Whispers at Midnight (30 page)

***

Dressed in pink silk brocade but little
recovered from her encounter with Ryne, Amanda sat at the dressing
table in a guest bedroom at Gardner’s house. Halfheartedly she
dabbed jasmine scent behind her ears and on her wrists and then
began brushing the fullness of her honey-brown hair. She combed and
pinned it into a style that reflected the severity of her mood,
smoothing it close to her head and wrapping it into a tight bun.
The only bit of gaiety in the style was her use of a silver net to
cover the bun, and the silver comb that held it in place.

Why couldn’t Gardner be the one she cared
for? Why had she lost her heart to his ribald brother? Perhaps she
was to be as luckless with men as her mother had been. She clipped
the pair of pearl earrings in her lobes and turned her head to
check the effect. Next week she could wear the emeralds. She was to
attend the theater and a party afterward with Gardner. It would be
the first party with the society of Williamsburg and she hoped to
make a good impression. Already Gardner had hinted of holding a
party at Wicklow later in the summer.

Amanda sighed and moved to a cushioned bench
beneath the window. If only Ryne had not come upon her today and
spoiled her enthusiasm for everything.

Outside a summer shower started up, the
light rain falling in glistening rivulets over the dusty leaves and
dry paths in the garden. The rain would not last long but it would
cool and freshen the air. That was a promise when the sun did not
bother to hide its head during a shower. How special and bright the
world looked when the sunshine and rain met like two enemies in a
truce.

Shortly Gardner’s guests would arrive. She
owed it to him to be charming and in good spirits at his table. As
she stared out the window, the jewel colors of the refreshed
flowers in the garden helped to lighten her mood. She had even
begun to hum a song when Gardner’s maid announced herself and
entered.

“A messenger brought this for you. Miss
Fairfax. No more’n a minute ago. Said it were a good-luck present.”
She hovered there near the door, burning with curiosity and waiting
for Amanda to untie the cord around the box.

Thinking it a gift from Gardner, Amanda
slowly loosened the cord’s knot and removed the lid from the
box.

“Oh, madam! Isn’t it just too pretty?” Molly
had hastened to Amanda’s side and was gazing admiringly at the
contents of the box.

Pretty? Yes. And under other circumstances
she would have been thrilled with the gift. But instead of showing
happiness, Amanda’s face paled to ashen white as she unfolded and
read the enclosed note.

To help you in your quest.

Had Ryne some way of knowing the very moment
he would most effectively dampen her spirits? Why wouldn’t he leave
her alone?

With trembling fingers she reached into the
box and lifted out the frothy, ribboned bonnet from the hat
shop.

A pale moon struggled through the heavy
clouds as the last guest departed from Gardner’s house. Those who
were staying the night, as was Amanda, lingered a few minutes more
in the drawing room before they too bade one another good night and
retired for the evening. Amanda was the last to climb the stairs,
thinking it her duty as hostess to see the other guests settled
before she went to her room.

“Oh, so there you are.” Gardner quickly
tucked a folded paper into his coat pocket. “I thought you had gone
up before me.”

“No,” she answered as she paused two steps
below him. “I waited until the last of your tireless guests were
gone.”

They shared a smile as Gardner stepped down
beside her.

“A long-winded lot, are they not? But you
have yourself to blame that the festivities lasted until this late
hour.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Never has a more charming lady
graced my table.” Gardner’s smile broadened into one of
approval.

She nodded graciously. “It was a most
pleasant evening. I hoped you were not disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” He grasped her hand lightly
and lifted it to his lips. “Dear cousin, I have been chastised by
all the guests for not introducing them earlier to the lovely
Amanda Fairfax. And I daresay you will find yourself quite the
toast of Williamsburg from this night on. You will have more
invitations than you can possibly accept.” He smiled. “Next week
when you are here we will begin our preparations for a ball at
Wicklow.”

Amanda’s face glowed with happiness. It had
happened just as she had dreamed and hoped. She had taken her
place, in her own right, among the genteel people of Williamsburg.
With Gardner’s help, and she would not forget that, she had gained
all she longed to have. Here, for the first time in her life she
existed on her own, not in the shadow of her mother. These people
liked her and cared about her for her own qualities and
accomplishments, however meager.

She was still basking in the glow of
Gardner’s compliments when she reached her room. But before she
went inside, she remembered the ivory fan she had left in the
drawing room. Lest she forget to fetch it in the morning before
Gardner drove her back to Wicklow, she hastened downstairs for
it.

Not wanting to disturb any who might by now
have gone to bed, Amanda stepped quietly on the stairs, and when
she reached the hall, moved almost soundlessly toward the drawing
room.

She stopped short when a loud voice rang out
from Gardner’s study.

“You promised I’d be paid three days ago,
Mr. O’Reilly. My patience is nigh gone.”

“Easy, man. You’ll have your pay. These
things are not so easy to arrange as you might think. Another week
more. I implore you.”

She detected the anxiety in Gardner’s voice.
It sounded odd that he would speak in any but the calm, placid tone
she had come to associate with him. The other voice, gruff and
angry, she did not know.

“One week. No more. If I don’t have it then,
there’ll be trouble brewing, Mr. O’Reilly. A man must pay his debts
or pay another price. Be warned.”

“You’ll have what’s due you.” Gardner’s
voice was placating. “Now, have a drink, my man, before you
go.”

Amanda was annoyed at herself for having
stood and listened to the conversation. Ashamed, she hurried into
the drawing room and quickly found her fan on the mantel where she
had left it. She did not linger even a moment, but made her way
promptly up the stairs to her bedroom. Just a few minutes later she
heard the front door shut and then the sound of Gardner’s heavy
footsteps on the stairs.

It had been wrong of her to eavesdrop. And
what was the use of her worrying about Gardner’s affairs? Every man
had a bit of trouble in business now and then. The visitor probably
wanted payment for some deal the two had struck, and Gardner, for
reasons no doubt sound, wanted to stall him.

Next morning when she saw Gardner she could
believe the incident had not occurred. He was in his usual
good-humored state and if the late visitor’s demand had upset him
one whit, it did not show. He was in truly high spirits as he
helped her into the carriage.

“You have a new bonnet, I believe.”

“Yes, I do.” Amanda laughed lightly as a
cascade of colorful ribbons tickled her neck. She had donned the
bonnet as an act of defiance. Even if Ryne had given it simply to
make her angry, it was far too lovely to be cast aside. Let him
think what he would, she would wear the bonnet anyway.

She wished, as she girded herself with
determination, Ryne could see that his lamentable behavior had not
unsettled her at all.

***

“Hello, Groom,” Amanda greeted the old man.
He was a thin, knotty old fellow whose eyesight was undoubtedly
failing. Occasionally he would pull a pair of spectacles out of his
pocket when he talked to her, but mostly she noted that Groom
preferred not to use them. She supposed he knew the way around the
stable so well that the spectacles were more a nuisance than a
help.

“ ‘Mornin’, Miss Amanda. You riding
today?”

“Not today, Groom,” she answered. “I only
came out to see how you were doing.” She had ridden several times
since she returned from Gardner’s, but today she had things to do
in the house. “How are the kittens?”

“Wild and sassy,” he answered with a wink.
“But regular good ratters.” Groom had been overjoyed that she had
not held that incident against him. He had insisted even the old
Cap’n would have approved of her. “Why, once when a feller was
there what he didn’t trust, the Cap’n’s spirit put out all the
candles in Wicklow. True, mum,” he said.

Amanda laughed. “Did you know Evelyn
Wicklow, Groom?” Sometimes she found herself wondering about the
woman who had disappeared.

“Yes, mum. A fine lady she was. Fair-haired,
and eyes what were beautiful but strange as a cat’s. ‘Specially
when she wore the heart pendant the Cap’n give her.”

“What do you supposed happened to her?”

“Don’t know. Maybe she just run off when the
Cap’n was gone. Grief, I reckon. Never believed she was waitin’
somewhere for that other fellow. Happened down back by the river,”
he went on. “Not a fair fight or the Cap’n would never been shot to
death. Were a crime, what that other fellow done. But Cap’n winged
him too, by the blood.” Groom took a seat on a keg by the barn
door. He went on in a whisper. “I believe one reason the old Cap’n
is still around, he’s waitin’ for her to come back.”

“Why, Groom,” Amanda said with a smile
ruffling her mouth, “I believe you’re a romantic.”

“Tosh!” the old man said.

***

The remainder of the week passed pleasantly
at Wicklow. Cecil Baldwin called one day. He had business with Emma
and Trudy which brought him out. There was still an entanglement of
legal matters left by Emma’s husband, and the poor woman’s
signature was needed.

Before the affable Mr. Baldwin left, he
renewed his offer to find a buyer for Wicklow, telling Amanda that
scrubbing was not proper work for a lady. Again Amanda refused. He
was right that she could hire servants and live lavishly in a
smaller house with the money Wicklow would bring. But that was not
her choice.

The other days, delightfully balmy for
midsummer, had been filled with fruitful labor. The entire first
floor of Wicklow had been scrubbed and scoured until the slate
floors glistened like polished onyx. The filigreed panels were
dusted and washed and gleamed like new.

The hardest undertaking had been the
polishing of the mirrors and floors in the ballroom. But now even
that grandiose room glistened, from the crystal prisms of the
chandeliers to the gilt frames of the mirrors. By late September
when Gardner planned to hold the ball, Wicklow would be the most
splendid house for miles. And perhaps the cleanest.

Ryne had not made an appearance at Wicklow
the entire week. After a few days Amanda concluded he had somehow
managed to afford lodgings elsewhere or, as she thought more
likely, had found a woman to practice his charms upon.

One thing she could not help be aware of was
that in the past week, not one terrifying thing had happened at
Wicklow. There had been no strange sounds or dreams, and not once
during that time had she heard the eerie whispering of her
name.

Ezra had become accustomed to Emma and Trudy
and resumed his old habits. Some days Trudy would share in feeding
the parrot bits of apple. Amanda suspected Trudy was becoming as
fond of the old bird as she was herself.

Even Gussie had joined in the work and in
her slow way had done her share of scrubbing. Gussie as much as
anyone was pleased to see Wicklow once again looking the way Aunt
Elise had kept it, and had praised Amanda for her efforts.

Tired through to the marrow from the task
she had reserved for herself alone, that of dusting and cleaning
the Turkish King, Amanda cast her scrub brush aside and declared
the work at an end for the week.

Weary, she spent an hour soaking in the
marble tub after supper. Emma and Trudy had retired early. As
always, the long soak in the scented water did its magic, and when
she returned to the rose bedroom, she felt as refreshed and gay as
she had on arising that morning.

She wore a rose silk dressing gown and a
pair of silk mules trimmed with a tuft of white feathers. Her hair
hung loose and tumbling over her shoulders, shining like silk from
the hundred strokes she had given it.

Good night, fair lady. Good night, kind
sir.

I bid you sweet journey through night’s dark
hour.

Amanda sang the song softly as she opened
the door to her bedroom. But as the door swung aside, her song
ceased, and she looked up in surprise. The room had been bright
with the light of many candles when she left. Now it was dimly lit
with the light of one narrow taper on the desk.

She trembled slightly as she tried to
imagine why the other candles had been snuffed out. A momentary
panic gripped her mind. She was thinking of that dark room at the
end of the hall and of being trapped inside. An instant later she
knew her short period of peace was over. He was there.

“Why are you in my room?” Her fear quickly
transformed to anger. Seeming barely separate from the darkness in
his black attire, Ryne stood at the open windows, legs apart, hands
at rest behind his back. As their gazes met, she felt a
disconcerting little lurch in her chest.

“To talk to you,” he said without changing
his stance.

Amanda stood immobile just inside the door.
But even from that distance she could tell his eyes blazed with an
intent that brought a tremble to her flesh.

“If you wanted to talk, you might have seen
me downstairs.”