“Look, Nan,” I said. “A secret drawer. There are a lot of notebooks and this gun.”
“My goodness,” Nan said. “We went through that desk and we didn’t see any of these things.”
“The drawer flew open when I shoved in the bottom one. There must be a spring that releases it.”
“I wonder who the gun belonged to?”
“It must have been my aunt’s,” I replied. “Look, there’s a key, too.”
The key was large and made of tarnished brass. It did not look like it would fit any of the doors at Dower House, and I wondered why my aunt had kept it here in this secret drawer with the gun and notebooks. “How strange,” I said, turning it over in my hand. “I wonder what it fits.” Nan leaned over my shoulder, intrigued by the secret drawer.
“Maybe the notebooks will give us a clue,” Nan said.
They were no help at all. I could not even read them. They were written in some kind of code. The pages were filled with tiny, closely packed letters that made no sense, although I could occasionally make out a date. It was all very mysterious. I could tell that the writing was in my aunt’s hand, but I wondered what in the world she would have to write that she felt best put in code, and why would these notebooks be kept hidden in a secret drawer along with a gun and an old key? All this was very strange.
When Greg came that evening I showed him the notebooks. He looked at them for a long time, a frown on his face. He turned the pages slowly, examining the curious lettering. His gray-green eyes had a curious expression in them, and one corner of his mouth was turned down.
“Can you read any of it?” I asked.
“Not a word,” he replied.
“I can’t imagine what they might contain, what Aunt Lucille possibly could have written that she would have wanted to put in code. Perhaps the notebooks contain medicinal recipes, something to do with herbs.”
“Do you mind if I take them with me?” Greg asked. “I know a little about codes. Perhaps I could decipher them for you.”
“I would appreciate that,” I replied. “Perhaps they will tell me something more about my aunt.”
“Undoubtedly,” Greg said, his voice low. For a moment I had the strange impression that he had been able to read the notes and had discovered something unpleasant that he wanted to keep from me. I looked at his face closely. There were lines of worry about his eyes, and his jaw was thrust out. He seemed to be lost in thought.
“Is anything wrong, Greg?” I asked.
He looked up, still frowning. Then he seemed to relax, heaving a sigh.
“Not really,” he said, trying to smile. “I had some bad news today and it’s disturbed me a little. My brother in Liverpool is having some business trouble and I am going to have to go and help him out for a few days.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother, Greg. You’ve never mentioned him to me.”
“Haven’t I? Wayne is the only family I have left. He’s older than I, has a small printing press in Liverpool. He’s the salt of the earth, good, steady—too good. He’s about to lose his printing press. I think maybe I can look over the books and talk to the creditors and straighten things out. He really knows nothing about the business, keeps in the back of the shop with the ink and the glue and presses and lets others manage all the actual business transactions. His assistant has embezzled some money and run away, leaving Wayne in a bad fix.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Greg. How long will you be gone?”
“About a week. Roderick’s ball is on the fifth of April. I will get back that afternoon, in plenty of time for the great occasion. Stephenson is going to double up and take over my classes, so the school doesn’t mind letting me go.”
Greg stood up, gathering up the notebooks from the table. “I will take these along. Maybe I’ll have some time to work on them. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, Angela.”
“I will, Greg. You do the same.”
He left and I spent a long time thinking about what had happened. I had not told Greg about the gun and the key, and I took them out now and examined them again. I looked at the gun and wondered if my aunt had ever used it. It was a pretty thing, so small and well made, but it could be deadly, too. I held the key in my hand, wondering what it unlocked. The gun, the key, the notebooks in the secret drawer—all of them imposed a mystery, and it baffled me. I felt that if I ever found the lock that this key fit I would also find the solution to the mystery of it all.
VIII
I WAITED nervously for Greg to come, feeling strange in all my new finery. I stood in the parlor where the last rays of tangerine sunlight were dying on the old ivory walls. I was afraid to sit down lest I rumple the dress, for I wanted to be flawless when Greg arrived. I had not heard from him, and as the clock ticked on in the silence of the room and the sunlight was replaced by long blue shadows, I paced restlessly, and foolishly, for he was to arrive at seven thirty and it was just shortly after seven now.
Nan had spent over an hour over my hair, arranging the light brown waves skillfully on top of my head, with three long ringlets dangling down to touch my naked shoulder. The dress was a thing of beauty, the bodice of red satin cut low, very tight at the waist, adorned with amethyst ribbons, the skirt great swirls of red satin overlaid with shimmering folds of amethyst. I had never worn such a dress, and it gave me a strange feeling of power. I felt like a different person, older, wiser and ready to handle any situation with skill. I was no longer a humble seamstress who had accidentally become the owner of a house in the country. I was a great lady to whom anything might happen.
Yet, at the same time, I was apprehensive. I was in masquerade. I looked at the beautiful woman in the full length mirror, and I still saw the former seamstress, nervously clutching her hands in fear that her escort would not arrive on time.
I was very excited about going to Phoenix Hall. The whole county was talking about the ball, about the lavish preparations that had been made, about the gentry who would be there, about the special food and wine ordered all the way from London, about the musicians Mellory had hired to play for his guests. Some said that Roderick Mellory had prepared Phoenix Hall for his bride and would chose her from all the well brought up young maidens who would attend the ball. Others said that this was his way of flaunting his wealth and power in the faces of those who would not attend, the villagers of Lockwood, who would not even be allowed to stand out in the gardens and watch the grand affair through the windows. Nan had related all this gossip to me, adding and embellishing with her own opinions. There had been no affair like this in Lockwood since Mellory’s father had given his memorable balls, many years ago.
When Greg finally arrived, I was a little alarmed at his appearance. He looked very tired, and I could understand this. He had just returned from a long, exhausting trip. But there was something else about his face that I could not quite fathom. There were furrows between his brows and tired lines about the corners of the eyes, and the eyes themselves looked cloudy and disturbed, as though they had seen something distressing. There was a small droop at the corner of his mouth. He seemed preoccupied with something.
He stood looking at me for a long time, but it was almost as though he were not seeing me. Although his eyes were on me, they seemed to be seeing something else entirely.
“You look ravishing,” he said. “The dress is lovely.”
“Thank you, Greg. You look tired.”
“It was a long journey, a hard one.”
“Did everything go well?”
“As well as could be expected,” he said evasively.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
He looked away from me, creasing his brows as though he were making a grave decision. He wore his handsome evening clothes casually, as though he were accustomed to them. The silky black jacket fit tightly about his shoulders, the wide black satin lapels turned back to reveal a gleaming white shirtfront and a dark maroon waistband. He wore a white tie and the lining of his swirling
evening cape was of heavy white satin. Greg would look at home at Whitehall, I thought. He might be a young Lord or a member of Parliament. It was hard to believe, seeing him like this, that he was merely a country schoolteacher.
He looked into my eyes, his own suddenly very serious.
“You asked if there was anything you could do,” he said. “There may be something, Angela. You can believe in me. You can have faith in me. I need that just now. There is—” he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Something big has come up, something I can’t explain just now. It’s what I’ve been looking for all my life. It would mean leaving this place, leaving the school. It would mean the fulfillment of all my dreams. And I would like for you to be a part of it, Angela.”
“Greg, you’re—you’re talking in riddles. I don’t know exactly what you are trying to say.”
He smiled. It was a feeble smile. Then he shook his head slowly and seemed to relax.
“I know. It wasn’t fair of me to spring it like that and not give you any of the details. I can’t tell you what it’s all about yet. All I need to know is that you’re behind me.”
“Of course I am, Greg. You should know that.”
“It will make all the difference,” he said.
I studied him for a moment, wondering what all this could be about. The worried look was gone from his face, and in its place was a look of excitement and anticipation. He looked like a schoolboy who had just been given a prolonged holiday and had months of freedom ahead. I did not know how to take this sudden change. Something important had happened. I knew that he would tell me about it when the time came and until then I could only do as he asked, have faith in him.
He put both his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. He was smiling now and those dark gray eyes with their specks of green held an emotion that I understood immediately and was afraid of. I did not want us to stop being friends. I valued the easy, relaxed companionship we shared, and I was not ready to exchange it for something new. He was very dear to me as a friend, but it would take time to learn if I could feel anything more than this present warmth and admiration.
“I’m very happy, Angela,” he said.
“I am glad, Greg.”
“I want you to be happy, too. I want you to share in my happiness.”
“I—I don’t know,” I replied quietly.
“Have patience with me,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you about all this until I am certain of everything. When I present my plan it is going to be perfect, with no loose ends. In a few days, maybe, I will know for sure. You’ll be patient, Angela?”
I nodded. He smiled again, taking my arm. My skirts rustled as I walked outside with him. It was dark now, but in the moonlight I could see his face and the flashing white lining of his cape as he helped me into the carriage. He picked up the reins in one hand and stretched his other arm about my shoulder, pulling me close beside him. We drove to Phoenix Hall slowly, and I felt a sadness I could not comprehend. Something was lost, and I grieved for it, but I didn’t know yet just what it was I was grieving for.
IX
SENSATION PILED upon sensation, too fast, too bright, too beautiful for me to catch them all. We walked down the stairs into the ballroom to the lively strains of music, and I heard laughter and voices and could see a hundred faces turned up to watch us. A buzz went through the crowd, and I heard people talking about us and asking who I was. I leaned on Greg’s arm for support, very nervous at this close inspection.
I saw men young and old in their handsome suits and uniforms, women in spectacular gowns of every color, whirling brilliantly on the floor. Three huge chandeliers dripped from the gold leaf ceiling, and the reflections of a thousand candles made the crystal pendants glitter with all the colors of the rainbow.
“You’re trembling,” Greg whispered, grinning.
“I can’t help it.”
“Hold your head up, Angela. You are by far the loveliest woman here tonight.”
“Don’t say silly things. I feel light-headed as it is.”
My head seemed to whirl in fast spins. There was too much dazzle and too much color. I wanted to turn and run. I did not belong here. Prim, reserved Miss Angela Todd had no place in a glittering ballroom, I told myself, and yet I felt a certain pride at being with a man as handsome as Greg. This whole evening was like a schoolgirl’s dream come true, and I was as nervous as any schoolgirl could have been.
“Who is that woman with Greg Ingram?” I heard a woman ask.
“I’ve never seen her,” another replied, “but I wonder where she got that gown. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”
“From Paris, more than likely. She’s probably someone from London, a former flame of Roderick’s.”
“With Greg Ingram? It’s hardly likely, my dear.”
“This place is swarming with Roderick’s former flames. They say that Lady Miriam Alton is even coming.”
“She wouldn’t dare.”
“Miriam would do anything.”
I wondered who the controversial Lady Miriam was and what connection she had with Roderick Mellory. I did not doubt that it was a scandalous one. All these people seemed strange creatures to me, their lives so far removed from my own that I could only look at them in awe, as one would peer at bizarre and beautiful animals in a zoo.
We moved on. I saw an ancient soldier with silver gray hair, golden braid draped all over the shoulders of his royal blue jacket. He was talking to a dark eyed woman whose jet black gown was resplendent with a thousand glittering jet beads. Her lined cheeks had too much rouge on them, her eyelids were heavily coated with mauve shadow and her hair was a blazing artificial red. She peered at us through a lorgnette as we passed, and the soldier stroked a silver moustache and eyed me with appreciation.
“The affluent ones,” Greg commented. “Don’t let them intimidate you, Angela. That old woman might look like a dragon, but she would give every diamond she has for your complexion.”
“Who is Lady Miriam Alton?” I asked.
“A stunning brunette of thirty-five, something of a scandal to the English Peerage. She has an ancient husband, an ancient estate, and some very modern ideas.”
“Meaning?”
Greg smiled at my curiosity. “Meaning that she often makes the headlines in the tabloids and scandal sheets.”
“Oh, one of those creatures,” I said disapprovingly.
“Lady Miriam isn’t so bad,” Greg replied, plainly amused by my comment. “She tends to live with a bit more dash and color than most of the nobility. A moldering estate and a moldering husband aren’t quite enough to satisfy her appetite for life.”
“You admire her?”
“I’ve never met her, just heard about her.”
I wondered why I should be so curious about Lady Miriam Alton. I did not know why I should feel such sudden resentment for a woman I had never laid eyes on.
“Everyone should live with dash and color,” Greg said.
“Should they?”
“Life is more than being a seamstress or a schoolteacher. A man has to reach out and grab life. A man has to force it into the shape desired. Or else remain a schoolteacher the rest of his life.”
“Would that be such a bad life, Greg?” I asked.
He did not reply. There was no need to. Greg was a complex person. He was very dissatisfied, just how dissatisfied I was only beginning to see now. He looked so very much a part of this crowd. He was as elegant, as handsome as any man present. He moved with confidence, as one who belonged, and yet he did not belong any more than I did. I could see how difficult that must be for him.
“Shall we dance, Angela?” he said, bowing slightly.
The music swirled dramatically as Greg took me into his arms. We were all at once a moving, spinning part of a multicolored kaleidoscope. I saw the sparkle of diamonds and emeralds, the flashing wings of colored satin skirts, the grace and excitement of a world I had never known. I closed my eyes, and th
e lights were still there. I felt the strong support of Greg’s arm, felt his body guiding mine. The music swelled and shattered and swelled again, great waves of music engulfing us and moving us. I was dizzy. My cheeks flushed with excitement.
For a few moments I did belong. I was a part. Phoenix Hall and the beautiful people were as natural for me as for Lady Miriam or for anyone else. It was a glorious, heady feeling, but it disappeared as soon as the music stopped. I was brought back to reality with an abrupt halt. I opened my eyes to see strangers, people I could never know.
I was not disappointed. I had Dower House. I had more than I had ever had before.
“You look lovely with your cheecks flushed,” Greg said. “You should always have that flush of excitement. You should always wear lovely gowns and dance with your eyes closed.”
I wished I could agree with him, but I knew that lovely gowns, glittering ballrooms would always be alien to me, and I was not sorry. Greg took my hand and led me standing beside a slender white column as he went for champagne.
I peered around a bank of lacy green fern at a group of young women, exquisite, radiant creatures in pale satin gowns, chattering and laughing. They were like gorgeous butterflies. I wondered if these were some of the prospective brides Nan had spoken of. Would Roderick Mellory choose one of them to be mistress of Phoenix Hall?
I realized then what I had been aware of all evening: I was anxiously awaiting sight of that man. I had been looking for him ever since we had arrived, but I had refused to acknowledge it to myself. I wanted to see Roderick Mellory again. I hated him. I loathed everything he stood for, and yet the mere expectation of seeing him caused my pulse to race. Can hatred do that to a person, I wondered.
He was my enemy, and yet I had come to enemy ground of my own choice and with every expectation of seeing him and speaking to him again. I told myself that I had come for Laurel’s sake, to make her happy, and because Greg wanted me to accompany him, but I knew now that I had come because of Roderick Mellory. I was spoiling for a fight.
The Master of Phoenix Hall Page 12
