Barrett's Hill Page 7

  “You’re such a sweet, innocent thing,” he said, obviously amused at my reaction to his kiss. “Shall we try it again?”

  “Adam!” Karlew was back at the door. I breathed a sigh of mingled relief and regret at the interruption. There was something going on here that I couldn’t quite understand, some new animosity between Karlew and Adam. Perhaps Adam had rejected his offer—virgin heiress in return for clemency.

  Adam rose slowly from the bed and faced my furious cousin. “Miranda and I were having a very enlightening conversation,” he said lazily. “You really have no sense of timing.”

  “I’ll have you remember that Miranda is a ward of this house and under my protection, and I won’t have her compromised under my roof!” he blustered angrily.

  “Under what roof shall I compromise her, Karlew?” he asked calmly. “Have you forgotten our agreement?”

  I had never seen Karlew so angry, not even the time I had laughed aloud at one of his sermons. Before he could put his fury into words Adam had turned back to me and smiled with a peculiar sweetness that made my heart stop all over again.

  “We can continue our discussion”—his voice stroked the word—“in my hotel room after you’re feeling better. Room 318.” He turned and strode past my cousin without another word. Karlew glared at me for a moment, then followed Adam, slamming the door loudly.

  These new developments were a bit too much for my fever-enfeebled brain to cope with. I closed my eyes and relived the last few minutes. For a first kiss it was pretty effective—at least as overwhelming as it appeared to be in those forbidden novels I was so fond of, despite its briefness. I fell back into an exhausted sleep, dreaming of hotel rooms.

  Chapter 8

  I WAS UP AND about in a couple of days, partly due to my insatiable curiosity about what had been going on in Karlew’s brown mausoleum of a house. I tottered downstairs on Nanny’s arm one evening to find the entire family assembled in the drawing room, including Karlew’s lecherous vicar, Fathimore. “Good evening, everyone,” I greeted them softly.

  “Miranda.” Cousin Elinor jumped up and ran to my side with a great fluttering of gray clothing. “How are you feeling, dear? We hadn’t expected to see you down so soon.”

  I smiled at her. If I trusted anyone in this family I trusted poor, foolish Elinor. “I’m feeling much better, thank you. I decided it was time for me to find out what’s been going on since I was sick.”

  “What do you mean?” Karlew demanded, his mask of affability dropping swiftly.

  I turned to him and kept my features a perfect mask of surprise. “Why, nothing, Karlew. It just feels strange to have a week missing from one’s life, that’s all.” I knew then that Karlew no longer trusted me. Before this he had dismissed me as harebrained and harmless; now he wasn’t sure.

  “What are you frightened of, Miss Miranda?” Adam’s voice came from behind me. “Karlew didn’t mean to sound like a crossexaminer, did you?”

  “No, of course not,” my cousin muttered. “I must say, Adam, we weren’t expecting you quite this early.”

  Adam’s eyebrows rose in simulated concern. “I do apologize. I must have mistaken Fathimore’s invitation.”

  For the first time I looked at that little skunk as he sank lower into Karlew’s favorite chair. I glared at him coldly, but he avoided my eyes, concentrating on his not-too-clean fingernails. I turned away from him and happened to catch Maxine staring at Adam with a look of absolute horror on her face. She must have felt my eyes on her, for she turned to me beseechingly for a moment. I stared at her blankly, totally at a loss. With a strangled sob she jumped up, knocking over the ottoman she’d been sitting on.

  “Excuse me,” she gasped, and ran from the room. As I got up to follow her I had just enough time to see the look of almost unholy amusement on Adam’s face. It was chilling to think that he could find pleasure in someone’s misery, even someone as shallow and selfish as Maxine. I ran up the stairs after her and into her yellow satin bedroom.

  I could never enter that room without a shiver of distaste. In the happy period of redecoration after my arrival, Maxine’s taste had been given full reign. The results were as frilly and over-embellished as Maxine’s person and as devoid of grace and charm as Maxine’s mind. It was a cupid’s bower, with ruffles and frills obscuring the fine oak paneling, the only natural beauty the house boasted. After a great deal of searching, Maxine had been able to find exactly the right shade of yellow to make her porcelain beauty look bilious in any kind of light, be it natural Vermont sunlight or gaslight.

  I found her sobbing on her ornate canopy bed. As she heard me come in she sat up, gasping in fright.

  “It’s only me, Maxine,” I kept my voice soothing. “You must tell me what’s wrong.” This was probably prompted more by my curiosity than my sympathetic good will, but at least I tried.

  Fortunately, Maxine was quite ready to confide and not selective about her listener’s motives. “Miranda, it’s so awful!” she wailed, raising her tear-stained face in a touchingly woebegone expression. We both have a tendency to overdramatize so I clasped my hands together and looked upset. It was encouragement enough.

  “Miranda,” she sobbed again. “You know that I was—was—that I thought Mr. Traywick was—was—”

  Mr. Traywick, I thought. Not Adam, anymore. “Yes, I know, dear. What happened?”

  “Well, when you were sick he stayed with you for hours and hours at a time, you know. And one night he was here very late and I thought I might—I might—”

  “Yes, I know perfectly well what you thought you might do,” I said sharply, an odd sensation of jealousy over Maxine’s plans and pleasure over Adam’s concern warring within me.

  “Well, he came out of your room just as the church bell was telling two o’clock,” she sighed. “That sound shall live forever in my mind as the sound of my peace of mind tolling to an end.”

  “Yes, certainly, Maxine, but please continue,” I urged, these dramatics being a little difficult even for me to swallow.

  She sniffed. “Anyway, he came out of your room, and he looked very upset. So I thought maybe I’d better go back to bed when he saw me. Randy, he didn’t say a word! He just came over and . . . and he kissed me!”

  “Well,” my voice was definitely not sympathetic, “you’ve been kissed before, haven’t you?”

  “Of course, but not like that. It was as if I was a fallen woman or something.”

  My jealousy had reached epidemic proportions. “I’m not surprised. You’ve certainly been acting like one.”

  “I was not! I was merely flirting. Mother said it’s perfectly all right for young ladies to flirt. Mother—” she started crying again.

  “All right, all right,” I scowled. “Then what happened?” I kept picturing him with his arms around her. I stared out into the twilight, willing myself not to care.

  “Well, at first it was horrid. But then after a minute or two it became really wonderful and strange and exciting.” Her beady little eyes shone.

  “God damn it, how long were you kissing him?” I exploded.

  “For about five minutes, I guess,” Maxine said blithely. She wasn’t distraught enough not to enjoy my torment. “But then, Miranda . . . then he pushed me away and laughed.” Her delicate frame shuddered at the memory. “And he said that he didn’t mind making love to me in the slightest but that I ought to know that I was probably his daughter. And I couldn’t understand what he was saying for a moment, and then I realized and I said, ‘You mean my mother . . .’ and he said, ‘Exactly.’ And then he . . . reached for me again. So I screamed and slapped him and ran back to my room and locked the door so he couldn’t get in without breaking it down and waking the entire house.”

  I could think of nothing to say for the moment except: “My God!”

  “Can you imagine a man s
o depraved as to have seduced a woman, refused to marry her, and then come back and try to make love to his own daughter? I feel sick, sick.”

  I didn’t think that was the time to point out to her that she had thrown herself at him. She really did look distressed.

  “Maxine, you total idiot!” I said flatly. “Sometimes I truly think you are mentally deficient.”

  Her tears shuddered to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

  “Simply that Adam Traywick lied to you. That for some obscure reason he told you that preposterous falsehood, and you believed it.”

  “But why would he do such a horrid thing?” she cried.

  “Because,” I said slowly, “no matter how pretty he is, he’s still a horrid, cruel man who likes to hurt people. He certainly didn’t come back here to do any good, you know. He came back for revenge, pure and simple, and anyone hurt along the way is an added benefit!”

  But Maxine was paying little attention to me. “He’s not my father,” she marveled happily. “Of course, the very thought is disgusting. I was a fool to listen.”

  “Maxine—” I began, but she interrupted.

  “I know why he tried to scare me off, Miranda. It’s because he can’t trust himself around me. He’s afraid he might . . . go too far.”

  Her face took on a smug, self-satisfied glow as she contemplated the idea of that mystical, yet-unexperienced “too far.” Another moment of this and I would have vomited.

  “I wouldn’t count on that, Max,” I warned her. “I really don’t think he’s overburdened with either scruples or an undying passion for you. I think you ought to let him alone.”

  Her smile was tinged with malice. “I’m sure that’s what you think, Miranda. But that’s because you’re the one with the undying passion, and Adam thinks you’re some sort of joke.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Too bad, dear. But then, you couldn’t really have expected anything to come of it, could you?”

  I slapped her hand away. “Well, I’m glad I was able to do my bit to help you get over your upset, Max. And I wouldn’t be too sure of myself if I were you; really I wouldn’t.”

  “I think,” said Maxine dreamily, “that Adam shall be the one to deflower me.”

  “Lucky man,” I snarled, and stomped back to the living room in a rage.

  I AVOIDED EVERYONE as best I could, sitting in the corner and watching Maxine’s clumsy attempts at enchanting Adam. He ignored her, cruelly, I thought, as he ignored me. He was oh-so-charming as he flirted with a pleasantly flustered Elinor. He kept away from me, confining his conversation to a few innocuous remarks about my health. Perhaps he knew that Maxine had confided his revolting behavior. I watched him through the soft glow of the candles and found myself wondering what it would be like to be kissed passionately like that. To feel a man’s body that close to mine. Furious with myself, I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind and concentrate on other things. Was I really a joke to him? At that moment his cold green eyes met mine across the dinner table; and I felt myself grow hot all over for the moment that he watched me with an almost detached expression. When he turned back to reply to one of Cousin Elinor’s surprisingly arch remarks I breathed a little sigh of relief.

  We kept the old customs in Karlew’s house, and, on a signal from him, the ladies rose and retired to the drawing room while the men lingered over port and cigars. I’m sure that Elinor would rather have stayed with the port and Maxine with the men, and I wouldn’t have minded trying out a cigar, but at certain times Karlew was adamant and this was one of them. I felt impatient and out of sorts, wandering around the drawing room with no company other than Elinor and Maxine’s brainless chatter. I wandered over to the window seat and crept behind the heavy damask curtains. This was one of my favorite places in the house. I could spend hours there with marvelously romantic novels or sometimes just my own dangerous (Karlew said) imagination. If I pulled my feet under me no one would have the faintest idea anyone was behind there, and I could safely hide away in that musty darkness from all the contrary people, ignoring the fact that if anyone was contrary it was me. I leaned my head against the oak paneling and stared out at the winter night.

  The stars were incredibly bright in the sharp, clean air. Although the moon was waning, the stars made enough light for me to see the town farther down the hill. I thought again of Carly, out on a night like this in that pretty dress. I wondered who had taken it from my room. For someone surely had while I was sick. I didn’t much care; the sight of it depressed me. It had served whatever purpose it was likely to.

  I heard the door open to the room. I huddled myself closer into the corner. I didn’t feel terribly sociable at that point.

  “Where’s Miranda?” Karlew’s voice boomed out.

  I held my breath.

  “Oh, dear,” uttered Elinor. “I didn’t see her leave. You don’t suppose she’s gone for a walk or something? And in this cold weather?”

  “That’s just what the wretched girl would do!” Karlew’s voice was piqued. “And right after she’s been so ill. I suppose we’d better go find her.”

  I heard footsteps tramp through the door, accompanied by Maxine’s complaints and Elinor’s quiet words of “headache . . . think I’ll retire . . .” In a few moments I heard the front door bang and several huddled figures start out into the night. I relaxed and leaned back again when I felt rather than heard someone moving about in the room.

  Oh, God, I thought. It’s the murderer. I felt pure horror like a tangible thing flow in my veins. Footsteps were coming stealthily toward my hiding place. In a panic I fumbled at the window, hoping I might be able to fling myself out into the snow.

  “Isn’t it a trifle cold for that, Miranda?” Adam’s voice stopped my frantic struggles with the latch.

  “Thank goodness.” Relief made me incautious. “I was scared half to death.”

  “And now you are no longer? I’m flattered at your new-found trust.” He smiled slightly and slipped into the alcove beside me. “And what makes you think I’m to be trusted?”

  I erased the relieved expression from my face and pulled myself further away from him into the corner. “I’ve been sick, Mr. Traywick. Weakness of the brain sometimes follows a bad illness.”

  He said nothing for a moment. The starlight shone on his face. There was a look there I couldn’t identify, one which I didn’t know whether I feared or not. “I’m glad your mind has been addled enough to talk to me,” he said. “I consider myself somewhat responsible for your welfare.”

  “Oh, do you now?” For some reason this annoyed me. “Don’t you think you should more properly concern yourself with your natural daughter? It seems to me that she should have a more valid claim on your protection.”

  “Ah, yes, my . . . natural daughter.” I could sense his wicked amusement. “But I have no interest in the dear girl, whereas in your case—”

  “She is no more your daughter than I am,” I accused him coldly.

  “Alas, no. But don’t you think she’s the image of any offspring I’d be likely to have? Selfish, determined to get her own way, immoral. Pretty?” he added, his eyes sweeping over me had the effect of a strong drug.

  “I’m glad you think you’re so pretty,” I said in a disgruntled voice. And it’s obvious you’re selfish. Are you also determined to get your own way?” I carefully shied away from the fourth adjective.

  “Of course.” He moved closer and closer. “And very, very immoral.” With a little jerk he pulled me into his arms and put his hard mouth on mine. This wasn’t sweet and gentle like the other time; this was knowledgeable and demanding. Some cynical part of my mind told me that he was doing a very capable, workmanlike job calculated to arouse me. I thought this as I put my arms around him and answered his mouth.

  “Miranda!”

  I tried to pull away from him, but he held m
e firmly as Karlew’s furious face appeared between the curtains. I squirmed uselessly.

  “Karlew, your presence is a trifle . . . shall we say de trop?” Adam moved away then, keeping a firm grip on my wrist.

  “Get out of my house, Adam!” Karlew was beside himself with rage. “I warned you you’d go too far.”

  Adam’s face registered no more than a sort of lazy amusement as he turned to me. “My dear, I think you’d best leave your esteemed cousin and myself to discuss this matter.” His eyes were blatantly caressing.

  I nodded shakily and slipped out of the room. For once I was too disturbed to even wonder what they were saying to each other. I crept up to my room and sat there in the dark, trying to sort out my confused emotions.

  I knew that he certainly didn’t love me. His feelings for me were probably some complicated assortment of revenge, greed, perhaps amusement, and maybe even a trace of real physical desire. That thought was very disturbing.

  You’re afraid of him, I accused myself. You don’t like having a man around that you can’t ignore or can’t fool.

  True enough, my clear-headed self-agreed slowly.

  You can do one of two things, Miranda. You can try to get rid of him, or you can give in. Make up your mind.

  But for the first time in my life I felt completely confused. Should I listen to my head or my heart? I couldn’t decide.

  Chapter 9

  A FEW AFTERNOONS later I was mending sheets for Cousin Elinor (idle hands are the devil’s plaything) when Maxine glided into my room.

  “Haven’t you learned to knock?” I cast a cold eye in her direction.

  “But, Miranda, what secrets could you possibly have from me?” She plumped herself down on the bed.

  “A few, Maxine, a few,” I answered in my most cryptic manner. “But tell me, why have I been honored with your company this afternoon? I would have thought your devoted swain would have been dancing attendance upon you.”