Whispers at Midnight (19 page)

“How kind, Mrs. Weller, but I must return to
Wicklow in the morning. Gardner has promised to drive me back
early. Perhaps if your schedule allows, you will call on me at
Wicklow sometime.”

“We should be pleased to do so and I am
certain we shall miss your company tomorrow. Now, let’s get
ourselves up to bed.” Margaret ushered them out of the drawing room
and up the wide staircase that filled one side of the hall. “I do
believe that maid has gone out or fallen asleep,” she rambled on as
they climbed the steps. “Gardner O’Reilly ought to get married, I
say. Nothing ever runs as it should in a house without a
woman.”

Amanda shook out her nightdress and slipped
it on. Gussie really had done a splendid job of packing. She hadn’t
forgotten a thing Amanda would need. But then, she must have had
plenty of experience looking after Aunt Elise.

Gardner’s house was roomy, though not by
Wicklow’s standards. Amanda remembered it had once belonged to Aunt
Elise too. Jubal Wicklow had been a member of the House of
Burgesses and had built the house to have a comfortable residence
during the seasons the family chose to stay in Williamsburg.

He had located the house on Nicholson
Street, a two-story edifice that was the most handsome on the
street. It was beautifully furnished and the bedroom Amanda
occupied on the second floor was comfortable, if it lacked the
frills that would have made it a woman’s room. The walls were a dun
color, the woodwork painted a dull green. There was no rug on the
floor, but the planks had been oiled and polished to a soft glow. A
window opened above a large courtyard on the back of the house.

The summer night was warm and Amanda elected
to raise the sash and let in a cooling breeze. Below she could see
a small but artfully laid-out flower garden and just to the right
of it an arbor covered with the thick green leaves of a jasmine
vine. Beyond that were a vegetable garden and the several
outbuildings that served the house.

On the mahogany bedstead, green silk gauze
mosquito netting trailed to the floor like pale threads of light.
Once Amanda had put out the candles and pulled the netting down
around her, she felt as if she were wrapped in a soothing night
mist that lulled her into a pleasant slumber.

It was perhaps an hour later when she
awakened to the sound of whispers that a light breeze carried into
her room. Amanda’s limbs shuddered beneath the covers as fear came
to her suddenly. She sat up. Surely the ghostly voice she heard at
Wicklow had not followed to vex her here.

A lump formed in her throat, but soon she
was up and found her footsteps leading toward the window. The sound
she heard came from below and was not the unearthly whisper she
dreaded. She tried to place the voices, one soft, the other deep
and smooth. But she could not identify them, any more than she
could distinguish the words they spoke. She thought they came from
beneath the arbor, where the moonlight hinted of two shadows
dancing on the ground.

The sound of subtle laughter rose, and then
more whispering. But as before, the words themselves were lost to
her over the distance they traveled. All she could be sure of was
that there were two voices. Amanda remembered the missing maid.
Perhaps the girl had arranged an assignation in the courtyard.
Something that looked like the fullness of a woman’s skirt billowed
from beneath the arbor. Amanda looked more carefully, but before
she could be certain of what she saw, a cloud came like a swirling
cloak and shielded the moon.

With a sigh, Amanda drew back and lowered
the sash. In the darkened courtyard, she imagined she saw the
lovers arm in arm walking toward the carriage house. She slept
deeply afterward, her mind at ease that the whispers that had
awakened her this night had brought no harm.

***

The occurrence had faded like a dream when
Amanda was summoned by a light knocking on her door. Reluctantly
she awoke and sat up in bed.

“Amanda, dear,” Margaret called. “I’ve had
Mrs. Campbell bring up tea and toast.”

“Come in, please,” Amanda answered. “I’m
just getting out of bed.” She slipped a wrapper over her nightdress
and hurried to the mahogany dressing table to unbraid and brush her
hair.

Margaret Weller, wearing a blue striped day
dress trimmed with black braid, swept in behind Mrs. Campbell, who
carried a tray which she deposited on the tea table near the
window. As soon as Amanda assured her she required nothing else,
the cook left the room.

“That Molly hasn’t come back this morning,”
Margaret Weller said. “Don’t know how Gardner can keep her on,” she
protested, peering over Amanda’s shoulder at her own image in the
mirror and smoothing one of a profusion of curls on her powdered
wig.

“Mrs. Campbell says she doesn’t know who’s
gone more nights, Mr. O’Reilly or that girl.” She straightened up
from the mirror. “You can bet we haven’t that problem at Weller
Hall.”

Amanda smiled. She could well imagine they
did not. She remembered from the conversation at the dinner table
that Weller Hall had a large entourage of both slaves and servants,
as did many of the plantations in Virginia. She felt assured that
under Margaret’s capable hand all at Weller Hall toed the line.

Amanda nibbled a slice of toast. “How
thoughtful you are, Mrs. Weller,” she said sweetly. “But you need
not have troubled yourself. I could have come down for
breakfast.”

“No, no. Guests ought to be looked after,”
she said emphatically. “Ariel and I took an early breakfast in our
rooms and are leaving soon. No point in your going down to eat
alone.” She made a clucking sound. “And if Gardner O’Reilly is in
the same condition as Mr. Weller, I’ll not envy you that long ride
to Wicklow with him.” She paused, but only, Amanda was certain, to
draw a second breath before she went on. “Mr. Weller returned with
the dawn and needed a manservant to help him up the stairs.”
Margaret chuckled in her free, bold way. “Can’t bear to hear a fly
buzzing this morning. But that’s his deserts.” She flipped a cloth
from the tray and poured a steaming cup of tea for Amanda before
she bustled out. “You tell that scamp Ryne Sullivan I’ll expect a
visit from him before the week is out.”

Amanda enjoyed her tea and toast in
leisurely solitude. If Margaret were correct about the condition of
Gardner’s head, she wouldn’t rush him this morning. It had come to
her only a moment ago that she wanted to make a stop in
Williamsburg before she returned to Wicklow. And she preferred
Gardner to be in good form for the visit. As it turned out, her
wish was to be granted.

“You seem no worse for your evening out,”
Amanda commented as Gardner started the horses at a brisk walk
along the street. If he had overindulged, it must certainly agree
with him, for he looked as refreshed as if he had retired early.
His smile was wide and his eyes bright and cheerful. He was without
his hat, and his red hair, caught back with a black cord, gleamed
like the sun itself.

“I have learned the lesson of moderation,”
he said with a smile. “Mr. Weller outstayed me at the tavern by
many hours and many tankards. Now, tell me which street it is you
wish to visit.”

“I don’t believe I know the street by name,
but I do think I walked in this direction and turned here.” She
indicated a narrow street which looked familiar, although once
Gardner had turned the carriage into it, she began to think she had
made a mistake. “I must have come in this direction when I left Mr.
Baldwin’s office.”

She had not considered that the back streets
of the city could look so much alike. But Gardner was patient with
her, and eventually, by crisscrossing the area they were able to
locate the shop where she had seen the chess set she believed to
have come from Wicklow.

The dusty shop window was dark and a curtain
had been pulled down over the glass, but through a crack she could
see that the chess set was still on display inside. Gardner tried
the door and found it locked. A moment later he was at Amanda’s
side by the window.

“There. Don’t you see it?” Amanda pointed to
the split in the curtains and moved aside so that Gardner could
look in. “Isn’t it the one? Can you tell?” she asked
impatiently.

Gardner peered within.

“It looks like it, but I could not be
positive without a closer look. Perhaps we could come back another
time.”

But now Amanda’s curiosity had risen to full
force. She shaded her eyes against the glare from the glass and
bent closer for a better look. Back in the shadows of the dark,
dingy little shop she thought she could see a face peering through
another curtain, one that blocked the doorway of what certainly
must be a storage room.

“I believe someone is inside,” she said,
moving briskly to the door and putting her own small hand to the
brass knob and giving it a twist. With the other hand she rapped
loudly on the wooden portal.

“I do think the building is empty,” Gardner
said with a degree of certainty.

But Amanda would not be dissuaded from her
purpose.

“Hello,” she called. “Won’t you open up? We
are customers.” She could have sworn she heard a scuffle from
inside, as if someone had stepped quickly into the back room. But
now Gardner had taken her by the arm and was ushering her toward
the carriage.

“Your knocking is of no use, Amanda,” he
said with a note of resignation. “No one is there.”

“But Gardner,” she said, looking back over
her shoulder, “I must see the set before I leave.”

“Then come along,” he said, leading her to
the carriage. “I know where we can get refreshments. We’ll come
back in an hour and perhaps then the shop will be open.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment, but
could not help wondering if there had indeed been someone inside.
Yet it seemed odd that in such a place they would not welcome two
customers so anxious to see their wares.

“A cup of cider, Sally,” Gardner said to a
buxom young woman whose white apron stood out crisply over a faded
dress. “And a coffee for me.”

“Sure, I know the way you like it, sir,” she
answered with a brightness coming into a pair of pale eyes that had
looked at first like bits of stone.

Sally was back at the little table quickly
and set Amanda’s cider before her without a glance. She was more
attentive to Gardner, setting down his mug with deliberate slowness
as she bent over the table so that the low neck of her dress gapped
away from her ample endowments. Gardner’s eyes fell to temptation,
but not without a touch of color flying to his face.

“We’ve missed you at the Queen’s Gate, sir,”
Sally crooned. “Mustn’t stay away so long again.”

“My business keeps me quite busy,” he
mumbled as he paid Sally and dropped a generous tip into her palm.
Sally smiled and mumbled something to him that Amanda could not
understand. Gardner quickly excused himself from the table and
followed Sally from the room. He was back in a few minutes looking
quite pleased with himself.

Amanda smiled. “I believe the girl likes
you.”

Gardner smiled and shook his head. “She’d
like a husband. And any eligible man had better watch his steps
around such,” he said, his face coloring slightly.

Amanda laughed lightly at his embarrassment.
Ryne, she thought, would have felt no discomfort from Sally’s
attentions.

Amanda drank her cider and basked in the
warm sunshine that streamed in the windows of the pleasant little
tearoom. As they talked, her thoughts kept returning to the chess
set in that dingy shop. She was more convinced than ever that it
was the one she remembered. She must see it and ask how the shop
had come by it. And possibly, she considered, she also wanted to
satisfy herself that it wasn’t Ryne who had removed it from the
house.

Ryne. Ryne. Why did her mind always come
back to Ryne?

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She
found it easy to understand the attraction. Ryne had a magnetism
that Gardner, for all his good manners and charm, lacked. Ryne had
been well-favored with his dark good looks, and though Gardner
certainly bore more strength of character, Ryne possessed a certain
intensity of spirit that was immensely appealing.

Her brows rose with just a hint of
annoyance. Ryne made her blood feel strangely warm whenever he was
near. It appalled her to think that she might be attracted as
easily as any other woman was. But she couldn’t be. She disapproved
of him on almost every count. Or was it possible to both like and
dislike a man? If so, that was how she would sum up her feelings
about Ryne Sullivan. He was an enigma to her and it was all the
more disconcerting because he harbored an evident low opinion of
her as well.

Conscious of Gardner’s eyes on her, Amanda
looked up to find an arrested expression on his face. Hopefully he
would not ask her thoughts. She would be ashamed to have him know
that in the last few minutes she had been comparing him with his
brother. But most likely he would attribute her seriousness of mind
to her interest in the chess set and her disappointment at having
found the shop closed.

His face brightened as a slight smile
touched her lips. “We’ll try the shop again if you are ready,” he
said.

He made his way back in the space of a few
minutes. Amanda was amazed at how easy it was to locate the
building once she had gotten her bearings and seen how the streets
were laid out. As they approached she could see that the curtains
had been drawn open and that the shop appeared to be open for
trade. But as Gardner pulled the carriage to a halt, her heart gave
a sudden lurch. The chess set was no longer visible in the
window.

“Back so soon, miss,” the shopkeeper, a
small wiry man with spectacles and a gray beard, said, coming
forward as Amanda hurried in ahead of Gardner. “Oh, but you’re not
. . .”