The Master of Phoenix Hall

by Jennifer Wilde

  “Can one be too kindhearted?” I asked.

  He paused, reflecting. “My father was,” he said slowly. “Phoenix Hall suffered for it.”

  “And now Phoenix Hall prospers and the people suffer.”

  “You might say that. Rod closed down the quarries. They hated him for that. They had to get out and find some other means of livelihood. They had to use some initiative. Phoenix Hall has been supporting too many of the people for too long a time. Now it doesn’t. Now they work on farms and produce more grain and vegetables. Some of them have gone into various trades. Now that they do not rely on Phoenix Hall they are doing more for themselves and for the whole of Lockwood. Ultimately, it will mean a richer Lockwood because my brother refused to go on working the quarries when the demand for granite had ceased.”

  This was not said with conviction. He said the words as though he were repeating an argument someone else had given.

  “That is a philosophical way of justifying it,” I replied.

  “One must justify it somehow,” he said quietly.

  I looked up at him sharply. Something about the way he said those last words gave me an insight into his true nature. He was not in accord with his brother. He was a sensitive young man who was considerate of other people, despite his pose to the contrary. Mr. Patterson had told me that Paul Mellory was like his father by nature, and I saw that now, behind all his pretense. He did not want people to see his true nature. It would make them pity him all the more, and it would make him vulnerable to them. He was too proud for that.

  “You don’t approve of what your brother did?” I asked.

  “I did not say that, Miss Todd.”

  “But you implied it. You would not have put the people out of work if you had been in charge. You really don’t approve of your brother at all, do you?”

  “But he is my brother, Miss Todd.”

  “And you are loyal. I admire that.”

  “I respect him for his ability to accomplish what he sets out to accomplish. I admire his ability to let nothing stand in his way, to achieve his goals no matter what the odds against him.”

  “And I am in his way now?”

  “It would seem so.”

  I smiled to myself. I brushed bits of grass from my sapphire blue skirt and accidently exposed a ruffle of my fine lace petticoat. A ray of sunlight slanted through the overhanging limbs of the tree, touching my lustrous brown hair. I could see Paul Mellory looking at me with admiration. The conversation had stimulated me, and I was flushed, my eyes sparkling.

  “It would appear that my brother has met a worthy opponent,” Paul Mellory said.

  “Thank you, Paul,” I replied.

  The name had come to my lips instinctively, and I had already spoken it before realizing my error. He looked up, pleased. I felt his friendliness then, and I knew that I had won him over. He would be my friend regardless of what happened between his brother and me. That was satisfying to know.

  “I am very sorry about the incident the other day,” Paul said. “My brother told me what happened, although he told Laurel merely that you had stumbled over a piece of lumber. Both of us were concerned. Laurel wanted to go to Dower House the next morning and take some broth and see if you were all right, but Rod wouldn’t let her.”

  I was touched by his sister’s concern, but I could see why Roderick Mellory did not want her to know exactly what happened.

  “My brother was greatly upset over the matter,” Paul continued. “He discharged the men immediately. He was quite brutal about it, would not give them their wages and threatened to beat them to a pulp if ever they showed their faces in this neighborhood again. The men were brutes. It is in their nature. I hope that this will not sour you on Phoenix Hall completely, Miss Todd.”

  His voice became suddenly much younger, suddenly very sincere. “I hope you will come to see us quite often,” he said, hesitating just a little. “I—I would enjoy that. There are so few interesting people around here, people you can talk to, I would like very much to be able to talk to you more. You like Music. Perhaps I could play for you.”

  “I would enjoy that, Paul.”

  “Here comes my sister,” he said. “Don’t mention any of this, Miss Todd. She doesn’t know what happened.”

  “Of course I won’t mention it.”

  Laurel Mellory came up to us, walking in the springing, lilting way of a person very young, very exciting. She was wearing a pink and powder blue striped dress, and the skirt swirled as she walked. Silvery blonde hair bounced about her shoulders. There was a faint pink flush on her cheeks. Her dark blue eyes were alive with excitement. I thought she looked too intense, too animated, as though she was not used to as much excitement as she had had today. There was still something very sad about the girl, for all her animation.

  “See, Paul!” she cried, holding out a bracelet of dangling gold bangles, “I bought this from the gypsy woman. She told my fortune, too. And this lace”—she held out a bolt of the exquisite stuff—“it is the very finest, and quite expensive, but it will be lovely on my petticoats. I had a huge sausage rolled in bread, and some candy.” She was chattering like a child let out on holiday after months of dreary imprisonment. Paul listened to her as one would listen to a child, letting them prattle on, not really paying any attention.

  Laurel Mellory saw me, and she became very quiet. I saw that her face was lined with fatigue. The curious blue stain was still about her eyelids, giving that haunting look, and the animation died away, leaving a pale, tired face marked with sadness.

  “You are Miss Angela Todd, aren’t you?” she asked.

  I nodded, smiling. She smiled, too, a faint smile.

  “I meant to come visit you after your accident. Something came up, and I didn’t get to come. I had some chicken broth.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” I said.

  “It is nice to see that you are all right. I have wanted so to meet you. I knew your aunt. You’ve been making friends with Paul? I am glad. I do hope we can be friends, too.”

  “We had better go, Laurel,” Paul Mellory said. “You look tired. I have had enough.”

  “Oh, but I so wanted to see the Maypole Dance,” Laurel protested.

  “You’re overstimulated as it is. You know how you have to pay for these excitements. Days in bed, cold cloths on your head, nerves. You mustn’t make it worse. Roderick will be displeased.”

  “Yes,” Laurel said, very quietly. “We must go. We must not let our brother be displeased.” She turned to me, unsmiling. “It has been nice meeting you, Miss Todd. I hope we will see each other again soon.”

  “I hope so, too, Miss Mellory.”

  Paul Mellory exchanged glances with me. I felt that we had some secret understanding between us. Laurel tucked the rug tightly about his knees, fussing over him as though he were a child, then got behind the chair to push him to their carriage. The lock of hair was still on his tanned forehead, and the dark brown eyes were secretive now, uncommunicative. He did not look back as his sister pushed the wheel chair away. I watched until they vanished around the corner of a tent, wondering about this strange couple and the life they must lead at Phoenix Hall.

  Greg came to find me, surrounded by his flock of schoolboys. He was as excited as they were, and it was plain to see that he had enjoyed the canoe rides equally as well. Mr. Stephenson had decided to rest for a while, and Greg had promised to let them all ride the carousel before they left the grounds. It was already getting late, and soon the Maypole Dance would begin. Both Greg and Mr. Stephenson felt the boys should leave before that took place. The boys flittered around Greg like a flock of sparrows in their little brown suits, tugging at his hand, asking him questions, urging him to hurry and put them on the carousel. He smiled at me over all this and together we took the boys to the carousel and put each one on a brightly painted horse.

  The calliope music was bright and gay. The horses went bobbing around rapidly, faster and faster. Greg and I stood watching, an
d he held my hand, almost unconsciously. He had taken it naturally as though it were the expected thing, and I felt his fingers tighten on mine as we watched the boys. He was laughing at their antics, and I watched his face. His gray eyes with their specks of green were full of boyish delight. He might be dissatisfied with his lot as a teacher, I thought, but he was certainly enthusiastic about it, doing his job with relish and commanding the love and respect of his young students. I pulled my hand away as Mr. Stephenson came to join us.

  The carousel was slowing down. The boys were emitting loud groans of disappointment, knowing that their day of fun was coming to an end. The calliope music became jerky, spasmodic, then blurted to a stop as the horses jerked to a standstill. The boys climbed off reluctantly and Mr. Stephenson helped Greg herd them all together.

  “We’ll take them back to school,” Greg said. “I can come back in a little while, after we see that they’re all fed and put to rest. Will you wait for me, Angela?”

  “Yes. I want to see if I can find Nan. You’ll be back in time for the dance?”

  “Or shortly thereafter.”

  “I’d hate for you to miss it,” I said.

  He grinned. “I’ve seen a dozen of them. All this is new for you, but the first excitement has long since rubbed away for me.”

  He left, helping his colleague escort the by-now-dejected boys off the fairgrounds and back to their dormitory rooms at the school. I began to look for Nan. I had caught glimpses of her off and on all day, but I had not talked to her since she darted away to the fortune-teller’s tent with Billy. I saw Billy now, leaning against a tree trunk and looking surly and morose. He wore rust-colored trousers and scuffed, dusty brown boots. His coarse linen shirt had enormous gathered sleeves, and there was leather lacing at the throat in lieu of buttons. His handsome face was uncharacteristically grim, the mouth turned down at the corner and the penny-colored eyes flat and hard. I imagined that he and Nan had had one of their spectacular quarrels.

  “Where is Nan, Billy?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to ask Dereck Miller about that,” he snapped.

  “Dereck Miller? Who is he?”

  “Your Nan can tell you all about him.”

  “Oh, Dear—”

  “Me, I’m havin’ nothing more to do with her.”

  I left him leaning against the tree trunk, scowling bitterly over my minx of a maid. I found Nan a little later. She was at one of the booths, accepting a piece of cake held out to her in the palm of a boy who must be Dereck Miller. He was extremely tall, over six foot, with thick, dark blond hair and adoring blue eyes. Several of the Lockwood girls a distance away were eyeing him appreciatively, but he only had eyes for Nan. She took the cake from his palm and nibbled on it. Chocolate crumbs drifted to the ground.

  “Nan,” I cried, going over to them.

  “Oh, Miss Angel! I’ve got so much to tell you.” She turned to the boy, dismissing him. “See you at the dance. Don’t forget to jump in front of my ribbon. There, he’s gone. Isn’t he lovely, Miss Angel? Did you see those arms. He pitches hay. That develops the muscles. And he has such sweet eyes. He’s dumb, of course, like all these lads, but beautiful nevertheless.”

  “What happened between you and Billy?”

  “Oh, he’s such a lout! He made fun of me for having my fortune told. Then he wouldn’t buy those nice red ribbons for my hair. I’m all through with him, Miss Angel. I can tell you that right now.”

  “You’re heartless, Nan.”

  “I’m tired of his bossiness. Besides, Dereck is so much nicer.”

  We strolled about the grounds and Nan told me about all the things that had happened to her, spending most of the time extrolling the virtues of her new conquest. I heard the history of Dereck Miller and all about how he won wrestling matches and weight lifting contests and had won a little doll for her at the shooting gallery set up on the grounds here. She looked charming in the green and white striped dress adorned with countless flouncy pink ruffles. She skipped and danced about the fairgrounds like a delighted child, having the time of her life. She told me that Dereck had taught her the steps of the Maypole dance. She was going to dance with the other girls, even though she was not from Lockwood, and she was very excited about that.

  The electric air of anticipation had grown stronger now. Most of the children had been sent home. The sun was beginning to stain the sky with scarlet and gold, and a soft blue twilight was thickening. It was almost time for the dance to begin. People began to shuffle around the Maypoles, wanting to get a good position in which to watch. The musicians had come and were tuning their instruments. The colored lanterns had been strung up over the wooden dance floor, suspended from the limbs of the oak trees. The crowd was restless, noisier than before. I saw many more goatskins of wine, and already a few of the older men were walking unsteadily, pushing people out of their way.

  I looked around anxiously for Greg. A young man came up to me and asked me if I was Miss Angela Todd. When I nodded he told me that he had a message for me. One of the boys had gotten sick, he said, and Mr. Ingram had asked him to inform me that he would not be able to come back just yet. It would be after dark before he could get away. I was disappointed, as I had wanted to watch the dance with Greg, but there was nothing I could do.

  A signal was given and the girls moved to the Maypoles, picking up their designated ribbons. The crowd moved back, clearing the area. Nan pranced among the Lockwood girls and took her ribbon, bowing saucily to the others. She plucked a pink rose from her ribbon and fastened it in her curls. The boys formed circles around the outer edges of the poles, eager to perform their part in the ritual dance. Each girl raised her ribbon up and stood poised, ready to execute the intricate steps of the dance. The music began, a gay, lilting tune, and the girls moved in unison, skipping, dipping, waltzing, twining their ribbons about the tops of the poles.

  It was a beautiful dance, I thought, bright, merry, filled with exciting symbolism as the ribbons wrapped the poles and then were unwound so skillfully by the young girls who moved on light feet, keeping perfect time to the music. The girls were all smiling, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, eyes sparkling, skirts sashaying and hair flying as the tempo quickened. Nan danced with great vivacity, keeping step with the best of them. I saw many of the boys watching her. Billy stood on the outskirts of the crowd, still scowling, watching Nan with angry eyes. Dereck Miller stood in place with the rest of the boys who were going to dance.

  The music grew louder, wilder, and upon signal the boys began to dance in and out of the circles, leaping in front of the girls and moving back and forth in a highly suggestive manner, executing little jump steps that kept them always just out of reach. The dance took on a lusty, robust quality, sensual and unabashed in its symbolism. I was a little shocked, but the crowd loved it. They shouted cat calls, making lewd suggestions and offering advice to the boys. They roared with delight as the boys eluded the ribbons, taunting the girls and then allowing themselves to be caught. It was a colorful spectacle, healthy, red-blooded young bodies moving rapidly, ribbons flashing in red, blue and green swirls, flowers coming unfastened and dropping in showers of petals on the dancers. The music grew more intense, the dancers whirled faster and faster until it seemed they would drop with exhaustion, and finally each boy and girl were wrapped in rolls of colored ribbon, imprisoned together and in each other’s arms as the music stopped. They were panting, swaying together, joyous in their cries of delight. Nan was leaning against Dereck Miller’s chest, her arms about his back. He was grinning, holding her very tightly. The crowd applauded with the sound of thunder, and the couples ran off the green together, holding hands, broken ribbons flying from their shoulders.

  “Did you enjoy the spectacle, Miss Todd?”

  I whirled around. Roderick Mellory was smiling at me. He must not sense my alarm, I thought, and I tried to remain very cool. His dark eyes were filled with amusement, and his lips were curled up in one of those mocking smiles I remembered s
o well. My cheeks reddened as I realized that he must have been standing there for a long time, watching me and watching my reactions to the primitive dance.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  “Since shortly after the dance began.”

  “Spying on me,” I snapped.

  “Call it that if you like. I was interested to see how you would react to some of our local customs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am interested in you, Miss Todd.”

  “Interested in me? I wonder. I suppose you would like to discover all my weaknesses and shortcomings so that you could use them. I am sure it would please you to find something to use against me.”

  “You’re not very flattering, Miss Todd.”

  “I certainly can’t think of any other reason why you should be interested in me, Mr. Mellory.”

  “You’re not very imaginative, either.”

  “Should I be?”

  “Most young women are.”

  “I’m not like most young women.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  I could think of nothing to say in return. The crowd had dispersed, moving away in various directions. Night was falling fast now and the shadows were thickening. Over the wooden dance floor the soft, hazy lanterns were like splotches of color, moving slightly in the breeze. Many of the couples had disappeared. Some of them strolled around over the fairgrounds, giggling and embracing, and others danced under the lanterns. I had no idea where Nan and her new beau had gone.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Mellory, I must go look for my maid.”

  “Where is your escort? You didn’t come alone?”

  “Mr. Ingram brought me. He had to take the boys back to school and was detained.”