Lost Island

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  I broke off for a moment because the scene had returned to me too vividly. Then I went on.

  “Later I repeated her words to my father, but he couldn’t make anything of them. He thought she was wandering. So I forgot about them in all that happened afterwards. But I’m remembering them now. Do they mean anything to you?”

  There was a light in Charles’s eyes. “‘… in the mailing place …’ Yes, it’s possible. We had a secret between us, Kitty and I. There was a place where we used to leave notes for each other. After she ran way from Malvern and the island—because she could not bear to come between her sister and me—I never went back to our mailing place again. Its memories were too painful, and there was no one left to leave notes for me there.” I caught the sound of excitement in his voice.

  “Then do you suppose—?” I began.

  “It’s possible. The evening’s grown too dark now, but tomorrow morning, Lacey, you and I are going on a treasure hunt. It would be strange indeed—yet not, perhaps, unlikely, that the Stede Bonnet brooch has been resting safely in a special hiding place all these years. It’s too bad you didn’t repeat these words to me before this.”

  “They had no meaning. I was only a little girl when I heard them. And there was too much else to think about at the time. My father took over the writing of an answer to your mother, and he made no connection between the words Mother whispered to me when she was dying and that valuable brooch. Two days had elapsed, after all, since he had read her the letter. The subject of the brooch never came up again, until it was mentioned casually the last time I was here. And then just now, with Richard making his accusation.”

  “All the more reason to try to find the answer,” he said.

  I felt the same thing strongly. As I went up to my room, I knew that Elise must be confronted with the truth, and these new fantasies about the brooch must be brought to a halt. Richard was truly believing what his mother had said.

  I’d left my suitcase open on the bed, but I had not yet unpacked my things. Now I began to busy myself, taking my clothes and toilet articles out and putting them away in closets and drawers. At one point an object wrapped in cleansing tissue came into my hand and I looked at it, puzzled. I did not remember wrapping anything in this way when I had packed my bag.

  The thin stuff tore easily as I unwrapped it and stared at the object which lay upon my palm. It was the second brooch from the pirate case downstairs—the less valuable brooch which Charles had put into its place at a time of crisis, and which had been kept there ever since. It lay sparkling in my hand, alive with rhinestones and bits of sapphire and topaz—a pretty thing, but not precious, not valuable beyond redeeming as was the other brooch.

  But why had someone tucked it away among my things? Why had someone hidden it where I would be sure to find it when I unpacked? It was a childish thing to do, and I thought of Richard at once. But an adult could imitate a child—which was what I felt had happened with the sand dollar. Was this a similar prank? Was it all beginning again?

  In any case, I must now show Aunt Amalie what I had found, and let her place it in the proper place downstairs. If there were any conclusions to be drawn, suggestions to be made, I would let her make them.

  I pulled open the door of my room, stepped into the hallway—and met Giles coming up the stairs. There was no warm greeting for me in his eyes this time. I stood quite still letting him come to me.

  “I received your letter,” he said. “There was no time to answer it. You gave me no time to tell you to stay away.”

  “Giles,” I spoke softly, “I’m sorry, but I had to come. They’ve trapped you here. But I’m not trapped. Not yet. I’m still free to move about—and Aunt Amalie thought it best that I come.”

  “It’s not wise to blow everything into the open at this point,” he said. “Elise—”

  “I think it’s already in the open,” I told him. “Floria says a friend of Paul’s has seen us together in New York and drawn conclusions. Aunt Amalie wrote that it might help to stop any gossip if I came now. She wanted me to come.”

  “I imagine you gave her no choice.” His look softened a little. “I remember how you used to be sometimes when you were small. Elise was willful and high-handed. But you could be more stubborn and persistent than anyone I knew. You had to take hold of life with both your hands. What do you think you can do here?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said frankly, and held out my hand with the brooch in it. “Look what someone hid in my suitcase while I was out of my room. What do you make of it?”

  He recognized the brooch at once, but he did not touch it or take it from my hand. “More tricks,” he said. “Who is it feels he must play them on you?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. I’m going to show this to Aunt Amalie now, and see what she thinks about it.”

  He stepped aside to let me pass, and for just an instant I brushed close to him and saw him stiffen. For just an instant I knew we felt the same strong urgency to be in each other’s arms. But that must not be under this roof. Not until many things were cleared up. I hurried to the room that had once belonged to Charles and Marian, and tapped upon the door. When I looked around again, Giles was gone.

  Aunt Amalie called to me to come in and I went into the room. She had changed to a soft, blue-gray hostess gown for dinner—the sort of loose, flowing style that became her. She started to smile at me, and then saw my face.

  “What is it, Lacey?”

  I carried the brooch to her and repeated what I had told Giles.

  She took the pin from my hand and turned it about in her fingers. “I don’t know what to say, or to think. Shall we call Richard and question him?”

  I shook my head. “No—please. I met him outdoors just now, and he’s angry enough with me, as it is. He accused me of keeping the other brooch myself. He told me that his mother thinks I’m a thief and that somehow I have the Bonnet brooch in my possession.”

  Aunt Amalie laid the shining bit of jewelry on her dressing table. “How very foolish! Leave it with me and I’ll put it back where it belongs. Don’t take Richard’s words seriously. He has misinterpreted something that’s been said, and I’ll have to talk with him. It’s true that there’s a mystery about the brooch and its disappearance. It wasn’t like Kitty to take it away and keep it forever. But Elise was only wondering out loud about it. I believe she said that it might be interesting to question you sometime—in case there was something about the brooch that you knew without knowing you knew it.”

  That had really been the case. But I did not put the thought into words. What I had told Charles was now his affair. If he wanted to tell his wife about the possibility of my mother’s words meaning something, that was up to him. I would say nothing.

  “I’m sorry this has disturbed you,” Aunt Amalie said. “Perhaps it’s best if I replace the brooch and we say no more about it.”

  She kissed my cheek, and I embraced her warmly, even though I wasn’t sure whether her counseled action was the best course for me to follow. I would have liked to take the brooch with me to the dinner table and tell everyone what had happened—force some sort of confrontation. Perhaps my son needed a disciplining that his elders were not giving him. But I had to leave everything in Aunt Amalie’s hands. He was not mine to discipline.

  As I left the room, Charles came in the door, and he looked at me questioningly. I gave a slight shake of my head to let him know that I had said nothing to Amalie about our talk concerning the brooch. He caught the glitter of gems on his wife’s dressing table and went to pick up the pin I had found in my suitcase.

  “What is this doing out of the case?” he asked.

  I started to speak, then flung out my hands to Aunt Amalie. “You tell him,” I said, and fled from the room. I’d had enough of that brooch or any other for the moment. I’d had enough of pranks and tormenting from a boy who was my son.

  When I went downstairs I found that I was bracing myself for a meeting with Elise. I
had come here hoping to find some weakness, some chink in her armor that would help me in my purpose. But I had no idea what she knew or suspected. I had no idea how she would receive me.

  When I went into the parlor I found Elise and Floria there, having drinks before dinner. Elise saw me at once and set her glass down carefully.

  “Hello, Lacey,” she said, and her violet-hued eyes were very bright. “Help yourself to something from the cart over there.”

  I had not known whether to expect resentment or disliking from her. Or perhaps the innocent blandness of ignorance. Instead, I saw that she was amused with me. The brightness in her eyes was that of mockery. Elise Severn had no fear of Lacey Ames. She was simply amused that I had come here to face her.

  I poured myself a glass of sherry and sat down a little way off from the other two. Floria was watching us both with that dark, brooding look of hers that told me she approved of neither of us.

  “It’s nice that you’re to spend your vacation with us, Lacey,” Elise said lightly. “This means that you’ll be here for the Camelot ball in about ten days. We’ll have to find you a costume.”

  “Do I have to attend?” I asked, sipping my sherry and watching her uneasily.

  “If you’re here, of course you do,” she told me. “We’re not the same size exactly, but Vinnie can make some alterations, and you can wear one of my gowns from past years. No one will remember. Would you like to be a lady of the court?”

  Our talk seemed unreal. As if I could care about the ball one way or another! But I had to go along with her line of conversation.

  “I’d rather take my old role of the Lily Maid. If we can get her out of her tower, for once.”

  Elise shrugged. “Be what you like. Most of our main roles hold the same from year to year—with guests coming as anybody they please, except that there’s supposed to be only one Arthur and one Guinevere. I have a white gown from two years ago that will do nicely. I was a little slimmer then, and we can lengthen the hem if necessary.”

  I could imagine nothing I wanted less than to join in the frivolity of Elise’s ball, but there was nothing I could do but agree and hope that something would happen so that I could be far away from Sea Oaks by the time it was held.

  The rest of the family began to gather for dinner from various parts of the house. Charles and Amalie came in, and so did Giles and Richard.

  The boy seemed edgy and keyed up, and I wondered if it was because he expected me to say something about what he had hidden in my suitcase. I tried to get him to meet my eyes, but he would not. His shining green gaze slipped away from mine, and I could not pin him down.

  In spite of the fact that Charles still owned Sea Oaks, Elise and Giles sat at each end of the table, with Charles and Amalie seated across from each other, on either side. I fancied this was Elise’s doing. She had not released the reins as mistress of the house, even though her mother had married Giles’s father.

  We were filled with tension at the table that night. Amalie and Elise were carefully polite to each other, but there was pain in her eyes when Aunt Amalie looked at her daughter, and something close to insolence in Elise’s return glance. Their falling out, whatever its cause, had not been healed. Giles was thoroughly uncomfortable. He did not want me there, and my presence put a constraint upon him. I think Elise was aware of this, and further amused by it. She would always be amused by anything which made others suffer.

  Richard watched everyone, and particularly his mother. He seemed to be waiting with an almost unhealthy anticipation for something to happen. Something he held some secret about. Once when I looked at him suddenly, I found him studying me, though his eyes slipped away at once when I tried to catch his gaze and challenge it.

  Floria seemed lost in her own private gloom, and joined very little in the talk. I noticed that Aunt Amalie seemed concerned about her, and that every once in a while she tried to throw some remark in her direction to draw her elder daughter into the conversation. But Floria simply glowered and refused the bait.

  Only Charles, of all of us, seemed comfortable, and at ease. He answered Elise’s banter cheerfully. He smiled at his wife, and tried to ease the tension between her and Elise. He engaged Richard in talk about the horses, and questioned Giles concerning some matter at the plant. When the meal was over he came around the table to speak to me as the others left the room.

  “Tomorrow is Saturday,” he reminded me. “So we may sleep late. But after breakfast you and I must slip away alone for our treasure hunt. I don’t want to open up the subject with everyone until we’ve explored the possibilities. Then there won’t be disappointment if it’s only a false hope we’re raising.”

  “I haven’t even told Aunt Amalie,” I assured him.

  He hesitated as though he meant to say something else, and then let it go. The others had gone into the parlor, leaving us alone, and only Floria found us there and came in to say good night. When she had returned to The Bitterns, I asked Charles the question that had been puzzling me.

  “Why doesn’t Floria marry Paul? She’s been in love with him most of her life.”

  “We all know that,” he said. “Paul knows it too, and he’s in earnest about wanting to marry her now. Perhaps she even represents safety to him.”

  “Then why—?”

  Charles’s pleasant look had vanished. “Because of Elise. All of our troubles seem to stem back to Elise. Floria isn’t sure that Paul has recovered from his old feeling for her sister. It’s no secret that he wanted to marry her at one time. That never worked out, but Floria isn’t sure but that is still what he might want. It’s a foolish, stubborn attitude on her part, but she’s just the sort of woman to decide that she will have all or nothing. Foolish, very foolish.”

  Yes, I thought, thinking of Floria’s mother. Aunt Amalie had not questioned the past. She had known the road to her own happiness and she had not minded that Charles had known other loves.

  We returned to the parlor and I found Aunt Amalie waiting for me. She took me by the hand at once.

  “Come along, Lacey. We’ve some visiting to do. Let’s go into the library.”

  Giles looked up from the papers he was working over, and I saw the cool challenge in his eyes. A challenge directed at me. Be careful, he was saying, not wholly trusting me. But he could not know what lay between Amalie Severn and me.

  Elise laughed lightly. “That will be nice, Mother. I know you’ll enjoy a lovely long visit with Lacey.”

  I think she knew very well what we were going to talk about—and she did not care. Her position seemed frighteningly secure.

  In the library I took a chair facing the long windows, where I could see the two pictures that hung on either side—the picture of the shrimp fleet, and the one of marsh grass burning. They were familiar scenes and spoke to me of the island reassuringly.

  Aunt Amalie sat in a favorite chair she had brought here from The Bitterns—a chair with a delicately carved frame, upholstered in pale gold damask. Her soft gray-blue gown fell in classic lines about her, and her rusty-gray head was held high. She was less beautiful than Elise, but she had a dignity and poise neither of her daughters could match. I always had the feeling that I could draw strength from her strength, and that was what I needed now.

  “I’ve had a little time to think,” she said. “And I know you don’t want to wait any longer for this talk of ours. You’ve set your mind on marrying Giles—and I don’t see how that can be.”

  “There’s Richard,” I said. “There’s what Elise is doing to Richard. Floria wrote me about what happened with Vinnie’s ironing that time, and then how he tried to get even with his father by smashing that bit of driftwood. All without even a reprimand from Elise. If anything, I gather she encouraged him.”

  “The boy’s been high-strung since his illness,” Aunt Amalie said. “Floria bears a grudge against her sister. Perhaps she made too much of what happened.”

  Her words disturbed me. She was too close to what had happene
d to see it objectively.

  “His father disciplined Richard, you know,” she went on. “You must have more confidence in Giles as a father.”

  “What can Giles do, with Elise undermining him on every side? It’s an intolerable situation and one that has to be changed.”

  “By marriage to you? Oh, Lacey dear, don’t you see that you can’t go back on your bargain now? You gave these things up. You did what it was necessary to do when Richard was born. You’ve been brave about it all these years. You can’t go back on that now.”

  I plucked at the arms of my chair. “I gave him up foolishly. I should have fought for him at all costs. But I was too young to know that then. I was too frightened of the consequences, and I thought I was doing what was best for him.”

  She spoke quickly, attempting reassurance. “I’ve watched over him, you know. Richard has never been neglected. Elise is devoted to him in her own way. I think she would never willingly give him up.”

  “Perhaps she would have to give him up to Giles if it could be proved that he is my son.”

  “That would be difficult, wouldn’t it? All the hospital records, the doctor’s records show—”

  “I wasn’t thinking of such records,” I said.

  She put a hand across her eyes and bent her head. For a long moment she was silent. “I see,” she said at last. “I see what it is you want of me.”

  I left my chair and went to stand beside her, touching her shoulder with my hand. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” I said. “You’ve been like a second mother to me after my mother died. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to cause trouble between you and Elise—”

  “There is already trouble between me and Elise,” she said. But she returned the pressure of my hand and drew me close for a moment. “Now then, Lacey dear! You mustn’t coax me like this. You tear me up more than you know.”