Amanda insisted Emma take her place on the dance floor while she took a turn watching the swirling, spinning figures and the lone musician. She clasped her hands in her lap. The fiddler played a semblance of a waltz and the dancers seemed to become lonely figures, four slowly spinning couples in a room that would accommodate one hundred.
Her spirits drooped in spite of her efforts to keep them high. The sweet music grew harsh and grating to her ears. It was like watching a mockery of a ball where the dancers had been swallowed up into the darkness that loomed across the ballroom.
She closed her eyes, hoping the dark, gloomy thoughts would leave her. For a moment she thought she was imagining the cool rush of wind and the sudden nervous laughter and unexpected shriek of the fiddler’s bow. But as she opened her eyes to blackness, she knew the sounds were real. She saw a flurry of movement as the dancers drew apart except for one couple, whose embrace lingered. But soon they were all banded together and she could not tell which couple had been so reluctant to part.
Amanda rose slowly. It could not have happened, but it had. In that instant she had lowered her lids, a gust of air had extinguished all the candles in the ballroom and even in the hall outside. Just as the old tales said. If someone were there whom Jubal Wicklow did not want in his house. The way Amanda felt, she could almost believe it had been Jubal Wicklow showing his disapproval, and not just the wind from the windows.
Ryne and Gardner soon had a few candles relit.
“What was it?” Trudy asked anxiously as she clung to Ryne’s arm.
“Why, Jubal Wicklow’s ghost,” Ryne replied with a laugh. “Telling us we’ve danced long enough.”
“And right he is for an old man,” Cecil Baldwin concurred. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow, looking as if the exertion had indeed left him drained.
Mr. Weller escorted Margaret from the floor. “We do need an early start tomorrow, love,” he said.
The good nights were spoken as the group moved into the hall and started for the stairs. Mr. Weller and Margaret went up first, followed by Emma and Trudy.
Ryne had disappeared by the time the group of them reached the stairs. Behind her Amanda heard Cecil draw Gardner aside and suggest a brandy before they retired. As she looked back she saw the two men walking into the drawing room and felt just a little better.
***
She had not expected it but she slept soundly. After an early breakfast the Wellers, Ariel, Gardner, and Cecil prepared to leave. But Cecil did not go without reassuring Amanda she had nothing further to fear from Gardner.
“It is finished,” Cecil whispered, having taken her aside in the drawing room while the others went out to wait for the carriages. “He has admitted his guilt and given his word under threat of prosecution that he will make no further action against you. I have warned him that even if there is the slightest hint of trouble he will be held responsible.”
Amanda sighed. “I still find it hard to believe. Gardner, above everyone, was kindest to me after I arrived.”
“Yes, child,” Cecil said. “He started searching for the gold when he learned the house was to be yours. But Ryne’s moving in and then your early arrival made it impossible for him to continue the search. By chance he learned of your arrival that first night you were at Wicklow and tried to frighten you with the blood on the door.”
Amanda frowned. “I remember Mrs. Campbell saying he was often gone at night. I suppose he rode here and slipped in the house. That would explain . . .”
“Of course. You are right, my dear. He hit on a plan to keep frightening you, either away or into seeking his protection. That or marrying you would have made it easy for him to have the gold.” Cecil shook his round head. “But he will not bother you again.” He pressed her small hands with a fervor that brought a small wince of pain from Amanda. “You have my word.”
“I am ever in you debt,” she whispered, lifting to her toes and kissing him fondly on the cheek.
“Only promise me this, Amanda,” he said. His eyes had that strong dark look that once again reassured Amanda this soft-spoken man could match wits with the best when required.
“Say nothing of what has happened.” Authority rang heavily in his voice, and it made her quiver a little. “Not to anyone,” he went on. “It is part of the bargain with Gardner.”
“I promise,” she answered.
Astride his horse, Cecil gave her a last reassuring smile.
She had not asked what else was part of the bargain with Gardner, but it was evident, from the rather stiff good-bye he gave her as he mounted the roan, that he had taken Cecil’s warning to heart.
When the carriages were out of sight, Emma insisted she needed a nap. The dancing and the late night, she declared, had left her weary, especially after such a short sleep. She said Trudy was in need of a nap too, pointing out the girl’s drooping mouth and listlessness and the dark circles beneath her eyes.
“She’s a delicate one, she is. Ought to spend the day resting if she is going to dance and frolic all night.” Emma ushered a protesting Trudy up the stone steps. “Doesn’t know what’s best for her,” Emma called to Amanda when they were about to enter the house. “Young people don’t, usually. Take my advice and have a good nap yourself,” she added.
“Perhaps I will do just that,” Amanda answered. “I’m only going through the garden first.”
She walked slowly around the house. Dew still lay in golden crystal droplets on rose petals and leaves. The air was never sweeter than at this time of morning. The sun would be bright and hot in another hour, but now a cool breeze swept up from the river, rippling leaves and making a shady paradise of the garden.
She ought to be content. She was safe now. No one else would try to drive her away. But she could not help grieving over the loss of a friend. She had treasured Gardner’s friendship, and learning that it was false hurt her more than the wicked deeds he had done.
She sat a little while listening to the gentle cooing of the birds that favored her with their early-morning song. How could it be in this atmosphere of peace and beauty that she felt no less apprehensive than she had the day before? She dropped her head to her hands. The birds overhead reminded her of Ezra and his cruel death. Surely Gardner had not needed to kill the bird. It went beyond reason.
“What are you thinking of?” came Ryne’s dark, velvet voice.
Amanda rose quickly. He stood with his feet planted firmly in front of her, his arms resting lightly on his hips. Amanda trembled as his blue eyes looked deeply into hers.
“I thought you had gone,” she stammered.
He smiled slowly, purposefully, and his eyes took on a dark, smoldering glow.
“I waited to be sure I could find you alone.”
Chapter 14
A gusty breeze with a hint of fall plucked leaves from the treetops and flung them to the ground. Dark clouds had drifted in from the sea and it appeared the day would become depressingly overcast. Amanda wondered if that were only at Wicklow, for it seemed suddenly as if a cloud of gloom had descended over the house and would never leave.
As she heard Ryne’s voice, she felt the gloom in her heart as well.
“Why?” She touched her fingers to her lips. “Why, Ryne?”
“To tell you what I should have said weeks ago.” He sighed. “That I love you. That I want you to be my wife for that reason and no other.” He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I swear to you, Amanda, the gold doesn’t matter to me. I’ll sign an agreement disclaiming any right to Wicklow or the gold.”
Her heart began to hammer wildly and she could not speak for a moment. Ryne loved her. She had wished for it, longed for it to be so, and now he was at her side proclaiming that it was true. She wanted to cry out: Yes, yes . . . but suddenly that image of him kissing Trudy sped into her mind.
He frowned. “Now I do not need to ask your thoughts. You are thinking of Trudy. You saw us together.”
“I did,” she answered
softly, dropping her eyes. “What of Trudy?”
Ryne got to his feet and brushed the dust from his breeches.
“Trudy is a child. I did not mislead her.”
Amanda’s eyes dimmed. “She cares for you, I believe. It is apparent in her face when she is near you.”
He laughed and lowered his voice. “She does not care for me now. I explained to her last night that my heart lies elsewhere.” Amanda looked at him unbelievingly and he exhaled a weary sigh. “She understands.”
Did she? Did a woman ever understand if the man she loved did not return that affection? Amanda remembered the drawn face and dark circles under Trudy’s eyes. Were they from tears shed over Ryne and not the result of exhaustion? Another thought pricked her mind and she had to ask for that explanation too.
“Who was the woman at the theater, Ryne?”
He laughed again. “I see that I am about to be plagued with a jealous woman. She is the wife of the man I was to see in Richmond. But business brought him to Williamsburg, so my plans were changed.”
“I did not see another man with you at the theater.”
“He was detained, and rather than have Ruth miss the start of the performance, he asked that I escort her. Later he joined us. So you see, love, I am innocent on all counts.”
“Of many things perhaps, but never entirely innocent, I think,” she said with a smile.
He half-smiled in return. “I admit I have been a bloody beast where you are concerned. But having a little sprite of a girl bite into my heart when I was determined to despise her was more than I could bear. I wanted to make you miserable but only succeeded in doing the same for myself.” Impatiently he swept a lock of hair from his forehead. “I have asked you twice before, and in the worst of ways, to be my wife. This time, Amanda, I pray you will not refuse. Will you wed me?”
Amanda was intensely uncomfortable. She could not say yes to Ryne without telling him about Gardner. They were brothers, and if she were to be Ryne’s wife he should know the things Gardner had done. She raised her troubled eyes to Ryne and with a trembling voice related all that had happened, through to Cecil Baldwin’s ending of the matter.
A tic started in Ryne’s cheek and his eyes turned nearly black with anger. For several minutes after she had finished, he said nothing. She was surprised, when finally he spoke, that his voice was calm and steady.
“Do you love me, Amanda?”
“I do,” she replied.
“You will wed me?” He took her hands and lifted her to her feet.
“Yes,” she answered softly. The outpouring of emotions she felt astonished her. Amanda laid her head against Ryne’s chest and looped her arms around his waist. As his arms circled her in return, she felt a soothing warmth engulf her.
She was safe at last with the man she loved.
Ryne brushed his lips against her hair. “Amanda, I have to ride to Williamsburg.”
She drew away from him suddenly, finding her tranquility short-lived.
“Not to see Gardner? Ryne, you must not. Cecil Baldwin promised there would be no more—”
Ryne silenced her by placing a finger softly against her lips.
“He is my brother, Amanda. I have to see him, and not just for this reason. There is another matter long left festering between us and I think now is the time for that one to be settled as well.”
“Ryne, please do not go.”
He kissed her then, slowly, deeply, and once again all her fears vanished. When his lips left hers she made no more argument against him.
“Take care, my love,” she whispered as he rode away. Amanda felt painfully torn between the love singing in her heart and the worry that Ryne’s inflammable temper would be too harsh against his brother. Finally she eased her mind with the thought it was best she put her trust in Ryne and believe he would do what was best for all.
Amanda returned to the house. Had she not been consumed with thoughts of Ryne, she might have noticed immediately that the atmosphere inside had changed. There was an incredible stillness and yet her skin prickled and stung as if she had been touched by a nettle. She thought she heard a soft mournful voice calling her name and giving her a warning. But that was preposterous. She knew who the whisperer was. And he was not here. She had seen him ride away.
A peculiar feeling of fear slid over Amanda. The whisper came again. She was certain she heard it this time. The sound came from near the Turkish King. Just for a moment she had the insane notion it was he calling to her. But the thought passed quickly when she heard a stronger voice, a decidedly human one, from the drawing room. She must learn to control her imagination now that there was no longer a real danger.
“I don’t care,” Trudy said again.
Amanda looked in the doorway and found Emma beckoning to her.
“Do come in for a moment, child. Trudy and I found we could not nap after all and came down where the light is better for my needlework.”
Only half-listening, Amanda turned into the drawing room, where she saw Trudy looking dejectedly out the window. But the girl politely turned and smiled as Amanda entered.
“I am sure I would find it difficult to rest too,” Amanda remarked.
Emma stopped in mid-stride and stared at Amanda.
“Goodness, child, your face is flushed. Is something . . . ? No, let me guess. It is something good, is it not? You must tell us your news.”
Amanda hesitated. She hated to add any more to Trudy’s pain; but Emma had caught her hand, and her beaming curiosity would not be denied.
“Ryne and I are to be married,” Amanda said in a soft clear voice.
“Married! That is splendid,” Emma said exuberantly. “He is a fine catch, that one,” she chattered on. “A fall wedding, I hope. You must let up help with the planning.”
“Yes, of course,” Amanda said. Trudy seemed to be clinging to the mantel for support. Ryne had been terribly wrong to think her unaffected by his attention. Amanda’s heart went out to the girl. It seemed quite cruel that she had to learn of the marriage when her own feelings for Ryne were still unsettled.
“We must have a little celebration now, Amanda. Some sherry perhaps, and then you can rest. I see that you need it. You are very excited, as well you should be. Trudy.”
She motioned to her niece. “You pour the sherry.”
“Yes, Aunt Emma,” Trudy answered, and seemed to recover her composure as she looked at Amanda. “We must celebrate.”
“Amanda, sit here.” Emma led Amanda to a plump chair near the fireplace. “This is something of a surprise to everyone, you know. We really did not suspect . . .”
***
Amanda’s eyelids slipped down slowly as her hand went limp against the arm of the chair. She was hearing the warning voice again. This time it seemed to come from within her head. A slight smile flickered on her lips. It was ridiculous that a single glass of wine could make her so drowsy and delirious. But she felt herself giving way to a euphoric lassitude, which was strange, because she had really been too stimulated even to think of sleep.
The gargoyle faces were all around her. There were too many of them in this room. Too many, and all of them calling her name. Perhaps Jubal Wicklow had been a little mad. Perhaps he had killed Evelyn in a fit of jealousy. Poisoned her perhaps, and buried her where she would never be found. She felt a gush of air cold as ice sweep the room. It startled her but her body made no response. Emma did, though. And Trudy too. They were looking at each other as if they had been suddenly stricken by fear. But it lasted only a moment.
Seeing Emma across the room, Amanda tried to speak but found her tongue had grown thick and heavy. No words came. The only sound was the clinking of her glass as it shattered on the hardwood floor.
The bumping roused her a little. She was being dragged roughly through the hall. She saw that great terrible face of the Turkish King glaring down as her eyes flickered open for a moment. Someone was talking from far away. She thought at first it might be Ezra, but how coul
d it be? His neck had been wrung. The voice was so strange and distant . . . it must be the king . . . telling her she should never have come to Wicklow.
Amanda drifted in and out of consciousness and then she was being bumped and bruised as she was hauled down a long set of steps.
“Hush, I tell you,” the voice was saying. “She won’t be hurt. He just means to make her sign the papers. When Wicklow is his, he will let her go.”
A musty smell of dampness flooded her nostrils. The air was cool but thick, almost as if she had been eased into a dark pool of water and was sinking slowly toward the bottomless depths. She moaned helplessly as she sank further into that silent, encompassing blackness.
***
The scuffling sound was dreadfully near. Amanda stiffened with fright as her eyes opened to a terrible darkness. She had the feeling of being in a large room, but there could be none at Wicklow where the floor was made of rough-hewn stone such as that on which she lay. She scrambled to her feet, but not without feeling the ache of those bruises acquired as she was dragged to this dark prison.
Her head throbbed and her thoughts were like so many loose feathers floating in shadows. She could not even be sure who her captors had been, nor could she begin to fathom where they had taken her. Gradually, as she leaned her weight against the cold stone wall and rubbed her temples, some fragments of her memory came together.
When Wicklow is his, he will let her go. The voices shouted in her mind. Ezra had said, “When Wicklow is mine.” But whom did he mean? She rubbed her head. She had been drugged, but by whom? Emma and Trudy? Or were they victims just as she was? Were they too somewhere in this dark room and still unconscious?
“Emma. Trudy,” she cried hoarsely. “Are you there?”
Her words echoed and came back in an eerie mocking way. She tried again and got no answer. Her throat was parched and aching. Hours must have passed since she had been put in this place. She felt a pang of hunger gnawing at her stomach. Someone would come soon. Someone who wanted her to sign a paper. She had not been left to die. She must not even think that. If she did, she would go mad all alone in this black, black room.
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