The Master of Phoenix Hall

by Jennifer Wilde

  “How unfortunate for Greg. How fortunate for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Surely you realize that you can’t run around here alone. This is the one night when things like—the incident at Phoenix Hall are the accepted thing. A woman alone would be inviting such things.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me?”

  “Not particularly. I’m trying to make you see why my company is desirable for you tonight.”

  “Your company would not be desirable under any circumstances, Mr. Mellory.”

  His lips turned down in an ugly frown. He gripped my arm. “I am not going to argue with you,” he said harshly. “You are the stubbornest young woman I have ever met. So stubborn it is likely to get you into a lot of trouble one of these days.”

  “Is that a prediction—or a threat?”

  “A threat?”

  “I got your note, Mr. Mellory.”

  “Note?” he said. “What note?”

  “Surely you aren’t going to deny sending it? Last night a man threw a rock through my window. A note was tied around it. It told me to leave Dower House—before it was too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “I’m sure you would know more about that than I.”

  “A man threw it, you say? Did you get a look at him?”

  “It was very dark, Mr. Mellory. I couldn’t see him clearly enough to determine any features. That should relieve you somewhat. I am sure you could describe him for me in detail.”

  “You’re taking a bit for granted, Miss Todd.”

  “Am I? Surely you want me to leave Dower House. That would make it easy for you. You’re wrong, though. I am not going to leave. I was not frightened. I was not trembling. I was merely angry. No one is going to frighten me away from my home.”

  “Perhaps you should have been frightened,” he said slowly.

  “I’m not the type,” I snapped.

  “I can see that. Will you promise me one thing? Will you let me know if this happens again?”

  “I am sure you will know even before I do.”

  He frowned. He was still holding my arm. The grip had tightened. I felt the fingers biting into my flesh. I could sense the man’s anger and I gloried in it. I had the power to make him angry. I could hold my own with him, and that was something not many could say.

  “Since you have been more or less forced to spend this time with me,” he said, “can’t you at least be civil?”

  “Why should I be civil to you, Mr. Mellory?”

  “Because you are evidently well brought up, for one reason. You might bring some of that good-breeding into play now. We are together at the fair, whether you like it or not. You might smile. You might let me buy you some refreshments.”

  “No, thank you,” I replied.

  “Did you get the dress?” he asked, his tone lighter.

  “Yes, Mr. Mellory. It is very lovely.”

  “I am giving a ball as soon as the repairs are done. I will look forward to seeing you there, in the dress. You will be the most stunning woman there.”

  “Balls are not my sort of thing,” I replied, wondering why he even bothered with all this pretense. We were enemies, and I liked it that way. We both knew where we stood, on opposing sides and this pretense of friendliness only clouded the issue.

  We had strolled away from the Maypoles and were mingling among a bustling, belligerent crowd. People stared curiously at the Master of Phoenix Hall as he walked along, holding my arm, disdainful of everything about him. I could see the hatred in the eyes of the people as he passed by. One man spat audibly after we had passed, and although I know Roderick Mellory was aware of it he did not even turn around. It was beneath him to even acknowledge the presence of these people. The fairgrounds might as well have been deserted of everyone but the two of us, I thought.

  “My brother told me that he met you today,” he said. “You made a very good impression on him. On my sister, too. I heard them talking about you. I figured that you would still be here at the fair, so I decided to come see for myself.”

  “Out of curiosity?”

  “To see you again.”

  “Why?”

  “You made quite an impression on me, too.”

  “Should I feel ecstatic?” I said scornfully.

  “You have a barbed tongue, Miss Todd. It’s very unpleasant. You won’t allow a man to be attentive to you, will you?”

  “I have no desire for anyone like you to be attentive to me.”

  “You do think I’m a devil, don’t you?”

  “What I think should make no difference to you, Mr. Mellory.”

  “You think I would stop at nothing to have my way. You think I am unscrupulous enough to send a man to terrorize you, that I would like to frighten you away from Dower House. I find that image of me quite conceivable, I must admit. I’ve been called ruthless, and rightly so in many cases, but I do not prey on defenseless women.”

  His voice sounded sincere and almost a little hurt that I should harbor such thoughts about him. I was not deceived. He was a clever man, shrewd and wily, and I had no doubt that he was an accomplished actor as well. We strolled along slowly, his fingers still gripping my arm. It was completely dark now. Many of the stalls were lighted, and people were still buying food and drink and occasional trinkets. A lad with a rifle was shooting targets at one stall, and his smiling girl stood nearby, her eyes on a gaudy doll she hoped to have won for her.

  There was a loud commotion in front of one tent. A crowd of people stood around, eagerly anticipating a fight. I heard loud voices. As we came nearer I saw a head of tarnished golden curls and two men standing face-to-face, stamping the ground for all the world like two bulls head-on, snorting at each other.

  “My Heavens!” I cried, pulling away from Roderick Mellory. “My maid! She’s in the middle of that. I’m afraid they’re going to fight over her.”

  I ran to the edge of the crowd, standing on tiptoe to get a better look. Nan was perched on the counter of the stall, her eyes very wide, very blue. Billy Johnson and Dereck Miller were shouting, both of them red-faced with anger, the muscles of their necks standing out in cords from the strain. The crowd shouted encouragement, and Dereck shoved Billy away from him with such force that Billy fell against one of the men in the crowd. He recovered himself, his eyes filled with murderous hatred. He drew back, doubling up his fists, and the fight was on.

  The two men flew at each other, fists flying. Billy knocked his opponent to the ground, leaping on top of him. They grappled, rolling over and over. The crowd roared, moving closer. Nan jumped up on the counter, her heels tapping in excitement as the men fought for her favors. The men thrashed on the ground, almost hidden by clouds of dust. Billy had his arm wrapped around Dereck’s throat, straining all his strength into the deadly stranglehold. Dereck’s face was red, his eyes bulging. He kicked his legs, fighting furiously to break the hold. His palm was spread over Billy’s face, the fingers gouging his eyes.

  Dereck managed to break free. He leaped to his feet, kicking at the man still on the ground. Billy groaned as the boot made contact. He grabbed the foot and jerked. Dereck fell backwards, his tall body hitting the ground with great force. It knocked the wind out of him. I gasped in horror, my hand flying to my mouth. Nan danced on the counter, screaming in delight and horror. Roderick Mellory came up beside me. He could not have cared less about the fight. His eyes were on my face. He was smiling grimly.

  “Can’t you stop them!” I cried.

  “I see no reason why I should.”

  “But they’ll kill each other!”

  “Hardly. This is merely a form of traditional exercise. They are merely releasing energy. There will be many more fights before this is all over.”

  “You won’t stop it! Then I will—”

  I started forward, calling Billy’s name. Roderick Mellory caught my arm, pulling me back violently. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. I was furious, and tears of anger brimmed on
my lashes. His lips curled and his dark eyes darted with amusement. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying seeing me distressed. I pounded my fists on his chest in frustration, but his hold on my arm only tightened. I winced in pain. The crowd yelled, Nan screamed, there was the loud noise of blows as fist made contact with flesh.

  There was nothing I could do. I stood in silent frustration. Roderick Mellory arched a dark brow as he saw my look of defeat. He curled his arm about my shoulders casually and began to watch the fight with some interest. I stood dumbly, my mind whirling with thoughts. No one paid the slightest attention to the Master of Phoenix Hall now, too engrossed in the fight to pay him any notice.

  Both men were on their feet, staggering. Dereck had Billy’s arm twisted behind his back, and he wrenched it up between his shoulderblades. I could see the sweat on Billy’s forehead, see his eyes close tightly with pain. He reached up and got his fingers in Dereck’s blond hair. He jerked with all his might and almost snapped Dereck’s neck as he pulled. Dereck lost his hold and went flying around. Billy slammed his fist against the side of Dereck’s head, and blood spurted. Dereck drove his fist into Billy’s stomach. Billy doubled up and almost fell over. They were both covered with dust now and Billy’s eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor.

  “Hit him again!” a man shouted lustily.

  “Knock him over!” another cried.

  “Don’t let him get behind you!”

  “Shove! Get his throat! Watch it, he’s moving around!”

  The uproar was deafening. The crowd jumped and pounded each other on the back in their excitement. Nan had covered her face in mock horror, but she peeked between her fingers, watching. She was the heroine of this bloody drama, and the role thrilled her. I could see her intense pleasure as she skipped along the top of the counter, swishing her skirts and tapping her heels.

  The men were standing apart now, both stunned, both almost at the end of their strength. Their chests heaved, their faces glistened with sweat. Dereck was staggering, his blond hair over his forehead. Billy stood with his legs planted wide apart, his arms hanging at his side. Dereck stumbled forward. Billy doubled his fist and swung back his arm, waved it in a wide arc and smashed his fist against the jaw of his opponent. There was a splintering noise like a bone cracking. A great sigh rose from the crowd as Dereck sank to his knees. His eyes had a stunned look. He fell back, sprawled on the ground, out. Billy stood for a moment, panting, then he flung out his arm and swept Nan off the counter, pulling her down into his arms.

  Nan laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm about her. They stood silently, the defeated man sprawled out at their feet. Nan took a handkerchief and wiped the dust from Billy’s face, touched the discolored eye with gentle fingers and made little clucking noises. The crowd broke up, looking for fresh excitements to satisfy their robust, primitive appetites. There would be other fights. There would be loud shouts and straining muscles and spurting blood.

  I felt ill. Roderick Mellory still had his arm about my shoulders and I pulled away. He grinned. He looked cool and disdainful in his black suit. None of the excitement of the fight had been communicated to him. He might have been standing on a riverbank, watching the water flowing, for all the effect the fight had had on him. I stared at his face, wondering how such a man could live with himself. It seemed that nothing touched him, nothing ruffled that cool, calm exterior. He was maddeningly self-possessed. I wondered what it would take to crack that exterior. What would it take to pierce that armor and reach the man inside. I turned away, upset and bewildered by all that had happened.

  Nan and Billy wandered off, their arms entwined. Someone helped Dereck Miller to his feet and led him away. I heard the music playing, saw the hazy colored lights over the dance floor. My head was swimming. There had been too many impressions, too many emotions, too quickly. I bit my lower lip, trying to keep control of myself.

  “Come,” Roderick Mellory said. “I am going to buy you a glass of cold cider. You need it.”

  I offered no protest as he led me away. He bought the, drink. Then he led me to a seat beneath an arbor. The lattice was completely covered with thick green vines, making it a retreat from the crowd. I sat quietly, drinking the tart, cold cider, and Roderick Mellory stood with his hands resting on the lattice, breathing quietly and respecting my silence. Here on the outskirts of the grounds I could see fireflies as they flew among the dark shrubs, making soft yellow lights that flickered for a moment and then died away. Behind us, in the wooded areas, we could hear people moving, scuffling, laughing.

  I felt exhausted and depressed, too tired even to argue with the man who stood over me. I hadn’t the energy for quick retorts. I hadn’t even the energy to hate him or to resent his presence.

  “What kind of man are you?” I asked quietly.

  “A very simple man,” he replied.

  “Simple? I can hardly see that.”

  “Quite simple. A man with one purpose. One clear cut goal in my life. One goal to strive for, one thought foremost in my mind. That’s very simple, isn’t it?”

  “Why does Phoenix Hall mean so much to you?”

  “It is mine. It is permanent. It stands for all I stand for. The house has been ours for hundreds of years. I want to keep it. I want it to be what it was. So many families have lost their estates, have been reduced to genteel poverty, to charity even. I will not let that happen to the Mellorys.”

  “I can understand that,” I replied. “But—it seems so empty, so lonely, to have—just that one thing.”

  He laughed softly. “You think I should have a wife? You think I should have children and burdens and responsibilities and obligations?” He shook his head. “Romance, Miss Todd. Romantic drivel. When I have done all I need to do to Phoenix Hall, then I’ll look for those things you fancy I should have. I want a son to carry on, of course, and I shall have one, eventually. I’ll bring him up to think the way I think, to respect the things I respect.”

  “And your wife?”

  “She will be chosen carefully. She will have all the qualities that are suitable for the Mistress of Phoenix Hall. She will know her place, and she will fulfill the role I have appointed her.”

  “And will she be happy? Will you be happy?”

  “Happiness is a relative thing, Miss Todd. It is not a state of romantic blissfulness. It is the achievement of something, the knowledge that you have done what you set out to do.”

  “It all sounds so cold and bloodless,” I remarked, “this plan of yours. I do not envy you. I certainly do not envy your future wife as you describe her. You’ve left out all emotion, all feeling.”

  “I am not an emotional man, Miss Todd. I have seen what emotional excess can lead to. I’m safely out of that now.”

  I knew that he was speaking of his youth, being thrown out of Oxford and, later on, the romantic entanglement in London, the Lady with the blonde hair, the duel in Hyde Park. He must have been a rake then, a dashing, daring, hot-blooded creature so different from the man who stood here now, arranging his life in such a methodical manner. I would have preferred the earlier Roderick Mellory, I thought.

  “What about you?” he asked. “What are you going to do with your life now that you have Dower House?”

  “I am going to—to live there. I’m going to work in the garden. I am going to read. I am going to—to be content.”

  “That sounds dull. A hermit’s life hardly suits a young woman with your temperament.”

  “A hermit’s life is much better than working for a living, having to put up with the whims of others, using thread and needle to make dresses others will wear, worrying about expenses. I had that, and now the life of a hermit will suit me fine.”

  This sounded very sensible, but I wondered if it were true. For the first time in my adult life I had security, I did not have to worry about money, about making ends meet, but I wondered if this would make up for the things that were so obviously lacking. Perhaps I was fooling myself. The exc
itements of the day had left me pensive and moody, and I thought how strange it was to be sitting here talking about these things with the man who was my enemy, the one person with whom I should never let down my defenses.

  At this point, Greg found us in the arbor. He had a look of concern on his face, thinking that I might have left already. Roderick Mellory greeted Greg affably and asked him some inconsequential questions about teaching. Greg thanked Mellory for watching after me and then the Master of Phoeinx Hall departed, vanishing into the darkness. Greg wanted to know how Roderick Mellory and I had come upon each other, and I explained briefly what had happened, leaving out all personal references and making it sound very casual. Greg seemed to be satisfied with this, and I was relieved when he began to talk about the child who had been sick. We talked for a while, and finally Greg led me to the dance floor.

  I was too tired to enjoy dancing. I had to force myself to move in step with the music, to smile and pretend interest in Greg’s remarks. He held his arm tightly about my waist and swirled me around the colored lights, not noticing my listlessness. His face was animated in its pleasure, and he danced as briskly and with as much enjoyment as the hearty young couples who crowded the floor. I saw Nan dancing with Billy Johnson. Her head was thrown back, her face as open and glowing as a flower as she looked into his eyes. Billy’s eye was blue now, with purple edges, and there was a bruise on the side of his head, but he danced with as lively a step as any of the other lads. The music played on and on, merry, bright. Boots stomped and girls laughed and all were moved by the festive air.

  Later, Greg and I stood in the darkness of an open field, waiting with hundreds of others for the fireworks display. Greg held my hand. I stood very close to him, my body drained of all energy, and yet the tiredness was almost comfortable now. I felt serene and secure, standing there so near Greg, his hand clasping mine tightly. People talked quietly, waiting for the first burst of color that would lighten the solid black sky. Ohs and ahs filled the air when the first sizzle of burning wick sounded like a hissing snake and the rocket shot up in a stream of flame, softly exploding high in the sky and showering with a million pink and gold sparks that slowly drifted down and died. There were feathery blue and green explosions, silver and red bursts, purple and violet showers, all coloring the night with incredible beauty. The crowd was silent, awed and respectful of this miracle, and when the sky was black once more, May Day was officially over.