Then I took a deep breath, gasping aloud in the darkened room. Roderick Mellory was walking down the foyer, coming near and nearer the room where I stood. By his side, clinging to his arm, was one of the grandest women I had ever seen. Her scarlet lips were parted in a half smile, and her chin was held at an arrogant angle. Her eyes were hard, the color of dark blue ink, and they were looking up at Roderick Mellory with cold, calculating possession. I knew instantly that this was Lady Miriam Alton, and I knew as quickly that she intended to be the new Mistress of Phoenix Hall.
My heart was pounding, but I could not force myself to step back and pull the door shut. They sauntered nearer, speaking in quiet voices, and I watched with fascination.
Roderick Mellory wore a dark black suit, the pants very tight, clinging to his legs. The jacket was loose, with dark satin lapels and cuffs, and long tails that fell away in back. He wore it over a vest of sky blue satin, stitched with silver designs. He wore the formal attire casually, as though they might be work clothes, and his hair was uncombed, spilling in lustrous blue black waves over his head. One brow was arched like a dark wing, and the hooded lids were half closed, veiling the dark eyes. He held his head to one side, listening to what Lady Miriam said with his lips curled in a smile of cynical amusement. I thought of a dark panther, moving arrogantly with rippling muscles.
If Roderick Mellory reminded me of a panther, Lady Miriam Alton made me think of a serpent, cold, glittering and fascinating, but deadly. She wore a gown of emerald satin, heavily embroidered with jet, and the skirt was trimmed with great pelts of sable. Diamonds flashed on her wrists and fingers like chunks of frozen fire, dazzling in their beauty. The bodice of her gown was cut indecently low, trimmed with the same rich sable as was the skirt. Long, curling plumes of black and green were fastened on her sleek black hair with a diamond clip. She was incredibly glamorous, a creature that legends were formed around, and I hated every inch of her lovely body.
“Phoenix Hall should always abound with life like this,” she said. Her voice was throaty, husky, as glamorous as the rest of her. “Things like this ball should happen every week, people, music, sin.”
“You think so?” Roderick Mellory said.
“Darling, it’s such a big place. It needs life, much life, action. It could so easily become a musty old hall, like my husband’s. That would be a shame, no—a crime. A terrible crime. You wouldn’t commit a crime, Roderick, would you?”
They stopped a few feet from the door. I trembled with fear that he would turn around and see me, but his back was to me, and Lady Miriam was much too engrossed to notice anything but the man before her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Lady Miriam held her head back, looking into his eyes. A smile began to curl on her sensual scarlet lips, and she emitted a husky laugh. It was a fascinating sound, and evil. She touched his cheek with her fingertip. They stroked his leathery skin.
“Oh, yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I think you are capable of committing a crime—any crime—to get what you want.”
“Like adultery, my dear?” he asked.
“It’s a thought,” she replied.
“You’re thoroughly corrupt,” he told her, chuckling.
“Darling, aren’t we both?”
“I imagine you’re right.”
“We would make a marvelous pair. Think of it—you and I in this wonderful place, think of the parties, the excitement.”
“I am thinking of Lord Peter Alton,” he replied.
“Pooh! Peter would divorce me in a minute. He would be glad to have me out of his hair. Poor dear, I’ve tormented him so long. It’s such a bore, tormenting an old man. It’s time for me to be tormented, and I am sure you would torment any woman—”
They moved away, Lady Miriam’s skirts rustling stiffly. I felt blood rushing to my cheeks, and I tried to still the anger that possessed me. It would serve Roderick Mellory right to have such a woman, I told myself. It would be poetic justice for them to destroy one another. It did not concern me in the least. And yet my cheeks still burned and my heart pounded in my breast like something trapped and fighting to get out.
Why? I did not know, or I told myself that. Every time I was near this man I felt the same excitement, and I called it hatred. I hated him, how I hated him. He was arrogant, cruel, a dark, cynical devil who wanted to take Dower House away from me, and I was determined to block him every way I knew how. Yes, it was hatred, only hatred that made me feel this way.
I told myself that, but I knew I was lying to myself.
I turned back into the darkened room, closing the door. I stood there, leaning against the door. My eyes were closed, and the music and the ball seemed very far away. I felt weak, depleted of energy. Then I heard something rustle in the room, and there was the sound of heavy breathing. I gave a little cry, suddenly terrified.
There was a loud scrape as a match was struck, then a ball of light as the match was held over a lamp wick. Warm golden-orange light spread slowly into the room, driving the shadows away. I stood panting against the door, seeing first a smiling mouth, then two large, sad eyes, and finally, when the light was steady, I saw the young man in the wheel chair. He was wearing a suit like his brother’s and a rich red and brown plaid blanket covered his injured legs.
“I did not mean to frighten you,” he said.
“Paul—”
I was terribly embarrassed. I felt that I had been caught doing something wrong. He stared up at me with those large eyes, and I turned my face away, not wanting him to see what was there. He set the lamp on the desk. I heard the wheels creaking as he moved himself out of the corner.
“I started to call out when you first came into the room but I could see that you were upset. I didn’t want to alarm you.”
“You’ve been there all this time? Watching me?”
“It was rude,” Paul Mellory said. “I should have spoken.”
“I—I don’t know what to say. I feel like a fool.”
“You mustn’t say anything, Angela. It is for me to apologize. I had no business sitting here, watching you.”
“But—why aren’t you with the others?” I asked.
Once again, as with Greg, I knew that I had said the wrong thing, but I could not take back the words. It was obvious why he wasn’t with all the others, as obvious as the bright plaid blanket drawn over his broken legs. He was stoic, he tried not to show his emotions, but I knew what torture it must be to see people laughing and dancing, moving in bright patterns across the ballroom while he was confined to a wheel chair. That it was his own home must make it even harder to bear. I knew why he had come here, away from the noise and excitement. He had come here in order to suffer in silence, alone.
“Please forgive me,” I said.
A thin smile played on his lips, twisting them down at the corners. I could see the pain in his eyes. My question had been cruel, unintentionally, yet nevertheless cruel. Paul Mellory composed himself, his face moving into the defiant mask he wore with other people.
“Nonsense. You know I am not sensitive,” he lied. “That would be insane in my position. Sensitive people only get hurt.” He tried very hard to sound like his brother, but his voice wavered.
“Would you like me to leave?” I asked quietly.
“Oh, no. Stay and talk to me. You are human, unlike those chattering magpies out there. Have you ever seen such a group? The cream of the cream, all gathered together to eat our food and drink our champagne and then go home and criticize the Mellorys. How I loathe them.”
I hated to see him so bitter, but there was nothing I could say.
“You look very beautiful tonight,” he remarked. “The dress is lovely and just right. No diamonds, no flowers, just your youth. That’s fitting and proper. What did you think of Lady Miriam?”
“You saw me watching?”
“I couldn’t help but see.”
“She is—very lovely.”
“Yes, she is that,
” Paul Mellory said.
“Your—your brother seemed quite taken with her,” I said.
“Oh, Lady Miriam amuses him. All this amuses him. He wanted to show off in front of all the county, and he wanted to do it in style. They will talk about this ball for months. They will talk about the expense he went to. They will call it ostentatious, but they will talk. That is what my brother wants.”
“That seems a rather hollow reason for giving a ball.” I remarked.
“Not really. If Phoenix Hall is to be what it was before, if it is to have the same prestige, it must be grand, there must be grand balls to impress the people. There must be music and lights and extravagance. Rod has been very extravagant. We may eat bread and soup for a month now, but he had made his point.”
“That seems pretentious,” I said.
“Isn’t all life a pretense?”
“Not for everyone,” I replied, primly.
“You’re right. Not for everyone. Not for you. You are sincere. You don’t need to pretend. But you are fortunate. You have something rare, an independent heart, and it will carry you through most anything, but others are not so lucky. They need something to support them, some pretense. Rod needs to believe that Phoenix Hall is what it can never be again, a power in the county, a grand estate. Times have changed, and they’re changing still. The days of grand estates are vanishing, but my brother needs the illusion.”
“That is sad,” I said quietly.
“Not necessarily. Illusions can be very satisfying when one works hard to maintain them. They can give a purpose to life, as they have done for Rod.”
He looked up at me with those dark brown eyes. His long lashes curled about them, the color of soot, and there were mauve shadows on his lids. I felt great compassion for this brave, doomed boy. I wondered what illusion he clung to.
“You brother has done a magnificent job with Phoenix Hall,” I said. “I think it is lovely.”
“Yes, he’s done a good job. He works hard, drives himself and everyone around him. He’s a fighter. Now that Phoenix Hall is in shape, he will fight even harder for Dower House.”
“Really?”
“You won’t give in?”
“I’ve already made that clear.”
“I wish you would. I wish you’d leave Dower House. My brother would be very generous. You could go back to London, open your own dress shop. I would like to know you were safe.”
“Safe?”
“I worry about you, Angela. All alone in that place.”
“I’m quite safe. I have Nan, and Peter.”
“I worry just the same—”
“Why?” I asked, suddenly alert.
“The lights—” He paused, looked at my face and became silent.
“What lights, Paul?” I already knew, but I must hear his words.
“The lights in the deserted granite quarries behind Dower House,” Paul said slowly. “I—I don’t mean to alarm you.” He hesitated again.
“Please go on, Paul.”
“Two nights ago I was sitting in the garden, the far one nearest Dower House. I had been reading. Roderick had gone away on business, and Laurel was resting. She had a headache. I didn’t feel like wheeling myself back to the house just then, so I sat there, watching the sun go down. I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up the moon was already high, and I was cold. It was then that I saw the lights.”
“In the quarry?”
“Yes. Far away, bobbing up and down, like someone was climbing over the rocks with a hodded lantern.”
“Are you sure that you didn’t imagine it?”
“I am positive. Something had awakened me, some noise. It could have been a shout—a sound would carry a long way among these rocks. I listened but there was no other sound. In a moment the lights disappeared.”
“There was more than one?”
“Two, at least. Possibly three. They were just pinpoints of light, from the distance.”
“I have seen the lights, too,” I said. “I am sure there must be a perfectly logical explanation for them.”
“You know that the highwaymen struck again two nights ago?”
“No,” I said, my voice very low. “I didn’t know.”
“They did. On the coastal road, about ten miles from here. There was a coach delivering goods from London, and gold sovereigns. They were using the old road and traveling at night to divert suspicion. That coach had to come through, and only a handful of people knew what it was carrying. The highwaymen struck around eight o’clock.”
“How did they know?” I asked, suddenly breathless.
“That is the major question. The officials have pinpointed them to the area around here. Someone—someone big in local affairs must be involved in these attacks. Their hideout is definitely in this area, and the local constable feels that it is somewhere in the quarries.”
“Haven’t they searched them?”
“Several times. But the quarries are vast. There’s a whole network of caves and tunnels. The one behind Dower House is merely one of a series. It connects with others, larger. It was just a rumor before, but now it’s almost a certainty. This is the closest the highwaymen have ever struck to Lockwood, and after they hit, half the men in the county were out with guns and horses, searching the area for miles around. There was no sign of them. They had disappeared.”
“And you think the lights were the highwaymen, going to their den?”
He nodded.
“Did you tell anyone about seeing them?”
“I told Roderick the next morning.”
“Oh? Then he came back from his business trip.”
“Sometime during the night. I don’t know when. One of the servants came to find me. Laurel had awakened and missed me. The man wheeled me back and put me to bed. I had a chill and drank some brandy. It was after ten when I got up the next morning. Roderick was in his study.”
“What did he say when you told him about the lights?”
“Nothing much. We didn’t know about the attack until later.”
“I see.”
“And do you see why I would like you to leave Dower House?”
I forced myself to smile. “Your concern is sweet, Paul, but I am not frightened by highwaymen, or rumors of highwaymen. Even if it were true, if they were in the quarries, I fail to see how that could harm me. Dower House is mine, and nothing shall drive me away.”
Paul Mellory did not say anything. He fumbled with the blanket, pulling it tighter about his knees. Paul was a fine boy, and I felt sure that he was sincere, but I knew that he admired his brother and that he was loyal. For a moment I wondered if Roderick Mellory had put him up to this, had told him to tell me about the lights and highwaymen, hoping that I would be frightened enough to agree to sell Dower House. Roderick knew that nothing he himself could say would influence me, but he also knew that I liked Paul and respected him. Perhaps he had hoped that his gentle brother would prove successful where he himself had failed.
“If the highwaymen are there,” I said, “I am sure they will be found. They can’t go on like this, striking and eluding the law. They’ll be captured before long, and in the meantime I have my dog, Peter, and I have a revolver. Don’t worry about me, Paul.”
He looked up. There was an expression of deep concern in his eyes, and his brows were pressed into a tight frown. His cheeks were pale, and his thin lips were turned down at one corner. He stared at me for a moment, and then he smiled, slowly, the smile a mere flicker on his lips.
“You’re indomitable,” he said then. “I should have known you couldn’t be frightened.”
I had no time to think about these words, for Laurel Mellory came hurrying into the room. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were tinged with the hot flush of excitement. She saw us and caught herself on her way through the room, breathing heavily.
“Oh! There you are, Angela. I’ve been looking everywhere. You’ve been gone so long, I thought you’d changed your mind and left with Greg.
They’re serving now—pheasant and glazed hams and juicy brown roasts and cakes—I have never seen so much food. Let’s get our plates and eat, and then there are ever so many men who want to dance—Paul, are you coming?”
He looked at his sister and smiled. “No, I think I’ll stay here for a while. You two go on.”
“Can I bring you anything?” Laurel asked, disappointed.
“No, I’ll get a plate later on.”
“Very well. Come, Angela—”
The tables were spread with snowy white linen cloths, and there were gorgeous arrangements of bronze and gold flowers, but the real spectacle was the food itself. There were huge gold-rimmed platters heaped with every kind of food imaginable. There was a crisp suckling pig with an apple in its mouth, golden pheasant under glass, platters of oysters. Plates of exquisite china held stacks of beautiful pink and chocolate cakes, and a servant in rust-colored uniform was dishing out ice cream from a deep, silver-plated dish. Other servants, all in the rust uniforms, worked in a rush to slice the meats and fill the plates held out to them by the loud impatient crowd.
“Isn’t it exciting!” Laurel exclaimed as we moved away with our heaping plates. “Oh, look, there’s the Mayor and his wife; she’s the one in purple velvet with those white flowers. How greedy they are, using their elbows to get up to the table. And that’s Albert Clinton, the little man in the shabby brown suit who is standing back with an empty plate. He owns Clinton Manor, a huge old estate in the next county. It’s all run down, but he’s too proud to do anything about it. It was cruel of Roderick, asking him here so that he could preen in front of the poor man. Oh, Angela, do you see that soldier with the short gold hair? He danced with me, and he said such nice things. I’m afraid he is already a little tipsy, but then the champagne is so heady, all those bubbles.”
The Master of Phoenix Hall Page 14
