He said nothing. He neither agreed nor disagreed. He simply held my hands and let me draw strength from his strong clasp. When the bubbling stopped he went to pour us each a cup of black coffee. I sipped mine gratefully and felt my shivering lessen. But there was a great weariness in me, a helplessness because I lacked the strength to struggle any longer against Theo’s ingenious methods of torment.
“She’ll stop at nothing to get rid of me,” I said between gulps of hot coffee. “And I’m not strong enough to go on fighting her forever. Fighting them all. Perhaps it’s time to give up and go away.”
“Don’t go away,” he said. “Stop fighting them, but don’t go away. You’re winning Peter back. Isn’t that what matters?”
I finished the coffee and set my cup on the table. “I don’t know what matters any more. I’m frightened and confused. Who is doing this to me?”
“We’re always more confused and discouraged when it’s nighttime. And you know who is behind it.”
“Yes—Theo. But who is her surrogate? Right now I feel beaten by a dreadful night and by all those accusations Theo made. Though of course you don’t know about them.”
“I know. She talked of nothing else at dinner.”
“What did Joel say? Did he believe her too? Because if he did, between them they’ll have the power to send me back to that place.”
There was pity in Bruce’s eyes. “I don’t know. But look, Christy, you’re not alone here. For whatever it’s worth, I’m with you. I spoke up pretty sharply at dinner. They all glowered at me because that isn’t what Theo wants.”
His words brought me a certain reassurance. I had been so terribly alone and now, somehow, I wasn’t. I didn’t think he or anyone else could really stand up to Theo’s machinations, but it was something for him to offer. A thought came into my mind that I hadn’t considered till now. A question.
“Why were you out in the storm at this hour? Were you over at Redstones?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been there, waiting, for some hours. If anyone came, if anyone lighted a candle, I wanted to know who it was.”
“And did you find anyone?”
“No. Nothing stirred in the whole house except mice and the usual creakings in an old place.”
“It’s lucky for me that you were coming across just when you were. Thank you for rescuing me. I think I’ll go back to bed now.” I sounded stiff to my own ears, but I had been so recently in his arms, letting myself go, and I had no knowledge that he really wanted me there. He had offered me protection and comfort. As anyone would, but I was still alone as I came to my senses.
I picked up my father’s jacket, but before I could leave, Bruce stopped me and there was a sudden lighting in his eyes.
“No, Christy. Don’t go yet. Do you realize that the night is nearly over? It’s already dawn and in a few minutes the sun will be coming up. The storm has blown away, and you mustn’t miss sunrise over Lands End. Are you warm now? Can you stay up a little longer?”
I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my father’s jacket and pulled its comforting bulk around me.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’d love to see the sun come up.”
I took the hand he held out to me and he led the way to a side door. We went out into a dripping wet world and I saw that the sky had lightened in the east.
The grass was wet as we ran across it and so were the stones of the wall beside the Cliff Walk as Bruce helped me over. We went to stand where the rocks began, with the white froth of waves breaking beneath. The ocean was still angry after the storm and it boiled and chopped against the rocky barrier, sending its spray nearly high enough to reach us. There were still clouds low on the horizon to catch the tints and the sky was turning a glorious azalea color, with a fury of black clouds still scudding by overhead.
Bruce put his arm about me and I stood close to him, asking nothing more than this moment as the sun came up, turning the sky rosy gold over the water, gliding a path straight to our feet. I looked up at Bruce and saw the brightness of the sun in his eyes. He bent his head and kissed me and I gave myself to the caress. This was what I needed, what I had not dared to face or accept in myself.
“Christy,” he said, “Christy,” and put his face against my hair.
I clung to him until he held me gently away.
“We’ll go back now,” he said. “I haven’t wanted this to happen. I thought I was resisting it. It wasn’t in my plan to love you.”
“Plan?” I echoed.
He started toward the house and I went with him, that single word echoing in my mind. He did not answer until we were over the wall and crossing the wet grass, with the brightening world at our backs. When he spoke there was a harsh note in his voice that troubled me.
“Exactly,” he said. “Plan. Theodora Moreland’s plan to break up your marriage. I was to be the instrument.”
I looked up at him with swimming eyes. So this was why Theo had said those things to Joel. She had meant this all along. She had even involved Bruce, and now I was truly frightened. I didn’t want this comforting moment to slip away and be lost forever in the acting out of a lie.
But Bruce was speaking again. “I told her I wouldn’t go along and she got a bit threatening—which I don’t like. It’s possible to work for other news chains. After I met you and saw the way you’ve become since you left the hospital, I was all the more anxious not to see you hurt in any way. I don’t want to hurt you now.”
So perhaps he had not acted a lie. Perhaps he had kissed me because he wanted to. He was like my father, I thought. He would stand up to Theo. He would do only what he chose to do.
“I’m not hurt,” I said. “I’m happy. For this little moment I’m happy.”
“I don’t know what the answers are,” Bruce said. “I don’t know what to do about you. Perhaps I’d better tell Theo where to get off. I’d better cut and run—go back to New York.”
“I can’t bear it if you go away,” I said. “Not until I can leave. You’re my only friend here, and I can’t leave yet. You have to understand that. I was only speaking out of fear a little while ago when I said I must go away.”
“I do understand. But I don’t think it’s sensible if you have to go on as you’ve started. There’s too much working against you here. Some of it’s silly, and some of it could be dangerous. It depends on how aroused Theo gets, how much of a threat she considers you.”
This past night had been dangerous, I thought. The threat had been real. I looked at Bruce as we neared the house and I wanted to be in his arms again. But it was bright daylight outside and all the windows of Spindrift seemed to be watching us. It was better not to bait the house.
“A little while ago I was nearly ready to give up,” I said. “Nearly beaten. But you were right—that was partly night vapors and the fright I’d had. Besides, I haven’t shaken off all the fumes of that drug, whatever it was. But I’ve got back my courage. I’ll stay now and see this through.”
“On one hand, I’m sorry,” he said as we went through the door. “But on the other, I’ll always salute courage. A brave woman is my kind of woman.”
We did not touch each other again, even though no one stirred in the downstairs rooms. I think we were both a little afraid of what might happen if we gave in to the longing for one more embrace. All the problems were still there between us. Joel and I were ready to part, but whether I could leave him I didn’t know. Because of Peter. Always because of Peter. Too many battles still lay ahead of me. I would need my vaunted courage.
Bruce let me go upstairs alone, so that we wouldn’t be seen coming in together, but I didn’t go straight to my room. Early as it was, there was something I had to know. I went to tap on Fiona’s door.
“It’s Christy,” I said softly. “I want to see you, Fiona.”
I heard her bed creak, heard her moan as she tried to rouse herself. Then she called to me weakly to come in.
I went into the room still wearing my father’s j
acket and she stared at me with something like horror in her eyes. I stood beside her bed relentlessly.
“Did you come to my room wearing this last night? Did you run ahead of me down the stairs, knowing I’d be dizzy with whatever drug it was Theo gave me with my supper? Did you know I’d follow you?”
She seemed too startled by my presence to speak. I bent over her, took her shoulder in my hand and shook her.
“Wake up, Fiona. Wake up and tell me the truth. Was it you down in the ballroom?”
She pushed my hand away and sat up in bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I took a sleeping pill myself and I’d still be asleep if you hadn’t wakened me.”
“How did this get out of your possession?” I said, slipping out of Adam’s jacket and holding it up before her.
“I don’t know. I had it packed away in Adam’s suitcase in my closet.”
“And you didn’t put it on and go to my room? You didn’t try to fool me into thinking Adam was calling me?”
“Of course not, Christy. I—I’ve done some things, but not that.”
“Then who do you think did?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know at all.”
“You didn’t hear them plotting, working out this scheme to terrify me?”
She squirmed under the covers and tried to slide down beneath them. “I don’t know anything about it, Christy.”
I thought she did. But there would be no way to get the truth out of her, and I gave up, throwing the jacket over any arm.
“I’m going to keep this,” I said. “Maybe it means more to me than it does to you.”
As I walked to the door she was silent and I didn’t look back at her. When I reached my room I hung up Adam’s jacket among my clothes. It would be good to have it there to comfort me. Then I stood for a moment looking down at the disturbed blankets and sheets I had tossed aside last night. I could remember all too well my sense of conviction as I’d followed that lure to the stairway. I had really believed I was following my father. But that had been the drug they’d given me. I wasn’t confused any longer. I hadn’t fallen into the trap of believing in my own madness—which was undoubtedly what Theo wanted. Joel had brought me that tray. He had handed me the cup of bitter chocolate. Had he known what his mother was doing? Could it have been he who had worn that jacket? But no—the Joel I’d known would never have done a thing like that. And he had seemed scornful about my possible interest in Bruce. Hurt, perhaps?
Weariness enveloped me suddenly—and a terrible sense of hopelessness that I had been able to shake off for a little while when I was with Bruce. This time I undressed properly and put on my nightgown. Then I got into bed knowing that all I wanted for the moment was to sleep.
I tried to put away all terrifying remembrance, and think only of Bruce—of his arms about me and his kiss on my mouth. But the belief I’d felt so strongly while he held me was already fading. Now, in the loneliness of my bed, I could no longer be sure of what I felt for him. To love so quickly—that was too easy. It might not be real for either of us. Love was something that grew with intimacy and knowledge. And it was something that declined. I turned my face against my pillow and cried myself to sleep.
I must have slept for several hours and then only a knocking on my door awakened me. Drowsily I called, “Come in.”
To my surprise, it was Miss Crawford and she was looking thoroughly flustered and not at all her self-possessed self.
“Is Peter with you, Mrs. Moreland?” she asked.
I sat up at once. “No, of course not. I won’t take him again without letting you know. What’s happened?”
“He’s slipped away from me.” She was practically wringing her hands. “I left him for only a few moments and he was deep in a book, so I never thought he’d go out. But he’s vanished completely.”
“Is he with his grandmother?”
“No. I went to her rooms and he’s not there. I—I didn’t tell her I couldn’t find him. I wanted to check with you first. His outdoor things are gone, so I thought you might have taken him out.”
I was already reaching for my clothes. “Don’t worry. I think I know where he may have gone. I’ll get dressed and go look for him. You needn’t say anything to anyone till I get back.”
She gave me a look of gratitude and scurried away. Poor thing. She probably knew her fate at Theo’s hands if Peter’s grandmother found out that he had slipped from her care.
I splashed water on my face and once more got into slacks and a sweater. Then I left my room and hurried down the hall. A maid asked if I wanted breakfast brought upstairs and I told her, “No,” but I saw no one else.
A bright sun overhead had dried the grass, though some of the trees still glistened with rain from last night. I ran across the lawns to Redstones and went around to the front gate. It was locked, but the scrolls and grillwork of wrought iron gave me hand- and footholds and I climbed over it as Peter could have done. I ran up the drive to the front steps and from the balcony columns the two gargoyle faces grinned at me evilly. The front door too was locked and I walked around the yard past the tumbled urn until I found a basement window I could get through. It had been left ajar, so perhaps Peter had been there ahead of me.
It was not difficult to squeeze my body through the opening, though I snagged my sweater. Uncertainly I felt for some foothold, but there seemed to be none, and I let myself drop to the floor. My legs went out from under me as I landed and I sprawled on the gritty cement, but I was not hurt and I jumped up at once and began to look around.
The basement was a dank, musty place, crowded with furnace, washtubs, old refrigerators, water tanks and other bulky objects discarded from the floors above. Very little light seeped through the few dirty panes of high windows, and the place seemed oppressive in its silence. I didn’t think Peter was down here. Where the back stairs were, I didn’t know, but I disliked the idea of wandering through the darkness of an expanse of basement that ran beneath this entire monster of a house.
Before I moved away from the window, however, I tried calling Peter’s name, just to make sure. My shouting sounded eerie in this dim, echoing place, and there was no answer, and I didn’t really expect one.
Within a few steps from the window I was lost amid the clutter of generations. Cobwebs streaked clammy strands across my face and once there was a skittering at my feet that made me step back hurriedly. I wasn’t going to take fright over a mouse, but there might be rats in a place like this. I must find the stairs quickly.
As I stumbled about, the heavy dusk of the huge area began to seem like a palpable threat, impeding and smothering me. The stale, unaired smell made it hard to draw a deep breath, and now and then I stood very still, listening. For the first time I wondered if Miss Crawford’s plea for help had been genuine. What if this were another trap? What a good idea to coax me over to Redstones where no one would hear me even if I screamed, and where I would be at the mercy of anyone who might be hunting me.
But I shook off the thought determinedly. Crawford had been upset and concerned. I doubted if she was that good an actress to convince me otherwise. And besides, no one could know that this was the place I would come to first to look for my son if he had run off on his own.
I found the stairs by banging into the side of them in a dark corner and bumping my knees. The door at the top was closed, but I ran up to it and found it unlocked. Once through the door, I was in a narrow hallway off the kitchen at the back of the house. I followed it to the main dining room, hurried through the smaller morning room and a library with nearly empty shelves, then into a wider hall. This crossed to the big drawing room where we’d been the other day. Now I knew my way and I began to call again for Peter.
My voice rang startlingly loud in the emptiness and echoes threw it back to me as though in mockery. I found my way to the front entry hall that Theo had put down as being inferior to Spindrift’s. The partial suit of armor that had intrigued Peter still stood guard, and the thr
eadbare hunt scene of the tapestry looked down from the high stairwell with its bounding hounds and fleeting deer.
There was no answer to my calls, but at least it was not as dark up here in the main part of the house. While windows were mostly shuttered and doors closed, sunlight had a way of trickling through any crack, and shadowy though it was, I could at least see my way.
I didn’t call again until I’d mounted the first flight of stairs to the second floor. Then I set the echoes ringing once more with my son’s name. There was no answer at all. Of course he might be hiding. He could know very well that I was looking for him and mischievously keep his presence secret. I was still convinced that he was here somewhere at Redstones. If he had run away from supervision, this was the most likely place for him to come.
But bedroom after bedroom stood empty. When I reached the small room where we had found the candle, I looked in the closet and saw the flight bag had not been disturbed. I opened it and took out the flashlight. There might well be some need for it in my search.
On up the flight of stairs to the third floor I went. I had never been up here before beneath the eaves of the house. Redstones was not as large a place as Spindrift, but it was still a castle compared with modern houses, and there was room after room to look into. Most were bedrooms on this floor, smaller rooms, which had undoubtedly belonged to the servants in those great days of entertaining which Newport had once known, when an army of live-in help was the pattern. But there was nothing here, of any interest, and no small boy sprang out in a delighted attempt to frighten me. My calls brought no answer and while I disliked the clamor they aroused in the emptiness, the stillness when I was silent was even worse. At least I needn’t fear a trap. If there had been one it would have been sprung before this.
I went back to the head of the third-floor stairs and stood listening. It was darker here in the hall than in the rooms, where daylight shone between shutter slats, and I turned my flashlight upon the steps. They dropped away from my feet more steeply than the stairs to the lower floor, carpetless and scuffed. I must go down them carefully. It wouldn’t do to fall and break something in this lonely spot. No one might come to my help for days. The fear of falling prompted a frightening thought.
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