“Now?”
“Yes, if you please. Theresa is very anxious for you to come.”
“Tell her-—tell her I will be there as soon as I can.”
“Very good, Madame.”
Madame. Then she certainly did not know. It was odd. What reason could Bernard have for keeping the information to himself? Or could it be that the information had not yet filtered down to the servants?
She washed her face and smoothed her hair, and then shook out her dress. It was crumpled, but it did not seem to matter enough to change. Her nap had not refreshed her. Depression clung to her. The heaviness of regret dragged at her mind.
When she was ready to go she put her hand on the doorknob, and then as tiredness swept over her, she leaned her head on the closed door. Why was she doing this? She did not want to go and make conversation with this sullen disturbed girl, someone whom she would never see again after tonight. What would she say to her? What was there to say?
Sympathy. That was the reason. Sympathy because she knew how Theresa felt. She was caught in a trap of her own making, just as Elizabeth had been. There was nothing that either of them could do or say to undo what had been done.
Why was that so terrible? Why did it matter so much? She knew why with a sudden clarity, but she could not allow herself to think of it, just as she had not allowed herself to dwell on the way Bernard had treated her in the library. Suddenly, as if fleeing from her thoughts, she twisted the knob in her hand and left the room.
Theresa herself opened the door. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she drew Elizabeth inside. Her hair bad been put up in gleaming curls drawn back from a center part, and at her throat she wore a garnet on a fine gold chain that she kept touching as if to see that it was still there.
“Bernard has given this necklace to me. It is a symbol that I have grown up,” she said. “It belonged to his mother, and it is very precious to him and shows he trusts me. He says that I am to have my skirts let down as soon as it can be managed. Isn’t it exciting? I owe it to you for speaking to Bernard for me. I just had to thank you!”
She pirouetted, showing off her hair, gracefully balancing its weight on her slender neck. It was an amazing transformation, though Elizabeth could not help but feel that the happiness of Theresa’s smile was more important than the new hair arrangement.
“I don’t imagine Bernard has allowed you to have these things on my account,” she said easily.
“I don’t know of any other reason. Denise said that he mentioned that you had spoken to him, though she was being mean about it when she said it. He has given orders that I am to have more freedom, if I earn it. And I am to be dressed at all times as befits my age, and treated in the same way.”
“That is wonderful,” Elizabeth could not help smiling at the younger girl’s transparent joy.
“I only hope the excitement does not make the child ill!” Denise stepped from the bedroom, her back stiff, her manner unrelenting.
“I am not a child, Denise,” Theresa said, but some of the animation went out of her face, and it seemed an effort for her to hold on to her pleasure.
“Soon you will be going down to dinner!” Elizabeth spoke gaily, trying to overcome the blight Denise had cast on Theresa’s spirits.
“Perhaps I will,” she agreed.
“Will what, my sweet?” Darcourt strolled into the room, swinging the door shut behind him.
Theresa ran toward him. “Just look at me, Darcourt! I have my hair up and I’m to have long dresses. Ellen just said that I may soon be having my meals downstairs in the dining room. Aren’t you pleased?”
A strange look passed over his face. “You look very pretty, but much too grown up to be my little sister. I’m not sure I didn’t like you better the other way.” The look he threw Elizabeth held worry, as if he felt the experiment would turn out badly.
“Why did you say that?” Theresa asked, her lips beginning to tremble.
“Don’t cry, sweet,” Darcourt begged, now contrite. “I didn’t mean it. You will have to control your tears better, you know, if you are to go out into society, Of course I like your hair and I am happy for you. It was only a sentimental notion. Forgive me?”
As Theresa smiled up at him he turned toward Denise. “Before I forget, Mother needs you. She is having recourse to the hartshorn and vinegar again. I don’t imagine we will see much more of her today.”
“Is she ill?” Theresa turned pale.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a weary cynicism. “She has only been celebrating her victory with too much enthusiasm.”
“Victory?”
Consternation flitted over his features, but he was able to reply with creditable casualness, “Heavens, don’t ask me. I try not to become involved in all the domestic squabbles and feminine wrangles.”
Denise, her face a picture of mystified curiosity, left the room. Theresa stared after her with a dissatisfied look before she turned away with a shrug. She smiled suddenly. “I’m the hostess, aren’t I? I wonder if they would bring coffee and cakes and lemonade if I asked for it?”
Darcourt raised his brows at this rather audacious proposal from his retiring sister, but he reassured her. When Theresa had stepped to the door he looked at Elizabeth. “I am sorry about this morning,” he said softly, “it must have been an ordeal for you.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.” It did no harm to pretend.
“I wish there was something I could do. I think you would have been good for Oak Shade, and for Joseph.”
“Would have been?”
“Bernard cannot let you stay, you know. His pride, the pride of the Delacroix family, win not let him.”
“I didn’t intend to stay,” she said, anger making her careless.
“He will not let you carry the baby with you,” he warned. “Not Felix’s son. Joseph is a Delacroix and also heir to half this parish.”
When Elizabeth did not answer his eyes held steady on her face, thoughtfulness gathering deep within their gold-flecked depths. “If I can be of any service to you, you will let me know, won’t you?”
“Why should you want to do that?”
He laughed shortly. “Personal reasons. I know what it is like to look for crumbs beneath the Delacroix table. I know what it is like to want to get away.”
He did not elaborate on this cryptic statement and Elizabeth, concentrating on her own problems, did not ask him to explain. She only heard the understanding in his voice.
Theresa turned back into the room. “You should have seen the look on the face of the boy in the hall! He couldn’t have been more surprised if one of the family portraits had spoken to him; but he carried my message to the kitchen.”
Elizabeth smiled and glanced at Darcourt to see if he was aware of how wonderful it was that Theresa could laugh at herself, but Darcourt was not smiling. There was an intent look in the eyes that followed his sister.
They talked for a few minutes. Theresa was too self-conscious and Elizabeth herself too preoccupied for the conversation to be easy, but it was not as strained as she had feared. Before it had a chance to grow really easy they were interrupted.
Denise flung the door open. She stood in the frame, her hands clasped together and her eyes blazing with satisfaction.
Theresa started to her feet with a cry of surprise. The Frenchwoman ignored her, staring at Elizabeth.
“I knew it! I knew there was something peculiar about you. It was only a matter of time before I found out!”
“What are you talking about?” Theresa stumbled a little as she took a step toward Denise.
“This woman is not who she pretends to be! She is not a widow! She is an impostor! I have it straight from your mother’s lips.”
Elizabeth got to her feet. She knew there was no way to stop Denise, and so she did not try but stood without speaking, letting the raucous, jeering voice wash over her.
“No,” Theresa whispered. “She is my friend.”
“I co
uld not allow you to be closeted with her another moment. It was my duty to return to you. There is no saying what mischief such a corrupting influence can cause.”
“No!”
“But we need not be troubled much longer,” Denise went on, ignoring Theresa’s outburst. “She will not be staying. I have your mother’s assurance that her presence will not be tolerated.”
“No! I will—will not—listen! I will not! I will not! I will not!”
Theresa’s voice rose to a scream as she raised one hand to her throat as if it hurt her. Feeling the garnet necklace she curled her fingers around it and tore it from her neck. Then in a frenzy she caught at her hair, tearing it free of its pins as sobs shook her and she cried over and over, “She was my friend, my friend, my friend—” Like a hurt animal, she bowed over, her arms clasped across her waist, and scuttled toward her room, slamming the door behind her.
Denise turned a pasty white as she saw what she had done.
“Don’t stand there, woman,” Darcourt snapped. “Get Grand’mere!”
“It’s her fault!” Denise screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Elizabeth. “She is the cause of it all, her and her new ideas. Imposter!”
Touched to the quick at last, Elizabeth moved forward to defend herself, but Darcourt turned to her. “Please! Not now. We must quiet Theresa before she hurts herself.”
Throwing Elizabeth a baleful glare, Denise hurried away. When she bad gone, Darcourt touched Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Perhaps you had better go back to your room. I know you don’t want more trouble. I—I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth saw that he was right. “Sorry?” she repeated distractedly. “Why should you be sorry?”
“For my mother’s part in this.”
“Oh. That wasn’t your fault.” Giving him a tired smile, Elizabeth started toward the door.
Darcourt put out a hand to detain her. “I meant what I said. If you want help you need only ask. I will be going into town late tonight. If you would like to go with me, wait near the end of the driveway—no, you might be seen. Wait near the chapel.”
Elizabeth stared at him a long measuring moment while Theresa’s cries came to her through the thick paneling of the door. She had told herself that she must trust to heaven for a way to get away from the house. Here it was. Abruptly she nodded, gave him a brief smile, and left him.
Night was slow in falling. The afterglow lingered in the sky, tinting it shades of rose and lilac and a dusky blue-gray. On the horizon the trees gradually turned from dark green to black, the shadows across the gallery outside the window deepened, and the white cylinders of the column merged into the darkness. The scent of the flowers, mixed with the smell of roasting meat from the outside kitchen, drifted on the cooling air. A night bird called, a pure and sorrowful note above the song of the crickets.
Elizabeth was left strictly alone. During the long hours she could hear Grand’mere moving about in the other room so that she was prevented from speaking to Callie. Perhaps it was just as well, though being unable to plan on Callie’s cooperation increased her apprehension.
For a time she heard voices raised in argument, Darcourt’s and his mother’s, coming from Alma’s room on the other side. She could not make out the words. Later she heard slamming drawers and something scraping across the floor like a trunk. Ordinarily she would have paid no attention, but the movements had a stealthy sound. Thinking of the possible reasons for them and for the quarrel gave her something to occupy her mind.
No one made an attempt to see if she intended to come down to supper. A tray was brought to her room by one of the maids, who placed it on the washstand and went away again without once looking directly at Elizabeth. The story had obviously reached the plantation grapevine.
A short while later she heard Grand’mere leave the room to go down to supper. As soon as the old lady’s footsteps were no longer audible she moved swiftly to the door connecting the two rooms and eased it open.
“Callie?”
Without intending it she whispered, and then as she realized what she had done she spoke louder. “Callie?”
“Yes’m?”
Elizabeth walked farther into the room. Grand’mere was indeed out of the room, but even so she hardly dared raise her voice.
“Callie—”she said again, and then took a deep breath. “We are leaving. Tonight.”
“What! Mis’ Elizabeth, how we going to do that?”
“Not so loud, someone will hear you. Never mind how. I want you to sleep lightly. If Grand’mere does not look sleepy, or if she is slow to go to bed, I want you to encourage her to use her laudanum.”
“Yes’m, I-—think I can do that.”
“Good. Gather together what you want to carry with you, plus a dress to wear. Bring it to my room as soon as you can. When Grand’mere is asleep I want you to get up, wrap Joseph up in his blanket and bring him to my room. You can slip your dress on there. All right?”
Callie nodded, her eyes large but unafraid. She could be trusted.
Returning to her own room, Elizabeth ate her supper slowly to kill time, savoring each bite, each drop of wine, for it might be some time before she was able to eat in peace and comfort again. Even so, there was time and to spare to check the bundles again when Callie brought hers, go over everything to be sure they had what was most needed, and secrete them back under the bed before the maid returned for the tray.
She paced, she tried to read, she stared out the window at the night. At last she heard Grand’mere come up to bed, and then she heard her cross to the door so that she was forewarned when the knock came.
“Elizabeth? Could I speak to you?”
Elizabeth’s gaze swept the overhang of the bedspread to see that it concealed the bundles beneath the bed, and then she thought of the dress she was wearing. It was late to be still dressed. Would Grand’mere be suspicious, or would it go unnoticed under the circumstances? Perhaps it would be better to take no chances. In any case she did not feel as though she could bear a lecture just now.
“I’m very tired,” she called. “Could we postpone it until morning?”
There was no answer for a long moment. “In the morning then,” Grand’mere agreed finally, her voice tart, before she went away.
Silently Elizabeth sighed with relief. Then came the longest wait.
At last she heard the creaking of the bed ropes as the old lady in the next room climbed into her four-poster bed. For a little longer there was movement up and down the hall outside, and then the house grew quiet, the last door slammed. The servants left for the night; she could hear them laughing and talking as they made their way to the house servants’ quarters directly behind the house. She grew stiff and cold with inactivity. Her nerves stretched as she listened to the creaks and groans of the house settling. A little later the moon rose half-full, as silvery as a scimitar blade, and without comfort in its cold remoteness.
When Callie did not come, Elizabeth began to worry. Perhaps Darcourt would not wait for them. He would think they were not coming. Callie would not be able to take the baby from his bed without waking him and having him cry out. Grand’mere would wake and prevent her from leaving the room. She might even raise the alarm. Then at last there came a brushing sound against the door. When she hurried to open it, Callie stood there with Joseph cradled carefully in her arms. Beyond her Grand’mere lay in her bed in the dark room, the rhythmic breathing of deep sleep whistling softly in and out between her lips.
Elizabeth whispered one word as she held her arms out for the sleeping child. “Hurry.”
They crept along the hall and down the stairs, feeling their way in the dark with the help of the pale luminescence of the moon glowing through the windows at the end of the hall. Freezing at each creak of a board, listening for some sound above their own heartbeats thudding in their ears, starting at shadows and praying Joseph would not awake, they went down the stairs and along the hall. At last the front door loomed before them.
Fumbling in the dark, she searched down the door plate to the keyhole. Then she sighed. The key was in the lock. She turned it before she had time to change her mind, wincing as it grated. As she again turned the knob the great door eased open of its own weight. She held it while Callie passed through with Joseph, and then pulled it shut after herself.
Their footsteps on the brick floor of the lower gallery made little sound as they hurried across it and down the wide steps. Avoiding the open where moonlight fell, glittering on the dew in the grass, they made for the tree-shadowed drive. Spurred by fear, they walked quickly and silently, keeping to the grass verge away from the gravel. The shadows beneath the oaks moved as the wind stirred through their branches. A rabbit or some other small creature scuttled away through the grass, and somewhere nearby a hunting owl swept by with a whir of wings. At each small sound and movement Callie made a smothered sound in the back of her throat. Now and then they would run a few steps, looking back over their shoulders at the house for signs of pursuit, probing the darkness around them with wide eyes. Callie, carrying the awkward weight of the baby, began breathing hard, and soon Elizabeth developed a stitch in her side. They slowed their pace but they could not stop.
Elizabeth’s throat tightened and she averted her head as they passed the curve where two nights before she had been attacked. Once past the spot the house was no longer visible behind them and they could no longer be seen from it. They breathed easier. Elizabeth switched her bundles to the other arm and they went on.
Dark Masquerade Page 18
