Dark Angel (Casteel Series #2)

by V. C. Andrews

  It was Logan who should have run to me, and asked me to explain what happened between me and Cal Dennison. But no, he'd sped away in the rain, leaving me in the graveyard, not even giving me the chance to explain that Cal had felt like a father to me, the father I'd always wanted. And to keep him my father and my friend, I'd have done almost anything!

  Anything!

  A thin curl of smoke spiraled into the air above the walls of the maze. Did that mean Troy was at the cottage today? Without further thought, I hurried toward the hall closet and pulled on my boots and a new warm coat. Furtively I let myself out the front door so none of the servants would report back to Tony that I had broken my word and deliberately set out to see his brother.

  It was easy this time to wend my crooked way through the maze, but not so easy to step before his door and knock. Again he was reluctant to let me in, taking so everlastingly long I almost turned around and left. Then, suddenly, the door was open and he was there, not smiling to see me again, but looking at me sadly, as if he pitied someone doomed to do the wrong thing time and time again. "So you are back,"

  he said, stepping aside and motioning for me to come in. "Tony assured me you would stay away."

  "I have come to ask a favor," I said, embarrassed by his indifference. "I need to drive into town today, and Tony has ordered Miles not to take me anywhere. If I might use your car . . ."

  Already he was seated and beginning to work on small objects he had on his workbench. He threw me a look of surprise. "You, a sixteen-year-old, want to drive into Boston? Do you know the way? Do you have a driver's license? No, I think for your own safety and that of others, you should stay off of icy highways."

  Oh, it did hurt to keep letting him believe I was only sixteen, when I was really seventeen! And I was a good driver, at least Cal had thought so. Back in Atlanta they had given girls my age driver's licenses. I sat down without an invitation, still wearing my coat, and tried not to cry. "They are fall cleaning in Farthy,"

  I said in a small voice. "Getting ready for all the festivities coming up. Cleaning windows and sills, scrubbing and waxing floors, dusting and vacuuming, and even in the library where I planned to stay all day, the odors of ammonia seep under the door."

  "It's called holiday cleaning at this time of the year," he informed me, looking up, and showing amusement. "I hate a house all torn to pieces as much as you do. One of the pleasures of having a small house like this is that there is no need for servants to invade my privacy. When I put something down it stays there until I pick it up again."

  I cleared my throat, pulled myself together, and then approached the object of my visit again. "If you won't allow me to drive your car, would you be so kind as to drive me into town yourself?"

  He was using a tiny screwdriver to fasten miniature legs to tiny bodies. How intense he was about his toymaking! "Why do you need to go into town?"

  If I told him the truth, would he report it to Tony the minute he was back? I sat tense and considering as I studied his face. It was one of the most sensitive faces I'd ever seen. And from all past experiences, only those completely insensitive were cruel. "I have a confession, Troy. I am very lonely. I have no one to share in my successes but Tony. Jillian doesn't care what I do, or don't do. There is a friend of mine who attends Boston University that I would like to visit."

  Again he glanced my way, appearing guarded, as if somehow I was getting to him, and he didn't want that to happen. "Can't you wait until some other day, when you are in Winterhaven? B.U. isn't so far from there."

  "But I need to see someone who understands me! Someone who remembers the way it used to be with me."

  He didn't say anything, just sat thoughtfully while the light snow drifted by his wide windows.

  Then he smiled. The smile lit up his dark eyes and made them glow.

  "All right, I will drive you where you want to go, but give me a half hour to finish up what I'm doing, and then we'll be on our way—and I won't tell Tony that you are breaking one of his rules."

  "He told you?"

  "Yes, of course he told me he forbade you to visit me. And I am not welcome to visit Farthy much, because of Jillian."

  "Jillian doesn't like you?" I asked, thinking she had to be crazy not to like someone as fine as Troy.

  "I used to care a great deal about what Jillian thought of me, then I found out that no one really knows what goes on in Jillian's head. I don't even know if she's capable of loving anything as much as she loves her image. But she is clever. Never underes-timate her cleverness."

  I was stunned, and yet he had made so much clear. "But why doesn't Tony want you and me to become friends?"

  He gave me a wry, self-mocking grin. "My brother thinks I am a bad influence on anyone who grows too fond of me, and of course, I am. So don't grow too fond of me, Heavenly."

  My heart seemed to skip a beat when he called me Heavenly as Tom had always done.

  "Oh, you are much too old for me to grow fond of!" I cried with happiness in my voice. "I'm going to dash back to the house and change my clothes!"

  Before he could speak again and perhaps

  change his mind, I was out the door and racing through the maze back to the big house. The roar of cleaning machines inside disguised my footfalls as I darted up the stairs. In my room I quickly changed into what I thought were my most becoming clothes. I touched my nose with face powder, added lipstick, and sprayed on perfume. Now I was ready to meet Logan Stonewall. Not once in the whole time he'd known me had he seen me dressed as I was now.

  Troy took no notice whatsoever of what I wore.

  He drove his Porsche with a casual ease, seldom speaking, but I had lost my shyness and was brimming with happiness. I was on my way to Logan.

  Despite his disappointment in me, he'd forgive and forget, and remember only the sweetness of our young romance, when we walked in the hills and swam together in the river and shared so many plans for our future together.

  It was only when we reached the entrance to B.U. that Troy spoke: "I am presuming this friend is male, right?"

  Startled, I glanced at him. "Why presume that?"

  "Your clothes, the perfume, and the lipstick."

  "I didn't think you noticed."

  "I'm not blind."

  "His name is Logan Stonewall," I confessed.

  "He's studying to be a pharmacologist because that will please his father most, but what he really wants to be is a biochemist."

  "I hope he knows you are on your way to meet him."

  My heart lurched again, for Logan didn't know.

  As chance and good luck would have it, we no sooner pulled to a stop in front of his dorm than I saw Logan sauntering by with two other fellows his age. I hurried out of the car, not wanting to lose sight of him.

  "Thank you for driving me here!" I called back through the window. "You can drive on home; I'm sure Logan will drive me back."

  "Does he own a car? He was walking."

  "I don't know."

  "Then I'll hang around and wait until I am sure you have a way to get home again." He nodded toward a small coffee shop. "I'll be in there. As soon as you know he'll drive you back, let me know."

  Troy headed for the coffee shop, and I strolled in Logan's direction, hoping to surprise him and delight him with the way I looked now. He went into the drugstore across the street to make a purchase. I watched him pay for it, not knowing now quite what to do. He was just the same, standing tall and straight, with his broad shoulders squared, not turning to stare at every girl who passed, and a great many passed. He accepted his purchase, then headed for a side door that would let him outside.

  "Logan!" I cried, running forward slightly.

  "Don't go! I need to talk to you."

  He turned to look my way, and I swear to God he didn't know me! He looked at me and through me, and a look of annoyance was in his sapphire eyes.

  Perhaps it was my shorter, smarter hairstyle and the makeup I'd learned to apply with skill, or perh
aps it was the beaver coat Jillian had given me that made his eyes scan over me twice without knowing who I was.

  And before I could decide just what to do, he had the side door open, letting in the strong wind that ruffled the magazine covers, and then he was outside in the snow, walking so fast I knew I'd never be able to catch him. And maybe he'd only pretended he didn't recognize me.

  Like the fool that I often was, I went to the counter at the drugstore and ordered a cup of hot chocolate. I took my time sipping the steaming brew and nibbling on two vanilla wafers. Only when I thought enough time had passed for me to have had a long and serious talk did I pay my check and prepare to leave.

  It was nice the way Troy immediately jumped to his feet and broadly smiled at me. "You took forever. I was beginning to believe this man from your past was going to drive you home after all."

  He pulled a small chair for me, helped me off with my fur, then sat me down. "It would have been nice if you had brought him over and introduced me."

  My head bowed. "Logan Stonewall is from Winnerrow, and your brother has ordered me to have no contacts with any of my old friends."

  "I am not my brother. I would like very much to know your friends."

  "Oh, Troy," I half sobbed, bowing my head and really beginning to cry, "Logan stared straight at me.

  He had the nerve to pretend not to even know me! He looked me squarely in the eyes and then he turned and walked away."

  His voice came softly and kindly as he reached for my gloved hands and held them in his. "Heaven, has it occurred to you that you have changed a great deal? You are not the same girl who arrived here in early October. You have had your hair styled differently. You wear makeup now and you didn't then. And those high-heeled boots you wear add a few inches to your height. And Logan may have had other thoughts on his mind, other than meeting an old girlfriend."

  "Here," he said, pulling out a clean, white handkerchief and handing it to me. "And when you've finished crying—soon, I hope, for I hate seeing a woman cry—then perhaps you can tell me more about Logan."

  When I had dried my tears and put his

  handkerchief in my purse, intending to wash and iron it later, another cup of hot chocolate had arrived. I saw so much kindness and understanding in Troy's eyes that before I knew what I was doing, I was telling him everything, right from the very beginning, when Logan had seen me in his father's pharmacy, and Fanny had been sure he was admiring her, not me; then how we met in the Winnerrow schoolyard; how he insisted on buying lunch for four starving Casteel children. "And when he became my regular boyfriend and walked me home from school, I was the happiest girl in the world. He wasn't like the wild boys who hung around Fanny. He was the most different boy I'd met, decent and never fresh. We were planning to be married as soon as we finished college—and now he doesn't know me." My voice rose in slight hysteria.

  "And it took so much nerve to do what I did. Did I overdo it, Troy? Am I too overwhelming in Jillian's beaver coat, and wearing so much jewelry?"

  "You look beautiful," he said softly, reaching to take both of my hands in his. "Now let's put today in perspective. Logan didn't expect to see you, did he?

  You were here, out of the element he'd grown accustomed to seeing you in. Nor did he expect to see you dressed as you are. So give him a telephone call later on, and tell him what happened. Then you two can plan a meeting, and you'll both be ready for each other."

  "He won't forgive me! He'll never forgive me!"

  I sobbed, hotly and passionately. "For I haven't told you everything. When Pa sold all five of his kids to strangers for five hundred dollars apiece, something bad happened to me. First Keith and Our Jane were bought by a lawyer and his wife. Then Fanny was sold to Reverend Wayland Wise, and unlike Keith and Our Jane, Fanny was delighted to be sold to such a wealthy man. Then a burly farmer named Buck Henry showed up at our place, and he went straight to Tom and felt him over like he was an animal. Pa and Buck Henry dragged Tom away.

  "I was sold to Kitty and Cal Dennison in Candlewick, Georgia. Their house in Candlewick was the nicest, cleanest house I'd ever been in before, and there was always plenty to eat. But Kitty wanted a kitchen slave, a housekeeper to keep everything spot-less while she ran her beauty shop. She worked five days a week there, and on Saturdays she taught a ceramics class, and that meant Cal saw more of me than he did of Kitty. Oh, it was complicated, for I used to think Cal was twice the man Pa could ever be.

  I began to think of Cal as my own father, the kind I'd always wanted and needed. He was someone who saw me, liked me, needed me. When he bought me new clothes, new shoes, and a lot of little things I didn't even know I needed, I'd sometimes go to bed hugging those dresses to my heart.

  Like a river undammed, started by my tears, my story gushed forth in full, horrible detail. I think the only area I left clouded was the exact year of my birth, and somehow, long before my tale was told, I knew Troy had forgotten his plans for today, and soon we were headed for the road that took us back to Farthinggale Manor. Under the high, arching iron gates he drove, closing them with his automatic control. Then on a road I'd never noticed before, he wended his way toward his stone cottage. The gray autumn afternoon touched me with sweet melancholy for the hills, for the innocent and trusting girl I used to be.

  Not a word did Troy speak until we were both in his cottage, and he had his fire renewed and burning brightly. Then he said his meal would be ready in a jiffy. "The chef from the big house keeps my larder full," he said, as he began to ready a snack.

  It was four o'clock by this time, and I'd already missed lunch. I didn't doubt for one moment that that would be reported to Tony by Percy.

  "Go on, don't stop," he urged, handing me a chopping board with raw vegetables to slice. "I have never heard anything like your story before. Now tell me more about Keith and Our Jane."

  Only then did I realize I should have held on to caution and been more discreet, but it was too late, much too late. But what did I care about anything now that Logan had cut me out of his life? I had already told Troy every last thing about the Christmas Day when Pa began to sell us off one by one, repeating it all again because he had to hear it twice in order to believe it. I was even careless enough to let out the reason Logan didn't trust me anymore, and not once did Troy look my way, or comment, or hesitate in what he was doing.

  "I didn't know that those trips to the movies, and those wonderful dinners in fine restaurants, and all the gifts he gave me were part of Cal's seduction. I grew more and more dependent on him. He gave me my best times when I lived there, and Kitty gave me my worst times. I used to pity Cal when every night she'd find one reason or another to say 'no' to him, and when she finally did agree to accept his advances, he'd come to the breakfast table looking so happy. I wanted him to look happy all of the time. And when he began to touch me too often, with odd lights in his eyes, and his kisses became not so fatherly, I'd lie on my bed at night and wonder just what kind of signals I was subconsciously sending out. I never blamed him.

  I kept right on blaming myself for putting wicked ideas in his head. How could I hold on to him as a father figure, and not submit to what he wanted to do?"

  I paused, gasped for more breath, then went on.

  "So you see, I have no one now! Tony has ordered me to cut my family out of my life, even out of my thoughts, and he doesn't even know about Tom, Fanny, Keith, or Our Jane. Tom hasn't responded to my letters. Fanny is expecting the Reverend's baby, and she never writes to me. I don't even know if she wants to. And someday I have to find Our Jane and Keith!"

  "Someday you will find them," said Troy with the kind of sincerity that made me trust him. "I have a great deal of money. I can't think of a better way to spend some of it than to help you find your family."

  "Cal promised me the same thing, and nothing ever came of it."

  He turned to give me a chastising look. "I am not Cal Dennison, and I don't make promises I don't keep."

  My tears began again.
"Why would you do that? You don't know me. I'm not sure you even like me."

  He came to sit beside me at the table. "For you and for your dead mother I will do this, Heaven.

  Tomorrow I'll see my attorneys and put them on the trail of this lawyer whose first name is Lester. You should bring me the studio portraits of Keith and Our Jane that you told me about. Photographers are always proud to display their names somewhere on their photos, or on the back. In no time at all, you will know the full names of the couple who bought your younger brother and sister."

  I sat spellbound, breathless with the hope that flooded me. Hope that soon simmered down to nothing, for hadn't Cal Dennison promised the same thing?

  And I didn't really know Troy.

  "Now tell me what you'll do when you know where they are?"

  What would I do?

  Tony would put me out of his life. He'd stop his support of my education.

  I was on my way now toward the goal I had to have . . . but I'd think of the answer later, when his attorneys found the little boy and girl who belonged with me. I'd find some way to get them back and to hold fast to my goals too. I was determined, now that I'd come this far, never to slip back again.

  Oh, if only things had been different! If only I could have grown up like a normal girl! I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes again. Shoving my memories away and taking a deep breath, I said,

  "There, now you know everything about me. And I'm not even supposed to be talking to you. Tony has ordered me to leave you alone, never to come to your cottage. In fact he told me before he left that you were not here at all. If he knows I've broken one of his rules he'll send me back to the Willies. I'm terrified of going back there! There's no one in Winnerrow who cares what happens to me. Pa lives somewhere in Georgia or Florida, and Tom is living with him, but Tom never writes, nor does Fanny! I don't know how to live without someone who loves and cares about me." I ducked my head so he couldn't see those irrepressible tears that began to fall. "Please, Troy, please! Be my friend! I need someone so desperately."