Enemy In The House (13 page)

“No. That is—oh, I can’t explain it. It was as if she was trying to be a fine lady but—”

“But really wasn’t? I remember her only vaguely, on the ship. Good-looking, a kind of come-hither something about her. If it hadn’t been for the storm she’d have had all the men seeking her favor. Well—poor girl—”

“She didn’t know the first thing about seeing to Jamey—Simon! There’s another thing. Uncle Grappit threatens to have himself appointed guardian to Jamey and take him to England unless—”

“Unless what?”

“Well—that is—unless I wed Neville.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I fancy he could find ways to dissolve our marriage. What did you say to that?”

“I said
no!”

She thought his arms tightened a little. He said, though, matter-of-factly, “Then that’s settled. We’ll see to Jamey. Now then—” He stopped to listen. There were sounds from outside, a man’s voice, horses’ hoofs. He ran lightly across the room and opened the jalousie. “Two men—Neville and I suppose Charles Carey—they’re on horses, going down the driveway. Going for officers of the law, I should say.”

She caught his arm. “They’ll search everywhere. You’ve got to hide. You can’t fall into British hands!”

He looked at her quietly through the dusk. “I don’t believe you are such a good Loyalist as you think you are,”

“Oh, for God’s sake—you’re my husband!”

“Yes—well. I’ve got to get to Saint Dominique.”

“Saint Dominique!”

“Santo Domingo. It was captured by the French last September. D’Estaing’s fleet should be in that vicinity. General Cornwallis’ aim is to sweep up through the Carolinas and Virginia. We need French ships and French guns now. I have only a code letter of authorization. I’m to present our position in the form of a spoken request. They may pay no attention to it.”

“But that’s dangerous!”

“Well, there’s a point. I’m not a spy. Yet in a sense I am a secret agent. How a court would decide it, I don’t know, and frankly I’d rather not find out.”

“A code letter! They’d say spy! How are you to get to Saint Dominique?”

“There was an arrangement. The captain of the
Southern Cross,
Captain Boyce, thought that for a consideration he could make the voyage but he insisted upon coming to Jamaica first. As it happens, his cargo wasn’t ready and obtainable. He’s to let me know when he’ll leave. Amy, do you remember our funny old French teacher, the broken-down dancing master?”

“Yes, of course!”

“If he hadn’t taught me what little French I know, I wouldn’t have been chosen for this errand. I wouldn’t have been here now—in fact, I wouldn’t have sent you to Jamaica, if I hadn’t known that I was to come here.”

“You knew then—well, of course, you knew.”

“I thought I could see that you arrived safely. I didn’t reckon on your escort, Charles Carey and China. I certainly didn’t reckon on the Grappits’ arrival. Or murder. There’s something hideously contagious about murder. Like the pox. But it seems a long way to travel—from Shincok and Lawyer Benfit, all the way to Mallam Penn and this nursemaid.”

“Simon, you’ve got to get away, hide—before they come back and search and—oh, hurry—”

He said gently, “My good and faithful wife!”

“Why, that was you! That first night on the ship, there at the railing when Charles spoke to me and a sailor jostled between us—that was you!”

“I was a witness to a tender little scene.”

“You heard what I said, too!”

“I take it that Charles has agreed most politely to your decision.”

“Yes! He’s been a friend and a—You’re laughing—”

“I was never further from laughing in my life,” he said soberly. “To tell you the truth, I think I am admiring Charles. … You said that Neville was sure that he had seen Hester somewhere.”

“He couldn’t remember where. He thought at one of the Charlestown balls. Charles said he’d never seen her.”

“She brought a box with her; I saw it unloaded. There might be—oh, papers, something to prove her identity or—” He checked himself. Another sound, a kind of wailing which still had the vestige of a tune about it, came from somewhere in the house. It was incredibly a jaunty, gay kind of tune, vaguely familiar and totally out of place in that house at that moment.

“What is it?” Amity whispered.

“Go and find out what’s happening. But—be careful, Amy. I’ll stay here until you come back.”

Simon closed the door softly behind her. The wailing resolved itself into a high-pitched, stumbling kind of song. By the time she reached the lounge she had recognized the tune. She was not prepared for the sight that greeted her.

Madam Grappit, dressed now in lavender silk with a yellow silk petticoat, was sitting beside China on one of the hard sofas. A small table had been pulled up before them. A squat dark bottle stood on the table. Both Aunt Grappit and China had teacups in their hands and they were singing together, “—and then I married me a wife and the world turned upside down.”

It was a popular song, a rake’s song, one that Aunt Grappit would have disapproved strongly in her right and sensible mind, but apparently she was by no means in her right and sensible mind and neither was China. They struck high notes, shatteringly off-key, and stopped to laugh cozily. China saw Amity.

“Dear,” she cried, “have some tea. I’ll have some more.”

Her words were blurred, her face flushed, her eyes glassy. She took up the bottle and splashed a good swig of rum into her teacup. Aunt Grappit held out her cup and China poured into that, too.

“The King!” Madam Grappit declaimed, tried to rise, wavered and sat down again.

“We’ve had that,” China objected. “Over and over we’ve had that—”

“Can’t have it too often!” Aunt Grappit looked at Amity, squinted, and said crossly, “Do stand still, Amity. Young girl should be quiet and dec—” She hiccupped and said with an air of triumph, “Decorous. Have some tea, Amity. Hot tea with rum in it. What you need. A good idea.”

An excellent idea, Amity thought swiftly; pray heaven they kept at it until Simon was safely out of the house and—well, where? She had to get back to Simon; she had to find a safe place for him. “Where’s Uncle Grappit?”

Her voice was so sharp that it pierced the cozy haze around the two women. Aunt Grappit answered. “Out somewhere—the mill. We had an earthquake—and that girl was strangled. Charles and Neville are off to get law officers—soldiers—whatever there is in that little town—” She turned companionably to China who said, “Punt Town. Six miles away.”

“Constabulary,” said Aunt Grappit ponderously.

There was no time to be lost. Amity was, then, struck by a dangerous, a dubious notion, and just possibly one that promised safety for Simon. It might not work. But he couldn’t hide in the mountains, the bush, anywhere. They might bring dogs. She shuddered away from the quick memory of the overseer’s words to Grappit, something about dogs sent to track down a runaway.

She ran back to her own room. Simon was still there and laughing softly. “I opened the door a crack. Are they both in their cups?”

“Teacups,” she said and then snapped at Simon, who laughed again. “You’ve got to hide! Uncle Grappit is at the mill, but he’ll come back any minute! Neville and Charles have gone to Punt Town, it’s only six miles away—”

“I’ll make for the mountains—”

“They’ll bring dogs, anything. Simon, stay here. I’ll go and see if—I’ll talk to her—”

“Where are you going?”

“To find the obeah woman. Perhaps she’ll hide you.”

H
E SAID COOLLY, “SUPPOSE
she doesn’t want to hide me.”

“I’ll give her anything, promise her anything—”

“From what I’ve seen from my various vantage points, I doubt if money means anything to her.”

“What did you see? What do you mean?”

“I found a hidden place, rocks and bush. I could look down at everything that went on.”

“All day?”

“I’ve had two days of lurking around the place like a highwayman. Today I saw all the people gather round this woman, it must have been the obeah woman. I didn’t dare get closer but—there was something about the way she walked, regal as a queen. Independent. But—try it. I’ll go with you. There’s a path going off to the left of the driveway. You’ll see a big banyan tree. Enormous, like a huge tent. Wait for me there.”

“How will you get out of the house?”

“The way I came. This is not the first time. I got in here while you were at supper the first night—”

“I knew—I thought it was a maid!
Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I did for a while. I looked before crawling in the window and recognized your trunk. I opened the door, just enough to hear a little, and when China came with you along the hall I took French leave. I barely got out as you and China came in. I was on the ledge outside when she began to question you about your father’s will. One of the vines gave way though and so did I—”

“I heard that! I went to the window—”

“Yes, I saw you against the light. But I knew China was still in the room. Now then. It’s dark. Nobody will see me. And if Madam and China are as far gone in their cups as they sound, they’ll not see you leave.”

He was right. China didn’t even look at her when she went through the lounge. Aunt Grappit gave her a surprisingly shrewd and sensible glance and then blinked sleepily.

It was dark but there was the luminous vanguard of moonlight in the sky. It was not difficult to find the path going off to the left of the driveway. Here, however, it was darker. The great shrubbery and trees along each side of it were like walls. Twigs and branches reached out to catch her skirts. The full chorus of insects and frogs and night creatures was throbbing now, all around her.

When full darkness fell over her like a tent, she looked up and saw the huge canopy of the banyan tree spreading out so densely that it shut out the faintly luminous sky. Simon was already there, his face light against the somber shadows. “It’s this way.”

He found the way although with several halts to get his bearings, during one of which they had ventured a little too close to one of the cabins and set a dog barking. The obeah woman’s cabin stood well beyond and at one side of the cluster of huts and cabins, off toward the western mountain, as if royalty had the right to seclude itself.

“I’m sure this is the one,” he whispered. There was a gleam of light from a window curtained with gauze.

“Stay here.”

“No, I’ll go in with you.”

“Simon, let me prepare the way. If she refuses to help, if she decides to report your presence, I’ll let you know somehow. I’ll delay her—”

“And give me a chance to run for it?” He gave his light, soft laugh but yielded. “All right, then, I’ll wait just outside.”

The cabin was small. There seemed to be a garden around it, for there was the heavy fragrance of tuberoses. Amity took a deep breath and knocked at the door.

It swung open almost as if Selene had been waiting for her. “Come in,” she said politely.

Selene was the same, but dressed with a surprising difference. Her blue-black hair was twisted up into a neat, shining knot; her scarlet hibiscus flowers were gone, her bracelets were gone. Instead of the white, priestesslike dress, she wore a lime-colored muslin, starched and clean. There was a fire in a small fireplace, a kettle on the hob and an appetizing smell of soup. The little room glittered with cleanliness. There were three woven cane chairs. There was a great vase of red and white flowers on a table. A door leading to another room gave a glimpse of a snowy counterpane and a polished chest of drawers.

“Will you have some soup?” Selene asked pleasantly. “I prepared enough for two.”

“No, thank—
Were you expecting me?”

“There was a murder in the great house—in the garden. That means trouble. I can tell you now, what I will tell anybody who investigates, the murder was not done by any of my people. There was not one of them missing from our meeting today except those unfortunates in the hospital, and I had seen that a nurse whom I can trust remained with them. None of the sick is able to walk and in any event the nurse tells me that none of them left the hospital, even during the earthquake. The magistrates and the Custos will believe me.” She went to stir the soup. “So you see,” she said in a conversational way, “it seems clear that your nursemaid was strangled by one of you. That is, by Mr. Grappit or his madam wife, your young stepmother or her brother, young Mr. Neville or you. Or the man dressed like a seaman, who has been about the penn, in the forest, sleeping two nights in a deserted hut.”

“Sim—” Amity began and caught herself.

“A stray horse wandered onto the place yesterday. I told the children to watch for a stranger.” Selene put a great iron spoon down neatly in a saucer. “You want my help.”

Amity swallowed hard. “I—yes.” Now she was in for it. With one flick of her hand the beautiful young woman opposite her, eyeing her so coolly, could send Simon to the gallows.

It was a mistake. A dreadful mistake. No, she couldn’t risk it. Selene said, “Is he your husband?”

“How did you—Yes.”

“Did he kill this girl?” Selene asked quietly.

“Kill—No! No, believe me; he didn’t—he wouldn’t—You must believe me!”

Selene’s eyes were strangely direct and penetrating. After a moment she said, “You want me to hide him.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know,” Selene said thoughtfully. “Hiding an officer of the American Continental Army, if he were found would threaten my own position.”

“How did you know—” Amity began and stopped. Perhaps Selene did have strange powers.

Selene half smiled. “Simple. He is wearing seaman’s clothes, so he is not traveling under his right name or position. You could only have married an American—and an American would be either of the King’s party or the colonial party. Since he is hiding I take it that he is of the colonial party. I also take it that he has some sort of military purpose in coming to Jamaica.”

“He is not a spy!”

Again Selene’s eyes were remarkably penetrating. She said quickly, “Very well, then. Don’t tell me any more. But, of course, he is in danger of arrest as a prisoner of war. Since this nursemaid has been very brutally murdered, he and you realize that there will be investigation and his danger increased immeasurably.”