would not like to see him break still another heart, especially not one so young and innocent as Trudy’s. But then Emma had caught up to them in the garden and since then Amanda had observed that Emma rarely let the girl stray far from her sight. She felt assured that Emma knew Ryne’s reputation well enough and would see that Trudy was not misused.
“I believe it is.” Trudy gave her the log.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Amanda responded after a pause. “This passage mentions a chest of gold being brought to Virginia. I can’t make out the date clearly, but it was before he brought Evelyn here. On the next passage the words are faded entirely.” Amanda looked up perplexedly. “I can’t imagine why he wrote such gibberish. All these rhymes. Really, they are impossible to decipher.”
“Let me have another look.” Trudy’s face glowed with enthusiasm. Had it not been for her interest in the log, Amanda would have given up on reading it. But Trudy enjoyed romanticizing about the recorded journeys to faraway countries and, Amanda had decided, used her dreams to make her quiet life more exciting.
With a smile, Amanda complied and passed the ragged leather-bound book back to Trudy.
Trudy furrowed her brow and studied the words silently for a few minutes before looking up excitedly.
“I think I’ve done it.” She smiled proudly. “Let me read it to you.” She went on in a lowered voice:
Turbaned king of celestial light
Golden beams chase the night.
Scattered stars flee the sun,
Behold the secret of the mystic one.
Amanda listened intently as Trudy read the words. They sounded oddly familiar. She had heard them before, and recently, or perhaps they were from one of the books of poetry she had found in the library. There was one with Jubal Wicklow’s own inscription, a translation from the Persian. The words were not unlike those, only it seemed the cadence was different, as if this were an imitation of that foreign style.
As she thought on it more, she became convinced the lines in the old log had been written by Jubal Wicklow himself. Had the old fellow fancied himself a poet?
“Oh my!” Trudy exclaimed, getting hurriedly to her feet. “Ryne has promised to take me for a drive and I am late to meet him.” She scurried to stand at Amanda’s dressing table and quickly patted the smooth coils of her hair and pinched spots of color into her cheeks.
Amanda saw the excitement lighting Trudy’s face and wondered again if perhaps she ought to warn the girl to be careful.
“You are seeing a lot of him, are you not?” Amanda asked suddenly. She had noticed, with some reluctance, that Ryne and Trudy had spent some part of each day together in the nearly two weeks since Gardner had brought them home from Williamsburg. Even the fact that Emma was ever present to chaperone did not deter them.
Amanda found herself more and more alone. Even Gardner was rarely around since Amanda had declined his proposal of marriage. For the last few days he had seldom been at Wicklow except for dinner, and once had ridden off to keep an appointment late at night.
Trudy smiled tolerantly, as if she knew what Amanda was about to say.
“You do know Ryne has a reputation as a philanderer, Trudy? You are very young. You must keep that in mind.” Amanda said as calmly as she could.
“Oh,” Trudy said, her smile fading a little. “I don’t think I need worry on that score. Aunt Emma watches over me with an eagle’s eye. Really, I don’t have a moment to myself.”
“Then you are not going out alone?” Amanda asked, feeling her cheeks warm a bit and hoping Trudy did not think jealousy the cause of her concern. If anything, she told herself, she was glad Ryne was no longer interested in her.
“No,” Trudy answered with a pout. “Aunt Emma wouldn’t hear of it. She’s coming too. Oh my!” she cried vivaciously. “I do have to hurry.”
Amanda breathed a sigh of relief and placed the ship’s log, still open to the page Trudy had been reading, on the little desk in her room.
“I’ll go down with you, Trudy. I think I’ll walk in the garden.” Amanda tucked a stray curl into her coiffure. “I would like some fresh air myself.”
How was it, she wondered, that Ryne suddenly had time for afternoon walks by the river and leisurely carriage rides? He had spent more time at Wicklow than Gardner had in the last few days. She thought it not a little irksome that since he had discovered Trudy’s delightful company, he found himself quite free of other obligations.
She looked at Trudy’s bright face. It was only to be expected that Trudy would be excited. What girl would not be, to have a handsome gentleman like Ryne courting? Amanda gave a soft, pelting little sigh as she walked beside Trudy. She told herself again she did not care. Ryne’s interest in her had been mercenary. It was Wicklow he wanted. Wicklow and gold. Her eyes burned brightly with sharply felt emotion, and it seemed a shadow crossed her heart.
Had she really thought he cared? What a blind, gullible fool she had been ever to believe it.
They reached the top of the stairs and started down, Trudy mumbling about being late, when Ezra flew to the rail and screeched. The parrot raised his wings and spread the feathers to show all the iridescent colors underneath.
“Wicklow!” he said. “When Wicklow is mine!”
Trudy gasped and turned ashen. At the same instant she turned her head to glance at the bird, and as she did, missed a step.
A cry of panic burst from her lips as she careened downward. For moment it looked as if she would tumble the length of the slate stairs and crash to the hard floor below. But Amanda, who was a few steps ahead, was able to catch hold of Trudy’s arm and to prevent what would have been a dreadful and possibly fatal accident.
“Trudy, are you hurt?” Amanda cried as Trudy sank pale and trembling to the steps.
“Oh no, I am not,” Trudy answered hollowly. “But if you had not been here to catch me I am sure I would have been killed. That dreadful bird,” she said. “I could wring his little neck.” But she had begun to smile again and there was no malice in her voice.
Thanking Amanda again, Trudy got cautiously to her feet and continued down the stairs.
Ezra, not looking at all penitent, hopped to Amanda’s shoulder and stayed there as she followed Trudy down the steps.
Amanda cut her eyes to the parrot and gently chastised him. “Ezra, you are naughty. You frightened Trudy.”
But Trudy’s fright had been only momentary, and by the time she reached the hall, she was recovered and as eager as ever to mee
t Ryne.
Trudy laughed. “Yes, you wicked fowl, you were almost the end of me.”
Ezra opened his sharp beak and squawked, “Nonsense.”
“You might tell her that you are sorry,” Amanda said, but the bird, having had his ride down the stairs, took to his wings and flew to the window ledge above the door.
Trudy shook her head at the parrot’s impudence and with a word of good-bye to Amanda hurried out where Emma waited, and together they went to meet Ryne.
Amanda waited in the drawing room until she heard them drive away. Gardner had ridden over to his property and was not expected back for several hours.
She felt especially alone, almost as if she were isolated from all other people, although that was not the case. Gussie and Mrs. Campbell were not far away in the kitchen and she knew Gardner’s driver was somewhere on the grounds and had been instructed to keep a close watch on the house. She paced fitfully. Her distress came from within, from a deep well of emotions that were in turmoil.
She found it disturbing to admit the nature of those emotions. But they were becoming painfully strong and it was best if she acknowledged the feelings. For when one emotion turned into another, it could be a dangerous thing.
In a period of weakness she had let herself fall in love with Ryne Sullivan, and now, instead of seeing that love grow to the beautiful heights she had hoped for, she thought herself very close to hating him.
She tried to shut out the picture of Ryne kissing Trudy in the garden. He was a philanderer, an opportunist with women, and he left a trail of foolish, defeated females in his wake. She must not let him add Trudy to his list.
Amanda stood motionless on the front steps of Wicklow, staring vacantly into the distance. How easy it was to despise someone who made you aware of being a fool.
***
The path was grown up in weeds and briers but Amanda walked it with a disregard for caution. The house seemed to have become all shadows and strange sounds. The demon faces, the gargoyle heads, the sultry air had made the walls of Wicklow start to close in on her. She felt an overpowering restlessness and found she could not stay inside a moment longer. Consequently she set out at a brisk pace, hoping the exertion of a walk would soon free her from the plague of troubling thoughts in her mind.
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