Room Beneath the Stairs (15 page)

Stella served dessert. I had barely touched my food. I pushed the dessert aside.

“Are you feeling all right?” Evan inquired. They were the first words he had spoken.

“I feel fine,” I said coldly.

“You don't have to snap my head off.”

“She's tired,” Grey told him.

“Oh?” Helen said sweetly.

“Headache?” Evan asked.

“Just tired,” Grey said. “We had a rugged afternoon. I taught her to play billiards.”

“She must have loved it,” Evan remarked cynically.

“Won the last game,” Grey replied. “Picked it up right away, didn't you, luv?”

“Right away.”

“Bridge is my game,” Helen said, “though I rarely have an opportunity to play here. I belong to a club in London. All my friends live there. I spend quite a lot of time in the city.”

“How
fas
cinating” I said bitchily.

“You
are
tired,” Grey said, concerned.

I stood up. “I'm sorry. I think I'll go to my room.”

“I'll go with you,” he volunteered.

“No. I'll be all right. Finish your dessert.”

“You sure you don't want—”

“I'll be all
right
,” I repeated.

Both men were standing. Helen gave me a curious look. “Hey, Evan,” I heard Grey say as I left, “how about me and
you
playing a game of billiards? It's been a long time.”

“Christ,” Evan said.

Judy was turning down the bed when I entered my room. She was wearing a green taffeta dress; a pair of gold hoops dangled from her ears. The room was filled with a particularly strong cheap perfume. She gave me a pert smile and smoothed back the covers.

“I guess you're wonderin' why I'm out of my uniform,” she babbled merrily. “They're havin' a dance down at the Seamen's Club and I promised Ned I'd meet him there around nine. You won't say anything, will you? I
know
I shouldn't go—Mrs. Porter'd have a
fit
if she found out—but I've done all my chores, and I'll be back first thing in the morning. Not that I intend to do anything
wicked
, mind you—Ned has a perfectly comfortable sofa in his living room—but I wouldn't be wantin' to come back that late, know what I mean? I thought I could slip out without anyone seein' me, but then I remembered I hadn't turned down your bed, and if I'm anything, I'm conscientious about my duties. Even
she
says so.” Judy paused in her monologue, peering at me closely. “I say, ma'am, you look a bit pale. Can I get you somethin'?”

“I'm fine, Judy.”

“I 'spect you'd better go right to bed. It's this altitude, no doubt. Affected me, too, first few days I was here. Felt ever so queer. Well, if there isn't anything else.…”

“Enjoy yourself, Judy. I won't tell anyone.”

“You're a real sport, ma'am. I said so the minute I laid eyes on you.”

Teetering slightly on her high heels, she hurried out of the room. Her green taffeta skirt crackled noisily as she went down the stairs. I threw open the windows to let out the reek of Secret Sin, and in a few minutes the scent had vanished. The fresh air was bracing, filling the room with a welcome chill. I felt better. The tension at the dinner table, the inane chatter and forced pleasantry had been almost unendurable. I felt strangely calm, and I wondered why. Why was I no longer upset? Why wasn't I afraid? Reality seemed to have vanished. I seemed to be moving in a kind of trance, free of emotion. A cool, objective Carolyn seemed to stand far off, watching the woman who moved about in the bedroom. It was a curious sensation. Perhaps I was merely numb.

Without bothering to undress, I turned out all the lamps. Moonbeams spilled through the windows, transforming the room into a luminous etching of silver and blue and shadowy black. Moving over to the windows, I sat on the padded window seat and peered out. The patio was milky white, spread with hazy black shadows thrown by the wall, and, far out, silvery flecks shimmered on the crests of the waves. I could see a cluster of red and gold lights on the horizon: a ship at sea. I sat there for a long time, numb. Gradually, feeling returned. I thought about Brighton, how wonderful it had been, how elated I had been with my new name, my new happiness. It seemed an eternity ago. Nothing had been the same since Grey had received the phone call at the hotel summoning him back. He had changed, grown secretive, and there was an underlying tension even in his most jovial moments. This house had done that. This island.

Sitting there in the moonlight, I thought about my husband. He had known great sorrow as a very small boy, and it had affected him deeply. For years he had depended on others for guidance, letting them make his decisions for him. Charming, affable, jovial, he had been content to take the course of least resistance, letting his aunt dominate him, letting Evan run the business. This revealed weakness of character, perhaps, but I understood. If he were away from the island, away from Helen and Evan and whatever secret they strove to conceal, he would be a different person. He would get a job. He would accept the responsibilities marriage entailed, and we would be happy. I believed that with all my heart.

I thought about the events of the past two days. Since the moment we had arrived on the island, there had been a series of little incidents; none of them were too important in themselves, but together they all added up to one large mystery. The conversation I had overheard this evening merely capped it off. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. I was bewildered and frightened and terribly distressed, and I knew I had to do something about it.

I had to think it out very carefully. I realized this was a crucial moment. Either I could let my emotions overcome me and render me useless, or I could keep a cool head and steady nerves. I could either pack my bags and leave first thing in the morning, or stay and fight to save my marriage. It was a decision I had to make, and I made it. I loved Grey. I knew that he loved me. I knew, too, that he was helpless here on the island, completely under the thumb of Evan and Helen Porter. He would do what they told him to do, say what they told him to say. He had defied them by marrying me and bringing me here, and now, like a child, he was trying to make amends. However unwillingly, he was part of the conspiracy to keep something from me. I couldn't count on Grey to help me unravel the mystery. I had to unravel it myself, alone, and then I had to get him away from the island.

I got up and began to prowl around the moonlit room, trying to decide what course of action I should take. They thought I was naive and unsuspecting. Very well, I would let them think that. I would play my part, act perfectly normal, and all the while I would be very alert, taking every opportunity to discover anything that might help me learn their secret. Strange though it might seem, once I had made that decision, I felt curiously excited. It was a challenge I would meet, a game I would play, and if the game was dangerous, that would only make it more stimulating. Indecision was behind me now. So was fear. I was drawing on reserves I hadn't even known I possessed, and I felt stronger, more determined than I had ever felt in my life.

My future happiness, and Grey's, was at stake, and I intended to fight for it tooth and nail.

CHAPTER NINE

I think it was the cold that awakened me. I hadn't closed the windows, and the room was filled with an icy chill; a strong breeze was blowing through. I was sitting in the overstuffed jade green chair, still fully dressed. I remembered sitting down earlier, still filled with resolution; and I must have fallen asleep without realizing it. Rubbing my eyes, groggy, I went to the windows and closed them. What time was it, I wondered. How long had I been sleeping in the chair? Dark, ragged clouds had covered the moon, and the room was all blue and black shadows, the furniture barely visible, the whitewashed walls showing faintly in the gloom.

Fully awake now, I stood in the darkened room, listening. Every nerve seemed taut, and I was cold, very cold. Why was I so tense? Why should I be straining to hear something? I couldn't understand it. The chill had awakened me abruptly, true, but there was no reason to feel—alarmed. I frowned, trying to recall something, and then I remembered the nightmare.
That
was what woke me up. The details were foggy, vanishing when I awakened, but I seemed to recall a terrifying noise, so real that it had ripped away the layers of unconsciousness. My taut nerves were merely the aftermath of the nightmare.

Weren't they?

I tried to relax, but still I listened. Outside, the wind raged; inside, the house was filled with those noises common to every old house. Windows rattled, curtains rustled, and there was an occasional scratching sound like paper tearing. In the darkness every creak and groan seemed magnified, but that was perfectly natural. It was absurd to be standing here as though—as though I expected to hear a bloodcurdling cry. Cry? Had it been a cry? I tried to remember, but the nightmare had completely eluded me now. I frowned, admonishing myself. Last night I had decided to be the intrepid girl detective, skillfully uncovering facts, and already I was acting like one of those jittery females I despised.

As my eyes gradually became accustomed to the dark, I could see that the bedcovers were still smoothly turned down. Grey hadn't come up to join me. Why? It bothered me just a little; and then I realized he must have gone to his own room out of consideration, knowing I was tired and irritable when I left the dining room. Dimly, I could see the luminous hands of the clock on the bedside table. It was just after four in the morning. I had no idea how long I had been sleeping, but the only sensible thing to do was undress and go to bed. Sighing, I walked over to the bed. I sat down, bent to take off my shoes and stockings … and then I froze.

The cry rang out loudly, echoing through empty halls and rooms. It was a horrifying noise, half-human, half-animal, the hideous cry of a creature in anguish. Shrill, piercing, it swelled in volume, and then it ended abruptly. The silence that followed was almost as horrible. My hands were trembling. My blood seemed to have turned to ice. I stood up on legs that were barely able to support me. The cry was not repeated. It had come from downstairs, the lower regions of the house, the basement, I realized. Everyone in the house must have heard it, must be getting out of bed, turning on lamps.

Not necessarily, I suddenly realized. I had already been awake, and there were no doors closed in my bedroom or sitting room. The others slept on the opposite side of the house. On this side there was only me, and Carlotta in the tower … and that staircase leading down to the basement. Carlotta might have heard it, but I doubted it. I might have been the only one. For a moment, standing there beside the bed, I was completely paralyzed; and then shock wore off and fear vanished, replaced by a curious calm that was almost as alarming as the fear had been.

Quietly I stepped into the sitting room, not daring to think of the enormity of what I planned to do. It was insanity to go out into the darkness of the hallways, but I knew I couldn't stay here alone. Grey. I had to go to Grey. He would know what to do. The wind blew strongly, and clouds swept away from the moon. Bright moonlight streamed through the windows of the sitting room, staining the floor with silver, filling the room with a misty silver-blue light and shrouding the walls with shadow. I peered at the dark opening of the staircase. It was a nest of blackness, and the narrow hallway below must be even worse. I couldn't do it. Determination had given me temporary bravery, but not that much.

Then I saw the small antique copper candlestick set on a table beneath the windows. A fat wax candle, half burned down, was crammed into the holder. A tiny drawer was built into the front of the table. I pulled it open, and, sure enough, there was a box of matches. I struck one and held the flame over the wick. In a matter of seconds the candle caught and began to spread a flickering yellow-orange light. Not giving myself time to think, I gripped the tarnished copper holder and started down the stairs, moving slowly, carefully, finally reaching the hall.

It was a long, black tunnel. There must have been a light switch somewhere, surely, but I wasn't going to waste time trying to locate it. My throat was dry. The hand holding the candlestick trembled. A voice inside me cried out that this was sheer madness; but the thought of staying alone in my apartment was far more terrifying than anything else. I wanted to run madly down the hallway. I wanted to scream hysterically. I forced myself to walk at an even pace, not daring to give way to the jangling emotions that beset me. Grey would know what to do. I must get to his room. I must keep calm. My skirt rustled as I moved. The noise echoed with the sound of whispers. My footsteps echoed, too. In the stillness, it sounded as though someone were directly behind me, matching my every step. The hall stretched ahead of me, interminable, stirring with shadows which the sputtering candlelight only served to intensify. I moved in a circle of dim, wavering golden light, darkness in front of me, darkness behind.

The wind, soaring through some opening, sobbed plaintively. The sound was faint, coming from below, and I didn't pay much attention to it. Reaching the wide hall, I turned to my left, walking faster now, eager to get to Grey's room. This hall was much lighter, moonlight pouring through the end windows and creating a hazy grayish illumination. Shadows fell away as I drew nearer the windows. I stopped, startled, realizing suddenly that I had taken the wrong turn. I should be moving
away
from the windows, not toward them. I was only a few feet away from the doorway leading up to the tower … and the doorway that opened onto the basement steps. I was stunned, too frightened to move. The cry had come from the basement, and the sobbing … the sobbing was coming from there, too.

I had thought it was the wind, but now I realized it wasn't the wind at all. It couldn't be. The sound that rose from the depths of the basement was human. Someone was down there, alone in the dark, heaving with sobs. The sobs were tormented, heart wrenching, an anguished expression of acute misery.