Spindrift

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  “There was armor downstairs too!” Peter cried. “John told me. A whole room of armor. Can we go down and look?”

  “It’s still there, but that room is kept closed until something can be done about the Townsend armor collection.”

  “There was a dungeon too,” Peter ran on.

  “That’s a fable, I’m sure,” Theo told him. “Poor Maddy. She had to put up with a lot when it came to her husband’s tastes.”

  “It was a vault, really,” Ferris said. “Theron had a phobia about being robbed, and he built safes into that underground room. Since there’s interest in the house, we’ve been down there, and I’ve had a look at the place.”

  “Then it wasn’t a dungeon for locking people up?” Peter asked, sounding disappointed.

  “Hardly. Though it was the sort of place rumors grew up about. Not that Theron ever cared, from what I’ve heard. But I imagine his wife did.”

  “Anyway, Maddy outlived him,” Theo said.

  “What happened to her?” I asked.

  “She was left a widow, like Zenia, and in her later years she was too arthritic to come downstairs.” Theo spoke as though she too had belonged to those great days of Newport, when she had really been only a visiting child. “She’s gone now. One day at eighty-four she tried to come downstairs to look over her house and she had a bad fall. That was the end of her.”

  “A better end than Zenia Patton-Stuyvesant’s,” Joel said.

  I had developed a mild interest in Zenia, since Bruce had said I resembled her.

  “What happened to Zenia?” I asked.

  “In the end—madness,” Joel said. “She used to go wailing around the halls at night when she was a very old woman. But they let her live out her years at Spindrift.”

  “I didn’t know you knew that much about Zenia,” I said.

  His mother answered me. “Moreland Press is thinking of publishing a book about Zenia and Spindrift, so Joel has informed himself.”

  Once I would have known about such plans. Now he never talked them over with me, and perhaps that was mostly my fault. But it wasn’t anything I could seem to help. So much was slipping out of my hands because of Theo’s machinations.

  Ferris decided to take charge of our idle sightseeing. “We’re here for a purpose, aren’t we, Christy? Suppose we take the downstairs rooms one at a time and look for any evidence of an intruder. Can you tell us which room you saw the light in?”

  Somehow I was aware of Joel in the background, watching and listening intently. As if he waited to see me trapped and proved unbalanced, I thought.

  “I saw the light from my room,” I said. “So it was at the side of the house. On the first floor and toward the front.”

  “Then it was probably the room beyond this door,” Ferris said.

  He opened a door beneath the high swing of the staircase and stood aside to let us through. Peter ran ahead into dim and echoing emptiness and I stepped after him into the long, bare expanse that must once have been a handsome drawing room. The ceiling had been painted with scenes from mythology and the walls were interrupted by columns of veined yellow marble. But there was nothing else left that could be removed.

  Even the chandeliers had been taken away and there were scars in the ceiling where they had hung. The plaster molding of the upper walls was elaborate, and though a little dingy, still intact. Two great marble fireplaces graced each side of the room, veined in black and brown, their broad mantelpieces empty. Above one of them a huge mirror, now cracked, had been built into the wall, framed ornately in gilt. On either side, tall windows ran the length of the room, most of them shuttered, though some of the shutters were broken and hung askew, letting in a filtering of daylight. Peter began galloping noisily around the big room, pretending he was a pony.

  Theo ignored the uproar. “As you can see, there’s nothing here to place a light on,” she pointed out.

  I thought about that. “It didn’t have to be on a table by a window to show light. It could have been put on the floor, or even on one of those mantelpieces. I didn’t see the source of the light itself.”

  “If it was on the floor or a mantel in this room,” Ferris said, “then you’d have seen a glow behind more than one of those broken shutters.”

  That seemed to be true, and I looked helplessly around the long drawing room, seeking for some clue. There was dust everywhere. Wreaths of dust and cobwebs hung from the mantels and rimmed the plasterwork of walls and ceiling. Curls of it drifted across the floor and our footsteps had disturbed the floor coating in places. But there were also marks where we had not walked, and I pointed them out to Ferris.

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid that doesn’t mean anything. There have been people in looking at the house. We aren’t the first to disturb the dust in the last few months.”

  Theo was watching me with an air of satisfaction, and I knew why she had come along. “You see? There was really nothing here, Christy. It’s as we all thought—you were dreaming again.”

  I hadn’t been dreaming and I had seen a light, but there appeared to be nothing here to substantiate what I’d told them.

  Joel said, “Where does this door go?”

  He had wandered to the front wall of the room and I saw for the first time that a small doorway led to what might be another room at the very front of the house. I ran past Joel to open the door upon a small anteroom off the drawing room and main hallway. Here there was more daylight, as the shutters were gone.

  “This is the place!” I cried. “If the light was here and the door closed, I would have seen it at this window only.”

  They followed me into the small space that was as bare as the drawing room, except for a round table with a broken leg, propped against one wall. Peter lost interest in being noisy, and came with us, adopting our search as a game.

  “Somebody could have put a lantern on that table,” he said, “and then my mother would have seen the light at the window.”

  I went to stand beside the table and Theo and Ferris joined me there. Its surface should have been dusty, and if a lamp or a lantern had been set upon it, there should have been an imprint. But except for one diagonal across a corner where a pale fuzz still coated the surface, there was no dust. Someone had wiped the table clean.

  “You see!” I pointed. “Peter’s right. Someone was here.”

  “As Ferris has told you, a good many people have been through this house recently,” Theo said. “Because the table is free of dust doesn’t prove that someone was here with a light last night. The committees who have been looking over the place certainly wouldn’t come here at night.”

  “And they wouldn’t be likely to do any dusting either,” I said.

  “Why not?” Theo was bent on disproving my claim. “They could be women with handbags and folders of papers. If they wanted to lay something down, they wouldn’t want all that dust to soil their possessions.”

  I moved around the room, as convinced as ever, but unable to convince the others. Ferris had said nothing, but he was regarding the small table thoughtfully, perhaps more inclined to believe me now.

  Peter was already tired of a room which offered no further excitement. “Let’s look at the rest of the house. Let’s go upstairs, Gran. I wish I had been here last night. I wish I’d been here when it was dark and spooky. Did you really see a light, Mother?”

  “You don’t wish anything of the kind,” Theo said. “You’d be frightened to pieces here. This is no place for a child, and you are never to come here alone.”

  I didn’t think it was a place for him either, but it was hardly wise to order this new Peter so flatly not to come.

  “I really did see a light,” I told him. “And I think it’s a good idea to look at the rest of the house.”

  “Why?” Theo challenged. “We’ve discovered what we came for—that there is no evidence of anyone being here last night. So let’s go home.”

  “Oh, no, Gran!” Peter was vehement. “We came over to see the
whole house. My mother promised me I could.”

  “Your mother?” Theo challenged, bristling.

  He grinned at her and I glimpsed once more that hint of a malice that had always been foreign to him. “Sure,” he said. “Mother says I’m going to be with her now.”

  The words were spoken as a return to her challenge, and I saw that he was quite shrewd enough to play each of us against the other.

  “I agree with your grandmother that you should never come here alone,” I said firmly.

  Peter might have continued the argument unpleasantly, but at that moment something thumped to the floor overhead and we all stood still, staring at one another. It seemed to me that Joel looked the most startled of all, and before any of us moved, he had started toward the entryway.

  “There’s someone in the house right now,” I said, and ran after him through the main hall to follow him beneath the frayed tapestry of a hunting scene, up the shadowy stairs.

  Peter raced after me as I went up, and I had to take his arm and hold him back at the top.

  “Wait,” I said. “Let your father go first. We don’t know what has happened. These old houses can be rotten. Something might have fallen apart up here.”

  “I doubt that,” Ferris said behind me on the stairs. “These houses were magnificently built and this one is perfectly sound. I’ve been all through it. But something could have fallen over of its own weight—if there was anything to fall.”

  I was already moving ahead of them on the second-floor corridor, still holding onto Peter, and Ferris and Theo came up behind us. Again it was dark and the stale air was oppressive. This floor was cut by cross corridors, and there were closed doors stretching blankly on either hand. A number of them must lead to rooms above the drawing room. Peter wriggled away from me and ran to the nearest door, thrusting it open. There was nothing inside. The room was bare of carpets or furniture and here the dust had not been disturbed for a long time. I didn’t know where Joel had gone.

  We began to take each room in turn along the corridor that led to the front of the house. We heard no further sound, but if anyone had been up here, he must have heard us downstairs, and he could have made off quietly down some rear flight. Then Joel called to us from the front of the house.

  Peter and I ran to the front bedroom where Joel waited, and I knew this must be the room in which we’d heard the noise.

  “Here you are,” Joel said as Ferris and Theo joined us.

  I saw what he meant. A stepladder stood in the center of the room opposite a side window. On it rested a cracked saucer with a candle stuck into spilled wax, its wick blackened from burning.

  “There’s the light I must have seen!” I cried. “I was right, but I saw it downstairs.”

  The others came into the room and stared at the candle, while I looked at Theo and Ferris. I think Theo was merely disappointed to have my claim of a light proved correct. But it was Ferris’s expression that held my attention. For some reason the presence of the candle surprised him inordinately. I had only a fleeting realization that he was startled, and then his usual guarded look was in place. Since we had come here searching for a possible source of light, why should it so astonish him to find it?

  But he was already accepting the fact and speaking calmly. “I think you may very well be right, Christy,” he said. “I suppose the candle could have been used downstairs easily enough.”

  Theo flung out an accusing hand. “But who would be using a candle here?”

  “What is equally important,” Ferris said, “is who made the sound we heard just now. I think I’ll have a quick look around. Do you want to come with me, Joel?”

  When they’d gone, Peter went to a door off the room and opened it upon a generous closet.

  “Look, Gran,” he called. “There’s a flight bag on the floor.”

  I reached the closet ahead of Theo and saw the blue and red canvas bag lying on its side.

  “I think this is our intruder,” I said. “It could have teetered off that shelf up there just now, and we heard it fall.”

  But even as I spoke, I felt a new misgiving. I carried the bag over to the window, turning my back on Peter and Theo. It took only a moment to zip it open, look inside at a flashlight, a small Thermos that I recognized and more candles. Then I zipped it shut and carried the bag back to the closet, shoving it more securely onto the shelf.

  “It’s just a discarded old bag,” I said. “There’s nothing in it.”

  Theo didn’t question me. She had no interest in the bag. And I had held it too high for Peter to see into. When I closed the closet door and turned away, Theo was picking up candle and saucer. She sniffed at the wick dubiously.

  “This may have been here for ages,” she said. “There’s nothing to tell us it was lighted downstairs last night.”

  “Except that I saw a light,” I reminded her quietly.

  Ferris and Joel rejoined us in time to hear. “If anyone was around, he’s gone by now,” Ferris said. “And I must admit the candle was not on that ladder the last time I was in this room.”

  “I don’t think there was anyone here just now,” I repeated, but I was watching Joel. “Peter found a canvas flight bag on the closet floor. It must have fallen off the shelf and made the sound we heard. Anyway, that’s of no importance. It’s this saucer and candle that matter.”

  Joel said quickly, “I agree. We’ve found Christy’s light, Mother.” But I was aware that he was watching me, and I wasn’t sure why I kept silent.

  “Anyway, this is all quite meaningless.” Theo dismissed our opinions. “Peter, if you’ve explored enough, let’s leave this place to its own nightmares. Empty houses make me uncomfortable.”

  Peter looked ready to pout again, disappointed with his adventure. Undoubtedly there had been too many people along, and he hadn’t been able to follow his own bent in the house. I thought he might ask to go up to the third floor or down to the armor room, but he did not, and I wanted no more exploring either. I had recognized the flight bag and the things in it and I had a strange reluctance to let the others know that they belonged to Joel.

  “Are there other keys to the house?” Theo asked Ferris as we went downstairs.

  Ferris shook his head. “Just those in the hands of the real estate dealer, and he has furnished them only to legitimate visitors. But I don’t suppose it would be difficult to get over the fence and break in, if anyone wanted to. I’ll take a look around outside before we leave.”

  Theo sat down on the stairs to wait for him, and Peter busied himself examining the forlorn suit of armor that was the only occupant of the bare entryway. Joel went to look at it with him, and I watched them uneasily. What was the future to hold for these two who loved each other? A future that might lie in my hands. This was a choice I didn’t want to make and I put it away from me as I stepped through the front door and out between vine-covered marble columns. There were other questions in my mind.

  Why would Joel have gone over to Redstones last night? Why would he have brought along that flight bag with its odd contents? Had he really been there in that upstairs room, and had he moved about the house carrying a lighted candle, so that I had seen its glow when he was downstairs? And would I confront him with these things when we were alone? I didn’t know the answer to any of this. I only knew that a growing uneasiness possessed me. If he suspected that I had looked into that bag, he had said nothing.

  Ferris returned to report that basement windows could be easily opened if someone wanted to get in, though there was no particular evidence of intrusion.

  We all walked back to Spindrift across the intersection of lawns where russet leaves were drifting down from the few sheltered trees. When we reached the house Peter was dispatched to his lessons and Ferris and Joel went their separate ways. I waited for no invitation to follow Theo upstairs to her sitting room.

  Fiona was working busily on invitations for Theo’s Sargent ball, and she looked up curiously when we came in.

 
; “We found a single candle over there,” Theo admitted reluctantly. “I think it might have been there for a long time. It meant nothing. What is it, Christy?”

  “Peter has changed,” I said. “I’ve never seen him throw a temper tantrum before.”

  She shrugged my words aside. “All healthy children have tempers. That didn’t mean anything. Peter is devoted to me.”

  I knew it would be hopeless to discuss Peter with her. The only real solution was to get him away from her influence, and I couldn’t do that yet.

  She glanced at me again. “Is there something you want?”

  It was an effort at dismissal, but I stood my ground. “I just wanted to tell Fiona that I’ve packed up Father’s things, and I have them in his suitcase in my room. There’s a pen I’d like to keep, and I’d like to give his penknife to Peter.”

  I sensed worry in Fiona, but I couldn’t place its source.

  “Of course,” she said. “Keep anything you want. I could never bear to go back to that room.”

  “There’s one thing I’d especially like, if I could have it,” I went on. “Do you know what has become of his wrist watch?”

  “I have it,” Theo said readily. “It’s the one thing I picked up as having some value the last time I was in the Tower Room. I’d forgotten about it. Of course it belongs to either you or Fiona.”

  “Let Christy have it, if she wants it,” Fiona said. “I have other things I’ve kept of his.”

  “Come, we’ll get it,” Theo said to me, and led the way through a door into the long, narrow room she called her Jade Gallery.

  When Theo’s ambassador father had lived in Hong Kong he had become fascinated by the entire subject of jade, and he had begun a fine collection, which Theo had later inherited. She herself had grown very knowledgeable on the subject and she had prepared a room at Spindrift where she could show off her collection whenever she was here. Ferris had always been disturbed about the insurance angles in moving valuable pieces of her collection around with her, but Theo liked to take her familiar world into whatever house she happened to be occupying, so she did as she pleased.