Barrett's Hill Read online

  “For God’s sake, Ethel, hurry up or I’ll finish for you!” Cook snapped.

  Nanny turned quite pink. “I’m about to. It’s difficult to put this in a way that won’t be too great a shock to her young ears.”

  “Have you forgotten what you call my shameless upbringing, Nanny?” I questioned wryly. “You can tell me this awful thing. Was my father one of the last people to hire her, or whatever you call it?”

  Nanny gulped. “Not just your father. Karlew, Fathimore, and Adam all were . . . with her that weekend. It was Adam’s idea.”

  “At the same time?” I laughed. “Now that is indelicate.”

  “Miss Miranda, it was no such thing!” Nanny was deeply shocked. “Of course, they—”

  “Took turns?” I suggested. Poor Nanny looked as if she was about to cry so I took pity on her. “I’m sorry, Nanny. I’m a sad trial to you, I know. I won’t say anything more.”

  “Finish the story, Ethel, or I will,” Cook threatened.

  “I will if you’ll both just be quiet for a moment,” Nanny snapped. “Adam Traywick was in Montpelier when they found the body. So naturally the three others cooked up some elaborate lie saying they never went near the girl in all their lives. And then Adam came back, heard about the murder, and went straight to the police.”

  “That must have made my father and the others seem marvelously guilty.”

  “It did. Except the police didn’t rule out Adam either. They thought he might have told them so’s he could shift the suspicion offen himself. After all, he’d disappeared when the body was found, which was a mighty suspicious circumstance in itself.” Nanny fanned herself with her handkerchief.

  “Anyway,” Cook broke in, her patience at an end, “they never found out who done it. There was a lot of talk for a while, but nothing was ever proven. It was said at the time that Adam Traywick wasn’t telling all he knew, but then no one was. He went out West right after that and only came back once. He came up here to see the reverend, and I don’t know if I ever saw a man so frightened in my entire life. White as a ghost, your cousin was after Adam left.” She shook her head. “Of course, we never found out what Adam said. All I know’s that it was about two months before the reverend dared show his face in town except for the Sunday services. And no one else got to talk to Adam at all—he left right after that. Let’s see, that must have been about five years ago.”

  Nanny nodded her agreement.

  “Well,” I said, “I wonder what’s going to happen now.”

  “It must have been Adam Traywick you saw in Montpelier, Miss Miranda,” Cook said.

  “I’m sure it was,” I agreed, not sure whether I was happy about this or not. “He just looked at Karlew and grinned.”

  “Oh, Lord, he’s out for blood, Mr. Adam is,” Cook said dolefully. “That man never could go anyplace without a mess of trouble following behind him. And you keep out of his way, Miss Miranda!” She turned on me. “There never was a woman nor girl safe around him, and that’s the Lord’s truth!”

  I grimaced. I had no illusions about my looks, and I was hardly the sort of woman to drive a man into a frenzy of lust. “Interesting,” I said, sounding much more casual than I felt. “I wonder what’s going to happen now.”

  “Maybe he’s coming back to expose the murderer,” Cook suggested after a pause.

  “Or maybe he’s come back to kill again,” I said cheerfully.

  “Don’t say such things, Miss Miranda!” Nanny begged. “As it is, I’m still scared half to death to walk alone on Barrett’s Hill, even in broad daylight.” She turned her gray head in the direction of the hill, fixing the windowless wall with an accusatory glare. “It was just about this time of year it happened too—or will be in a couple of weeks. Twenty years ago November 21st.”

  “Do you suppose that’s why Adam Traywick came back? Some sort of memorial?” I suggested helpfully.

  “Some sort of revenge, more likely,” Cook said darkly. “I remember how deep the snow was that year. Most times we only have a light covering by that time—but not that year. We had a full two feet and more.” She shook her head. “I always feel nervous when the snows start early.”

  WE HAD EIGHT inches of snow that night—a new record. When I awoke the next morning and saw the white hillside I started crying. I am not at all sentimental, but every now and then beauty creeps up on me unexpectedly and lays waste my emotions. And so it was that morning. I stared out into the early dawning silence and wondered what it would be like to die in the midst of all that pristine loveliness. What it had been like for that poor girl. Morbid thoughts.

  A week passed, and Adam Traywick didn’t come. My temper became worse than usual, trying Karlew’s long-suffering patience. I had just been planning my escape when the storm broke.

  We were finishing one of those long, tasteless dinners, for Cook, though an excellent woman, believed spices were heathen, when it happened.

  I had been listening with simulated concern to Cousin Elinor’s difficulties with the Ladies Auxiliary. I had soon discovered the source of her problems: she was inordinately fond of Madeira. No decanter was safe within her reach—every evening she downed almost a full bottle, always leaving a few drops for what she coyly termed “Miss Manners.” I found her fluttery, nervous, kind, and not terribly bright. But she was fond of me, perhaps because I was the only one in her family who didn’t treat her with contempt.

  “My goodness, what is that noise?” she asked faintly. That noise was Emma falling clumsily into the dining room in a state of great excitement.

  “Reverend,” she gasped, “there’s someone here to see you. In the study I put him.” Her eyes were big with wonder, and I could feel the tension in the room.

  Karlew rose slowly and left, his face unnaturally pale. I waited until I heard the study door open and close before I turned back to Cousin Elinor.

  Her face was even whiter than Karlew’s had been.

  “Cousin Elinor! Are you feeling quite well?” I asked.

  “No, dear,” she murmured. “I think I’ll just retire.”

  She rose on unsteady feet and tottered toward the door. My cousin Maxine and I exchanged knowing glances. The Madeira had taken its nightly toll. I didn’t blame her—living with a pompous bore like Karlew was enough to drive anyone to drink.

  “Would you like some help, Mother?” Maxine asked with a long-suffering sigh.

  “No, thank you, dear. I’m quite all right.” She staggered out of the room on dainty little feet.

  I was left alone with Maxine, which failed to thrill me. Maxine had inherited her mother’s brain and her father’s vanity, a combination that didn’t make up for her sour expression. A number of people found her attractive. I was not one of them. But according to her own reports, Maxine enjoyed a great deal of popularity among the boys in the village for reasons I didn’t want to consider, and as far as I was concerned she could have them all. She had great pity for my cloistered existence, convinced that I missed all depth and meaning in life. Perhaps I did. But I was surely not about to go for fumbled kisses in the livery stable, be it with Billy Cunningham, Jed Hill or any of the other red-faced, cow-scented young men offered for my pleasure. Had someone produced Adam Traywick, I couldn’t say what my reaction would be, outside of sheer virgin terror. At least I could be sure the kisses wouldn’t be fumbled.

  “You’ll never guess who’s in town, Randy,” she looked out at me smugly with her sharp little eyes. Had I not made it a point to ignore Maxine’s moods I would have noticed earlier her state of pleasant agitation.

  “I assume from all the upset that Adam Traywick has finally put in an appearance,” I said calmly. “Have you met him yet?”

  She pouted, not liking her surprise spoiled. “No, but I imagine that’s who’s with Daddy right now.” Her face flushed with excitement. “I think
that man is so-o-o-o good looking. I don’t suppose you noticed?” she added, preening. Very rightly she considered me no threat.

  “In this case I did, Maxine. And he’s quite lovely, I agree. Too much so to waste on a baby like you,” I smiled sweetly with a cool assurance of superiority I was far from feeling. I silently promised myself one thing: Maxine was not going to have him. If I had to tie her up and stuff her in a closet she wasn’t going to have him.

  “We’ll see about that,” Maxine said spitefully, the challenge accepted. “Just remember, I have experience on my side.”

  “Promiscuity might be more apt than experience, my dear cousin. I have refreshing innocence.”

  “And a shrewish temper,” Maxine snapped. “We’ll see what happens.”

  “We will indeed!” I shot back, and the door to the dining room opened.

  Maxine was red-faced with anger, not auspicious for a first encounter with Adam. Instinctively I knew I looked my best, which was, on occasion, not bad. These moments were rare, but the Lord saw fit to bless me with one then.

  “Miranda, Maxine,” Karlew said heartily. “I was hoping we’d catch you before you went off to do whatever pretty young girls do after dinner.” He seemed very pleased with himself, playing the robust father.

  “Oh?” I said inanely and somewhat breathlessly, trying to tear my gaze from those cool, green eyes that watched Karlew’s two young virgins, for despite Maxine’s efforts she was still technically pure, with detached amusement.

  Karlew looked from me to Adam, and his smile grew. “Miranda, I’d like to introduce an old friend of your father’s, Adam Traywick. We all grew up together, you know. Adam, this is George’s daughter, Miranda. My ward.”

  Did I imagine the slight emphasis on that last? I curtsied demurely, catching Karlew’s frown for my extravagant behavior.

  Adam bowed handsomely in return, and I shot a look of triumph at the reverend. Here was someone who might possibly behave more outrageously than I did. I breathed a sigh of pure pleasure.

  “Mr. Traywick has come back to the town of his birth,” Karlew said needlessly. “I thought you and Maxine might help us entertain him while he’s here.”

  “Oh, we’d adore to, Daddy!” Maxine gushed. “Wouldn’t we, Miranda?”

  “Certainly,” I agreed, trying to ignore the erratic beating of my heart.

  “It would be an honor,” he said to Maxine, his eyes on me. It was the first time I’d heard his voice. It was low and caressing. I gulped soundlessly.

  Maxine was chattering on, in what she hoped was an enchanting fashion, as we moved into the hall. “You don’t know how exciting it is to have a new man around.” She went directly on the attack. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  I’m afraid I choked after that last artless sentence, and Adam gave me a swift look. Before anyone could break the uncomfortable silence, the front door opened, and a blast of cold air blew in the skinny figure of Fathimore Wilby. He stared at Adam for a moment, and I recognized the animal fear in his colorless eyes before he could veil the expression.

  “Fathimore!” Karlew greeted him heartily. “I was hoping you’d come up. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Adam.”

  From Fathimore’s expression I could tell he wouldn’t have minded if it had been a lot longer. He managed an unconvincing smile. “It certainly has! How are you, Adam?”

  He had copied Karlew’s hearty tones perfectly, but they seemed ridiculous coming from such a paltry creature. He reached out one limp hand and shook Adam’s strong, tanned one, then turned to me, eyes glinting.

  “Miss Miranda. As lovely as ever.” He slobbered slightly over my hand, and I struggled to control the shiver of distaste whenever I felt his clammy skin touch mine. I pulled my hand away a bit too quickly, and as I turned away I saw Adam watching the both of us with a look of unholy amusement.

  I could think of no way to combat that expression, so I nodded to the three men and Maxine and started up the stairs, knowing that Maxine would revel in her unchallenged ground. I could feel four pairs of eyes following me, each set thinking different thoughts. But I wondered what Adam’s were . . .

  Chapter 4

  NOTHING MORE WAS said of Adam Traywick in the next few days. We all seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to bring up his name until we were forced to. We were in a period of quiet waiting, which was fine except for one thing: I didn’t know what we were waiting for, and I had a suspicion the others did.

  I was coming down to dinner when I saw him again. I had paused at the landing to make sure I looked presentable (Karlew could not abide messy women) and there he was, standing in the hall looking up at me. His somber black suit made him dark and forbidding, and I bit my lip nervously. Summoning up my nerve, I gave him my most gracious smile, the one I reserve for the people I’m most frightened of.

  “Mr. Traywick, I didn’t know you were coming to dinner.” My smile felt stiff, and as I reached the bottom step my discomfort grew. Damn the man, I thought. I believed he could see through all my little tricks, and I wasn’t used to feeling transparent. I forced myself to look into his eyes, calmly and honestly.

  “That’s better,” he murmured, amused. “Karlew sent me to hurry you along.”

  “Did he?” I felt strangely weak with those green eyes running over my body. I didn’t know whether I wanted to prolong the moment or not. The decision was not mine, for the drawing room door was flung open, and Maxine stood there like an avenging angel.

  “Come along, you two.” She gave me a smile of disarming hatred. “We’ve been waiting for you.” She came and took Adam’s arm possessively, leaving me to follow in their happy wake.

  The drawing room was the epitome of everything that was wrong with the house and with Karlew’s mind. It was stuffy, overfurnished, and cursed with a false elegance that was quite offensive. All the furniture was uncomfortable, the lighting bad, and the curtains of the dreariest, most suffocatingly correct material conceivable. It was the room I disliked the most, and the sight of Karlew posing by a fire that gave no warmth to the room and Elinor blinking owlishly did little to excite me. Maxine’s look of concupiscent greed was hardly cheering. I recognized that look; she’d had it for the butcher’s boy last week and the stable hand the week before. If she thought she’d have a casual flirtation with Adam Traywick she was mistaken, I thought grimly. Karlew definitely would not like it, considering his subtle attempts at matchmaking for me. And I would cheerfully strangle her before I let her have him.

  Not that there was any chance for me, I admitted. I tended to drive men away with my sharp tongue, and most of the time I was happy to do it. Adam Traywick had entered my life too late for me to change my ways and become a simpering idiot.

  Dinner was hideous. Elinor drank steadily, Karlew was lordly, and Maxine never let Adam address more than a sentence or two in my direction. We had returned to the drawing room when Maxine brought the evening to an abrupt end.

  “Did you know,” she turned to me chattily for the first time that evening, “that there was a murder here fifteen years ago?” The room went dead. “And your father and Daddy and Fathimore and Adam were all involved?”

  “It was twenty years ago,” I said calmly. Dear, stupid Maxine. This was not the best way to get attention.

  “Why, Miranda, how did you know about that old tragedy?” Karlew’s friendly tones sounded blandly menacing to my ears.

  “But Cousin—how could you forget?” I exclaimed with prompt innocence. “Cousin Elinor told me at the dinner table a few weeks ago. You were there; surely you must remember?”

  And then I did a stupid thing.

  “And of course my father told me quite a bit about it,” I lied cheerfully. “Things that probably no one else knows. Except the murderer.” I smiled brightly.

  Elinor fainted.

  Pande
monium broke out. Karlew rushed to his wife’s side, wringing his hands affectingly. He issued a series of garbled commands that confused matters even more and chafed her wrists. Elinor’s eyelids fluttered for a moment, then opened.

  “Oh, Karlew,” she murmured piteously, “what shall we do?”

  “Be quiet, Elinor.” He was clearly agitated. “Don’t try to talk now.” I could imagine all sorts of reasons why he wouldn’t want her to say anything, suspicious creature that I was fast becoming. He pulled her to her feet abruptly. “I’ll help you to your room, my dear. You must be coming down with something.”

  Watching him steer her slightly drunken body from the room, I strained to hear anything else she might blurt out. But Karlew kept her effectively silenced. I turned my attention back to the room and found Maxine flirting clumsily with a disinterested Adam.

  “Do you think your mother’s all right?” I asked her pointedly, vaguely hoping to get rid of her.

  “Oh, yes,” said Maxine blithely. “Father can take perfect care of her. It’s not as if it hadn’t happened before.” She turned to Adam and smiled archly. “My mother drinks a bit.”

  This is useless, I thought, watching them. There’s no way she’s going to let me near him, and I decided I was glad of it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do,” I said coolly, and bade them good night.

  I swept out of the room with what I hoped was a graceful dignity. Before I had reached my room I heard the front door open and close and Maxine’s sullen footsteps on the stairs. I smiled knowingly.

  I undressed slowly, trying to puzzle out all that I had just witnessed. Elinor had fainted, and when she revived she asked Karlew what they were going to do. Do about what? We were talking about the murder and—

  At that point in my ruminations I remembered what I had said. I had hinted that I knew something about the murderer that could identify him. How could I have been so stupid? I had no doubt whatsoever that if Karlew were the killer he’d murder me as soon as look at me. He could do it easily enough, and no one would ever know; I could fall down the stairs or out my third-floor window.