Calypso Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  "Dido, tell me about Moira. She'd just come to the great house before I left for England."

  "Moira a pretty little girl. Too pretty. Sly, dat one. Missis wanted her gone."

  "Surely you're not implying that my father would seduce her!"

  "No, not your father. No, not de masse." She nodded toward Deborah's bedchamber door. "I hear dem at night, taking der pleasure. Both of them loud and laughing. Until ---" Dido shrugged.

  "Until when? Until I came home?"

  "Missis worried," Dido said, and shrugged.

  Diana watched the old woman carefully flick her feather duster over a precious Chinese vase atop one of her father's favorite tables. Aggravating old woman!

  As she walked across the front grounds toward the stables, Diana thought of her father in bed, making love with Deborah. It was embarrassing, since she now knew all about lovemaking. He was her father, after all.

  "What is this? A blush on your tanned face?"

  She whipped around to see Lyon grinning salaciously down at her. He cupped her chin in his palm. "What thoughts are going around in your head? Are you thinking about me? Thinking about me caressing you and doing all those things that make you howl and cry out and beg me not to stop?"

  "Are you quite through with your fantasy?"

  "Never. And I love it when you make your voice so sour and tart. Come, Diana, let's go somewhere private, then you'll tell me what you're thinking."

  "You won't like it," she said, but fell into step beside him. "I have been a detective this morning."

  He stiffened, all retorts and sexual repartee gone in an instant. "You will stop it. As of now. I will not have you taking any chances. In fact, I think it best you be with me all the time, just as your father said. Day and night."

  "Don't be silly, Lyon. I heard Deborah crying in her bedchamber. I spoke with her, that's all."

  He sighed. "Tell me."

  She did, and even told him about the wretchedly secret Dido.

  "Deborah is exceedingly upset, Lyon. It must be about all that's happened. She knows something, I am sure of it."

  "Possibly. Now, why don't you come with me to see Grainger? I daren't leave you to your own devices. Lord knows what you'd take it in your twit head to do next."

  "Surely you don't wish to speak so harshly to the soon-to-be mother of your child?"

  He grinned down at her, a triumphant very satisfied male grin. "There is that, isn't there? I have always endeavored to hedge my bets, as they say in the clubs. After lunch, during siesta, I shall pay another visit to myvessel."

  She poked him hard in the stomach. "I swear I will not conceive if you continue with such drivel."

  "You, my dear, have no control over conception." He paused, looking skyward. "At least I hope you don't."

  "Ah ha! So you've heard about talk of voodoo, have you?"

  He frowned at her.

  "Charms abound, wicked rites and rituals. Dire happenings. You're wise to hold me in the highest respect, my lord."

  "I'm wise to hold you beneath me."

  She laughed gaily, the awfulness for the moment submerged. At least it was until they reached the overseer's house. Lyon knocked on the whitewashed door. It was a pleasant house, mellow brick, one story, a well-tended garden surrounding it.

  "Grainger is probably in the fields or at the stillhouse."

  "Or at the mill or in the village." Lyon knocked again. "Grainger!"

  They heard a strange shuffling sound, then the door cracked open. Diana sucked in her breath. Grainger looked like misery itself. His clothes were disheveled, his hair on end, his eyes bloodshot.

  "Oh, it's you two," he said. "What do you want?"

  "I should like to know why you are drunk," said Lyon mildly.

  "Swanson's dead, murdered. Isn't that reason enough?"

  "His funeral is this afternoon, Grainger," Diana said. "May we come in?"

  "No. I don't want either of you here."

  "Just one question, then." Lyon paused just an instant. "Why were you meeting Patricia Driscoll? I saw both of you, you know. Before dawn."

  Grainger turned pale as a sheet, then he flushed. His face gave away the truth.

  Lyon continued, his tone still calm, very mild. "She is young, is she not? Too young to take you for her lover."

  "Look, my lord, Miss Diana ---" He plowed his fingers through his already rumpled hair. "It was nothing. I was with her, yes. It was nothing. Patricia's lover?" He laughed, a hoarse sound that made gooseflesh rise on Diana's arms.

  With those words, he slammed the door in their faces.

  "Goodness," said Diana, staring at the closed door.

  "Yes," said Lyon thoughtfully.

  "Everyone seems to be hiding something."

  "Let's speak to your father."

  "I hope he is in better shape than Grainger!"

  They did not find Lucien alone until after Charles Swanson's funeral. He was buried in the Savarol cemetery, a beautiful spot some two hundred yards from the great house, an area carefully tended and surrounded by a low white wooden fence. He was buried next to Moira. The grave of Diana's mother was set a bit apart, with bougainvillea covering it.

  She said in a low voice to her husband, "Once my grandfather died, Father made the decision that the slaves should be buried in the family plot. I remember him saying that without the slaves we wouldn't be here. That's why it's so large."

  Two fresh graves, and one of us is a murderer, Diana thought, and shuddered. Lyon's hand closed about her arm.

  "Father, may we speak to you?"

  Lucien wiped the perspiration from his brow with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief. Deborah must have made it for him, Diana thought. "Certainly," he said.

  "Sir," Lyon said as they walked back toward the house, "if you don't mind my asking ---"

  "Go ahead, my boy."

  "Deborah's family. You said her first husband was a Quaker?"

  "Yes. Albert Driscoll. He was well-thought-of, but when he died, he didn't leave much to his wife and son. Deborah was living in genteel poverty, I guess you'd call it, when I met her in St. Thomas."

  "And Daniel was working for a doctor?"

  Lucien nodded. "Yes, a Dr. Gustavus was his name. A good man from all accounts. He thought highly of Daniel, needless to say."

  "And Patricia, Father?"

  "Ah, Patricia. Her maiden name is Foster. She was living with an aunt, a Miss Mary Foster, when she met Daniel. She even brought something of a dowry to Daniel. Two thousand pounds. Unfortunately, Deborah needed the bulk of that money to clear her debts. That was just before I'd met her, you understand."

  "Did you meet this Miss Foster, sir?"

  "Yes, I did. A maiden lady indeed --- full of good works, carried herself as if she had a board down her back, had pinched lips. The proverbial, disapproving spinster. Highly religious, of course. One of those intolerant Methodists."

  "Patricia couldn't have been very happy with such a person," Diana said.

  "Probably not. As to Patricia's real parents, all I know is that they are dead. Miss Mary Foster took in her niece at a very early age. She ran a boardinghouse in Charlotte Amalie."

  "No wonder Patricia longs for gaiety," Lyon said.

  "Do you think she is happy with Daniel, Father?"

  Lucien paused a moment and plucked a hibiscus. "It was your mother's favorite, Diana," he said. He looked from his daughter to Lyon. "I would have said she was happy as a clam with Daniel, but after what you told me about seeing her with GraingerWell, who knows?"

  "Grainger admitted he was with her, but said it was nothing. He was extremely upset."

  "I've never known Grainger to lie, and I've known him many years."

  "Do you think it's possible that Daniel knows of his wife seeing Grainger?"

  "I've said nothing. One hesitates to hurt Daniel, you know."

  "Yes, we know," said Lyon.

  "Such a large, self-sufficient man. And yet"

  "Yes," Diana said. "An
d yet."

  26

  By now you will have discovered that women too can be militant.

  —SOPHOCLES

  "Look, Patricia, it is time you and I stopped our infernal arguments. I know you dislike me, and that is your prerogative, but I am afraid. Please, let us talk for a moment."

  Patricia regarded Diana from beneath her blue silk parasol. When Diana had come up behind her, she'd known an awful moment of sheer terror. Oh, yes, she was afraid too. She drew a deep breath, calming herself. "What do you want to talk about?"

  "About you and Grainger."

  Patricia went white.

  "I will tell you the truth, Patricia, for there is no more time left to us to keep silent because of each other's sensibilities. Lyon saw you just before dawn one morning, with Grainger. Lyon and I spoke to him. He's very upset, more upset than I've ever seen him, but he swore he wasn't your lover."

  Patricia just stared at Diana. Then, suddenly, frighteningly, she laughed. And laughed. "Oh, it is too much! You believe that Grainger and IIt is too much!"

  She snapped her parasol closed.

  "What do you mean? Then why were you with him? And in such secrecy?"

  "Mind your own business, Diana. It has nothing to do with anything. Oh, God!"

  "Patricia, please. Two people have been killed. I know that you know things that you haven't told. It cannot go on. You must tell the truth."

  "The truth," Patricia repeated softly, looking toward the sea. "The truth is a strange monster, isn't it, Diana? One thinks one knows the truth, but then it seems to change and fade and slip through one's fingers. I don't know any truth that would make sense to anyone." She faced Diana, her shoulders drawn back.

  Diana felt a brief surge of respect for her. "What do you mean that truth is a strange monster? Monster?"

  "I meant nothing."

  "Do you love Daniel?"

  Patricia sucked in her breath. She said nothing, but her fingers were tearing at the lace on the parasol.

  "He is a very kind, gentle man. How did you meet him? And Deborah?"

  "I met him in Charlotte Amalie, as you know. It was a very short time ago, actually. My aunt, Miss Foster, was ill, and he came with Dr. Gustavus to attend her. As you said, he was very kind. My aunt adored him, and let me tell you, Aunt Mary didn't believe any man worth a sou. And I? Well, I wanted desperately to escape. Daniel was there, and yes, he was ever so kind. I met Deborah soon after that. She appeared very fond of me, yes, very fond."

  "But you weren't poor. My father mentioned that you brought Daniel a dowry of two thousand pounds. That is substantial."

  "I wasn't informed of the money until I told Aunt Mary that Daniel had asked me to marry him."

  "You married him to get your dowry?"

  "Oh, how can I expect you to understand? My precious aunt was mean, poor-spirited. I do not know where she got the two thousand pounds. And why she would have saved the money for me, wellagain, I don't know. She certainly wasn't all that fond of me. I had no choices, not like you have enjoyed all your spoiled life."

  "Choices? I?" Diana laughed. "Oh, Patricia, so few of us have choices."

  "Why? Are you breeding? Was your husband forced to marry you?"

  "No, I am not breeding." She remembered Lyon's words and added quietly, "Perhaps I am now, but I wasn't when we married."

  "You should leave this place."

  "Perhaps I shouldn't mention this just yet, but Lyon wishes for you and Daniel to return to England with us. Daniel wants desperately to become a physician. He can receive excellent training in London."

  "Why?"

  The single, very cold word drew Diana up short.

  "I know you don't like me, despite what you said. You don't think I'm a proper wife for Daniel. You don't know either of us, not really."

  "As for knowing you, I fancy if we do all return to England, that lapse will soon be remedied. However, Deborah doesn't wish for Daniel to leave Savarol. I don't understand why, but she is very adamant."

  "Deborah and Daniel are very close."

  "Yes," Diana said. "It will be Daniel's choice, though."

  Patricia raised her parasol and looked blankly at the lace she had shredded. "You should leave," she said again, then walked away swiftly toward the house.

  But what about Charles Swanson? Diana wanted to call after her. Was he your lover? But she kept silent. This was their first conversation that wasn't fraught with ill feeling. At least not too much ill feeling.

  Diana sighed and started off in search of Lyon.

  "You shouldn't be alone, little sister. Lucien told us all quite clearly to stick together."

  Diana grinned up at Daniel. "Well, now I'm with you, big brother. No one would dare try anything with you on the scene."

  "Probably not. I saw you talking to Patricia. Did she rip up at you?"

  Gentle Daniel was also very observant, Diana thought. "No," she said honestly, "not this time."

  "What did you talk about?"

  "She was telling me how the two of you met."

  "I see. Would you care to go riding with me?"

  "Yes, I should like that." They walked side by side toward the stables. "It will be a relief to get away for a little while. There is so much tension. Understandable, of course."

  "Yes, indeed."

  "Patricia also told me about her Aunt Mary."

  "Poor woman. She was so very unhappy, you know. I used to think that her religion demanded her unhappiness, but now, I don't think so. Perhaps it was something deep inside her, perhaps she was like a bud that is incapable of blossoming."

  Diana smiled at him. "You are immensely understanding, Daniel."

  "Sometimes," he said. "Only sometimes."

  "You will ride Salvation, won't you?"

  "I told you that stallion makes me nervous."

  "All right, then, Tanis."

  Lyon didn't hesitate. He entered Lucien and Deborah's bedchamber and quietly closed the door behind him. Like Diana, he knew that Deborah was keeping secrets and he couldn't allow it to continue. He had to find out the truth, and he prayed there was something here to lead to something.

  He walked to the small writing desk in the corner of the bedchamber. It was Deborah's personal desk. Lucien kept all his papers in the desk in his study. He pulled out the top drawer. There were several letters to Mary Foster that she'd copied. He read them. Nothing, just formal inquiries about her health and general comments about Savarol Island. He carefully replaced the letters. There were other letters, from friends in Charlotte Amalie. In another drawer there were ribbon-tied documents. He read each of them. One was Daniel's birth record. Another, marriage lines between Deborah and her first husband. And a second paper with Deborah and Lucien's marriage lines. There were bills marked paid, many of them years old. Odd that she would keep them. He frowned, seeing that many of them were made out to Dr. Gustavus. "Paid for services" was written on each of them in Deborah's neat hand. The sums were not all that small. Could they all be for his professional services? Had she or Daniel both been so consistently ill? He placed the bills back into the drawer.

  In another drawer he found her stationery and quills. Nothing unusual. There was but one other drawer, hidden behind a small panel. He pressed on the panel, but nothing happened. He continued lightly probing with his fingertips until he found a slight indentation. He pressed it and the panel eased open. The drawer behind the panel was locked. Lyon frowned a moment, then steeled himself. He picked up a letter opener and forced the small lock. There was a thick envelope in the drawer. He pulled it out and opened it. It was filled with carefully cut-out newspaper pages. The top one was a brief announcement of Patricia and Daniel's marriage. The second was an announcement of Deborah's marriage to Lucien Savarol. He placed the two aside and looked at the next.

  It was a page from the Charlotte Amalie Gazette, and was one year old. He read it, then froze.

  "Oh, my God," he said softly to the empty room. He'd prayed he would find something,
but this?

  "What are you doing here?" Deborah stood in the doorway, staring at Lyon. She saw the newspaper pages in his hand and sucked in her breath. "No," she moaned softly, wrapping her arms about her. "Oh, no, please."

  "What else did you and Patricia talk about?"

  Diana turned in Salvation's saddle toward Daniel. She couldn't tell him about Grainger, she couldn't hurt him like that, despite her passionate speech to Patricia that there was no more time to spare anyone's feelings. She ran her tongue over her lips and forced lightness into her voice. "As I told you, Patricia gave me the story of how you two met. It sounded most romantic, Daniel. Love at first sight and all that."

  "Yes, I suppose it was. It seems like a very long time ago now."

  "Goodness, 'tis only four months or so, isn't that right? You are already seeing yourself as an old married couple?"

  Daniel merely smiled at her and dug his heels gently into Tanis' sides. The mare tossed her head and broke into a canter.

  Diana kept pace with him. They stopped for a few minutes at the slave village.

  "I don't feel like riding back just yet," Daniel said as he remounted Tanis. "Why don't we go to the end of the island? There's a lovely spot there I'd like you to see. I found it not too long ago. It's special, to me."

  "All right," Diana said agreeably. She was silent for several minutes, wondering what to do. Then she said finally, "Daniel, Lyon and I would like for you and Patricia to return to England with us, once all thisawfulness is cleared up. You could study medicine there and ---"

  "You spoke of this to Patricia?"

  "Yes, I did. And to your mother as well. There is something I don't understand, though, not really. Deborah seems intent upon keeping you here, with her."

  "She is most possessive."

  "But surely she understands how very much you wish to help people. She must know how important medicine is to you. Why, just look at how many of our people you've helped."

  "Yes, she knows."

  "Will you come back to England with us?"

  He gave her a very serious look. "You have spoken to many of us, haven't you, little sister? You appear to have found out so very much."