by V. J. Banis
In some ways she already is, Jennifer thought, but aloud she said, “She is still young for a party such as the one the Harrows are giving. It won’t hurt anything for her to stay home this evening.”
“By herself?” Walter looked shocked.
“Not entirely. There are servants in the house, Walter. And she has surely been here long enough by now to be used to the place.”
With some reluctance Walter explained that he had already promised Liza she could go. “I can take her to one of the shops and buy a ready-made dress, and we can be back in plenty of time to get ready for the party.”
“But you will have to leave me alone in the house to do so,” Jennifer said drily. She did not wait for him to reply, but left the room.
In their bedroom, she brushed her hair before the mirror and tried to argue herself out of a bad mood. She assured herself that Walter’s interest in Liza was entirely innocent. He was like a father to her. Still, it seemed to Jennifer that he was obsessed with the girl’s pleasure. It really was as if he were possessed.
Well, a fat lot of good it will do me to sulk, she said to her reflection. If I threatened not to go, they would only go without me, and I really would be left home by myself.
They were a bit late to the party, but not unduly so. Jennifer wore a new gown, too, which had been selected for her trousseau. It was gray, and when she saw the vivid red dress Liza had selected, she thought hers made her look rather old and matronly.
Liza’s dress added years to her age, too, but becomingly so. A woman could not have gotten away with wearing so bright a dress, one cut with so many skirts and ruffles, but at Liza’s age it was enchanting. She looked perhaps seventeen, lost somewhere between innocence and seduction.
Jennifer could not help noting Walter’s warm approval when Liza came running and whirling down the stairs in her new gown.
“I shall be the envy of every man there,” he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, he smiled at Jennifer and added, “with two such lovely ladies as my companions.”
“I just know it’s going to be a wonderful party,” Liza said as they entered the carriage to depart, but for Jennifer, the evening had already been spoiled.
By the time they arrived, the dancing was in full swing. Every man young enough to twirl and sashay, and some who were not, had captured himself a partner and was cutting a lively figure. The voluminous skirts of the ladies swirled and dipped.
It was a pretty sight, Jennifer thought. Except for her wedding she had not been to a party since she had been a very little girl. Despite herself, her spirits perked up. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed with pleasure.
The Harrows did not have a reception line. Guests came in unannounced and when the host or hostess saw them, they were introduced around. It was a more modern and more informal way of entertaining, and Jennifer found that she liked it better than the old way.
She had hardly been introduced around when her host asked if she would like to dance. At a nod from Walter, she consented and at once was whisked to the floor. She had not danced often since she was a girl, and she felt a bit stiff in contrast to the others dancing so lightly all about her. She saw Walter’s eyes following her, however, as though he approved, and after that she relaxed a bit.
When the reel began, she asked Walter to come dance with her.
“Our host seems to be enjoying himself highly,” he said. “And I’m not much of a dancer. Why don’t you dance this one with him as well?”
Jennifer was a bit disappointed, but she took her place for the reel with Mr. Harrow.
Liza had been spirited from them almost as soon as they arrived, and she was with a group of young people who were dancing among themselves at one end of the room. Jennifer looked that way once while she was dancing, and could see at a glance that Liza resented being thrust off with the children instead of being allowed to remain with the adults. She looked bored and irritated, and looked longingly in Walter’s direction.
As the reel began, a group of the youngsters swarmed toward Walter, clamoring that they too wanted to do a reel. Liza was, it seemed, left without a partner, although she had been dancing only a moment before. Jennifer saw her seize Walter’s hands and pull him into the dance. It looked as if he needed no urging.
The way he danced was a further revelation. She had never seen a man dance better. Like many big men, he was light on his feet, and Liza, her ruffles flashing crimson on each turn, was like blown thistledown.
Soon after the dance had begun, everyone else stopped to watch them. It was a lovely sight, people agreed with one another, the way they danced together.
Jennifer stood quite still and stared at them. She had not dreamed Walter could dance like that. Only a moment before he had declined to dance with her and now there he was with Liza, the center of all attention, object of all admiration. Liza came tripping down the line, her tiny feet seeming hardly to touch the floor.
Walter took her hands to pull her out of the dance. He did not even glance toward his wife. Jennifer turned and walked away. She excused herself to her host, saying that she did not feel well and was leaving early.
“But your husband...,” he said.
“...Is still dancing. Good night and thank you for inviting me.”
The carriage was waiting. The driver looked surprised to see her so early and alone, but he said nothing.
She was already in her night dress, brushing her hair for bed, when she heard the sound of another carriage outside and a moment later Walter’s footsteps rushing up the stairs.
He burst into the room, looking frantic. “Darling, what happened?” he cried, “I thought you were ill.”
She heard Liza’s lighter footsteps hurrying along the hall. She did not even have the privilege of quarreling with her husband in private.
Before Liza reached the room, Jennifer said, “Walter, I think it is time Liza returned to Darkwater.”
“Liza? Why...?”
“Because we are on our honeymoon, belated or not,” she said. She met his puzzled look with such an icy glare that he did not even attempt to question her further.
Liza came in to stand beside him. Again Jennifer had the impression that the two of them were together and she was an outsider. She knew him before you came along, a voice said within her.
“What’s wrong?” Liza asked. “Why did we have to leave so early? I was enjoying the party.”
“I was not,” Jennifer said. “Good night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Whether some burst of insight had suddenly made Walter understand the cause of Jennifer’s anger, or whether he merely decided not to risk testing it further, he told Liza in the morning that he was sending her back to Darkwater.
“After all,” he said at breakfast, “you’re supposed to be giving Helen a hand with the younger children.”
Liza took this decision darkly. She said little but there was no mistaking her sullen look, and once Jennifer caught a glance from her that seemed filled with threat.
Despite Liza’s sulking, Walter stood firm in his decision. Having gotten what she wanted, Jennifer maintained a discreet silence on the subject. When Liza remained the entire day in her own room, of which she apparently had lost her fear, Jennifer half-expected that Walter would relent and let her stay on a little longer. Before retiring that evening, however, he instructed the servants to prepare the carriage for travel the next day and to pack Liza’s bags early in the morning.
During the night, Jennifer was taken ill again. It was a sudden attack, and quite severe. One minute she was asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams, and the next, it was as if a cord had been tied around her neck and pulled tight.
She was awake in an instant, struggling for breath and clawing at her throat. There was nothing there but the collar of her nightgown, yet so real was her impression of something tied there that her fingers continued to scratch at the skin as if loosening something.
Walter woke and in alarm lit the lamp. He ran for Atlas and sent him
at once for a doctor, but by the time the doctor had arrived, the spell had passed.
“I can find nothing physically wrong,” the doctor said after examining her.
“But, doctor, I didn’t imagine it,” Jennifer said, her voice rising a little. She was thinking of Alicia. This was the same sort of spell she had, and the doctor had been unable to find anything wrong with her either. Jennifer could not even look at Walter. She wondered if he were thinking that history was repeating itself.
“Perhaps it was strain,” the doctor said. “You’ve recently married, your husband tells me. You’re away from home, no doubt more active than usual. Perhaps you’ve used your voice a great deal.” In the end, he could do nothing but give her a sedative and advise rest.
The following day all of them returned to Darkwater.
“You think I’m crazy, but just wait,” Alicia had said.
But Alicia had not been talking then about her illness. She was talking about Liza. Jennifer glanced over at the girl, sitting on the other side of Walter. In a sense, Liza had gotten her way. She was not remaining in New Orleans, but then neither was Walter remaining to enjoy it without her.
* * * * * * *
Afterward, Jennifer seemed never to be quite well again. She tried to resist her illness, and forced herself to get out of bed as much as possible, but no effort of will could resist the fact that she was getting worse. Each week she convalesced more and more, spending first part of a day in bed, and then an entire day, and then two or three days in succession.
Again and again Doctor Goodman came and examined her and shook his head. He did not accuse her of anything but she could see silent reproach in his eyes.
“But, Doctor, this is exactly like Alicia, isn’t it?” she said to him. “You could find nothing wrong with her and you can find nothing wrong with me. And the symptoms are the same as she described hers. But my illness is real, not imagined. The pain is real, and the difficulty in breathing.”
He shrugged and said, “You could call in another doctor, of course. Frankly, I am at my wit’s end.”
Walter was patient and kind, and yet in his eyes she could see a distant sadness, as if he too were thinking, we have been through this before.
Not until she saw Alicia did Jennifer begin to suspect anything approaching the truth.
It happened at night. She had been asleep and woke for no particular reason that she was aware of. She lay awake, listening to the sound of Walter’ breathing and staring up at the ceiling.
Suddenly, she looked toward the door, and Alicia was there. She was clawing at her throat, just as Jennifer had seen her do so often, just as Jennifer herself had done during her recent “spell.” It made Jennifer’s skin crawl.
Alicia came toward the bed. She was holding something in one of her hands, and as she got closer, Jennifer recognized it. It was the rag doll Jennifer had seen the night Alicia died, the doll with the ribbon tied around its neck. Jennifer had forgotten it entirely since she had seen it in Liza’s cupboard.
Alicia came still closer, until she was by the bed, and for the first time she opened her eyes and looked into Jennifer’s. Jennifer shivered with fear. She had never experienced anything like this before. She had heard of people who saw ghosts, and she had always scoffed at them.
“She’s a witch,” Alicia said in a voice exactly as Jennifer remembered it. “You thought I was crazy, but I wasn’t. She is a witch. She killed me and now she is killing you.”
Jennifer turned toward Walter to shake his shoulder. “Walter, wake up, please,” she said.
“Huh, what...?” He opened his eyes.
“Alicia, she’s here,” Jennifer said, but when she looked again, Alicia had disappeared.
Walter was really awake now. He sat up and looked around. “What do you mean, Alicia? Where? How?”
“She was here. Right beside the bed. She spoke to me.” He gave her a peculiar look. “I didn’t imagine it. She was here.”
He sighed and lay back down. “You were dreaming,” he said, as if that settled it, and went back to sleep.
She did not sleep for a long time, however. She kept remembering the way Alicia had looked, and the things she said. What did they mean?
“She is killing you.” Who, and how, and why?
Was Walter right? Had she dreamed it? It had seemed so real. But to the dreamer, dreams often did.
Even if it was a dream, though, it must mean something, something dredged up from the deepest corners of her mind.
At last, unable to come to any satisfactory conclusion, she fell asleep again. Her dreams were troubled, but when she woke in the morning, she did not remember them.
* * * * * * *
It was one of the mornings when Jennifer was able to have breakfast with the family and Walter told the others of Jennifer’s dream.
Jennifer was embarrassed, but she tried not to quarrel about it. “It certainly seemed real,” she said when he asked if she was ready now to admit that it was only a dream.
“If she spoke, what did she say?” Helen asked.
“I don’t remember,” Jennifer lied. She remembered quite well, but the children were at the table and listening quite intently to the conversation. She exchanged glances with Helen, who understood and tactfully changed the subject, to Jennifer’s relief.
Jennifer did not really believe it had only been a dream—or, if it had been, it was meant to give her some kind of message. She knew the others would laugh at her if she insisted upon that, nor did she feel inclined to tell them what Alicia had said, which would only further provoke their amusement.
One of the listeners was not amused, however. Bess listened with wide eyes and later, when Jennifer had gone to her room, Bess came up to see her.
“Miss Jennifer,” she said, wringing her hands and looking extremely nervous. “I know it ain’t my place, but I got to talk to you.”
“Why, of course, Bess,” Jennifer said, “you know you can say anything you like to me.”
“You’ve been so good to me and all, even sticking up for me that time with Miss Alicia, it wouldn’t do for me not to say something. Only, I don’t know how to say it.”
“Say what?”
“And Miss Alicia coming to see you like that, I believe it was an omen, that I was supposed to tell you.”
She leaned forward, and said in a whisper, “Miss Jennifer, she’s killing you.”
“You mean Alicia?” Jennifer asked, startled. It was so like the words Alicia had used last night.
“No, I mean that girl, Liza.”
“But, good heavens, what can you mean? Why, she’s only a child. Even assuming she would want to do such a thing, how could she? Do you mean she is poisoning me?”
“No, she’s got a doll. Miss Jennifer, I know you think I’m crazy or imagining things, but that girl lived in the swamp with the witch, and she learned her bad ways. She’s got a doll, and they put a power on it, and what they do to that doll happens to you. I saw the doll, made to look like you, with your hair attached to it and everything. That’s how she’s making you sick.”
For a moment Jennifer could only sit and stare at her. A doll? Magic powers? Liza, wanting to kill her? It was all so incredible...and yet....
“If there is such a doll,” she said aloud, “then we have only to present it to Walter and tell him everything. I shall call him.”
She started toward the door but Bess caught frantically at her arm. ‘Oh, don’t, please, don’t. If she knew, she’d get me too. And anyway, it wouldn’t do no good. He wouldn’t believe it. He’d think I was crazy. You’re thinking that yourself, don’t you see?”
It was true, Jennifer thought, Walter would think she was mad if she came to him with such an outlandish story. She thought of Alicia, insisting that Liza was a witch. Everyone had thought she was mad. Would Walter be any more likely to believe this story, coming from Bess?
“But if what you say is true, what can I do?”
“My Auntie Doreen, she said
if you could find the doll, take it away from her, take it all apart—but that wouldn’t stop her from doing another one.”
“Still, it would buy me some time. If it’s in her room....”
“It’s no use. I looked in her room when Liza was outside yesterday, I was so scared, but I couldn’t find it. Wherever it is, she is sure to have it hidden.”
“Did your Auntie have no other suggestions?”
Bess hesitated. “She said...she said that the evil power comes from the witch woman. She says if we could stop her....”
“But how do we do that?”
“She said....” Again Bess hesitated. “She said with this.” She produced a small ceramic bottle from the deep pocket of her apron.
“What is it?”
“It’s a witch’s bottle. We have to collect things of hers. Some of her pee, if we can get that, that’s especially powerful. But her hair, nail clippings, a bit of her clothing. Same as with the dolls, almost. And we put them in this bottle, and put a stopper in it, and we bury the bottle out in the yard.”
“And...?”
“And she’ll die. The swamp witch. It’s the only way to kill her.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next day Jennifer felt so much better that she was inclined to dismiss not only her illness, but Bess’s outlandish story as well. It was all so preposterous. If Liza did have a doll made in her image—and she never doubted for a moment that Bess had seen what she said she had seen—it did not mean that the doll had any sort of evil power. It was probably only something Liza had used to frighten Bess.
It was a particularly hot season, and as the field work was caught up, Walter had promised the children he would go swimming with them at the boat landing, where the water was deep and cool.
“I think I will come and sit in the shade,” Jennifer announced. Walter seemed pleased and Peter and Mary greeted her announcement happily, but Liza was less than enthusiastic.
“There’s no good shade down there,” she said.
“Then I shall take a parasol.”
Since it was only Walter and the children, he and Peter swam in their undergarments and Mary and Liza wore old dresses that had been cut off. Liza’s, Jennifer observed from the landing, revealed quite a bit of her legs. It was modest enough out of the water, but when it had gotten wet, it was a blatant reminder that Liza was growing into a woman.
