Mirror Bride

by Jane Peart

  "Don't call me twin! I have a name," she snapped.

  Ever the peace lover, Kitty got to her feet. "Why don't we sing some carols to get us in the Christmas spirit? Come on, Merry, you play."

  Going to the piano, Meredith struck the opening bars of "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing." Kitty and Scott followed, and Cara joined them. Kip, hands plunged into his jacket pocket, went to the window and stared out for a few minutes. Then, almost reluctantly, he moved into the curve of the piano directly opposite Cara and added his nice tenor to the other voices. Meredith moved easily from one familiar Christmas song to another, ending up in a rousing rendition of "Go, Tell It On the Mountain."

  "Better light the lamp, Kip. I'm having a hard time reading the music," said Meredith at last, alerting them to the lateness of the hour and the quickly falling darkness of the winter afternoon.

  "Guess we'd better be heading for home," Scott said.

  Kip came up behind Cara as she wound her scarf around her neck and pulled on her gloves. She tipped her head toward him coquettishly. "Has music soothed the savage beast?"

  "You can be the most —" Kip sputtered, as if trying to find the exact word to describe her.

  "Tantalizing?" she supplied archly.

  "Annoying, irritating, infuriating is more like it," he growled.

  "Want to call off our date for tomorrow?" She batted her long lashes comically.

  He groaned. "No-o-o."

  "Come on, Cara, it'll be pitch black before we get home if we don't leave now," called Kitty from the front hallway.

  "Well?" Cara asked Kip as she moved toward the doorway behind Kitty.

  "Your wish is my command. Your humble servant, ma'am." Kip made a sweeping obeisance, then grinned. "I'll be over about ten."

  chapter 10

  THE NEXT MORNING at Cameron Hall, the twins appeared for breakfast in their riding clothes. Kitty wore a well-worn, soft tweed jacket and brown gabardine skirt, her hair brought back and clubbed at the neck with a black ribbon. Cara's outfit was royal blue, the fitted swallow-tailed jacket molding her slimly curved figure. Her hair hung in a loose braid that ended in a swirl down her back.

  Blythe looked up from the pile of mail beside her plate as the girls came into the dining room. "Where are you two off to?"

  "We're meeting Merry and Kip to gather greens for decorations."

  "Wonderful. I need more, so could you get some extras? I promised Reverend Wilcox I'd bring some by for the church."

  Silently amused, Blythe watched the mutual serving ritual the twins had practiced since childhood. At the mahogany sideboard, where a silver urn, chafing dish and bun warmer were set out, Kitty poured coffee for both of them while Cara put sticky pecan rolls on two plates and brought them to the table. Kitty followed, setting Cara's cup before her, then sat down at the table opposite her twin.

  Returning to her mail, Blythe picked up another envelope, slit it open with a pearl-handled letter opener, withdrew the letter, and scanned it quickly. "Well, Dru and Randall and Evalee will be here during the holidays, it appears. They'll spend some time with Dru's mother in Richmond, then they'll be coming down to Mayfield."

  Cara put down her coffee cup in dismay. "Not here, I hope."

  "No, they'll be staying at Montclair. You know Dru is very close to Jonathan. They grew up together during the War and—" She paused and frowned at her daughter who was making exaggerated gestures of relief. "What in the world is that all about, Cara?" she asked in mild bewilderment.

  "Nothing, Mama!" fibbed Cara, putting her napkin over her mouth to suppress her smile. Across the table, Kitty was having a similarly hard time suppressing her giggles.

  Every time the name of Evalee Bondurant came up, the twins always exchanged a significant glance. Their glamorous cousin was often the subject of slightly malicious discussion between them. Dark-eyed and beautiful, Evalee, the daughter of Randall and Dru, was a popular belle of Charleston society but not the Cameron girls' favorite person.

  They had met her first during the Jubilee summer they had all spent at Aunt Garnet Devlin's country estate, Birchfields, in England. Since then, their negative opinion of Evalee had not changed.

  After breakfast they said good-bye to their mother and went outside. The day was sunny, the air crisp, with the feel of snow. On the porch they whistled for their dogs, two Irish setters, descendants of their father's champion bird dog and companion, King, and started walking toward the stables. Now that they were alone, the twins could discuss their cousin's coming openly.

  "If Evalee's here for the holidays, she'll spoil everything!" Cara said frankly. "She's such a brat and always has been!"

  "Maybe she can't help it," suggested Kitty mildly. "She's been coddled and pampered by her family all her life. She just doesn't know anything else."

  "Oh, fiddle! She's impossible, and you know it, only you're too nice to say so." Cara scoffed impatiently. "If you're so determined to be charitable, why don't you see that she has a good time while she's here?"

  Kitty did not reply, knowing that when the time came, they would share equally the hostess duties. Cara might fuss and complain, but Kitty could always count on her when it mattered.

  At the stable they found their horses already saddled and, after a few words with the groom, mounted and walked them down the drive, still deep in conversation. They were just about to turn into the woods when they saw Kip Montrose on his black stallion thundering down the path from Montclair.

  At his unexpected appearance, Kitty's heart turned over. To hide her sudden confusion and the warm color flooding her face, she leaned forward and patted her horse's neck.

  As Kip reined alongside Cara, she asked him, "Where's Merry?"

  "Oh, she'll be along in a little while. Mama had one of her headaches, and Meredith decided to stay with her and read to her until she fell asleep," he explained. Then grinned. "But here J am to brighten your day!"

  "Puleeze!" groaned Cara, then tossed her head and, giving Pharaoh a little flick with her crop, she rode on ahead, calling over her shoulder, "Well, come on then. I'll put you to work. Mother wants lots of greenery to take to the church."

  She gave her mount a little kick with her boot heels and started down the drive. Kip urged his horse to a canter and followed. Kitty lagged behind purposely. Despising the sensation of being a fifth wheel, she hoped that Meredith would come soon and decided to look for a grove of wild holly trees and wait until she showed up.

  Never one to resist an opportunity to tease or challenge, Cara took the fence at the lower end of the pasture, then gave Pharaoh his head and began galloping into the woods. From the sound of hoofbeats, she knew that Kip was not far behind. When the path narrowed, she had to slow her horse. She pulled on her reins and turned from the path into a clearing. The next thing she knew, Kip was beside her.

  Reaching over, he took hold of her hands on the reins. "That was quite a chase you gave me."

  She dismounted and Kip did the same. Leading their horses, they walked a little farther into the woods and came at last on a thicket of wild holly trees.

  "This looks like a good spot," Cara said. "Let's cut some of these."

  "Did you bring something to put them in?"

  "Yes, some burlap bags fastened to the back of my saddle."

  Kip tethered the horses, then brought the gunny sacks. They worked in silence for a few minutes, cutting the greens and filling the sacks. But it seemed to Cara that wherever she went, Kip was close beside her.

  "Why don't you find your own trees?" she snapped when she had had her fill of Kip's persistent pursuit. "Why do you keep following me?"

  "Don't you know the answer to that?" he asked and began to hum, then to sing a few lines of a song that had been popular the summer before, one they had danced to and sung in the fire circle on the beach at Fair Winds: "I'll follow you wherever the heart leads—"

  Frowning at him, Cara deliberately moved a short distance away.

  "Come on, Cara, don't go all coy o
n me!" Kip teased. "I'm not immune to suggestion, and yesterday I got the not-too-subtle impression you thought it might be fun to be alone for a change. Don't forget I've known you for years. I can read you like a book."

  "What kind of book? The trouble with you, Kip, is that you read whatever you want into anything."

  Kip only grinned.

  "Honestly!" Cara said with elaborate derision, then threw him an annoyed look and flounced away. She kept a little ahead of him, moving from tree to tree, using her clippers with pretended concentration. After a while she heard the sound of horses' hooves and Merry calling to Kitty. Though she couldn't see them through the thick foliage, she could hear them talking to each other.

  "Ah, just what I've been looking for . . . misdetoe!" Kip exclaimed in triumph.

  Knowing that the plant was hard to find, Cara turned back to face him. "Where? I don't see any."

  Instantly Kip was at her side, pulling a sprig out of his pocket and dangling it over her head. "Just in case, I always bring my own supply."

  Before she could make a move, he had grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. Startled, she struggled, but it was no use. His mouth covered hers in a kiss that was neither tender nor sweet but passionately possessive. Slowly the kiss ended, but Kip still held her close.

  Looking down into her eyes, he whispered, "Just think . . . it'll soon be time for us to open our time capsule, remember? We each put in our secret predictions about the future. You're going to be surprised at mine. Even at age ten, I knew what I wanted . . . and how to get it. I love you, Cara. I guess I always have. I've just begun to realize how much.

  Cara stared back into his eyes. What she saw there was more than she wanted to see. The intensity of his voice, his determination, frightened her. Fiercely she struggled out of his embrace. As it loosened, she swung back her arm and brought it up in a stinging slap across his face.

  Kip stepped back, dazed at first, then angry. Then, even while his cheek was reddening, he burst out laughing.

  "How dare you?" she hissed and whirled about, then stalked over toward Pharaoh and prepared to mount him.

  Kip's mocking voice followed her. "You're acting like the outraged heroine in one of the melodramas we put on last summer at Fair Winds!"

  Cara's heart was pounding, and she felt suddenly uneasy. She halted momentarily as Kip's jibe hit home. Last summer! She knew that she had used Kip then, the teasing and flirting, to cover her own secret. And she knew that once she'd learned that Owen was going to be nearby in Arbordale, she had almost unconsciously decided to do it again.

  But Kip was too intense, too serious. Maybe she'd set in motion something she might not be able to control. What did Scripture say about "sowing the wind and reaping the whirlwind?"

  Unnerved, Cara swung up into her saddle and tugged on the reins. Then, without a backward glance at Kip, she turned her horse down the bridle path toward Cameron Hall. But for the benefit of Kitty and Meredith who might wonder at her sudden departure, Cara called back some excuse, gave Pharaoh a kick with her booted foot, and trotted off.

  "Hey! Not fair!" she heard Kip yell.

  Not waiting for him to mount his own horse and catch up with her, she leaned into her horse's neck and urged him to a gallop.

  Hot and breathless, Cara left Pharaoh at the stables and hurried into the house. Without taking off her riding boots, one of Blythe's unwritten house rules, she clattered up the polished stairway to her bedroom.

  She flung herself down on the window seat and tried to collect her thoughts. She felt confused and a little worried. Just now, out in the woods, she had seen something new in Kip's eyes. Last summer, she had wanted to see that look. But Kip was so maddeningly sure of himself, his appearance, his charm. That's why she'd set out to see if she could make him fall in love with her. But that was at the beginning of the summer . . . before she'd met Owen. After that, everything changed. Realizing that she wanted something more than a summer romance, she'd done something unforgivable. She'd used Kip for her own purposes.

  With Owen coming to Arbordale . . . what should she do? The look in Kip's eyes, the kiss, had changed things again. Maybe, after all, she wanted nothing more than for things to remain as they had always been between the three of them—Kitty, Kip, and herself. Could they recapture the past, keep things the way they were? Was it possible?

  But more than her manipulation of Kip's emotions weighed on Cara's conscience. The two unaccounted-for days in Richmond. The note she had sent to the Seminary. The reply she had received while she was visiting Susie Mills. All that must remain a secret . . . at least for a little longer. Sometimes the end justifies the means, doesn't it?

  She was still pondering this question when Kitty returned.

  "Why did you rush off like that?" her twin asked. "Kip invited us to Montclair for lunch."

  "I got bored," Cara replied indifferently.

  "Kip said he thinks you've grown too sophisticated for all our old games. Says you don't play by our rules anymore."

  "That's idiotic!" said Cara crossly.

  But she thought of what had happened out in the woods and was ashamed. Maybe Kip was right. Maybe she wasn't playing fair. Then she shrugged. What was one kiss? It couldn't matter that much. Not to someone like Kip!

  chapter 11

  JONATHAN MONTROSE was in deep thought as he rode over to Arbordale early on a December afternoon. Even though his half-brother Jeff had been back in Virginia now for nearly ten years, they had not achieved the closeness Jonathan had hoped for and anticipated.

  It was understandable, as Davida tried to point out frequently. "What on earth do you two have in common except that you were fathered by the same man . . . and that nearly ten years and an ocean apart?" she would say as if astonished by Jonathan's expectations. "Besides Jeff is an artist . . . and artists are notoriously different from normal people," she would say with elaborate patience.

  Jonathan could accept that explanation, and given the fact that Jeffs career had soared and he had many commissions to fulfill, Jonathan was even more aware of the contrast in their lives. Still, he longed to get to know his younger brother and to share with him some of the Montrose heritage.

  In Arbordale, reaching the dock where he would take the ferry across the river, Jonathan was again struck by the strange history of his brother's house. Avalon—named after the refuge of the mythical King Arthur after the battle for Camelot—had been brought over from England, stone by stone, timber by timber, and rebuilt on the wooded island on which Jeff and Faith Montrose lived. Blythe, his father's second wife, had moved there when Jeff was only a little boy. Later, Jeff had returned there with his bride. Everyone said that Avalon looked more like an English manor house than most of the country homes in this part of Virginia.

  Jonathan's visit had been an impulse of the moment, so he had not sent word ahead. When the massive oak door was opened by an elderly servant, Jonathan made sure that he understood if he had called at an inconvenient time that he had no wish to disturb either his brother or his brother's wife.

  He was shown into the drawing room and told that the mistress would be informed but the master was in his studio and the house held to the rule that he should not be disturbed until he came out himself.

  Jonathan walked to the center, looking about the oak-paneled room, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Pale December sunshine filtered through narrow diamond-paned windows, and a fire glowed in the stone hearth, scenting the air with the spicy smell of apple wood. Gradually he was able to see the arrangements of exotic flowers in handsome vases set about the room on tables and in bookcases. The whole effect was warm and charming.

  "Jonathan, how lovely of you to come!" a low, English-accented voice greeted him, and Jonathan turned around to see the daughter of his foster mother, Aunt Garnet Devlin, standing in the doorway.

  For a moment he was bemused by her appearance, for she looked for all the world as if she might have stepped out of a medie
val painting. Her dark hair was down and fell around her shoulders in cascading waves, and she was wearing a royal blue velvet gown with flowing sleeves banded in bright embroidery and glittering with beads.

  Her full, musical laugh broke the momentary silence. "It's no wonder you look startled. No, I'm not the ghost of Hamlet's 'Ophelia.' I've been posing for Jeff and didn't take time to change. I hope you don't mind."

  "Of course not. But I apologize, Faith. I told your man not to interrupt you . . . I should have sent a note, but the desire to come and call on my brother and his wife was a spur-of-the-moment decision, I'm afraid. I do hope I haven't disrupted a modeling session—"

  "No, Jeff finished with me a half hour ago, but wanted to work on another part of the painting. I'm the one who should apologize. But you know, Jonathan, I believe the ladies of old had a point in their choice of clothing. I can't tell you how much more comfortable this is compared to today's fashions—no whalebone stays, no narrow skirt requiring mincing steps! I confess I sometimes rather enjoy stepping back into the Middle Ages." She laughed delightfully and, for a second, Jonathan was reminded of her mother's same mischievous gaiety, typical of Garnet at her best.

  "You will stay and have tea with me, won't you, Jonathan?" she asked.

  "If you're sure I won't be intruding—"

  "Of course not. Or, as Cousin Evalee Bondurant would say, 'Au contraire.'" Again the naughty sparkle brightened Faith's eyes. "Otherwise, I'd have to take it alone. There's no routing Jeff out of the studio when he's immersed in a project. That's one thing I've learned in nearly twelve years of marriage to a dedicated artist."

  She crossed the room, a willowy, graceful figure, and tugged the tapestried bellpull that hung from the wall. Two minutes later the door opened, and Faith asked the same dignified man who had ushered Jonathan into the house to bring tea.

  "Please sit down." Faith gestured to one of the high-backed Jacobean chairs upholstered in needlepoint and placed on either side of the fireplace. "Now, tell me wha's going on at Montclair? I suppose Kip and Meredith are home from college and the house is full of fun and festivity."