Moonshadows (18 page)

“The truth Janet, that’s all. The truth.” The voice was angry. “All this stuff’s been happening to you for a reason. You had to be removed because you’re in the way.” He paused as if desperately searching for words. “Do you trust me enough to come up here and find out for yourself?”

“Stephen, I want to believe you, but I’m scared.”

“Janet, if you’ve never listened to me before, listen now.” He spoke slowly, as if giving weight and measure to his argument. “Things are not at all what they seem. Until all this is straightened out there can be no future for you—for us.”

Janet was beyond hearing the words. She could only hear the pleading in his voice. But he did say that Lije was on his way, so that would make it all right. Yet she remained cautious.

“Please. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow will be too late.” His voice contained a sharp edge of intensity. “Come now, Janet. Come now or you’ll never know the absolute truth.”

She thought about Hilda and the speeding car in the dark alley, about the skid on the mountain, so much danger.

“I’m not so sure the truth is all that important anymore.”

“The sheriff just drove up.” He paused for the space of a breath. “I’ve never told you Janet, but I love you.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know it surprised me too. Our future’s what’s important to me, but we can’t have a life together until all the knots are untangled. I won’t ask too much of you tonight, I know I caught you off guard. So come up here if you can—I know you’ll do what you think is best.”

Then the phone line went dead.

Without giving herself time to think Janet was out of bed and dressed in a matter of minutes. She found a sticky pad and scribbled a note:

Chelsea,

I probably won’t be here when you

come back in the morning. I’ve gone

to the mansion to meet Stephen.

At last I’m going to know the truth.

J.

As she went out the front door, she slapped the note against the glass panel and headed for her car.

J
anet peered through the heavy mist at Stephen’s apartment across the courtyard from hers. It was dark. At the parking lot the familiar white Mustang was also missing.

“Of course he’s not home,” she told herself. “He just called from the mountain.”

Then why did she feel so wary? Why did it seem as if all the pieces of the puzzle were a hopeless jumble, with no hope of ever getting the picture put together in some sort of coherent fashion.

“It’s okay,” she kept reassuring herself. “It’s going to be okay.” Somehow Stephen had uncovered the truth and now her life would be set to some kind of reasonable order. But still she had doubts and couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was lurking on the mountain.

The headlights picked through the ice-laden fog that rolled across the highway in front of the car and Janet had to swipe the clouded windshield with the sleeve of her coat. At long last she could see the faint outline of the mansion in the murky distance. It looked dark and dangerous, a threatening fortress. How had the very place that held such wonderful childhood memories turned into a destination now filled with dread? Frigid air penetrated the car and she shivered and switched the heater to a higher setting. It did no good. The cold was coming from the marrow of her bones.

She parked the car in front of the carriage house and cut the engine. Frowning, she cast her eyes around the empty parking area and wondered where the heck all the other cars were. She didn’t even see the sheriff’s official vehicle. Unconsciously she picked up the denim bag from the seat and slung it over her shoulder. Her movements were by rote. She opened the door and stepped out into the mist. In the distance, the crash of the sea roared in its fury.

Tugging the hood of her coat over her head, she turned and looked toward the house:
Heather Down
, her beloved family home, now looked dark and ominous and she wanted to run away. The sound of her footsteps faded when she stepped from the paved drive to the overgrown lawn. She could feel the tall grass brush against her legs and grapple around her ankles. Janet glanced skyward. A rare blue moon lighted her path; such an occurrence was marked by a second full moon in a single month and was said to predict danger and even death. She shivered.

She juggled the clutch of keys as she moved across the porch. When she touched the knob, the door opened on its own. Musky odors of a room too long closed enveloped her as she stepped over the threshold. She reached for the lights and then remembered that the power was off.

“Stephen,” she called out. “I’m here.” Silence was the only response. Nerves tightened and she fought against the urge to flee. “Is anyone here?”

She closed the door behind herself, cutting off all outside light. In the darkness, she made her way to the library table situated at the foot of the stairs. Feeling for the pulls of the center drawer she slid it open and reached inside. Her hand closed around a long, slender candle and beside it she felt the square matchbox. The scratching of the match against the sandpaper side of the box grated in the silent room and she touched the flame to the wick. Turning slowly she looked around and took a step in the direction of the study.

“Stephen,” she called a second time. “Are you there?”

A slight rustling, a movement ever so faint, sounded above her. She took a tentative step to the foot of the stairs.

“Is someone up there?”

Again, something stirred.

Determined to put an end to the maddening events of the last few months and take back control of her life, Janet’s resolve hardened against any adversary she might encounter, especially in the home she knew so well and where she had always felt so safe. Gripping the candle in her right hand, she clutched the banister with her left and began to climb. The flickering wick danced shadows on the wall to her right as she placed one foot above the other. She continued upward. Halfway to the first landing she felt something brush across her foot and scurry away. Settle down, she scolded herself, it’s only a mouse.

Janet climbed with a forceful purpose. After what seemed an eternity she reached the first landing. To her right was Elizabeth Lancaster’s bedroom. The door was closed. Was this where the sound had come from? As if in answer to her question, she heard a mewling from behind the door.

“Who’s there?” she demanded and tried to steady her shaky voice. “What do you want?”

Another muffled sound penetrated the door.

Someone
was
inside the room. Goosebumps dotted Janet’s arms and prickled along her spine. Her breathing, ragged and shallow, made her lightheaded. She stepped backward, ready to escape down the stairs when a drop of hot wax fell from the candle and dripped onto her hand. Reality returned with a clarity that told her leaving would provide no answers. She had to find out once and for all who was pulling the strings that had turned her into a mindless puppet.

Fortified with a strange new courage, she stepped forward and reached for the door. Fear like a deadly stalker prowled through the network of blood and muscle and nerve systems that made up her body. Her heart quickened as she turned the knob and stepped into the dark chamber. At first she could make out only the bulky outlines of the massive furniture as she glanced around the room. When her eyes became accustomed to the dimness they came to rest upon the huge four-poster bed. A faint outline of a body humped beneath the pile of covers.

“Who are you?” Janet’s voice was controlled by a measure of reasonableness that she didn’t feel. “What do you want?”

Resentment bubbled up and spilled over for this intruder who had invaded the privacy of her grandmother’s room.

Janet held the candle higher for a clearer look and crept closer. Light fell across the backside of the figure beneath the covers.

“How dare you lie in my grandmother’s bed?”

Janet’s anger overcame her fear and she forgot to be frightened.

“Your grandmother?” the voice hissed from a face still hidden in the shadows. “Your beloved grandmother?” Slowly, deliberately, the figure turned. “What was so holy about your grandmother that the sanctity of her precious domain not be violated?” The voice rasped from a mouth contorted with hate.

“Miss Austin!” Janet fell back a step. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you know, you silly girl?” Amanda Austin sat up in the center of the bed. “Don’t you really know?”

Janet shook her head, finding it difficult to believe the scene unfolding before her eyes.

“Miss Austin,” she stammered. “For pity’s sake, tell me what’s going on.”

“Don’t call me Miss Austin, you stupid girl. The name’s Isabella—Isabella Lancaster.”

“No,” Janet said. “I would’ve known.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Surely I would have known.”

“You’re too foolish to know anything. Too trusting. But now the time’s finally come, and I have every right to be in the place of my ancestors. The place I had to give up when I was sent away.”

The woman leaned forward and pushed her face into the circle of candlelight. Her glazed eyes looked frosted and as dangerous as a rattlesnake, coiled and cunning and waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Don’t hold your breath you stupid girl, if you think this place will ever be yours.”

She threw her head back and cackled.

She really is a witch
, Janet thought.

“This!” Isabella shrieked and swept an arm around to encompass the room. “All of this is mine. All of it—do you hear me? Mine! What gives you the right to lay claim to any part of it?”

“But surely I’m entitled to some small—”

Isabella snarled and bared her teeth.

“You’ve already got more than you were entitled to. Now hear me and hear me good—not another penny. I promise you on the grave of my sainted father, not another cent. Let me clue you in to the truth—the real truth—little Miss Prissy. You’re not even a Lancaster.”

Janet’s hand smothered her mouth to hold back words of disbelief.

“I see your precious grandmother—the one you thought so righteous—didn’t tell you.” She smirked. “Well, allow me to enlighten you, Miss Whoever-you-are. You’re a commoner, a foundling taken from an orphanage before you were even a month old.” Her lips sneered with disgust and cruelty. “So you see Missy, you’re not—I repeat
not
—a Lancaster.” Her chin inched upward, haughty and proud. Her chest swelled. “Not a single drop of Lancaster blood flows through your stupid veins, yet you have the unmitigated gall to stand there and tell me you’re entitled to any of this.”

“But you didn’t want—”

“Never mind what I did, or did not, want,” she hissed. “You don’t know what happened. Nobody knew but me and my father.” Her mouth twisted into a vile grin. “Oh he didn’t love the noble-minded Elizabeth. And he didn’t love my mealy-mouthed brother.” She struck her chest. “He loved me. Only me.”

Janet wanted to speak but was mute.

“When I couldn’t be the perfect daughter, he’d let me know what a disappointment I was to him. So I really disappointed him when I got myself
pregnant
. He would’ve come around if it hadn’t been for Elizabeth the Great working against my interest.”

Isabella jerked back her shoulders.

“I laughed in his face when he demanded to know who the father was.” She sneered. “Oh, I knew all right, but when I wouldn’t tell him that only proved how much he loved me.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You see, that was the only reason he sent me away—because he loved me.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I don’t have to make sense, I’m a Lancaster.”

Janet shook her head. “Who’s Amanda Austin?”

“The first name I saw in a phone book after I left this place.” Her laugh was brittle and she seemed grandly amused with herself. “And after many years I came back here and nobody recognized me, not even after I took the job at the library.” She rubbed her forehead as if it ached. “But changing a name can’t change blood. I’m still a Lancaster.”

Her voice caressed the name like a title of honor.

“But why stay away so many years?”

“I had to wait until Her Royal Majesty died and no one was left but me. I had to bide my time, you stupid girl, bide my time and plan for my son. Oh it may have been too late for me, I’d already been disinherited, but I knew some day I’d get even.”

“Miss—Aunt Isabella, couldn’t we be friends? Be a family?”

“Friends! Family! With a street urchin? Don’t make me laugh.” She slapped the air. “And don’t you dare—don’t you ever let that word cross your lips again. You’re not worthy to call me
Aunt Isabella
.”

Suddenly her head snapped forward and she was on her knees in the center of the bed, her hands buried in the covers. She glowered at Janet with wild and fevered eyes.

“You may legally be an heir,” she said. “But Etienne will be the one to survive.” She twisted around in the bed and started toward the edge. A slight fanning of the breeze caused the candle in Janet’s hand to flicker and reflect a beam of light off the keen-edged knife she brought up from beneath the covers.

“You’re insane,” Janet whispered, inching toward the door.

A prickly growl escaped Isabella’s taut lips as she sprang from the bed, her arm upraised and poised. Her furious state of mind was beyond the power of reasoning and she tripped in the hem of the heavy bedspread and pitched forward.

Janet whipped around and the candle flickered out, throwing the room into a blanket of blackness. Behind her, she could hear Isabella struggling to free herself of her confinement.

Janet groped for the boxy brass key that always hung in the door lock. With her mind focused entirely on survival, she looped a cautious finger through the ring and pulled. In an effort to hurry, the key jammed in the opening. A string of curses continued to be hurled across the room. Janet’s frantic prayer was answered when the key popped free from the lock and she was through the door in a flash, yanking it shut behind her. She held the knob, grasping it in a damp palm. On the other side, Isabella had reached the door and Janet could feel the knob twist beneath her hand. Jabbing the key into the lock from the outside of the room, she finally got it to turn and the bolt shot into place.

“Stupid girl!” Isabella shrieked from inside the room. “You’ll not get away, you stupid girl!”

Encased in darkness, Janet felt along the wall and edged her way toward the stairs. Blood scorched through her veins, causing her ears to roar like a waterfall after a violent storm.

Pausing momentarily and forcing herself to take a deep breath, she oriented herself to her exact location. When her hand struck the banister, she knew she was at the top of the staircase. Creeping slowly in the blackness, she carefully placed one foot down and then the other. As she neared the bottom, Janet heard a sound coming from the study. Keep calm, she cautioned herself. She felt the end of the railing and knew she had reached the floor of the salon. Turning left toward the front door, she could already taste the fresh outside air and feel its briskness soothe her parched throat.

“Janet.” A voice cut across the wide room. She halted in mid-step, her mind reeling. “Janet.” Her name was repeated and Janet recognized Stephen’s voice.