I sought solace from everyone’s vexing behavior in the kitchen. Laney was there, her arms plunged in dishwater.
“Let me do them,” I said. “It helps me to think when I’m washing dishes.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, wiping her hands on the dish towel. “I’ll dry. And while we’re both alone here, how about you tell me what’s going on? Something’s happening. Y’all are jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
I heard Seeley’s feet clattering up the stairs to bed as I drooped over the gray dishwater, arms submerged, without making a movement. Finally I spoke. “This has been such an unusual summer. A lot has happened, and some things I can’t tell you.”
“Huh.”
“I’m sorry—I just can’t. Some things aren’t my secrets to tell. And then, some things I don’t know.”
“Well, what about the things you can tell?”
Before I could answer, my stepsister’s penetrating voice preceded her into the kitchen. “Vi-let? Vi-let!” She entered. “Oh, there you are. How about you let me make Seeley’s bedtime honey milk? I’ll take it to him too. Since you’re up to your elbows in dishwater and all.” Her tone was light, and her eyes were wide and innocent but a trifle over bright.
She saw my surprise and said, “With Dorian gone, I’m restless. I need something to do.”
Laney and I raised our eyebrows at each other. Sunny offering to help? Such an unusual proposal could not be refused. I nodded.
Sunny puttered around, dipping the milk from the pail, pouring it into a kettle on the hearth for warming, reaching the crock of honey down from the shelf, dribbling it in, and stirring.
“Are you making enough for me?” I asked my stepsister.
She was pouring the warm milk into a mug. “No. No, only enough for Seeley. Sorry.” Her hand shook. Some of the liquid sloshed out and her face crumpled as she gave a little cry, but she was out the door before I could do more than wonder at her nerves or say, cleverly, “No use crying over spilled milk.”
“What is wrong with her?” I whispered after I heard the floorboards of the upstairs landing creak.
“It’s got to be something to do with Mr. Dorian.” Laney sopped up the milk with a rag. “He sneaks into her room at night, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does. But that’s not what’s causing the friction between those two. Although … what do I know? Anyway, Dorian is nagging at Sunny about something. She’s always told every last thought in her head to anybody who’d listen. Until now. Now she won’t breathe a word about whatever it is. They still laugh a lot together, but I don’t like the sound of Sunny’s laughter. There’s a—a wildness to it.” I wiped the last dish and took up the broom to sweep. “And then there’s Dorian and Seeley. I had thought they were doing so well. Dorian doesn’t pay much attention to Seeley—he’s been too busy with Sunny—but whenever he does, Seeley drinks it up. Seeley was positively radiant the other day when Dorian took him out hunting arrowheads. Just now, though, out on the porch, they were bristling up at each other like they did when they first came here. It’s baffling.”
Laney scooped up Cubby to take him home for the night. “All I know is—” Her mouth tightened as if to hold the words in.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t say.” She started for the door.
I jumped in front of her. “You can’t start to say something and then stop like that. You know you can tell me anything.”
“Which is more than you tell me.”
“I told you, I can’t—”
“I’m teasing. What I was fixing to say is that Mr. Dorian is always playacting around y’all.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, Michael and I see a side of him y’all don’t. When y’all aren’t watching, he’s got the look of a fellow whose innards are all twisted and gnawed.”
I remembered the moment it had seemed to me that Dorian’s mask had slipped, and goose bumps rose on my arms.
Laney and her baby headed out into the darkness and I started up the stairs, candle in hand.
I had already brushed out and braided my hair, undressed, and climbed into bed when an appalling retching sound burst from Seeley’s room. I dashed to his bedside. He sat hunched over in bed, white as a sheet, with his covers soaked and splattered with bile.
“Sorry,” he gasped, and vomited again.
“I’ll fetch a basin,” I said quickly, somewhat queasy myself. I had thought after my experiences in the hospital I would be immune to retching.
I was stopped short on the landing by Sunny, standing there in her trailing white night shift, twisting her hands together like Lady Macbeth. She looked nearly as ill as Seeley, phantom pale, and with a ghastly expression in her eyes.
“Is he—is he very ill?” Her voice was barely a breath.
“Right now he is,” I said, skirting her. “It’s probably one of those stomach flu things that always seem to happen in the night. He’ll be over it by morning.”
From behind me she said, “Yes, yes, he will, won’t he? But what if he isn’t? Oh, Vi-let, I’m so afraid. I’ve done a terrible thing.”
I whirled around. “What do you mean?”
She opened her mouth and shut it. Her hands raised jerkily to her chest, then to her hair, and then to her cheeks as if she had no control over their movements. She shook her head and dragged the skirt of her nightgown up to cover her face and began sobbing great, wrenching sobs.
I touched her arm. “Go in your room and wait while I get Seeley a basin and fresh bedclothes.”
After I cleaned him up, Seeley lay curled on his side, very small beneath the covers. I left him briefly for Sunny.
She huddled on the floor in a corner of her bedchamber, knees drawn up to her chest and head in her arms, shoulders shaking. She raised a twisted, tear-streaked face. In the flickering light from the one candle, she—who was always so perfectly groomed, so pretty—appeared grotesque. “Dorian’s not back yet, is he?” she asked frantically.
“No,” I said. “He said he wouldn’t return until tomorrow.”
“Right. Of course. He said he needed to stay away till then, but I was worried.…” A spasm flicked across her features.
I squatted down beside her. “Sunny, tell me right now what’s going on. I need to get back to Seeley. What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with Dorian?”
“Yes. Yes. Dorian and Seeley.”
“What about Dorian and Seeley?” I asked harshly.
“Dorian’s been after me and after me. He won’t let up. He said if I didn’t do it, we could never marry. It’s not my fault. I could hardly think anymore, he plagued me so. I withstood him for as long as I could, but finally—” She gave a gulping sigh.
“Finally what?”
Her voice came in a whisper. “I said I’d do it and I did. I didn’t put as much powder in as he told me to. That way I could tell him I had done as he asked, but probably nothing would happen. Hopefully Seeley threw it all up,” she finished in a rush.
“What kind of powder?”
“Some sort of poison,” she said simply, her eyes blank.
Sunny’s words stabbed like a splinter of glass in my heart.
I gave a short, strangled cry and jumped up to run into Seeley’s room. He appeared to be sleeping deeply, drawing ragged breaths. I shook him. He made no response. I dashed back to Sunny.
She scrabbled at my hand. “He said Seeley’d only be sick—so sick he’d never recover completely and Dorian would have control of Panola. But what if he dies? If he dies, you won’t tell anyone, will you? You won’t let me be hanged?”
I shook her free. “I’ve got to send Michael for Dr. Hale.”
“He’s out of town,” Sunny said. “Dorian made sure I did it when he knew the doctor was gone so no one—no one could help.”
For some reason, in that moment, my brain composed itself and my mind worked coldly, clearly. I knew immediately what I must do, even though the thought of going t
o Dr. VanZeldt, of begging for his help, terrified me. Yet there was no other choice. I must do it. Michael did not know the way to Shadowlawn and it would be tricky going in the dark. I would fetch Michael to sit with Seeley while I went myself.
“You stay here in your room while I’m gone,” I told Sunny. “Promise you won’t go near Seeley, or I’ll lock you in.”
“I promise. But isn’t—isn’t there something I can do to help?” she asked piteously.
I couldn’t even answer her. I threw on a dress and raced downstairs. As I passed her room, Miss Elsa called, “My dear, why are you still up? Is something wrong?”
“Seeley’s ill,” I said shortly.
“Oh no. I’m useless in a sickroom, but if you need me …”
“No, ma’am, there’s nothing you can do. Stay in bed.”
Cubby awoke and wailed when I banged on Michael and Laney’s cabin door. Michael answered, with a quilt covering his nightshirt. Laney stared wide-eyed over his shoulder. They quickly took in at least part of the situation when I explained that Seeley was severely ill and that I must fetch Dr. VanZeldt.
“I’d best stay here with the baby,” Laney said. “He doesn’t need to be in a sickroom. Michael, you go up to sit with Seeley.” She looked at me closely. “You all right, honey?”
I shook my head wordlessly. She reached out and squeezed my hand.
As Michael went into the back to pull on his clothes, I called out, “And whatever you do, don’t leave Sunny alone with Seeley.”
Then I was off. I rode Star because that would be quicker than going by water. The journey to Shadowlawn remains vague in my memory. The night was overcast and ink black; not a pinprick of light pierced the glowering clouds. I leaned forward, clutching a lantern and digging my heels into the poor mare to urge her to go faster, ever faster. All the while my breath came in little sobs as I prayed without ceasing for Seeley. This seemed to be some nightmare where I would ride and ride without end.
At last, miraculously, I reached the dirt road to Shadowlawn. It was much overgrown, with saplings sprouting and forest boughs reaching out to snag, slap, and slow. I ducked my head so that my cheek rested against Star’s sweaty neck. Some measure of comfort and calmness spread from her to me.
I had been to Shadowlawn only once before, when I was young and my father had taken me to pay a call on the former owners. My impression had been of a graceful brick mansion in the French style with curlicue, wrought-iron balconies and sweeping double staircases up to the first floor. It wasn’t a plantation, so no fields surrounded it, but there had been a green lawn, a rose garden, and an alley lined with magnolia trees leading all the way down to the river.
Even with only my dim moving circle of lantern light it was obvious how unkempt the place now was. Encroaching wild forest crawled ever closer to the buildings. The stables and sheds were misshapen blobs of creeper, while vines hung in dense curtains from the iron balconies and slithered up the house’s walls like long, spindly fingers.
Star stood still as I slid to the ground and tossed her reins over a hitching post. If only I could speak to Amenze first, but that was unlikely. My distrust of the VanZeldts, which had been driven out by the urgency of my mission, now cramped in my stomach as I climbed the front steps. This is for Seeley. I could do anything to save Seeley.
I firmly grasped the iron door knocker shaped like a pair of intertwined serpents and banged on the peeling front door. A patter of paint chips showered down onto the floorboards.
Please make him come.
Crickets chirped; the cicadas’ song swelled and ebbed. From somewhere nearby came the soft, sleepy clucking and cooing of chickens and doves. I banged again. From deep within the recesses of the house I heard footsteps approach.
The door creaked open. There stood Dr. VanZeldt holding a lamp. He was dapper even at this time of night in his white suit minus the straw hat. He had beautiful, wavy silvery-white hair, and he cocked his head to one side and fixed me with a long stare through his thick glasses. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Miss Violet Dancey,” he said. “What an agreeable surprise. What brings you all the way out here? And so late at night.”
“We’re in desperate need of a doctor,” I blurted out. “My eight-year-old cousin has been poisoned. Please, will you come?”
His expression did not change as he tutted, “Terrible, terrible. Do you know the nature of the poison?”
I realized I hadn’t a clue as to that important fact and I shook my head helplessly.
“No matter. My methods will work for anything toxic to the body. Let me gather a few things. Did you come by—no, I see your horse. I will have Ahigbe and Uwa take me to your place by boat. I will get there ahead of you. Have I your permission to enter the house?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Our place is—”
“I know where you live. Scuppernong Farm. Run along, then, my dear, and don’t worry. The boy will survive.”
He closed the door in my face. Feeling almost anticlimactic and suddenly so weary that my legs turned liquid, I sank down onto the steps. For just a moment I let the heavy lids drop over my eyes, then opened them. Nothing was over. I couldn’t let go yet. Still, I slumped frozen, unable to order my body to move.
Dr. VanZeldt had stirred the household. Lights began to shine. Beams shone from a nearby window onto the porch floor. From around the corner came the glow of a lantern, and out strode the bearded man—I later learned he was Ahigbe—hastening to one of the nearby outbuildings. He pushed open the door and I watched in fascination as something inside moved, writhed, undulated. I gasped. It wasn’t just one thing—it was a glass case of living snakes, many-colored and -patterned. The man entered the shed and kicked something roundish and pale out of the way as if it were a ball. It clattered in a dry, hard, brittle way. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be what it had seemed. A human skull.
Stomach, stop convulsing. Body, stop quivering.
The doctor was going to save Seeley. He would. Nothing else mattered now.
I squared my shoulders, rose, clambered onto Star’s back, and galloped down the drive.
When I reached the farmhouse, several windows were alight. I met Sunny in the downstairs hall, carrying a glass of wine. She had donned a dark dress, and her chestnut locks hung long and loose down her back. Dark purplish shadows splotched below her eyes, but her green irises sparkled with a nervous intensity.
She squeezed my hand as she passed. “Oh, Vi-let, Seeley’s going to be all right. The doctor says so. He needs warm wine, so I raided Dorian’s store and heated some up.” She gave a high-pitched giggle, tinged with hysteria, while tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. Why am I laughing? I guess because I’m so relieved.”
I moved swiftly past her up the stairs.
They had transferred Seeley into Rush’s bigger room. Dr. VanZeldt hunched over the bureau, grinding leaves with a mortar and pestle. Seeley lay on the bed with his mouth open, panting, his eyes rolled back in his head. Michael had pulled a chair up beside him, but he relinquished it to me now. I took my cousin’s limp, hot hand.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” the doctor said without turning. “I’m just making a concoction of mimosa leaves for the warm wine. The other girl is bringing—yes, there it is.”
A faint motion caught my eye. Uwa and Ahigbe stood near the window, in the shadows outside the candles’ glow, watching silently, impassive, like carved figures.
Dr. VanZeldt stirred mashed leaves into the wine. “Now, my boy,” he said, laying one arm under Seeley’s neck and raising him, “you must take this slowly. Slowly, but it is vital that you drink it down to the dregs. There is medicine in it that will cure what ails you, and you must swallow it down with the wine.”
Seeley was so weak that his head lolled back on the doctor’s arm and he made no motion to hold the glass. The doctor tipped it to his lips and the boy’s throat swelled sluggishly, painfully, as he swallowed.
; When the last had been drunk, Dr. VanZeldt held out his hand toward Uwa and Ahigbe and said something in another language.
“I do wish they’d just speak English,” Sunny whispered from behind me. “They were jabbering on and on like that before you got here.”
The younger man knelt beside a covered basket I hadn’t noticed before.
“Now,” Dr. VanZeldt addressed Sunny and me, “I must warn you, since young ladies often have decided opinions against reptiles, that in that basket lies a serpent. It is a black mamba—highly venomous, but my two sons are impervious to the poison. Uwa will hold its head toward the boy and then carry it to every corner of the room. The snake will suck the toxin from the boy’s body and free his spirit. It is necessary for his recovery. You may leave the room if it bothers you unduly.”
Uwa opened the lid and pulled forth coil after coil of a sleek, olive-skinned serpent, which he wrapped around his arm. With his other hand he held it just behind its narrow head.
“Eww,” Sunny gasped, and fled out the door.
I remained firmly in my seat, grasping Seeley’s hand. My own hands were ice-cold. I could feel the blood throb in my fingertips.
The young man brought the serpent’s head to within a few inches of Seeley’s face. The snake’s mouth opened wide and it was pitch-black inside. Its forked tongue flicked out. I held back from thrusting myself between my cousin and the serpent, biting the inside of my mouth till it bled.
Uwa began a steady murmur in his strange, sibilant language as he passed the snake in a cross pattern over Seeley. An eerie ambience settled in the room. I squeezed Seeley’s hand tighter.
As the serpent was carried to the corners, Seeley began to shake harder and harder until he was convulsing from the top of his head down to his toes and the headboard of the bed beat a violent staccato against the wall. He kicked the sheet from his body and his skinny legs thrashed. I stood and tried to wrap my arms around him to hold him down. I flashed a look back at the doctor. “Is this what he’s supposed—”
The Mirk and Midnight Hour Page 24