"You will help me persuade Nelville? You would like to go with us, wouldn't you?" Mary Louise questioned anxiously.
"Yes," she answered, "but why not wait? Perhaps, we could sell Mirror House and use the money to build again, to start a western plantation. If it belongs to me, it's mine to sell, isn't it? Perhaps Katherine and Sylvestor would buy it from me." It seemed a wonderful solution, this sudden idea of hers.
"No, no, you do not understand. What would they buy it with? Everyone knows Nelville is all that is keeping the thing together. On top of that, old houses are cheap and run-down land is plentiful these days. Don't you see that it is not worth it, and that every moment we stay here is a moment of danger!"
"If you say so." Amelia abandoned the idea without too much reluctance. "But, how am I supposed to help you with Nelville? Why should he listen to me?"
"You are young and pretty, do not underestimate that. Why should he not listen to you? Your grandfather listened to me."
"Yes, but you had … you were …" she trailed off, embarrassed.
"You mean I had love and affection on my side, that I was his mistress? I suppose you could say that, but I never used my position as a weapon, precisely," she said, stopping her pacing and smiling at Amelia with remembering eyes that were completely unembarrassed.
They both turned quickly as a faint scraping sound came from the front gallery, but when it was not repeated Amelia said, "But, what makes you think Nelville will go away with us? Katherine counts him as one of them, a member of the family."
"That is true, but I can only believe in him as I know him. If events should prove me wrong, Amelia dear, I think that would be too much for me. I feel so tired. This is such a strain. We must get away. Talk to Nelville, won't you? It is so very important, I can feel it."
"Of course I will," Amelia promised, following her to the door. "I'm sure we can do it." But, after saying goodnight softly and closing the door, she leaned against the wall, not at all sure.
But, a slow exhilaration rose in her veins, and totally unable to sleep, she went from window to window, watching the blinking light of the heat lightning, smelling the sulphurous, heavy, night air, filled with hopes and fears and dreams, all equally without foundation.
On sudden impulse, she left her room and went out into the hall. The open doors onto the gallery beckoned in wide squares of gray darkness, but she hesitated. Suppose there really was some danger? Her skin prickled, and driven by her self-respect to overcome such girlish fears, she took a deep breath and walked outside.
On the gallery her senses were assailed by the night, the smells of the brewing storm, the sounds muted as if in appreciation of the unsettled elements, of frogs and insects and the faraway call of a solitary whippoorwill. Thunder no longer lent its bass to the music, but the gentle incessant throb of heat lightning in the far horizon gave an eerie feeling of unreality, as if the night could suddenly burst into full daylight if only the lightning could gather the strength.
Nothing moved in the windless dark. The leaves hung motionless on the magnolia tree that overhung the gallery, waiting in the hopeless dejection for the bathing rain to wash away the dust. The very air seemed thick and heavy, graceless and hard to breathe, warm to the skin. But, still it was better outside than in. There was more freedom and an illusion of freshness and the peace of the night to quiet her troubled mind.
Amelia walked to the railing and sat down on it, watching the part of the horizon to the west where the lightning came most often, and waving idly at the mosquito that whined near her face. In a minute, she saw that sitting outside for. very long would be an impossibility, for the one mosquito became a voracious herd as she brushed against the limbs of the magnolia tree, disturbing the mosquitos resting under the leaves. She wiped their fine little bodies off her arms.
As she started to move away, a swooping black patch of shadow loomed from behind the peacock chair and rushed at her. Seeing the movement with the corner of her eye and hearing the scraping of footsteps on the canvas-floored porch, she started violently; then, a jarring blow struck her shoulder and she pitched over the railing!
As she fell something struck her side and back, sending showers of orange sparks before her eyes, and with a rattling of falling leaves, she hit the ground. She lay still, gasping for breath, a kaleidoscope of bright sparks, orange and yellow, whirling in the gray before her eyes. Her back hurt with a throbbing ache, and her head throbbed also in time with her racing heart. But, she was alive. The quietly gathering darkness thickened and she fainted.
"Sweet Amelia," said the quiet voice that brought her back to consciousness, "have I failed in my self-appointed task and sold your life for duty to a child? Where now is my honor, my much vaunted honor?"
She opened her eyes slowly, a flood of tears rising in them, and she saw the dark figure of a man. She recognized Nelville by his voice and words. Despair, such as she had never dreamed inhabited the earth, settled over her as she wondered how much longer he would allow her to live. Her body felt bruised, disjointed, as if she couldn't move even if she tried, and glancing down, she saw the scattering of magnolia leaves, dark against her white dressing gown. The tree that hemmed her in had broken her fall.
Tears slid out of the corner of her eyes and into her hair, tears of hurt and pain and self-pity-and lost hopes and a strange anguish that squeezed her heart into a knot of pain. They sparkled on her lashes and Nelville, bending close over her, saw them shining in her eyes and slid his arms carefully beneath her. Gently he lifted her from the ground, and as if carrying an infinitely precious burden, went around the gallery and into the house.
On the stairs, he met James and Katherine and his eyebrows rose slightly. "What is it? What happened?" they asked almost together, but Nelville brushed past them on up the stairs. He entered Amelia's room and laid her on the bed so carefully that she hardly knew when he took his arms away.
Tentatively, she smiled at him as he stared down at her, a perilous hope moving in her mind against a lingering doubt. Could he have pushed her and then treated her with so much gentleness? It was so hard to tell. But, where had he come from so quickly and so fortunately? Slowly, she allowed her eyes to close, overcome with a vast and unfocused weariness. She heard Katherine come in and whisper questions at Nelville, heard him say in a hard voice, "I haven't the slightest notion," and then his footsteps crossing the room with wide, angry sounding strides, and then the door slamming behind him.
"Do you feel all right, dear?" Katherine asked, approaching the bed. "Do you hurt anywhere? You haven't taken permanent injury, have you?"
Dumbly, Amelia shook her head. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and yet, remembering the swooping shadow and shove before she fell, she was afraid to be alone. Who had pushed her? Someone in this house, perhaps Katherine herself. There were only enemies in the house. No one to trust, all of them enemies, mocking her, unwilling to share their home with her without strings, without conditions. There was no acceptance of her, only danger and evil spite.
She felt the bed give as Katherine sat down beside her and caught her hand. "Here, drink this," she said softly, "some of Bessie's cordial. I brought it up for myself, but you need it more. It's very good for helping you sleep, getting rid of little aches and pains."
Amelia sat up in bed, took the glass with hands that trembled slightly, and sipped a little. It was sweet yet sour and slightly bitter, not too unpleasant, with a vague reminder of blackberries.
"Drink it down so I can help you off with your robe," Katherine said. Amelia allowed her to remove the soiled robe and felt grateful in a fuzzy way for her help in removing twigs and leaves and dirt from her hair; but, still, at the back of her mind, she resented her presence.
Feeling uncontrollably dizzy, Amelia lay back against the pillows and Katherine plied a brush on her long black hair. "How did you manage to fall?" Katherine asked carelessly, her eyes on her work.
"I didn't-" Amelia started, then stopped and groped fo
r words. "I don't know," she finally said, because it was easier, because somehow it seemed best.
"You were very lucky," Katherine said with a sudden smile. "You must be more careful next time."
Amelia only nodded, her eyelids drooping.
"We wouldn't want to lose you. We all need you so badly," she went on, "especially me. I can't tell you how lonely it gets here without anyone to talk to, anyone to care. Reba and Sylvestor usually manage to get away for a few weeks, but I'm cooped up here until I think sometimes I'll wear out the floors just walking from window to window, staring out. Then, there is all the housework. Together, you and I will do so much to renovate this old place." There was a conspiratorial manner in Katherine's speech, and the sound of her voice, combined with the even, smooth brush-strokes had an almost hypnotic effect. Katherine brushed on, then paused. "You didn't think I meant all those things I said, did you? I swear, my silly tongue runs away with me sometimes. I was so worried. I have worries you can't imagine. You don't know! You didn't believe I meant you had to marry one of the boys, did you?"
The entreaty, the soft apology was so plain in her voice. It was obvious that she wished Amelia to say no. Amelia, seeing no reason for going into the subject and lacking the strength to argue, only shook her head.
"I just thought that it would be nice if you did. They are both willing, as what man wouldn't be, seeing a pretty girl like you …" She went on, the soft insidious sound of her logic accompanying the smooth stroking hairbrush. "We could be so happy and secure. It sounds so reasonable, don't you think? What could be more natural than to fall in love with and marry one of the handsome young men who share the same roof with you?"
Amelia listened wearily, feeling drugged by Katherine's voice, hardly hearing the transition to present tense. Katherine seemed to be explaining either to herself, or to an interested public, how such a marriage could be.
But, I cannot marry anyone, something deep inside her insisted, until I find out who pushed me off that balcony; but, she never said a word aloud. Her tongue felt thick and her mouth tingled.
"Just think how nice it would be," Katherine went on, "when things straighten themselves out. We can give parties and balls as we used to. We can order clothes from New Orleans and Paris, satins and laces and velvet with fur trims and beards and spangles in all the shining colors, so elegant. You'd like that, wouldn't you? We would be so grand, standing in the hall greeting our guests, the two ladies of the house. Everything the way it was, except that you, Amelia, will be there, You can be a part of Mirror House, the most important part, the lady of the house, What could be better. Can't you imagine it?"
Amelia's eyelids closed; she nodded, lulled. She could see it in her mind, conjured by her imagination and the skillful words.
"The music, the lights … hundreds, no thousands, of candles, the gentlemen in their dress coats and the ladies in the latest fashions and everyone saying, 'so this is the new bride we have heard so much about? James's little wife. My how pretty you look tonight, Mrs. Harveston.' And, you'll curtsey and smile and say, 'Thank you.' Won't that be nice?"
Amelia, though she heard the lyrical singsong of her voice with its blatant flattery, could not answer.
"I knew you would see it my way, I knew you would agree. You do agree, don't you. You will marry James tomorrow. Tomorrow evening at six. You do understand, don't you? Don't you?" Her voice was insistent.
Making a great effort, Amelia nodded, because it seemed she had to answer. Katherine expected it of her, and she might leave her in peace if she did.
"You must remember now-" Katherine's droning, soft voice broke off suddenly as the door flew open!
"What are you trying to do?" Nelville demanded, crossing the room in a few strides.
Amelia saw him through a haze, a tall form, very majestic, quite grand to her muddled senses. She smiled to welcome him and made no effort to lift her head or cover her exposed shoulders.
He snatched the small cordial glass Katherine tried to slip into her pocket and touched it to his lips. He threw the glass against the wall where it shattered with an eerie musical tinkling. "You witch," he said, in a low voice that scarcely reached Amelia's foggy brain. "You foul-minded, stupid fool. How do you think this will save your precious home and its damned legacy of regret? What do you expect to gain. Security? You can't be secure not ever, Katherine, not ever."
"Don't meddle, Nelville. This is not your business. This is family. You don't understand."
"You think not? I was never a fool, never a dupe. Don't forget, I was there."
"Was there," she repeated stupidly, "was there?"
"The night of the fire."
"You couldn't have been."
"To my regret, I was."
"Why did you let us think, in all these years, that you were gone that night? Why?"
"My reasons, Katherine, were peculiarly my own. Now, get out. And forget your wily schemes or I promise you a reckoning in flames!"
"Are you threatening us?"
"Not us, Katherine, you. You and you alone. You are the touchstone."
"What nonsense!"
"You try my patience. Don't try me further. Don't."
"All right, though as usual I haven't the faintest idea what you are trying to say."
"Haven't you?" he answered quietly as she slammed the door behind her.
"Poor Amelia," he said in a soft kind of sigh, and picked her up in his arms. Gently, he swung her like a baby, and her head settled in the curve of his neck as if it belonged there. He moved smoothly to the chair between the windows and sat down with her. Firmly, he tilted her chin with his hand and tasted the bitter, berry wine on her lips.
She gazed into his green eyes so close to her own with a solemn wonder, accepting his kiss with the same naturalness that it had been given; then, her eyelids closed irresistibly.
"Sleep, maid of care. Tomorrow will be better, hopefully …but not likely." The haven of his arms enfolded her, and smiling in comical happiness, she slept.
The hollow roar of far-off thunder, like the preliminary growl of a waking animal, woke her. The storm, purple and gray, like a presence beyond the windows, seemed to have waited for daylight in order to begin, though daylight was a dubious name for the murky green-tinted light that filtered into the room, giving it the appearance of being under water.
The movement of a darker shape against the light made her draw in her breath quickly as she recognized Nelville, and in a rush of distorted memories, remembered the night before. She realized that she was lying on her bed covered carefully by a sheet, and a wave of regret for that fact was as surprising to her as was his presence there in the room.
His face, seen even from a distance, seemed drawn with fatigue, the eyes purple-circled, with curious hollows under the wide cheekbones. "Awake?" he asked quietly, the hint of a smile on his drawn face.
She nodded, and was confused at the effort the gesture took. Depression overwhelmed her as she carefully shifted position and felt the soreness run across her muscle.
"Feeling your fall," he said, rather than asked. "Eve never had a more lucky descent."
"Without the tree …" She couldn't complete the sentence.
"Definitely fortunate," he answered. He seemed to be laughing grimly.
"Somebody pushed me," Amelia said, annoyance with his facile comments clearing her brain.
"Of course," he said, suddenly serious, staring at her intently.
"Somebody in this house," she went on remorselessly, determined to make herself clear.
"Of course," he said, relaxing with a weary sigh and turning back to the window. "Somebody, anybody no body, some body."
"Don't you know? Can't you guess who?" she pleaded angrily.
"Anybody can guess," he said, squinting out at the gathering clouds in the direction from which came the rumbling cannon roar of thunder.
"You mean after all these years-" She began in an outraged tone.
"After all these years, I'm still not
sure who set fire to Mary Louise and Harvest Hall."
"But, you told Katherine you did, that you were there."
"So I was, after the fire began. I saw the smoke and light from the road coming home. I passed Katherine and Sylvestor carrying James at the fork, but they were so concerned with his injury that they didn't even see me. By the time I got there, it was too late. There was only Grannie Salome with Mary Louise who needed my help. A very incompetent rescuer," he finished bitterly.
"Then nobody knows," Amelia said, not to voice a fact, but to take his mind off the spectacle of his own ineptitude.
"Unless it's Grannie Salome," he said thoughtfully.
"Well, but she certainly would have told?"
"Us? The enemy? We are all her enemies in her twisted old mind now. Nobody asked her long ago, and now she is afraid of us all, except Mary Louise and possibly you. She gave you a charm, a sign of favor." His whimsical smile tugged the comer of his mouth for a moment.
Ignoring the smile, Amelia said, "Perhaps she was right."
"Right to be afraid? Could be. Wouldn't it be curious if old Grannie should turn out to be the sanest one of us all?"
Though Amelia looked at him sharply, she hesitated to ask him to explain. Explanations seemed to annoy him so. Carefully she sat up in bed and found her dressing gown. Mechanically she brushed the dirt from it and put her arms in the sleeves. Her mind centered vaguely on the thunder and the flickering lightning.
Nelville turned from the window sharply, as if he had come to some firm decision and walked to where Amelia sat on the bed. Against the gray of the dawn he was a ghostly figure, a lithely moving phantom, and something tense and strained in the way he walked made her abruptly aware that she was alone in her bedroom, dressed very unbecomingly, with a man, and not just any nice Southern gentleman, but one of unsurpassed audacity. Warmth fanned in her cheeks as she bit her lip, watching his advance in the grimly flashing lighting. Her breathing felt painfully constricted as he stopped before her, watching her as she sat on the side of the bed, faintly amused.
The Secret of Mirror House Page 15