Barrett's Hill Page 13

  After a few days of these close quarters I decided that the tension was a little too much for me. My fear of coming face to face with Adam and the somewhat desperate measures I employed to avoid him, including a one-time sojourn in the hall closet, were making me more bad-tempered than usual, and I thought that a long walk might calm my mind and perhaps even my emotions. I wrapped my warm blue coat around me and started out into the late afternoon sun.

  As I walked up Barrett’s Hill I tried to concentrate on the woods around me. The tall trees seemed gray against the pinky blue of the winter sky. There were rabbit and squirrel tracks running from one low-slung pine tree to the other but, apart from that, there was no sign that anyone had been on the fairly steep path since the last brief snowfall. My feet were fast getting wet and cold from the snow-packed path, and I cursed myself for not wearing some sort of protection for my serviceable but hardly waterproof leather shoes.

  I hadn’t been used to much exercise in the past month or two, having been cooped up in the house by accident and design, so I was a bit short of breath as I neared the top of the first rise. I stopped there for a moment, my eyes resting on the view of distant mountains, with the pink and orange sunset clouds floating around their peaks. The pine trees were almost black in the gathering dusk and, as the sun sank lower into the hills, all the color drained away, leaving everything stark, from the gray of the sky to the black of the tree trunks and white of the snow covering the ground. The only hint of color was an occasional red leaf clinging obstinately to a hibernating maple. I sighed, feeling peaceful for the first time in many months.

  And that was when I realized that I was alone in almost pitch darkness on Barrett’s Hill. You must be suicidal, I told myself. Or were you hoping that Adam might follow you? Disgusted with myself, I knew that was exactly what had been going on in my mind. For the past two months I hadn’t been able to do anything without imagining Adam there with me. Every solitary walk, every afternoon spent reading in the study, every waking moment, all were spent with a subconscious desire to be interrupted. And then if by any chance I was, I would turn around and be as spiteful and nasty as I could before I ran away. I really hadn’t the faintest idea of what I wanted, and this time my foolishness could very likely lead me straight to the murderer.

  Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I started down the slippery path back to the house. I told myself that I couldn’t be hearing anyone behind me, and I walked faster. My feet were numb from standing in the snow for so long, and in my mind was a jumble of thoughts, consisting mostly of pleas for help.

  I was almost at the bottom of the hill, where the path takes a steep turn back into the woods for a short way before it finally ends up by the house. I contemplated crossing through the field but dismissed the possibility of moving with any kind of haste through the waist deep snow. Steeling myself, I plunged into the woods again.

  A moment later something grabbed me in the blackness. I tried to scream, but strong, thin hands were pressing on my throat, strangling me. I flailed out with my arms, coming in contact with a heavily bundled figure. I kicked and hit furiously, but the pain at my throat was becoming unbearable, and I felt myself losing consciousness. I heard myself gasp something, and then everything went blacker still than the night, and silence closed itself around my ears.

  Chapter 15

  SOMEONE WAS SHAKING me. I batted vaguely at the hands yanking at me.

  “Miranda!” A mildly familiar voice was shouting in my ear.

  My throat was a blaze of pain. I opened my eyes and found myself surrounded by a crowd of men, most of whom were squatting down around me. I could pick out Fathimore, wringing his hands, a frightened and confused look on his face, others in between, and Adam at the back of the group, taller than most of them, watching the drama as it played out. I turned and found to my disgust that it was Karlew grabbing me.

  I opened my mouth to speak, and the utter agony of my throat came out in a hoarse croak.

  “For God’s sake, Karlew,” Adam said angrily, and the anger nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes, “can’t you see she can’t talk?” He pushed his way through the curious men to my side and, without further fussing, picked me up in his arms and started off for the house. Without the slightest pretense of a fight I curled up against him and put my arm around his neck, and a moment later we were already out of earshot.

  “Well, this is very nice,” he observed. “No objection to my carrying you this time?” I shook my head against his shoulder. The moon came into view as we stepped beyond the woods. He must have felt my start of surprise, for he said, “Yes, it’s late. You’ve been gone for hours.”

  There was a grim note in his voice. Had he been worried? By that time I was so delighted with Adam’s poorly concealed concern that I wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by the attempt on my life.

  I shifted slightly. My dress was wet through to the skin. Naturally, the moment I realized that, I started shivering as the chill became unbearable.

  “We’re almost there,” he murmured in a soft voice. The men had almost caught up with us, and I looked over his shoulder at the blank faces of my search party, wondering which one had tried to kill me.

  Nanny was waiting for us at the door, and she was all for taking me straight up to my room. Karlew wouldn’t hear of it. “We have to find out who was responsible for this outrage! We’ve already had too long a delay.” So I was deposited gently on the couch in the library, my cold wet clothes steaming slightly from the heat of the Franklin stove.

  Before I had a chance to recover myself, questions were hurled at me. I tried to sort out the answers in my mind, but all that came from my mouth was that hideously painful croak.

  “Drink this.” Adam was forcing some fiery liquid down my throat. Karlew’s best brandy. I choked, and the pain brought tears running down my face. He turned to the others. “She can barely talk. Someone get a pen and some paper, and she can write what happened.”

  Someone thrust the writing utensils into my hand. I could barely see the paper. I cast a glance at Karlew’s ruddy, threatening countenance before attempting to recreate what had happened. Things had become blurry in the interim, and I didn’t trust any of them, so I scrawled a vague description of what had happened without going into my suspicions or my observances. Like my repressive father, they wouldn’t listen to the words of a woman anyway.

  “You have no idea who it was, then?” Karlew asked me when he’d finished reading the note.

  I shook my head.

  “You don’t even know if it was a man or a woman?” he badgered me.

  Again I shook my head, each shake making me dizzier. I could feel Adam’s presence behind me. He wasn’t saying anything, but I could almost feel his concentration on every word spoken. More than anything in the world at that moment I wanted him to hold me. I could have wept with exhaustion and longing.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Karlew had taken on his sermon voice, “I think we can reasonably assume that whoever the assailant was, it couldn’t have been anyone Miranda knew. Otherwise she would have some idea who it was.” I shook my head vehemently at this, but everyone’s attention was on Karlew, and my protest went unnoticed. “I think we can safely assume it was some tramp bent on mischief.”

  They all mumbled their agreement while I sat there, mute and frustrated. Hell, I thought, I can’t stand this any longer, and promptly rolled of the couch in a graceful and convincing faint.

  “Now see what you’ve done.” I heard Nanny’s voice scolding from the direction of the doorway. “As if the poor girl hasn’t been through enough, you make her sit there in those wet clothes, probably half-dead with fright and cold . . .”

  She ranted on as I felt someone lean over and pick me up gently. I opened my eye a crack to make sure it was Adam. It was. I leaned my head limply against his shoulder, feeling better than I had for a long time. We were hal
fway up the stairs when he whispered to me, “The others may be taken in by this touching weakness, but I’m not.” I opened my eyes then, but he looked amused, not angry as I had been afraid. He kicked open the door to my bedroom and carried me inside.

  “Do you suppose I have time to loosen your clothing and apply first aid before Nanny arrives?” he asked conversationally, holding me over the bed. I shook my head angrily, and he laughed. “This situation is going to have decided advantages. You won’t be able to object when I make my improper advances.” He was moving his mouth closer to mine when Nanny burst in the door.

  “Well, put her down, Mr. Adam,” she ordered irritably, concern for me making her short-tempered with her sainted Adam. Had I any doubts before, it was then I would have realized how much she loved me. “Can’t you see she’s been through enough today?”

  He smiled lightly at me as he put me down on the bed. “You take good care of her, Nanny, my dear. She’s already had too much happen to her for her own—or the murderer’s—good.”

  Nanny looked as if she was about to object and then thought better of it. She gave Adam a warmer smile than she had bestowed on any man in a long time. Strangely enough, I no longer felt betrayed that Nanny, for some obscure reason, approved of him. I felt I had her blessings. Not that it would do any good; I kept a firm grip on my pessimism even through the fogs of pain enveloping my body.

  I fell asleep almost immediately. My whole body ached from the damp of the cold snow which had sunk into my bones and seemed intent on remaining there despite the blankets and quilts piled on top of me. My various pains pulled me back into consciousness sometime in the middle of the night. I lay there, not moving, staring into the moonlight pouring on to Barrett’s Hill. It had been so enticingly beautiful this afternoon. For the first time I felt a cold fury for the would-be strangler who, more important than hurting my body, had destroyed that moment of beauty forever. I hit out at the now-suffocating covers and tried to shift myself. My heart stopped completely when I realized that someone was sitting beside my bed, watching me. I could see his green eyes glitter in the moonlight.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked softly. He made no effort to come closer to me now that I was awake. I didn’t know whether I regretted that or not.

  “I’ll survive,” I answered with a croak. I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. We sat in silence.

  “I’m leaving,” he said suddenly, and I felt sick inside. I didn’t know if he expected me to say anything to that or not, but I couldn’t. I just stared at him.

  “I have to go to Boston immediately,” he continued after a pause. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Two weeks—or maybe a month. I wanted to tell you myself so you wouldn’t feel abandoned.” Could the man read my thoughts? That was the exact word I’d been using in my mind as I listened to his casual voice.

  “I don’t care,” I said deliberately, every word a torment to my damaged throat, “what you do or how long you’re gone. You would do better to occupy your time reassuring Roxie.”

  He laughed softly at that. “I’ll leave that pleasant task to you. Unless you’d rather not be subjected to her rage?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all,” I assured him grimly. I hesitated before asking the next question, but in the end I couldn’t help myself. “Why are you leaving?” To my disgust my cracked voice sounded wistful.

  “Because I must,” he said intently. He seemed to consider something for a moment. When he spoke again he kept his voice light, which made what he was saying all the more terrifying. “Miranda, I want you to promise me something. First of all, I want you to keep away from Barrett’s Hill, which I thought you’d have had enough sense to do, anyway. Secondly, I don’t want you to be alone with anyone. I want you always to have at least two people with you at all times. Do you understand? You’re not to trust anyone.”

  “Why does it matter?” I asked sullenly. He was leaving me alone in a den of murderers. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to scream at him or cry. With Adam gone nothing could save me. “You want him to kill me, don’t you?” I said somewhat wildly. “For some reason I’m in your way and you want me murdered while you’re safely out of town with a perfect alibi. You—”

  His mouth stopped mine in the midst of these ravings, and after my brief moment of shock I calmed down, sinking into the kiss, disappearing inside the wondrous feel of his mouth on mine.

  When he finally drew away I said shakily, “Were you put on this earth to torment me?”

  He smiled, almost ruefully. “I might ask the same thing of you.” Before I had time to take in what he’d said, he stood up and started to leave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You must know that.” And he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Maybe he does care about me, just a little, I allowed myself to hope. If only he could want me just a tiny bit. I could hear his footsteps down the flights of stairs, and I felt as if he were leaving me forever. Long after I heard the horse and carriage go off down the hill I lay awake, wavering between a tentative hope and total misery. Finally I pulled myself out of bed and crept across the hall to his room. He hadn’t locked the door, and I went in and closed it behind me.

  I could see quite clearly in the moonlight. The unmade bed, the clothing tossed hastily over the chair. He must have been roused from sleep, and I wondered who had come up here in the middle of the night. Or perhaps he’d thought of something he’d overlooked earlier. I looked out the window, hoping for a last glimpse of his retreating carriage, but he’d left too long ago. Seeking I don’t know what sort of comfort, I crawled into his bed and pulled the covers around me. I could practically feel him around me, and peace settled over me, until the sleep that had been eluding me in my own bed overcame me.

  I woke with a start just as the first daylight was pouring in the window. The only person stirring at that hour might be Cook, and her quarters were downstairs behind the kitchen. She wouldn’t hear me. I lay there in the bed, concentrating on little things: the feel of the heavy linen sheets on my body, the winter sunlight brightening the room. I put my head under the covers. The sheets had the particular scent of Adam: leather, tobacco, and something else indefinably male. Now mixed with that I could smell slight traces of my own lily-of-the-valley perfume, and the pain I felt was one of a longing so intense I could have cried.

  I got up quickly and started neatening the room. I took some sort of perverse pleasure in doing so, knowing he would never know the small, intimate things I was doing: hanging up his tumbled clothes, sleeping in his bed, behaving as a wife or lover. I bet myself that Roxie had never made his bed, and this thought consoled me as I pulled the coverlet on. I gave the room one last look, then went back to my own room, which no longer was the haven it had once seemed.

  Chapter 16

  THE PLEASURE I had in telling Roxie that Adam had left was everything he had thought it would be and more. She heard me out in a cold silence at the breakfast table, then proceeded to chatter very loud and very fast to Maxine. I paid no attention, feeling evil and happy, when I noticed her hands. They were surprisingly powerful-looking for a woman, with long tapered fingers that could close around someone’s throat with little difficulty. She could have overpowered me with no great effort.

  My appetite disappeared.

  THE DAYS SEEMED very long without Adam. One by one the guests from the hotel left us; by the time Adam had been gone for two weeks, Roxie was the only one remaining. I knew she was determined to hold on until he returned, and I kept away from her as much as I could. My one triumph at breakfast hadn’t lasted long. Whenever I met her in the hall she would give me a self-satisfied little smirk that would either infuriate or depress me, depending on my general mood. Why should Adam, having had someone as completely sensual as that (and I assumed he had), bother with someone like me who was half-frigid and totally hostile? Well, not totally hostile. And of
course, I thought I was more worthwhile, but I couldn’t count on anyone else agreeing with me.

  “Miranda,” Karlew addressed me from the head of the luncheon table after one of his lengthy prayers. “You have received some correspondence—a most unusual occurrence.” He passed me a thin envelope, addressed in a bold hand with no hint of who had sent it. I gave Karlew a questioning glance, but he appeared to be as curious as I was.

  “Thank you, Cousin,” I murmured politely, slipping the letter into my pocket. For once Karlew seemed to accept my decision to say no more about it. I wouldn’t have been surprised to catch him going through my belongings later on, though. He never could abide not knowing everything that went on in his little kingdom.

  As soon as I could I made my excuses and slipped away from the table. I waited till I got to the dubious shelter of my room before I nervously ripped open the envelope.

  “Miranda,” it began, “I have run into difficulties in Boston which necessitate my remaining here a bit longer. Let as many people as you can know that I won’t be back for a while, and try not to quarrel with Roxie more than you can help. And don’t be such a fool as to wander alone on Barrett’s Hill. Adam.”

  Very romantic, I told myself sourly. I wondered why he hadn’t sent this to Roxie the doxy instead of having me relay his messages. I paced around the room, trying to decide whether to be depressed or angry. I settled on both, and my appearance at dinner brought no pleasure to our already overwrought household.

  “Well, Miranda.” Karlew turned his attention to me when he should have been concentrating on the large joint he was carving with clumsy movements. “I assume your little billet-doux was from Adam?” He dropped a slab of underdone beef onto the plate in front of him and passed it to me, knowing full well that the sight of crimson steaming flesh nauseated me. I was so busy trying to control my rebellious stomach that I barely noticed Roxie’s angry frown.