Thanks to the tiny flittering of light and the adjustment of my vision, I could at least see the deeper blackness of brick columns, so I didn’t run into them. Nevertheless I moved with my hands reaching straight out, still more or less blind.
When bricks turned to wood under my feet, and the floor sloped upward, I swept my hands to the side and found the rails of the “bridge” above the old seawall. I didn’t want to go deeper into the dungeon, and I struck out in another direction.
Step by groping step, I moved toward what I hoped was the location of the stairs. They couldn’t be that far away now. Hands outstretched, I could step ahead a little more confidently. Until, without warning, my fingers touched something that made me cry out in alarm. I had placed my right hand fully on warm human flesh. My recoil was one of terror. To come upon someone hiding in this place, knowing I was here, sensing me in the darkness! I screamed, as I’d done in the theater, and the echoes went crashing horridly around the groined ceiling, smashing silence with sounds that surely weren’t coming from me.
Almost at once, I recognized that these were sounds I wasn’t making. Someone—that face I’d touched—was laughing, and I knew the laughter was Valerie Mountfort’s. I stood back against a column of brick, shaking and angry, unable to speak.
She flashed her torch on my face. “I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t dream you’d frighten that badly. I really wouldn’t have left you here for five hours. I just wanted you to have time to realize how unwelcome you are in Charleston. We don’t like pretenders here. So this was just a hint of the unpleasantness to come—more serious unpleasantness that could happen if you don’t go away. But I’ll get you out of here now. First, though, tell me what you would have done if I’d left you here.”
Somehow I forced myself to speak quietly, and regain some shred of lost dignity and control. “I’d have found the stairs and gone up to the telephone on the reception desk. Then I’d have called someone to come and get me. When they did, I’d have told them all about your trickery.”
“Which wouldn’t matter,” she said lightly. “They’re all used to my impulsive ways. In the past I suppose the family would have locked me in the attic and kept me a secret. Now I have the devotion of my sweet daughter, silly though she can sometimes be. And no one talks about madness. We use words like ‘neuroses’ and ‘psychoses’—all treatable, of course. Only I refuse to be treated, and I am looked after and my wishes considered. Of course, I don’t do anything too outlandish—most of the time.”
She spoke with an amusement that didn’t sound in the least mad—which made it all the more frightening. Probably the psychotic rationalized their own madness.
“I think you know exactly what you are doing,” I told her. “It’s why you are doing it that I don’t understand. I appear to be Amelia’s twin—but how can you really be sure? I don’t know or care anything about an inheritance, though you may not believe that.”
“Who would you have called?” she asked. “After four in the morning?”
I’d been thinking about that as I groped for the stairs. Not Amelia—she would be too stricken by our mother’s actions. Not Honoria, who would rouse Porter. Not Charles. Never Charles—for some reason I couldn’t explain. I might have called Garrett, but I needed a woman with me now—a woman’s kindness and sympathy. So it was Daphne I’d decided upon. All along she had struck me as the most sensible of the clan, and I knew she would come for me at any hour without any fussing.
“I would have called Daphne Phelps,” I said.
“A good choice. Give me your hand, Molly, and I’ll take you to the stairs.”
Again her fingers seemed hot as I touched them, and I didn’t trust her. She used her flashlight until we reached the bottom step of the stairs. Then she turned it off, leaving me in blackness again. I knew what she meant to do, and grasped her hand tightly. Her strength surprised me as she twisted away and ran up the stairs. I leaned on the banister as darkness returned to smother me.
She called to me from the floor above. “That’s a good idea, Molly—to phone Daphne. So do it!” She ran away across the stone floor, and I heard the opening and slam of the outer door as it closed after her.
I was angry all over again, and just as futilely. At least she had led me to the stairs. I went up easily enough, guided by the rail, and into the welcome radiance from streetlights beyond the windows. The phone waited for me, reassuring me of help. I called information and asked for Daphne’s number.
11
Daphne sounded drugged with sleep when she answered my ring. However, she woke up quickly enough when I gave her the bare bones of what had happened. I told her I was stranded at the Old Exchange and didn’t know the streets well enough to find my way back to the Mountfort house. She asked no questions, but must have caught a hint of my mental state, for she took over at once.
“Stay right there. I’ll throw on some clothes and come for you as soon as I can.”
I’d had enough of this gloomy, history-ridden place, and when I put down the phone, I let myself out the front door to the landing where the steps divided. From here I could look straight down Broad Street—a line that had once divided Charleston socially—to where St. Michael’s lighted white steeple rose above the roofs and the few cupolas of the town. But it wasn’t St. Michael’s I saw.
The night air was gentle, and the iron railing felt cool under my fingers. The touch of it steadied me. The steeple I remembered was St. Philip’s, and I found it comforting to recall that moment in the alley that ran beside the theater, when Garrett had presented his “surprise.” Suddenly I wanted to tell Garrett what had happened to me tonight. He might not be sympathetic, he might even be critical of my actions, but he would listen.
“I like St. Philip’s best,” I assured the shining white steeple that overlooked Broad Street. St. Michael’s, serene in its own beauty, didn’t seem to mind.
Early-morning Charleston echoed with the sounds of a party breaking up at dawn, so that laughter and voices reached me through quiet streets. Lights came on where there were early risers, and from a distance I heard what might be Daphne’s car. I went quickly down the steps to wait on the sidewalk. The huge bulk of the Old Exchange loomed massively behind me, and I was eager to escape its overwhelming shadow.
Dawn touched the sky over the water and I welcomed the full light of morning. A heaviness of realization about Valerie Mountfort pressed its own darkness upon my spirit. Perhaps she was only to be pitied, but she had frightened me—badly—and had seemed too close to a dangerous edge. I could never think of her as my mother now.
The car was indeed Daphne’s, and when it stopped at the curb and she got out, looking calm and capable, I felt an enormous relief. She opened the passenger door and waited for me to get in, asking no questions.
“I’m not taking you back to the Mountfort house at this hour and under these conditions,” she told me. “We’ll fix breakfast at my place, and wait until Amelia is up before I return you to South Battery. In the meantime we can talk—if you’d like to tell me what has happened.”
Daphne had rented a top apartment in a house that had been renovated. We climbed stairs that circled in a tight oval. At the top a door painted a soft blue welcomed us.
“I love this color,” Daphne said as she took her key. “Of course, it’s the blue they use in the Middle East to guard against the evil eye.”
I didn’t think Daphne would place much belief in evil eyes, but she enjoyed being unconventional. The moment I stepped through her blue door I felt comfortable—and safe. Rooms opened from one to another, though not in straight “railroad” fashion. She led me through a pleasant living room, where books spilled over onto chairs and tables, and waved a careless hand. “I’m always reading three or four at once.”
The small dining area opened on a galley kitchen, and she told me to look around while she whipped up an omelet and crisp slices of bac
on.
French doors opened upon a piazza that overlooked the brick-walled garden and neighboring houses. Now I could see St. Philip’s steeple again, shining a few blocks away. Stepping-stones below cut a path through grass, and a graceful, very old pecan tree spread its branches in one corner.
“I need something cheerful and quieting right now,” I said. “I’ve had too much excitement for one night.”
We sat down to breakfast on the open piazza, and I told her what had happened. She listened intently, buttering toast and spreading marmalade, wasting no time on comments until I was through. When I described the moment when I’d touched Valerie’s face in the blackness of the Old Exchange dungeon, she shivered.
“You’re giving me goose bumps! I know that place pretty well, and I wouldn’t want to be alone down there at night. Look—I’ll talk to Valerie and to Amelia too. Though I’m afraid it won’t do much good. My father will be livid when he hears about this—if we even tell him. Valerie’s like a sister, and he worries about her.”
“Is there an—imbalance—in Valerie?” I chose my words carefully. “Or was she putting on an act?”
“Perhaps some of both. Though she never carries anything so far that we worry about her seriously. She is known for her outrageous pranks, Molly.”
I wondered how far was “far.”
Daphne went on. “It’s a good thing you didn’t call the police. Perhaps she’s never grown up. Everyone has always loved and protected Valerie. Your father treated her as though she were still the young girl he first knew. Southern women are hardly fragile, though that can be an act—an act that belongs more to the past than now. When tragedy hit, Valerie didn’t change all that much on the surface. But a good deal of suppressed emotion got bottled up inside her—and some of it was anger. She’s angry the way a child would be. Adulthood is something she’s postponed.”
They had all made excuses for Valerie Mountfort. Excuses that continued to keep her from growing up, though I couldn’t help wondering why they insisted on doing this.
“In any case,” Daphne added, “I don’t think you should return to that house just now. Let’s get you out of the city for a while. Evaline will put you up at the plantation, and I’ll call a family conference to see what to do about Valerie. Of course, my father will probably blame you for anything that’s happened. And maybe he’ll be partly right, Molly. Whatever possessed you to go with her in the middle of the night?”
“I suppose she seemed excited in a rather appealing way, and I thought I might get to know her a little better if I humored her about whatever she wanted to do. Perhaps we might have come closer to an understanding—if she hadn’t had something else in mind.”
“It could be that getting to know her isn’t such a good idea,” Daphne said. “Anyway, you look out on your feet, so if you’ve finished eating, lie down and take a nap. It’s still early. Then we’ll go over to the house to pick up your things, and you can stay at Mountfort Hall for a few days. I’ll call Evaline from the house and let her know you’re coming.”
“How will I get there?”
“I’ll call Charles too. He can usually leave the office when he pleases, and I’m sure he’ll drive you out.”
I agreed to everything, enormously weary. It was a relief to lie down on Daphne’s bed and go to sleep.
I must have slept for more than an hour, and I awoke refreshed, and with more questions in my mind. Daphne was ready to leave, and I asked one of them as we went downstairs.
“I talked to Garrett at the Omni after you left. He walked me back to Amelia’s car and showed me the earring you gave him. I supposed it had belonged to Valerie and that the other one had been lost. But tonight Valerie was wearing two earrings just like it, except that her lotuses were set in gold. Can you tell me about the earring?”
We were on the way downstairs and she spoke over her shoulder. “A child found it out at the plantation tangled up in fishing line and gave it to me. I was a little girl and I kept it as a treasure. Recently, I remembered it and took it to Garrett.”
“Why?”
She looked uncomfortable. “Can we let that go for now? It’s a complicated story. I’ll tell you some other time.”
She drove me the few blocks to South Battery while Charleston was still waking up, and let us in with her own key.
“I’ll use the downstairs phone, Molly. You go up and pack your things. Don’t wake Amelia if you can help it.”
As I started up the stairs, I met Miss Kitty coming down. Usually she greeted everyone with a small mew, and talked very little. Now, however, she sat on her haunches on the bottom step, tipped back her head, and yowled piteously.
“Okay, okay,” Daphne told her. “I hear you. She wants to go back to the plantation, Molly. She can take only a little of this house. She’d like to stay with Honoria, but my father doesn’t care for cats. I’ll get out her carrier and you can take her with you. I’ll leave Amelia a note, so she won’t go searching for you and Miss Kitty.”
I bent to stroke soft gray-and-white fur, and at once she flung herself on her back to invite a stomach rub. I obliged for a moment, and then raced silently up to the third floor to my room.
Everything seemed quiet. Not even the rocking horse was creaking. I hoped I wouldn’t need to see either Valerie or Amelia before I escaped. Miss Kitty followed me, watching with bright interest.
Before I was through packing, however, Amelia came to my door in her pajamas. “What’s happening, Molly? Where are you going?”
“Daphne thinks it’s best if I go out to the plantation to stay for a little while.”
“Why? How do you come to be listening to Daphne?”
There was no escaping an explanation. “Sit down for a moment, Amelia. Perhaps you’d better know about this.”
Once more I told the story of what had happened at the Old Exchange Building. Amelia grew white and teary-eyed as she listened. Before I finished she covered her face with her hands, crying softly.
I went to sit beside her. “Can you tell me the truth about your mother?”
She looked at me, her cheeks wet. “Our mother. When you were taken, she collapsed and was very ill.”
“Mentally ill?”
“I’m not sure. Daddy never believed that about her. He felt that her physical state was affecting her emotionally. When she grew stronger, everything seemed to improve. Except that—” Amelia broke off. “Oh, I don’t want to talk about it. Just let it go, Molly.”
“We have to talk. Say what you were going to say.”
She went on hesitantly. “Mama learned to manipulate the people around her by falling back on her very shaky emotional state. She learned she could perform in certain ways and get whatever she wanted. It’s mostly acting, I think. She isn’t crazy, Molly. She wanted to frighten you tonight, and she did. It’s as simple as that, and you danced to her tune, just the way everyone does.”
“But why? She said she doesn’t believe that I’m her daughter. But the punishment she chose for me seems a little extreme, doesn’t it? She talked about what she called my deception.”
“Oh dear. Molly, this is all so complicated. It’s true that you don’t match the imaginary twin she’s created in her mind and you’re already asking too many questions about our father’s death. I have a feeling that’s what she’s really afraid of.”
“Why? Because of his letter?”
“Maybe we’re all afraid of revelations out of the past. The murky pond was quiet until you came, but now it’s being stirred up.”
“I wonder if Garrett Burke has come across something that has set him on the trail, Amelia? If I go out to the plantation, perhaps I can find out. Daphne’s calling Charles now to drive me out there. Why don’t you come with us?”
“I wish I could. I’m working at the Historical Society today. But I’ll put on some clothes and come down to see
Charles before you leave.”
She went off and I closed the suitcase and zipped my tote bag. When I went downstairs, Miss Kitty came with me and began to sniff around the carrying case.
“Did anyone hear you?”
“Amelia did. Valerie’s nowhere to be seen. I had to tell my sister what happened.”
“How did she take it?”
“With tears.”
Daphne made an unkind sound. “That’s Amelia. Maybe everybody’s right to be afraid of what you may dig up from the bottom of our murky pond.”
That was the same figure of speech Valerie had used, and I didn’t care for it.
“Did you make your phone calls?” I asked.
“Yes. Evaline will have a room ready for you. And Charles will be here soon. Molly, that’s a very determined expression you’re wearing.”
“It’s not determination. I’m just looking grim.”
“I’m still betting on you.” She seemed ready to say more, but only added, “Anyway, watch your step, whatever you do. If Valerie meant to frighten you into leaving Charleston, she could be on the right track.”
“I’m staying,” I said. “For now anyway.”
“So you do know what to do.”
The door chimes sounded and she went to let Charles in. Amelia came running down the stairs, straight into his arms. He held her gently while Daphne put the cat into the carrier and handed it to me.
“If I can, I’ll come out later,” Amelia promised Charles.
He shook his head. “I don’t expect to stay. I’ll be in touch when I get back.”
Once we were on our way, driving north through busy morning streets, I told my story for the third time, beginning to feel tired of repeating it, though Charles had to know.
When I’d finished, he reached over to touch my hand. “Poor Molly. I seem to have brought you into all sorts of unpleasantness. First the theater, and now this. Something must be done about Valerie.”
His words were kind, disarming, and for a moment I wanted to lean on him. But the thought of leaning on Charles alarmed me. He was strictly off-limits. I moved my hand away from his.
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