There was something I was supposed to do. Something about the scarf. And the window. I remembered. I was supposed to tie the scarf to the window. And in order to do that I would have to get up and cross the floor and stretch up—no, I felt much too tired. I slept.
That evening when I awoke from my nap I went to the window. The Gypsies were gone. I stood at the window for a long time, watching the red sun setting over the mountains. I still had the red scarf in my hand. I held it outside the window. The wind caught it and fluttered it like a flag. And then I let it go and the wind carried it away.
Night came, folding its black wings around me. Fritz appeared with my medicine and he lit my lamp. I was grateful for the light. I saw horrible things in the darkness and I needed light to banish them. Fritz, who had a little compassion for me—usually brought a light for me. Sometimes he forgot, and those nights were hellish.
I dreamed of horses. Hooves clattered on cobblestones. The bar slid down away from my door and heavy boots thundered on the stone floor of my cell. I covered my ears and rolled onto my side. Noisy dreams, noisy enough to wake the dead.
“But why come now, so late at night?” Fritz whined. “Why couldn’t you at least wait until morning?”
“Because the Baron is bringing a very important visitor down here tomorrow and he wants her gone,” a man told him. The voice was strange and yet familiar. “Come on, hurry up, get her ready. We can’t wait all night.”
“She’s ready now,” Fritz told him. “You’re welcome to her. You won’t get any cooperation from her, though. She won’t walk for you.”
“Come on, woman, get up, get up,” the voice said briskly. “We have a long way to go tonight, don’t we, Colonel?”
“That’s right. Lieutenant, hurry her along.”
“Damn you!” an impatient voice hissed in my ear, “sit up! Come on, Rhawnie, we’re trying to get you out of here! Try to stand. Come on!”
I flopped and fell like a stuffed doll. They pulled me to my feet and I slipped out of their hands. All I wanted was my bed, my dreams, my medicine.
“Don’t want to go,” I muttered. “Stop.”
One of the two newcomers laughed heartily. “She’s in a fog, all right. But a little ride in the night air will soon put that right.”
“That’s what you think," Fritz muttered, “Nothing will put her mind right again. Lift your feet, woman! Do as the soldiers tell you! Hurry up!”
Finally one of the soldiers, the tall one with fair hair, scooped me up in his arms and carried me down to a waiting carriage. Two more soldiers were waiting near the carriage. They threw open the doors. The man who carried me deposited me on the seat and slammed the doors behind me. Almost at once the carriage lurched forward. The Gypsy woman sat beside me. Only she didn’t look like she did in the afternoon. She was wearing dark wool and furs. She wrapped a warm fur robe around me and wiped my face with a scented cloth.
“Oh, Rhawnie, you poor, poor thing,” she cooed, “just look what they’ve done to you! Poor darling. But you’re safe now. They won’t hurt you ever again, I promise.”
We rode for a short time and I dozed a little. All of a sudden the carriage came to an abrupt halt. I was awakened by shouts and the thunder of gunshots.
“Oh, God,” said the woman beside me. She poked her head outside the window. “It seems to be a group of soldiers with the Baron in the lead.” She opened her reticule and pulled out a revolver. “Thank Heaven for a full moon,” she said. She pushed me down on the floor, crouched down under the window, and fired.
The fight and the noise raged around us. Soon the carriage jerked forward and we started to move. We careened through the night, leaving the sounds of the fight far behind. Then we halted again and one of the doors flew open.
“Out. Both of you!”
“Ah, you must be Baron von Zander,” said my companion. “Please don’t be impolite. This gun is pointed at your breast.”
“Your gun is empty, good lady,” the Baron retorted, “or you would have used it. Please do as I say. Get out.”
She helped me out of the coach. I shivered. We were in a wooded glade. The moon was indeed bright and full, but occasional wisps of clouds crossed its face, giving it a surly and treacherous look.
“And now, Baroness,” sneered the Baron, “and Madame, whoever you may be, it’s time to put an end to your schemes, once and for all.” I heard a click and looked at his hand. He was holding an enormous gun, and the dark eye of its barrel was pointed straight at me.
There was an explosion and the gun vanished quickly. The Baron looked surprised, and his hand went to the sword at his side.
One of the soldiers who had taken me away from the castle stepped out from the shadows behind the coach. I recognized him, too, as the Gypsy with the scar on his cheek. But now he was in uniform.
“Good evening, Baron,” he said. “I stowed away on the back of the coach. I hope you don’t mind. Not the most comfortable way to enjoy the Alpine countryside, I confess.”
“If you’re going to shoot me,” the Baron said, “then go ahead and do it. I don’t like to waste small talk with interfering scoundrels.”
“Unfortunately I have no more bullets,” the soldier told him.
“Too bad,” grinned the Baron. “Now I can dispatch you like a gentleman.” He whipped out his sword and the other man did the same. “Engarde, you devil. This will be the last time you upset anybody’s plans.”
“By the way,” said the swarthy Gypsy-soldier, “I just want you to know that woman you have treated so badly is my wife. And you’re going to die for it.”
Wife? But I didn’t even know this man.
Their blades clashed in the moonlight. The lady pulled me aside, well out of the way. The Baron moved as quickly as a cat, but the soldier was alert and ready for him. He parried every slash, blocked every thrust. Their blades moved so swiftly that they seemed to blur into one shining curved blade. The little woman at my side gripped my arm and sucked in her breath at every close touch.
“Oh, Seth,” she murmured. “Be careful, son.”
The duellists moved swiftly around the clearing, back towards the trees. The clang of their blades echoed off the rocks around us.
Then a dark cloud obscured the moon for half a minute, throwing the clearing into darkness. The din of clashing swords did not diminish. Just as the cloud passed there was a blood-curdling mortal scream.
The lady ran forward. “Seth!”
The moon grew bright. The Baron lay on his side on the ground, nailed to the earth by the sword that had pierced his vitals. He twitched and groaned. Blood trickled out of his mouth, and with a final gurgling gasp, he lay still.
Three men rode into the clearing. The pair went to meet them.
“Oh, Seth!” The little woman embraced the soldier. ‘Oh, thank God!”
I felt sick and weak and so very tired. With a deep sigh I sank to my knees. One of the men rushed over and lifted me in his arms.
“Rhawnie! Rhawnie, it’s me, Steven. Do you know me? Are you all right, Rhawnie?”
I did know him. He was Steven McClelland, and I loved him. I had loved another once, but he was dead.
“Steven,” I said weakly. “You have come for me. Hold me, Steven. Hold me.”
He hugged me to him and buried his face in my hair. And at the edge of the clearing the man with the scar on his cheek watched stoically.
21
Two Gypsies
THE MCCLELLAND FAMILY took me to France, to the Chateau Lesconflair. Seth supervised my treatment. He decided that sudden withdrawal would be too cruel, and he decreased my daily intake of laudanum until I was taking only the smallest dose, and finally I didn’t even need that.
I remember the day when the mists cleared away from my brain and I saw him standing at the window of my room.
“Who is that?” I asked. “Who are you?”
He came over to the bed. “Hello, Gypsy,” he said with a little smile.
“It is
you,” I whispered. “I thought—they told me they had killed you. Back in San Francisco. I thought you were dead. Oh, Seth.” I started to cry.
“Now, Gypsy,” he said consolingly, “you know I’m tough to kill. Like you. He put you through hell, didn’t he?”
I tried to shrug. I still felt very weak. “Not too bad. Only when he took the laudanum away. Then it was terrible. I shall never forget the dreams, dreams of fire and death. Is he dead?”
“You don’t remember?” he asked. I shook my head. I had only the dimmest recollections of that night. “Yes, he’s dead. He won’t trouble us any more. How are you feeling? There are three men out there who are eager to see you.”
“Steven?” I said. “Steven is here?”
His smile dimmed a little and he said, “Yes, Steve. And Sean and Father. Are you up to it?”
“Yes, I would like to see them. And your mother?”
“She’s here, too. She’s been helping with the nursing, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically, “but I’m afraid I haven’t been paying very close attention to what’s been happening to me.”
He patted my hand professionally, and felt my pulse. “You’re forgiven,” he said. “We’re all prepared to be especially tolerant of you for a few days.”
They crowded around the bed. Steven gave me a little kiss and held my hand while we talked. Sean tried very hard to restrain his natural high spirits. It was rather funny to see him trying to behave like he was in church. Elise sat on my other side and Garth, our patriarch, stood at the foot of the bed. Seth stood by the window.
“Before we go any further,” Steven said, “I have to know: what was he after?”
“I stole something from him before I left Munich,” I said. At the window Seth gave an amused snort. “Not money this time, but pictures. Photographs of the Baron himself in—doing rather unusual things.” I looked up at Steven. “Wearing women’s clothes,” I whispered.
The men all laughed a little. “Anyway, he was angry about that and that’s why he chased us after we left Munich, remember, Steven? But he didn’t forget. He wanted them back. And he was angry because I wouldn’t tell him what I had done with them. King Maximillian, Ludwig’s son, had seen them, I think."
“We did some checking around Munich," Garth said. “The Baron had fallen from favor. He was barely hanging on. His reputation was in shreds and any influence he might have enjoyed once was gone. Apparently Maximillian is a bit of a prude."
“Yes, I know," I said.
“Well, what did you do with the pictures, darling?" Elise wanted to know. “Did you give them to Maximillian?"
“No, to his mother. I decided that she would know best. She was stronger than either her husband or her son. But why did she wait so long to use them?"
“The Baron was a fine organizer, whatever his faults," Garth said. “I suspect she bided her time until she felt he had exhausted his usefulness to her son and was becoming too ambitious for himself. That’s when the pictures started to circulate. Damned clever woman."
“A good mother," Elise said. “You’re a smart girl, Rhawnie."
I said, “I wanted to repay Ludwig for what he had done for me. He said that Maximillian could be a good king if he was out from under the Baron’s thumb. But you? You came so far to find me? How did you do it?"
Seth said, “Wang—one of your men, remember?—had a brother who worked at the opium den where they took you on the night of the fire. That proved that the Sons of Dan had nothing to do with your disappearance. We traced you to the ship, and the rest wasn’t too hard. The hard part was keeping Sean out of this. As you can see, we failed.”
“I stowed away!” Sean said eagerly. “Just like them to keep a fellow from having a lark!”
“Then you went to California with your parents?” I asked him.
“Ha,” grunted his father. “He came west on his own, with a pack of gold diggers. He’s hopeless.”
“I only wanted to see Gaby,” Sean protested. “It’s not fair to leave a fellow behind.”
We were silent for a few minutes, thinking about the daughter they had lost. Elise took my hand and said, “Seth told us everything. We’re so glad you were there to help her.”
“I loved her,” I said. “She was a sister to me.”
“And now you are our daughter.” She leaned forward and kissed me.
“You didn’t make it very easy for us to save you, Rhawnie,” Sean said. “We were all set to take you out of there in the Gypsy wagon and—”
“Fortunately we had an alternate plan,” Garth grinned.
“You should have heard Seth when he found out you didn’t even know him!” Sean exclaimed. “He wanted to tear the Baron apart with his bare hands!”
“Sean,” Elise said warningly. “We’d better go. We’ll talk more later, Rhawnie, but we don’t want to tire you. We’ll leave you in Seth’s capable hands.”
I gave her a grateful smile. And they went away. Two days later I heard hooves on the cobblestones outside my window and I went to look. Seth was riding away, around the fountains, down the drive, through the park. Elise came in.
“I thought you’d like a cup of tea,” she said. Then she saw me at the window. “Oh, you’re up!”
“Where is Seth going?” I asked her. “Is he going to get more medicine?”
“No, dear,” she said coming over to me. “He’s going away, back to Paris.”
“But I don’t understand!" I said. “He was here this morning—he didn’t say anything! Why—why is he going?”
“Because you don’t need him any more. You’re free of your addiction, and you’re getting stronger every day. I’m sure he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t. It’s not easy for him, you know that."
“But I do need him!" I cried. “I need him so much—! He’s done it again, left me without a word! Oh, I hate him, I hate him—!" I sat down and buried my face in my hands. “It’s not fair," I sobbed. “He had no reason to treat me this way! Why must he behave like such an animal to me? Doesn’t he know that I love him?"
“He thinks you love Steven," she said gently. “Because you remembered him and you didn’t remember Seth. In the glade, after Seth killed the Baron? Steven held you and—?"
“But I thought Seth was dead!" I said despairingly. “I didn’t know anything then! They told me Seth was dead and I believed them!"
“But before those men kidnapped you, Steven and Seth wanted you to choose between them, isn’t that right? I suppose Seth thought you made you choice that night. He stayed here long enough to make you well, and now he’s left you—to Steven."
My temper flared. “He is the stupidest, most stubbornly single-minded man I have ever met in my life. What does he know about what goes on in a woman’s heart? He is selfish, monstrously selfish—"
“He’s proud, Rhawnie," his mother corrected me.
“Well, so am I proud! If he thinks I’m going to go chasing after him after all this time—! I won’t do it. I won’t go to him. I am going to stay here and marry Steven and have a hundred babies and I never want to see him again! Never!" I cried and cried, and nothing Elise could do could comfort me.
Later that day I told Steven that I had made up my mind: I would become his wife. He kissed me on the cheek and said, “That’s wonderful, Rhawnie. Mother will be so pleased.”
I said coolly, “I would have expected you to be a little happier about it.”
He laughed and said, “But I am happy! I’m delirious! Can’t you tell? You’re just feeling a little touchy today because of—”
“I am not feeling touchy,” I informed him tartly. “And I don’t want to talk about your brother, do you understand? I don’t love him, I love you. He is undeserving of love. Please see what you can do about the divorce. I think we should get married as soon as possible.”
“You’re sure?” he said softly.
“Of course I’m sure!”
He grinned boyishly. “I would have expect
ed you to be a little happier about it.”
“What? Oh.” I felt ashamed of myself. “Forgive me, Steven. I am happy. It’s a good feeling, knowing you have done the right thing, made the right decision. Kiss me please. I’ll be fine.”
His kiss was very sweet, if a shade brotherly. “You’re beautiful again,” he said softly. “A pleasure to look upon.”
“You really think so?” I pinched my forearm. “You see, flesh! I’m even getting a little fat.”
I tried to be cheerful for Steven’s sake, but most of the time I wandered around the château like a grieving spirit. I sat down at the piano in the drawing room one day and morosely picked out the melody to “Two Brothers.” It didn’t make me feel any better.
“Would you like me to play something for you , Rhawnie?” Elise McClelland came in, smiling brightly. “I haven’t heard you sing in ages.”
“I don’t want to sing,” I said quickly. "My throat is sore. I can’t.” Really my heart was too heavy, but I didn’t tell her that.
“You don’t sound very cheerful,” she observed acutely. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I am cheerful enough,” I said. “And there’s nothing to talk about.”
Thereupon I burst into tears and ran out of the room: We celebrated Christmas at the Chateau Lesconflair. Seth did not come home.
The senior McClellands and Steven were talking about going back to America soon. Steven missed his children badly. Garth consented to let Sean enroll in the Sorbonne for the spring term, but he warned his son that this was his last chance. If they threw him out of the Sorbonne he would have to come home and work as a field hand at Highlands.
Then one morning soon after the New Year Steven came into the drawing room. I can’t remember what I was doing there, probably moping.
“Well, this ought to cheer you up, Rhawnie,” he said. You’ll be a free woman soon and we can marry. Finally! And after the wedding—I thought something small and quiet, right here at the château—we’ll set sail for home.”
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