Barrett's Hill Page 8

  “Don’t be cynical, Miranda, it ages you. You know perfectly well that Adam isn’t my devoted swain—yet,” she said with an irritating smirk. “Anyway, he went with Daddy and Fathimore into Montpelier for the day.”

  “So we’re to call a truce so that I can entertain you? How generous of you.”

  “Come on, Miranda. All’s fair in love and war, you know, and neither of those concern us right now.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Not till Adam comes back.” I stabbed the needle through the linen angrily, pricking my finger, then set it down in frustration. “All right, Maxine. I’ll tell you what we can do today. That is, if you’re not too much of a coward?”

  “I’ll do anything you do!” Maxine declared bravely.

  “Then you’ll come with me down to Carter’s Hotel and sneak into Fathimore’s and Adam’s rooms?”

  “What!” she shrieked. “You must be out of your mind.”

  “Not at all. Don’t you want to find out who killed Carly?”

  “Of course I do,” she said doubtfully. “But how does breaking into their hotel rooms help us find who did it? Do you think there’d still be evidence around after twenty years?”

  “Maybe not,” I allowed. “But I’m willing to take the chance and see. What about you?”

  I could see cowardice and curiosity warring within her. Curiosity won.

  “All right, I’ll go with you. But you’ve got to promise to stay with me the whole time.”

  “I will, Maxine,” I promised. “Go and get our coats and meet me on the side porch.”

  “Right now?” she squeaked. “Couldn’t we wait a bit?”

  “The sooner, the better,” I said firmly. “If you see anyone just tell them you’re going for a walk.”

  “But I never go for walks!” she protested. “Won’t they think it’s a little suspicious?”

  “Suspicious of what? It wouldn’t enter their minds that we were planning anything wicked. Just tell them I said you were getting too fat.” I got off the bed and started rummaging through my closet. “Well? Go on.”

  WE MADE OUR way carefully down the snow-packed hill. It was a good day for nefarious activities; a low-lying fog clung to the village, rendering the air cold and clammy and the visibility poor enough to keep most people indoors.

  We stopped alongside the livery stable to confer.

  “One of us should go straight in through the front door,” I said.

  “But what would Mr. Carter say?” Maxine protested. “He’d want to know where we’re going, wouldn’t he?”

  “You just say you’re on confidential church business. Say that you’re not allowed to say any more.”

  “And how are you going to get in?”

  “Through the kitchen. I’ve got a recipe Cook sent down for Mrs. Carter. Then I’ll just tell her I’m going out the front door and meet you upstairs instead,” I explained patiently.

  “All right,” Maxine said doubtfully. “Where shall we meet?”

  “Outside Fathimore’s room,” I told her, and started off.

  “Miranda!” She called me back in a hoarse whisper.

  “What is it now?”

  “What is Fathimore’s room number?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I muttered. “Room 208. Though I don’t know how we’re going to carry this off if you don’t start showing some more brains.” I stomped through the alleyway.

  Everything had gone according to plan by the time I met Maxine skulking around the deserted hallway. “Did Mr. Carter say anything?”

  “He wasn’t even there,” she looked nervously over her shoulder. “How are we going to get in?”

  Proudly I jingled something in my hand. “Skeleton keys, my dear. Our housekeeper in Boston had a set made up, and I stole them from her. Nosy old bitch.” I inserted one of the keys in the door. With a little jiggling the lock turned. “That’s a good omen, Maxine. The first one worked.”

  I opened the door and stepped into the darkened room. Immediately I was overpowered by the rank, sweet-sour smell of unwashed clothes. The room was utterly filthy. I signaled Maxine to shut the door behind us.

  “This would be the sort of place Fathimore would live,” I whispered to Maxine, who nodded nervously. I glanced over his books: elevating matter such as Pleasures of the Whip, Bondage, and other similar titles. I had no idea what they meant, and something told me I didn’t want to find out.

  “Miranda, let’s get out of here,” Maxine begged. “This is just awful. We’ll never find anything in this pigsty.”

  “You’re right.” I sighed. “Perhaps we’ll have more luck with Adam’s room.” We shut the door carefully behind us, and I started toward the stairs. Maxine made no move.

  “Well?” I inquired frostily. “Has your meager courage given out already?”

  “But Miranda, what if we’re caught?” she cried.

  “Then we’re caught,” I said flippantly. “Bread and water for three days and maybe extra prayers. We’ll survive.”

  “I won’t do it!” she announced. “I’ve got too much to lose.”

  “Do you, now? I wouldn’t have thought so,” I said coolly. “Well, suit yourself.” I left her standing there as I scurried up to the next floor, determined not to waste any more time.

  I had more trouble with Adam’s lock than I had with Fathimore’s. I had to try all the keys twice, but when I was at the point of giving up (I was not, as I implied to Maxine, totally devoid of cowardice), the door swung open.

  I went in and shut the door behind me. The room surprised me; I would have imagined clothes tossed all over with rakish abandon. Instead the room was Spartan neat. I wandered over to the little desk where a half-finished letter was shoved under the blotter. I couldn’t help but compare this room with the other. Fathimore’s had an aura of sickness and decay about it, while Adam’s room was almost inhumanly clean. But then, Adam had never seemed quite human to me. I glanced down at the letter, having just enough time to make out the greeting (Dear Roxie or Rosie) when I heard a key in the lock. In a mindless panic I flung myself under the bed and lay there, barely daring to breathe, as the door opened and Adam’s long legs walked in.

  I must have prayed constantly, lying there with my heart pounding. I should have stood there and faced him—there was nothing worse than being caught out while hiding. I should crawl out and announce my presence immediately. I lay there and suffered.

  The long legs moved over to the desk. The early winter twilight was getting dimmer, yet he made no effort to turn on the gaslight. I shifted position, curiosity getting the better of my natural caution. To my horror I saw that Adam had taken off his coat and vest and was unbuttoning his shirt, and I stared in fascination, having never seen a man undress before. He took off his shirt, and I stared at his lean, muscled back dreamily, wondering what his skin would feel like.

  “Are you just going to lie there and watch me undress, Miranda? I’m really surprised at you.” His rich voice broke the stillness.

  “Hell and damnation,” I muttered as I crawled from under the low-slung bed. My hair had come unpinned and was hanging about my shoulders; my clothing was disarrayed, and I was covered with dust. I didn’t feel terribly polite at that moment, so I simply pulled myself into a sitting position on the hooked rug, leaned back against the bed, and sneezed violently. Mrs. Carter’s housekeeping standards weren’t as impeccable as they should be.

  “I don’t want to be inquisitive,” Adam said, “but would you tell me why you were hiding under my bed?” He was putting on a fresh shirt. All that bare flesh had been disturbing, but I rather hated to see it disappear.

  “So you wouldn’t catch me in your room, of course,” I answered reasonably.

  “Of course,” he murmured. “That makes perfect sense. And why were you in my room? How di
d you get in, for that matter? Not that I wouldn’t have given you a key had you asked for one. I’m only distressed that I wasn’t here to welcome you.” His eyes ran over my body with a practiced sensuality. “And then you wouldn’t have had to waste your time under the bed.”

  I shivered slightly.

  “Are you cold?” He was solicitous. He came over and sat on the mattress next to me, and his lean, shapely hands started picking the remaining pins from my hair. “I suppose someone will come to rescue you?” he asked, perfectly aware of the effect his hands were having on me.

  “Yes,” I said with great difficulty. “Maxine’s probably gone to get Karlew right now.”

  He wrapped a curl around his finger. “What a shame,” he said softly.

  “Please,” I begged. “Don’t.” I reached up and grabbed his hands, but that was even worse—the touching of hands seemed to have an almost mystical power. We sat there, staring at each other, our hands locked. I don’t know what would have happened then, had Maxine been a little slower on her feet. But the pounding on the door began, and I pulled my hands away reluctantly.

  The door was flung open, and there stood Mr. and Mrs. Carter, looking horrified, and Maxine, a truculent expression on her pretty face.

  “What’s going on here, Adam?” Carter demanded. “I won’t have you carrying on any of your old tricks in my hotel!”

  I jumped up. “It was all my fault, Mr. Carter.” I put on my sweet, innocent ward-of-the-minister expression. “I was trying to find my way out the front door, and I was wandering down the hall when I met Mr. Traywick. He had a book of sermons he wanted to return to my Cousin Karlew so I went in to get it, and the draft slammed the door shut.”

  “Very drafty halls you have here, George,” Adam verified cheerfully.

  “Then why were you sitting on the floor and him on the bed, eh?” Mrs. Carter demanded suspiciously, her jowls quivering with outrage.

  “The slamming of the door frightened me, and I tripped.” I could see the doubt strong in her eyes, so I did the only thing I could think of. I burst into tears and flung myself onto Mrs. Carter’s bosom.

  “I promise you that it was entirely innocent! I would never do anything to jeopardize Cousin Karlew’s position and reputation. Mr. Traywick would never touch me, and if he had I would have screamed loud enough to be heard in Canada,” I sobbed. “Please, Mrs. Carter, you must believe me. I’m a good girl.” This heart-rending announcement was accompanied by raising my tear-drenched blue eyes affectingly.

  “That you are, my dear. I never doubted it for a moment.” She patted my shoulder comfortingly.

  I caught Maxine’s look of jealous admiration. She never had been able to manipulate people the way I could.

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Carter said hastily, having a normal male reaction to tears. He beat a retreat down the hall, muttering irritably.

  “And you, Miss Maxine!” Mrs. Carter turned on her, “you should know better than spreading tales about your sweet cousin. You could take a lesson from her behavior.”

  “I certainly could,” Maxine said sulkily after Mrs. Carter’s retreating figure. She started after her, then turned back to me. “Are you coming then, Miss Innocence?”

  “In a moment, Max,” I said cheerfully. I turned to Adam, who had watched the preceding events with fascination. “I am an idiot.”

  “Why?” he inquired. He’d risen when they’d all come rushing into the room, and now he was lounging against the door jamb.

  “I should have told them you enticed me up here, dragged me into your room, and tried to have your wicked pleasure of me.”

  “But you’re too kind-hearted to spread such wicked slander about me.” He moved over to reach out and brush the hair from my face. “I still can’t believe they swallowed that story—your appearance doesn’t quite back it up, does it?”

  “It’s my eyes. I can make anyone believe anything,” I boasted. “Except you.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. You might be able to convince me of a lot of things.”

  “Might I?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Miranda!” Maxine’s voice cut across the hall before he had a chance to answer. Without another word I ran to her side. As we climbed the road back up Barrett’s Hill I thought I could feel Adam’s eyes on me from his window. Imagination, I told myself sternly. He was even more manipulative than I was.

  Chapter 10

  I PASSED THROUGH that scrape with little or no damage to my reputation. Maxine decided not to enlighten Karlew (a mild hint as to Adam’s reaction if she did so served to deter her), and we managed to survive the next few weeks tolerably well.

  The main reason for our amicability was my decision to avoid Adam Traywick as much as I possibly could. He made me feel uneasy; he made me long for all sorts of vague, unspecified things I was sure I could never have. Consequently the only thing I could do to resolve the problem was to avoid the cause of all this yearning. I stayed in my room whenever I heard his deep voice in the hall. I took long walks around Barrett’s Hill. I read voraciously. Anything that kept me away from the reality of life in Pomroy, Vermont when it involved Adam Traywick.

  This cloistered life of mine pleased Maxine no end. She had Adam all to herself, and a great part of her pleasure lay in telling me her slow, and by no means certain, progress. I listened patiently.

  CHRISTMAS WAS coming. I hadn’t been paying much attention to the passing days, and it was with surprise that I came upon Maxine busily wrapping presents.

  “My God, I forgot about Christmas!” I exclaimed.

  Maxine’s face immediately took on an expression of extreme sulks. “Well, now you remember. I’m certainly not going to give you a present unless you give me one.” Her voice was petulant. “And you have exactly five days.”

  “That’s the right Christmas spirit, Max,” I approved. “You’ll get your present.” I started out the door when her voice called me back.

  “You know Adam’s spending Christmas Eve with us, don’t you?” her voice teased me.

  “No, I didn’t know,” I said calmly. “It makes no difference to me—I won’t be causing you any trouble. You may have him with my blessing.”

  “You couldn’t cause trouble if you tried,” she said sharply.

  “No, I’m sure you have him well in hand,” I laughed, and sailed onward.

  I was puzzled by the invitation. Adam and Karlew seemed to have declared an uneasy truce, but inviting him to share Christmas Eve was a little extreme. And since there was no way I could possibly avoid the evening, I was going to have a busy five days.

  I WAS UP IN MY room, dressing for Christmas Eve with an extraordinary amount of care, considering there was no one coming I wished to impress. Or so I told myself.

  I reviewed the presents I had laid under the carefully trimmed Christmas tree as I coaxed some strawberry blonde curls to hang wispily around my face.

  For dear Karlew I bought a collection of sermons by some dreadfully boring Presbyterian. They seemed prosy and long-winded enough to appeal to my cousin and should provide him with clerical material for the year to come. My only regret was that I might have to suffer through it along with the rest of the congregation.

  I had been tempted to buy Cousin Elinor a bottle of Madeira to help her through the trying holiday season, but decided I shouldn’t help her to temptation. Instead I found her a pretty shawl in her favorite soft rose color.

  For Maxine I had bought what she would appreciate most: a mirror to reflect her own divine image.

  And I was quite impatient to see Adam’s reaction when he opened his gift. I told myself I hoped to derive a cold satisfaction from it.

  Before I reached the bottom of the stairs I noticed Adam and Maxine standing in the open doorway to the drawing room. He was kissing her in a far fr
om fatherly way. I stepped carefully to the bottom and moved slowly in their direction. I was sure Adam had been aware of my presence before he had kissed her, but it was the rustle from my green silk gown that warned Maxine of my approach. She sprang away from him guiltily.

  I merely raised a well-trained eyebrow. She colored furiously and ran back into the room in a flash of orange taffeta. Where did she get such dreadful colors? I wondered.

  “You’re looking quite lovely this evening, Miss Miranda,” Adam drawled, his green eyes shining.

  “So are you,” I said flippantly and prepared to sail past him when he caught my arm.

  “Maxine and I were just testing the mistletoe. Now it’s your turn.” I looked up at the sprig tacked to the door above us and felt his lips brush my forehead. I was conscious of a feeling of keen disappointment in the casual nature of his kiss. Not that I wanted his mouth touching mine just after he’d kissed Maxine. I stared at him steadily, hoping to read something in his eyes, some hint of what was going on in his mind. His expression was blank.

  I greeted the others and wished them a Merry Christmas. There was a lovely smell of pine from the greenery that had been placed haphazardly around the room. Things seemed very subdued, as if everyone had decided to call a temporary halt to any feelings of revenge, fear, or distrust. However, even Christmas could not make me view Fathimore Wilby with anything less than intense loathing. Giving him my chilliest smile, I sat down on the love seat by the fire, spreading my skirts carefully around me.

  “Now that we’re all together . . .” Karlew stood up and began his speech. It lasted fifteen minutes, and covered topics ranging from Adam (“this welcome stranger returned home to the bosom of his dearest friends”), to Elinor (“true and faithful helpmate”), to Maxine (“innocent flower, newly budded”), to Fathimore (“honest disciple”), to me.

  I don’t know why Karlew feels he must pray so much over me. Perhaps, as he put it, it was my “ripe young womanhood waiting to be fulfilled in holy matrimony.” Here he gave Adam several telling glances. Or maybe my “swift but untutored mind.” Untutored, meaning he couldn’t control it. I was beginning to feel very unfriendly when he finally ended his oration. I flashed a quick glance at Adam, but he was looking dutifully solemn.