At last she stood outside the open door and stared into the shadowed abyss. Not hearing anything, she tiptoed in to stand beside the bed, then froze at what she saw there.
Arlene had been brutally beaten, and a pinkish, blood-tinged froth ringed her partially opened mouth.
For long moments, Rosa could not move. The candle’s wax dripped down to burn her fingers, but she didn’t feel anything but the anger and pity raging within. A constricting lump of horror held back her screams as she reached out to press her fingers to Miz Arlene’s throat to see if she was still breathing.
Then she felt it—a pulse. Weak. But there.
She hurried from the room. No matter that Master Zachary had forbidden Tulwah to come onto his land. No matter that he would probably kill her if he knew she was bringing Tulwah right into the house. Tulwah was the only hope of saving her mistress now.
And when he was through with his white magic, Rosa prayed he would use his black magic on the devil responsible.
Chapter Seventeen
Erin awoke with Ryan’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she could not remember where she was. So many different bedrooms in the past weeks. Then it dawned on her. She was home.
Home.
The word seemed as alien as her surroundings.
She lay there for a moment, marveling once more over the opulent surroundings.
And they were in her bedroom, she thought with smug satisfaction, not his.
They had arrived late the day before, exhausted. She would have liked to go directly to see her mother but knew it was too late and too far. Instead, they had enjoyed a leisurely supper while Annie and Ebner unpacked their things.
Erin had been surprised by how they, along with the other servants, seemed so glad to see them, especially Ryan. Likewise, he greeted them genially. It was certainly different from the atmosphere at Zachary’s house, where fear and anxiety hovered almost all the rime.
She turned her head to look at him as he slept. For one who could be so remote and distant at times, he was certainly warm and passionate when he made love to her. How easy it would be, she thought, there in the still and quiet of the early morning, to give him her heart. Yet she knew that could not happen. Never could she allow herself to be so vulnerable. As he’d said, they each had their own reasons for the marriage. But love had not been one of them.
Carefully, so as not to awaken him, Erin disengaged herself from his embrace. She padded softly to the window and pulled back the curtain only a little way so she could look out at the splendorous view. She could see the river in the distance. In between was the intriguing labyrinth, an intricate pathway of hedges that she judged were nearly ten feet tall.
The entire scene was dramatically beautiful, with the rising sun making the waters dance with crystal droplets of gold and emerald. Selfishly, she couldn’t help wishing they would always have this privacy, the entire estate to themselves. But when Victoria Youngblood returned from Europe, things would change. Now that they were back, her thoughts turned to that inevitable meeting. According to the impression she had got from Aunt Sophia, and Carolyn Manning’s venomous diatribe, it was not destined to be a pleasant encounter.
Ryan’s voice intruded upon her reverie. “If you’ll pull that cord next to you, Ebner will bring our morning coffee.”
“I didn’t mean to awaken you.” She gave the cord a yank and went to put on her robe. She was wearing a sheer gown Ryan had bought for her at the first place they’d shopped, to replace the muslin garb he’d ripped to pieces.
He got up and headed for the door to the parlor that separated their rooms. She could not help but stare at the magnificence of his nude body. His buttocks were perfectly molded, firm, and his thighs rock-hard. He had told her he never slept in a nightshirt, preferring the freedom of sleeping bare. He coaxed her to do the same, but she refused. Once their passion cooled, the wall between them always sprang back, and she was uncomfortable then to be unclothed.
“Tell Ebner we’ll have breakfast downstairs. The usual for me.”
Erin quickly reminded him, “I’d like to visit my mother today.”
“Of course. After lunch. This morning I’m going to show you around the grounds. It’s time you familiarized yourself.”
He stood there, naked, in the middle of the parlor, and she was amazed at his nonchalance.
He went on to say he’d noticed her fascination with the labyrinth. “I’ll take you through it. Unless you know the way, you can get lost. So don’t ever try to hide from me in there,” he added with a wink before continuing toward his quarters.
She was surprised by his good humor. The past few days, he had seemed to be withdrawing from her more and more, and while she didn’t like the coldness between them, she had no idea what to do about it and was too proud to try. But, perhaps, she could hope being back home would cause him to behave differently.
As they were having a last cup of coffee after breakfast, a woman servant Erin had not seen before appeared to stand almost imperiously next to her. She was wearing the familiar gray dress with long white apron, but, unlike the others, she wore a white turban on her head. She did not speak, merely stood there holding some kind of paper in her hand.
They were in the breakfast nook, glassed on one side for the glorious view of the gardens, sunshine pouring in on baskets of colorful petunias and geraniums that hung from the ceiling. It was a cozy place, and Erin had been enjoying herself till the strange-acting woman appeared. She looked at Ryan, not knowing how to react. The woman seemed to want something.
“This is Eliza,” he said without flourish. “I guess she’s second in command after my mother around here, as far as the servants go. She wants to go over the lunch and supper menu with you.”
Erin took the paper, glanced over it, and handed it back with a timorous smile and said it was fine. There was just something about the woman that was intimidating. She said as much to Ryan when Eliza had gone.
He explained, “She’s very loyal to my mother. She came here with her when mother married my father. No doubt she resents you, thinks you’re going to take over. When Mother comes back, she’ll realize nothing has changed, and she’ll be all right. Don’t worry about her.”
Erin frowned, but he didn’t notice. So! He felt nothing had changed around here. He was married, had redecorated his mother’s suite, moved her in, his mother’s favorite servant resented her, and he naively felt things were the same. Oh, he had much to learn, and it was going to be a challenge to make him realize it.
On horseback, he gave her a tour of the estate that took nearly three hours. The weather was cool, a definite hint of fall in the air, and the day was pleasant. Erin enjoyed it all and was thoroughly impressed, particularly with the way the slaves were provided for. They had their own compound, of course, but it was like a small village. There was even a clinic, which Ryan said was visited one day a week by a white doctor he paid to care for “his people,” as he called his slaves. All of them seemed fit and wore adequate clothing. They did not glance away in fear as did the poor slaves on her stepfather’s plantation. She was also impressed to see his overseers carried neither whips nor guns.
They left their horses at the stable and walked to the labyrinth. As they did so, he casually explained how it came to be. “My grandmother had it made for my grandfather as a joke. He told me how she would tease him about his sneaking off to the river to launch a boat and slip away to go fishing without telling her. She decided to make it difficult for him to get to the little pier he’d built. So she had some of the field hands plant hedges. It was done in jest, with no hard feelings, but after it was over with, my grandfather really liked the idea of a labyrinth to make the way a bit mysterious. He made it even more elaborate. Now it’s so gigantic that only I, and the sons of the men who originally planted it and who keep it trimmed, know how to get through it. Otherwise you need a map, and I keep that locked in my desk drawer.”
“Why?” she wanted to know at once.
“What’s the reason for the secret?”
“My grandfather said it could be used as an escape route, if need be, if the British attacked by land. You see, the river bends there, and it’s a perfect place to take out a boat. Any other way to the bank means taking a long way around the labyrinth. If there’s ever a reason to leave Jasmine Hill in a hurry, the quickest way is through it. I keep it a secret more out of tradition than anything else.”
Feeling like an outsider again, she asked stiffly, “Don’t you want your wife to know about the escape route?”
His lips were smiling but his eyes were cold as he told her in feigned jest, “No. She might be trying to escape from me.”
She felt a chill of apprehension. It was almost as though he was waiting for her to do something to justify his suspicions.
He motioned her to follow and went on to explain, “Actually, it’s just a novelty, something to amuse guests now and then. We’ve had summer garden parties when the more adventuresome would divide up into teams and see which one could make it through the fastest. No one ever succeeds. I always have to go in after them. The gardeners’ sons take pride in keeping it up.
“If my mother had her way,” he added, sounding annoyed, “it would be plowed up. She thinks it’s garish and silly.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Erin said, and meant it, staring all around in awe at the neatly clipped shrubs. It was like being in a never-ending tunnel of green, but after only a little while she became dizzy, lost in the maze. Ryan knew exactly which turn to take and kept on going, with her close on his heels.
In less than five minutes, they reached a huge grass-covered clearing in the middle. There was a bench and a large birdbath.
“It’s a park,” Erin cried, delighted.
“I’ve had very few people even get this far, and if they do, it takes them over half an hour. Sometimes longer.”
They rested a moment, then continued on to the river in the same length of time they’d reached the center.
As they stood on the pier, shrouded from view on either side by water oaks, cypress, and bamboo, as well as weeping willows on the bank, Ryan was moved to confide a story from his youth. “I was just fourteen and thought I was a real man of the world. I fell in love with an older woman of sixteen, the poor daughter of a fisherman. Naturally my mother was against it and put her foot down, said I couldn’t see her. When I started slipping off in the woods to meet her, she had some of the stableboys follow me. So I just took her to the center of the labyrinth. They didn’t dare try to go in after me. We had all the privacy we needed.”
She readily agreed. “Yes, it’d be the perfect place to meet a lover, all right.” Then she saw the strange way he was looking at her and was instantly struck with a flash of resentment. First, Eliza had made her feel anything but welcome in her new home, and then he had brushed over it as though it were nothing. He had let her know he wasn’t about to share the labyrinth secret with her, and now he was making her feel defensive. Unable to hold back any longer, she exploded to demand, “Ryan, just what is wrong with you? You make me feel guilty when I haven’t done anything.”
“See that you don’t,” he replied calmly, “and you’ve nothing to worry about. Let’s go. Annie can ride with you to visit your mother. I’ve got business in town, and I don’t want you out by yourself.”
They walked back without speaking. Ryan ground his teeth together to keep from saying he didn’t mean to be so brusque. But damn it, the painful memories were like lockjaw, preventing him from speaking his heart. Simone had not been his to lose. But Erin was his wife; she belonged to him, and he intended to keep it that way, especially since she meant more to him with each passing day.
On the carriage ride, Annie sat across from Erin, mesmerized by the passing scenery. She did not offer to make conversation, which, Erin supposed, probably wasn’t considered proper. Curious, she asked, “Doesn’t Mrs. Youngblood allow you to talk on trips, Annie?”
“Ain’t never been on one with her,” she answered soberly, not turning her gaze from the window. “Eliza, she’s always the one to travel with Miz Victoria. She’s mad ’cause she didn’t get to go across the ocean with her, but Miz Ermine, she always takes two slaves with her everywhere she goes, and Miz Victoria said one of them could do her biddin’.”
“Do you like Eliza? She seems a bit unfriendly to me.”
At that, Annie did turn to look at her. “You asked me,” she said, her expression one of bitterness and resentment, “so I reckon I can speak my mind. I don’t like her at all. She thinks she’s better’n any of the rest of us, ’cause she’s been workin’ in the big house longer’n anybody else. She sleeps there, you know, in a little room at the back, in case Miz Victoria needs her durin’ the night. She don’t have no cabin of her own. And all of us, we don’t care. We don’t want her around anyway, ’cause she tells everything she knows. That’s how Miz Victoria always knows everything that’s goin’ on.”
Since she seemed so willing to gossip, Erin pressed, “Tell me something. How do you think Miss Victoria will react when she comes home and finds out Master Ryan got married while she was away?”
Annie pursed her lips, held back a giggle, then confided, “Well, since you want to know, I’ll tell you that everyone is sayin’ that’s gonna be some blowup. Miz Victoria, she had her mind made up Mastah Ryan was gonna marry Miz Ermine. She ain’t gonna like it one little bit.”
“What’s she like?”
At that, Annie’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head firmly and declined. “I don’t reckon that would be rightly proper for me to say.”
“Not even if I asked you?” Erin gently prodded.
“No’m. I’ll just say I like you a lot better.” She flashed a toothy grin and settled back to enjoy the ride. “I sho’ hope you make me your special slave, Miz Erin.”
“Servant,” Erin was quick to correct. “Say servant, or handmaiden. Anything but slave. I despise that word.”
Annie looked at her, bemused, nodded her head, and made no comment.
Erin directed the driver to stop the carriage at the stable, as it was only a short walk to the back door from there. She was happy to see Ben coming out to meet them—until she saw his face. “God, Ben!” She leaped to the ground, not waiting for the groom to help her alight. “What happened to your face?” It was swollen, discolored, and a gash on one side had been sewn shut with boiled horsehairs, probably the work of Tulwah.
“I fell down,” he mumbled, grasping a harness to hold the horses steady as Annie scrambled out of the carriage behind her mistress.
Erin went to stand beside him and take a closer look. He tried to turn his head, but she caught his chin, held him, and examined it. “That’s a nasty cut.” She released him. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. That wound looks as if it was made by somebody.”
“I fell down,” he repeated, almost sullenly.
“Ben, I know something is wrong.” She could see other stable workers stealing glances in their direction. “You’ve got to tell me. Is there news of Letty?”
At that, he seemed to brighten, defiance glimmering, then said so low she had to strain to hear him, “The mastah is back.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“And Letty? Did they find her?”
He shook his head, then turned to lead the horses to the hitching rail. He did not dare say more and was afraid even to be seen talking to her at all.
Erin lifted her skirts above her ankles and took off for the house. Tension was like a smothering fog. She could feel it.
Rosa was sitting at the table, peeling potatoes, and at the sight of Erin, her eyes grew wide with fear, and she instinctively glanced about the empty room to make sure they were alone.
“I understand Zachary is back, and that he didn’t find Letty,” Erin said in greeting. “What happened to Ben’s face?”
Rosa ducked her head and went back to what she had been doing. “He fell.”
“I don’t believe that, but we’ll talk about it later. How’s my mother?”
Rosa mumbled, “She had a bad spell a few days ago. She’s been doin’ poorly ever since. She don’t get out of bed.”
Stricken with worry, Erin turned to go to her but felt the need to try and lift Rosa’s mood. Never had she seen her so depressed. “I was in Philadelphia,” she quickly told her, “and I talked to a preacher at a church that helps runaways, and—”
“No,” Rosa cried, looking up at her then, terror etched in every line of her dark face. Wildly, she shook her head from side to side and protested, “I can’t listen to that kind of talk. Not no more. I don’t dare. I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’. She’s gone. Let her be gone.”
For a moment, Erin could only stand there and look at Rosa, completely dumbfounded by her reaction. She was nearly hysterical. Where was the secret spirit that always managed to surface? The woman was petrified. Moving around the table, Erin knelt beside her, saw how her lips were trembling, the way she was fighting to hold back tears. “Listen to me, Rosa. I’m back now, and I’m going to help my mother, and you, and the others, just as soon as I can work things out. But I want you to know that if Letty does reach Philadelphia, she’ll no doubt contact a group that stays in touch with that church. Runaways know to do that. I gave the preacher some money to get her to Africa, where there are colonies to help freed slaves and the ones like Letty make a new life. She’ll be safe. The bounty hunters will never find her. And you can go to her too, if you want to. And Ben. But meanwhile, I’ve got some money for you to give to Mahalia.” She reached into the bodice of her dress and withdrew the bills she had slipped out of Ryan’s wallet. Later, she would think of a reason to give him, so he wouldn’t think she was just stealing from him.
Rosa stared at the money in Erin’s hand as though it were an ugly spider about to pounce. Getting to her feet so quickly the chair almost tipped over, she backed away, head whipping from side to side. She drew a steadying breath and nervously rubbed her hands against the sides of her skirt and whispered, “No, Miz Erin. I ain’t takin’ that money. I can’t be involved with Mahalia, or the Free Soilers, no more. Things has changed. Mastah Zachary, he came back a crazy man. He says ain’t no slave ever gonna run away from here again. He says he’ll kill anybody who tries, and if he finds out any of us here is workin’ with the Free Soilers, he’s gonna kill us, too. I tell you, that man is the devil himself.”
Midnight Rose Page 21