The Secret of Mirror House

by Jennifer Blake

  Amelia watched her go, then sat obediently, feeling the cool breeze ripple across her face. She watched the lake, the dancing edges lapping at the moss and time blackened stone steps that fell away in front of her, and her thoughts drifted slowly, as gently as the soft wind that moved through the pines, brushing the pine needles into sighs. Peace flowed over her and a deep content held her pacified. Much of what had happened the night before seemed dreamlike, and in the normality of James's and Katherine's actions and reassurances she felt safe. The incident of Nelville's drunkenness had assumed the character of a nightmare, not quite forgotten, but without its nighttime urgency. She felt vaguely curious about Nelville, wondering how he would act after the night before, and just a little uncertain of how she should act. But, just now, under the influence of the peaceful afternoon, the problem was not enough to bother her.

  She was less calm that evening as she went in to supper, her first meal with the family. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a pool of light on the table and shining down on the people sitting there. Amelia was annoyed with herself as she saw she was the last one to the table, and she vowed silently, as she took her place, that she would find out, some way, the schedule this family kept. It did not seem to be enough to wait until she was called.

  "Evening, Cousin Amelia," James said with a smile.

  "Amelia," Katherine said with a nod, "I don't think you have met your cousin Sylvestor." She indicated the gray-haired man sitting at the head of the table. Amelia smiled and nodded, and without giving her a chance to speak, Katherine asked Sylvestor to say grace, and the meal began.

  It was simple food, good and filling, and very little was said beyond a "pass the bread" and "thank you."

  As the dessert dishes were pushed to one side, Katherine rested her arms on the table and made a temple of her slim fingers, asking in what seemed an accustomed manner, "How does the field work go, Nelville?"

  Without the least sign of annoyance, Nelville answered slowly, "The cotton looks fair so far, but we will have to have rain soon. If not-" he lifted his shoulders expressively. "The kitchen garden is about over. I let the hands have the rest of the corn for the hogs and they promised enough pork for this winter. Another picking of peas should do for them, and the beans could stand picking if you intend them to last until frost."

  "I'll have Bessie get them tomorrow. Are the grapes ripe yet? I'm ready to cook jelly."

  "I suppose. I don't know whether they will be worth fooling with this year. They are mostly knotty shriveled things, what the birds haven't gotten. This dry weather-"

  "Must we go through this every night!" Reba cut across their conversation. "I don't think I have ever heard anything so boring!"

  "You never complained before," Katherine said.

  "I was never quite as tired of it before," Reba said and looked down at her plate as if sorry for the outburst.

  Sylvestor glanced up at her and smiled, a peculiarly sweet smile, then stared out into the night beyond the open doors.

  "There is nothing more to say anyway," Nelville said with an odd glint in his eyes. Then, he looked up at the lamp and frowned in irritation. "Somebody has got to change that lamp to another place. I'm a little tired of eating two-thirds supper and one-third bugs." As if on cue, they all looked up at the lamp with its moths and tiny insects bumping against the clear glass globe and falling dead to the table below. A little pile of dead bodies lay in the clear spot directly beneath the lamp, but an ever-widening ring of them spread into the serving bowls.

  With a grimace, Nelville pushed back his chair and started to rise, but Katherine circumvented his escape by getting up quickly, saying, "Let us all go into the front parlor for a little while. We never have a chance to talk anymore, and I'm sure we all would like to become better acquainted with Cousin Amelia."

  Arrested in motion, Nelville stared at her, then shrugged faintly and followed her lead while the rest came along behind.

  "If we only had a piano, we could sing and it might be like old times," Reba said.

  "It would be nice," Katherine agreed, "but I'm sure we can make do without."

  Amelia followed more slowly after the others, aware of the rather dubious honor that was being bestowed on her, and James, limping beside her, smiled as if in understanding.

  "We might play a few games," Reba suggested gaily.

  "Like cross questions and crooked answers?" Nelville asked in a hollow voice.

  "Don't be a spoilsport, Nelville," Reba said, looking back over her shoulder and laughing. "You know you enjoy games as much as I do."

  "It depends on the players," he said cryptically.

  "Nelville," Katherine said angrily.

  "Oh, I'll be good," he said, though his face was unreadable in the darkened hallway, and his voice did not sound promising.

  Two lamps stood on different tables at the entrance to the front parlor, but still it was dim, the rays of the light absorbed by the dark stretches of the huge room. The bare floors echoed hollow to the sound of their footsteps, and neither their presence nor the feeble light did anything to alleviate the dreary state of the room. The same cold ashes lay caked in the fireplace as had been there the night before, and the same red plush furniture, with the bare worn patches that made it look like a scabrous animal with mange, stood about the room.

  "I really must do something about this room," Katherine said appraisingly, "just as soon as it is humanly possible. I do so hate to see everything going to ruin."

  "There is nothing wrong with the room," James said stiffly. "I find it comfortable."

  "Isn't that just like a man," Katherine said with a quick crooked smile in her sharp blue eyes for Amelia and Reba. "No, we really must throw all this away and get something modern. I've been looking at some advertisements for French reproductions. I would feel positively wicked sitting on a copy of the chaise longue Du Barry had in her apartment; but, I must say that sort of thing is graceful and elegant looking."

  "It would go beautifully with the house," Reba said enthusiastically.

  "No!" James said loudly. "I like it as it is! Just leave it alone." He glared at his sister and then the glare faded and he said, "Please, Katie. Just let me have this one place as my own. I need somewhere to rest and get away from everything."

  "You have your room …" she began. But, as he started to protest, she said, "Oh, very well, if you feel that way." But, as his face smoothed out and he started to smile, she finished, "But, I really must get in here to clean. You can't deny that."

  James hung his head and perched on the edge of the couch, swinging his lame foot and looking as though he would have liked to argue more about it, but desisted for the sake of good manners.

  "Well," Nelville said, going to the brandy decanter that was sitting on the table. He poured a glass for himself. "Shall we converse about the weather? It's damnable. The crops? We have covered that subject. Our health? We are all well. The state of the Union? It survives, barely. I am now open for suggestions."

  "We could play a game," Reba said, undaunted by Nelville's look of comic dismay as he lifted the decanter to fill two more glasses. "We could play 'walk out fair lady' or 'spin the tale.' "

  "Yes, or 'drop the handkerchief,' or 'blindman's bluff.' Relics from your courting days, I presume? But, then you always did like games, didn't you?" he said mockingly.

  "Must you be so hateful?" Reba said wrathfully as she jumped up to face him. She was beautiful in the lamp glow. It softened her features and caught auburn highlights in her long, carefully arranged brown hair. A dress of dark green stuff edged with lace at the bodice gave her an elegance to which her handsome stature and coloring contributed. The anger that burned in her eyes was that of a beautiful woman who felt unappreciated, and as he stood there laughing at her, she stiffened in rage.

  "I believe," Katherine said distinctly, "that if you could spare a drop or two, we ladies might join you gentlemen in a drink, Nelville."

  "Certainly," he answered civilly
and poured the glasses and handed them around as Reba regained her temper and took her seat.

  "I would like to propose a toast, if I may," Katherine said serenely, soothing the troubled air.

  "Ladies do not drink brandy, I was told just recently," Nelville said as Katherine lifted her glass.

  "A true lady does as she pleases without censure," Katherine said, "and adapts herself to changed circumstances. May I continue?"

  Nelville tilted his head in a mock bow and she went on, raising her glass, "To Mirror House. And to our dear little Amelia-may she ever feel as welcome as she is!" She nodded at Amelia and sipped her drink graciously.

  "To the South, and the courageous Confederate Army!" James said grandly.

  "Here, here," Sylvestor said, speaking so calmly that everyone turned, suddenly conscious of his presence.

  "To a ragtag and bobtailed cadre of gallant fools, admittedly brave, but unforgivably stupid," Nelville said softly, draining his glass and setting it down with a dangerous clink. "I believe," he said in the sudden silence, "that a walk would do us more good than this. Who would care to take a stroll down to the lake?"

  "A very good idea," Katherine said a trifle breathlessly, and jumped up with little shooing motions of nervousness to gather the others into the party.

  Propelled by the two strongest wills, the rest headed for the door, and Amelia found herself pushed ahead with Nelville. James and Reba followed and Katherine and Sylvestor brought up the rear.

  It was warm and soft and dark outside, with a sliver of moon lending enough light to see the shapes and bulks and shadows. The sweet scent of honeysuckle drifted on the air that moved, not as a breeze, but as a warm current, heavy as the waving drift deep in the ocean. A few stars sprinkled the sky, pulsating like visible heartbeats of light in the vast and lonely black sweep, and the faraway bark of a dog heightened the loneliness of the dark around them. Behind Amelia, Reba stumbled on the uneven brick path and James caught her arm to steady her. Reba laughed, a warm and intimate sound that pained Amelia with its implications of camaraderie, and though she did not realize why, she winced and turned her head away.

  Beside her, Nelville strode recklessly, unmindful of the uneven path, and his long strides took him toward the road and the woods rather than toward the lake as he had suggested. Amelia tried to match his stride, but he walked too quickly and every now and then she skipped to keep up. But, she did not mind, exactly. She would have liked to run-spinning, whirling, in the curtaining dark to the tune of the sense of glorious life beating within her.

  "Nelville!" Katherine shouted, and they turned to see her straggling far behind with Sylvestor at her side. "You young people go on," she called. The mosquitoes are eating me alive! Sylvestor will take me back!" And with a wave of her hand, she turned away.

  Amelia thought she heard the man at her side chuckle, but when she glanced up at him, his face was obscured by the dark. As he turned toward the opening in the trees, he continued the walk at a much more sedate pace. With his hands pushed into his pockets, he began to whistle softly.

  They walked along under the dark roof of overlapping tree boughs, kicking the deep sand of the road that sparkled whitely in the moonlight. James and Reba murmured to each other behind them, and now and then a light laugh would be heard. Nelville and Amelia were silent. Almost total darkness surrounded them as they followed the road deeper into the woods. Unconsciously, Amelia moved nearer Nelville and slowed so the others could catch up, not that she was frightened, but it seemed the natural thing to proceed more cautiously where she could not see, and where she was unfamiliar.

  "Amelia," Reba said as they came within easy speaking distance, "did you ever hear of the panther ghost of Louisiana?"

  "I don't believe so," Amelia answered dubiously.

  "There was once a young Creole girl whose lover left her for another woman. She turned herself into a panther with the help of juju magic and prowls the dark looking for her lover so she can tear him to pieces." Reba recounted the tale in a hushed voice that was absurdly chilling, since Amelia knew it was meant to be.

  "Panthers have been known to prowl around here, haven't they?" James asked.

  "Yes," Nelville answered with what sounded like reluctance. "The Prudhommes killed one last fall that followed them home from a dance."

  "And, there were wolves not so long ago during a bad winter, and always bobcat, and fox, and in the swamp to the north, wild boar and bears. We are not as civilized as we seem out here," Reba said, and then dropped back as she bent to pour sand out of her shoe.

  Nelville continued walking, and Amelia, after staring hard at Reba whom she suspected of laughing, went on with him instead of waiting for the others. "Do you do much hunting with all this wild game around?" she asked innocently as they strolled along.

  It was a moment before he spoke and his voice sounded compressed, as if he had been laughing to himself. He answered, "Yes, a little-deer, squirrel, birds in the fall. But, nothing like when we were boys."

  "Were you ever lost?" she asked conversationally, not wanting to go back to the strained silence of before.

  "Not really. It wouldn't have been hard, had we lost our heads, but this road curves and turns through these woods for miles, and you will always run into it if you know approximately where you are and which side of the road you're on. Also, the river is only a mile or two south, and once you hit it, you're bound to find help if you follow it. The thing to remember is never to go north. To the north of this road, there is little but swamp and forest land for more than a hundred miles. Oh, you might run into a homesteader shack or a small settlement, but the chances are a thousand to one that you would starve to death first." There was a seriousness, a warning note, in his voice that made Amelia wish she could see his face, for it reminded her of a phrase she thought she remembered him saying. Something about leaving, running away. Then, she dismissed his words as conversation, and to keep up her end, asked, "You have lived here a long time, haven't you?"

  "Since I was seven. My parents died in a yellow fever epidemic. My mother was a distant cousin of the family and she sent me up on the steamboat with Juan Phillipe who was in New Orleans at the time on a buying trip. When they died, I had no one except some cousins up in Kentucky. My father came down the Mississippi in a keelboat and settled in New Orleans after he married my mother. Mother's family felt that she had married beneath herself, and so they weren't too concerned about the keelboater's son. Except Tante Isabella. She had known my mother at the convent school, and since she hadn't been around during the squabble over the marriage, Tante Isabella held no grudges, so I was welcome."

  He stopped abruptly and Amelia glanced up quickly to see Reba pull her hand back, and somehow she felt that, under the cover of darkness, Reba had been motioning to Nelville. She felt chilled and at the same time, a little angry, but she moved on as if she had seen nothing, the words of sympathy she had been about to speak, dead on her lips. She searched her mind for something else to say, but found her mind empty except for a pulse beat of unreasonable agitation. Walking without thinking, she tripped suddenly over a tree root growing into the road and went to one knee. Nelville's hand under her elbow helped her to her feet, but after her murmured thanks he still kept it there, in what Amelia felt was an unnecessarily firm grip. She leaned over to dust the sand from her skirt, leaning a little farther than strictly necessary to break his hold, but he did not let go and she straightened, trying to think how to get her arm back without making too much of it.

  Then, she looked over her shoulder to see if Reba and James had noticed, and they were gone! "Where did they go?" she asked quietly, standing firmly in the middle of the road with one hand free and one arm ridiculously, so she felt, in his grasp.

  "Does it matter?" Nelville asked bluntly.

  "Yes," she answered with difficult calmness.

  "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

  "No, I would not," she answered evenly.

  "But," he
said dropping her arm and withdrawing his dubious protection, "I'm afraid that, strain though it will be, you must." He turned and started back the way they had come.

  She stood still, watching his dark form disappear in the deeper blackness of the wood-dark night. Then, the sound of his footsteps ceased in the soft sand and all was quiet. She was alone in the woods that seemed suddenly filled with menace. Far away, the echo of a night bird's cry drifted on the quiet, and the faint rustling and crackling in the underbrush nearby sounded loud in the empty night. What were they trying to do? Frighten her? They had succeeded, but she certainly didn't intend for them to know it! She held her hands together tightly and listened. There was no sound, but the crisp drift of a leaf falling through the branches. Then, there came a soft tread and the whoosh of something brushing through the underbrush, a repeated sound like the measured stalk of a big cat slinking along. Her heart beating wildly, Amelia stood listening, hearing the sound coming first from one side of the road and then from the other. James and Reba, she wondered. Of course, it had to be, or did it? For all she knew, these woods really were infested with panthers and wolves and bears that might stalk someone. But, that didn't make sense. No one would casually go for a walk in them if they were, would they? No, it was James and Reba, and possibly Nelville, no, probably Nelville.

  Slowly, she began to walk back toward the house, stifling an impulse to run, for even if it was only James and Reba she had no way of knowing what they intended. Perhaps, they did want to frighten her. Everything so far had been so strange that they might even want to hurt her. Something cold in the warm night passed over her body like a chill, some feeling of danger abroad, moving in the dark, stalking her with intelligent intent an inhuman glee. Unconsciously, her footsteps quickened with her thoughts.

  Behind her, in time with her footsteps, the stalkers came faster, rustling louder and crashing through the sage and vines that lined the side of the road. Then, in the middle of the road in front of her, she brushed against something warm and soft, and with a gasp she broke into a run!