Casteel 02 Dark Angel

by V. C. Andrews

  In a flash I was out the door and racing toward the hedge in a night so black it was frightening. The damp ground fog swirled about my legs, and far behind me I heard him calling my name.

  "Heaven, Heaven!"

  What a strange name my mother had chosen to give me, I thought for the first time in my life. Not a person, a place; then tears were in my eyes and I was crying. Crying for no reason at all.

  Four For Better or Worse

  .

  "I MUST WARN YOU," SAID TONY THE FOLLOWING morning at breakfast, while Jillian was still upstairs sleeping. "The maze is more dangerous than it looks. If I were you, I'd leave exploring to those who've had more experience with that sort of thing."

  It was just a little after six, and dawn was terribly similar to twilight, but for the hot blueberry muffins and the luscious spread of food on the buffet. The butler was in his place, close to the array of food in silver dishes, ready to spring into action to serve the two of us, who sat at a table that could have seated eight. Unreality had me in a daze. This was the way I'd dreamed it would be. The naive country girl I used to be hovered near my shoulder, shivering with delight, enjoying everything ten times more than did the girl I actually was now--suspicious, nervous, scared I'd do something so gross neither Jillian nor Tony would want to see me again. As for Troy, I planned never to go near him. He was too dangerous.

  Tentatively, I tasted each delicious dish Curtis put before me, truly the most wonderful breakfast I'd ever had in my life, and certainly the most satisfying one. Why, with this kind of food inside of me, living energy, I could have run all the way to school. Then came the sarcastic thought that maybe the food was so good only because I'd had nothing to do with the preparation. And I'd have nothing to do with the cleaning-up in the kitchen.

  "Curtis, we won't be needing you anymore," said Tony suddenly. I'd convinced myself he was the most helpless man in the world, unable to do one thing to wait on himself. He seemed to take a curious delight in keeping Curtis always on edge, waiting for his slight signals to do this or that. With the departure of the butler, Tony leaned forward. "How do you like your breakfast?"

  "It's delicious," I answered with enthusiasm. "I never knew eggs could taste so good."

  "My dear, you have just partaken of one of the delicacies of this world, truffles."

  But I'd not seen anything resembling a truffle-- whatever that was.

  "Never mind," he said, when I stared down at what remained of my el s, smothered in sauce and served over thin, golden pancakes. "Now it's time for you to tell me about yourself. Yesterday on our way here, it seemed to me I saw something in your eyes that looked like anger. Why did you look so indignant every time your father was mentioned?"

  "I didn't know that I did," I murmured, flushing and wanting to shout out the truth, and at the same time afraid to say too much. His brother was on my mind more than Pa; it was Troy I wanted to talk about. And yet I had to think of my plans, my dreams, and of Keith and Our Jane's welfare, too. I knew the first step toward their salvation was not to risk my own.

  And, carefully at first, I began to construct a new childhood for myself, built on half-truths; the only lies I told were those of omission. "So you see, the woman who died from cancer was not my real mother, but a foster mother named Kitty Dennison, who took care of me when Pa was ill and I had no one else."

  He still sat as if in shock from the news that my mother had died on the day I was born. His eyes turned dull, sad. And then came anger, hard, cold, and bitter. "What are you saying, that your father lied? How could a girl as young, strong, and healthy as your mother die in childbirth if not from neglect? Was she in a hospital? Good God almighty, women don't die giving birth in this day and age!"

  "She was very young," I whispered, "perhaps too young to undergo the ordeal. We lived in a fairly decent house, but Pa's carpentry work was never steady. Sometimes our meals were not too nourishing. I can't tell you if she went to a doctor for checkups, for hill people don't believe much in doctors--they believe in taking care of their own ailments. To be honest, old ladies like my granny were more respected than those who had an office in town with an M.D. beside the door."

  Was he going to turn against me, too, and for the same reason Pa had? "I wish you wouldn't blame me for her death, like Pa does . . ."

  His blue eyes swung to fix on the windows that soared up to the ceiling, framed by deep, rose velvet swags lined with gold. "Why did you sit there yesterday and confirm your father's lies by keeping silent?"

  "I was terrified that you would reject me if you knew I came from such a pitifully poor background."

  His quick, cold anger surprised me, and told me instantly this man was not another Cal Dennison, easy to fool.

  I hurried on, careless now of what kind of impression I was making. "How do you think I felt when I heard that you and Jillian expected me just for a visit? Pa had told me my grandparents were thrilled to have me live with them. And then I learn it is only to be a visit! I have no place to go now. There is nobody who wants me, nobody! I tried to figure out why Pa lied like he did, thinking, perhaps, that you'd be more concerned for my welfare if you thought me still in grief for my own mother. And in a way I am still in grief for her. I've always missed not knowing her. I wanted to do and say nothing that would change your willingness to keep me, even for a short while. Please, Tony, don't send me back! Let me stay! I don't have a home other than this one. My father is very ill with some terrible nerve disorder that will kill him soon, and he wanted to place me with my own mother's family before this world sees the last of hinl."

  His sharp, penetrating gaze rested on me with deep consideration. I cringed inside, so afraid my face would reveal my lies. My towering pride was on its knees, ready to plead and cry and thoroughly humble itself. I began to tremble all over.

  "This nerve disease your father has, what did his doctors call it?"

  What did I know about nerve diseases? Nothing! My panicky thoughts raced, until I brought to memory something I'd seen on TV once, back in Candlewick. A sad movie. "A famous baseball player died of it once. I find the name of his particular nerve disorder hard to pronounce." I tried not to sound too vague. "It's kind of like paralysis, and it ends in death . . ."

  He had his blue eyes narrowed now,

  suspiciously. "He didn't sound a bit sick. In fact his voice was very strong."

  "All mountain people have strong voices. You have to make yourself heard when nobody minds interrupting."

  "Who is taking care of him now that your granny is dead, and I believe you said your grandpa is senile?"

  "Grandpa's not really senile!" I flared: "It's just that he wants Granny to be alive so much he pretends she's still with him. That's not crazy, just necessary for someone like him."

  "I would call pretending the dead are alive and talking to them, real senility," he said, flatly and without emotion. "And I've already noticed sometimes you call your father Daddy, other times Pa, why is that?"

  "Daddy when I like him," I whispered. "Pa when I don't."

  "Ahh." He looked me over with more interest.

  My voice sounded plaintive, as if I had Fanny's way of acting out a role: "My father has always blamed me for my mother's death, and as a result, I have never felt comfortable with him, nor he with me. Still, he would like to see me taken care of for my mother's sake. And Pa can always find some adoring woman to devote herself to his needs until the day he departs this world."

  The longest silence came as he considered my information, seeming to turn it this way and that. "A man who can command a woman's devotion even when he is dying cannot be all bad, can he, Heaven? I don't know as there is anyone who would do the same for me."

  "Jillian!" I hastily cried.

  "Oh, yes, Jillian, of course." Absently he regarded me until I squirmed and grew hot. He was weighing me, judging me, tallying up my assets and my liabilities. Forever and ever it seemed to go on, even as he gave some small signal and Curtis appeared from nowhere
to clear the table, then disappeared. Finally, he spoke.

  "Suppose you and I strike a bargain. We will not tell Jillian that your mother died so long ago, for that information would hurt her too much. Right now you have her believing that Leigh had seventeen years of happiness with your father, and it seems a pity to tell her differently. She is not very stable emotionally. No woman can be stable when her entire happiness depends on staying young and beautiful, for it can't last forever. But while she still has a hold on youth, fleeting as it may well be, let's you and I do what we can to make her happy." His piercing eyes narrowed before he went on. "If I give you a home, and all that goes with it--the proper clothes and education, and so forth--I will expect something in return. Are you willing to give what I will demand?"

  Thoughtfully, with narrowed eyes, he waited as I stared at him. My first thought was that I had won, I could stay! Then, as he watched me so closely, I began to feel he was a huge, fat cat, and I was a lean church mouse ready to be pounced on. "What will you demand?"

  His smile was small and tight. Amused. "You are right to ask, and I'm glad you have a sense of reality. Perhaps you have already found out for yourself that there is a price that has to be paid for everything. I don't think anything I ask will be unreasonable. First, I will demand complete obedience from you. When I make decisions about your future, you will not argue about them. You will accept without quibbling. I was very fond of your mother, and I am sorry she is not alive, but I won't have you coming into my life to bring about complications. Understand right now, if you cause me trouble, or trouble for my wife, I will send you back from whence you came without the slightest regret. For I will consider you an ungrateful fool, and fools don't deserve a second chance." He opened his eyes and gazed at me steadily.

  "To give you an idea of the decisions I will make for you, let's begin with my selecting your school and the college you will attend. I will also select your clothes. I despise the way girls dress today, ruining the best part of their lives with shoddy, common clothes and wild, uncared-for hair. You will dress as the girls dressed when I went to Yale. I will supervise the books you read and the movies you see. Not that I am going to be a prude, I just think when you fill your mind with trash you smother those wonderful ideals and ideas most of us have when we are young. I will have final approval of the young men you date, and when you date them. I will expect you always to be polite both to me and to your

  grandmother. Jillian will make her own rules, I am sure. But right now I'm going to lay down a few.

  "Jillian sleeps every day until noon, her 'beauty rest' she calls it. Don't ever disturb her. Jillian does not like to be around dull and boring people, so you won't bring any into this house. Nor will you speak of any unpleasantness in her presence. If you have school or health or social problems, bring them to me in private. It will be best if you never mention the passing years, or refer to events in time, or sad stories you read in the newspapers. Jillian has managed to condition herself like an ostrich, sticking her head in the sand whenever other people's problems arise. Let her play her little protective games. When it's necessary, I will be the one to pull her head into the here and now , . not you."

  I more than suspected, as I sat there at that long table, that Townsend Anthony Tatterton was a ruthless, cruel man who would use me, just as he no doubt used Milan for whatever purpose he saw fit.

  Still, I had no intention of turning down his offer to keep me here and to send me to college. My heart was racing happily toward that wonderful day when I would have my master's degree--suddenly only that seemed desirable.

  Standing, I tried to find a voice that didn't quaver. "Mr. Tatterton, all my life I have known my future lay here in Boston, where I can attend the best schools and prepare myself for a life better than what my mother found living in the hills of West Virginia. I want more than anything to finish high 'school and go to an Ivy League college that will give me pride in myself. I have a desperate need to feel proud of myself. I want someday to go back to Winnerrow and to let everyone who knew me when I was poor see just what I've become--but I will not sacrifice my honor or my integrity to accomplish any of those things."

  He smiled as if he thought me ridiculous to mention honor and integrity. "I am happy to hear you take those into consideration, though I knew from your eyes that you would. Still, you do expect a great deal from me. I ask only obedience from you."

  "It seems to me that a great deal lies beneath the surface of your single demand."

  "Yes, perhaps," he agreed, smiling pleasantly. "You see, my wife and I are influential in our own circles and we want nothing to mar our reputations. Members of your family could show up here and be embarrassing. I sense that your father and you are not loving, and at the same time, you are protective of him and your grandfather. And from what I already know about you, you adapt quickly. I suspect in the long run you will soon be more Bostonian than I myself am, and I was born here. But I want no hillbilly relatives of yours showing up, not ever. Nor any of your former friends from West Virginia."

  Oh! That was asking too much! I had planned, later on when I had won his confidence and approval, to tell him the whole truth! Tell him all about Pa's having had syphilis that terrible autumn when Sarah gave birth to a deformed dead baby, and Granny died, and Sarah moved away and left her four children and me in that mountain cabin to make do the best we could. And then that horrible winter he'd sold us, sold all five of us for five hundred dollars apiece! Sold us to people who abused us! And how could I ever invite Tom here for a visit, or Fanny, much less Keith and Our Jane?--when I found Keith and Our Jane . .

  "Yes, Heaven Leigh, I want you to cut off your family ties, forget the Casteels, and become a Tatterton, as your mother should have done. She ran from us. She wrote only one time, just once! Did anyone down there ever mention why she didn't write home?"

  My nerve ends twanged. He was the one to know more than Granny or Grandpa, or even Pa! "How would they know unless she told them?" I asked with some resentment. "From what I've heard, she never talked about her home, except to say she came from Boston, and she was never going back. My granny guessed she was rich, for she brought such pretty clothes with her and a small velvet box of jewelry, and her manners were so elegant." And for some reason I didn't say a word about the portrait bride doll she'd hidden in the bottom of her single suitcase.

  "She told your father she was never coming back?" he asked in that strange, tight voice that showed he was affected. "Who did she tell that to?"

  "Why, I don't know. Granny used to wish she'd go back to where she came from, before the hills killed her."

  "The hills killed her?" he asked, leaning forward and staring at me hard. "I had presumed inadequate medical care took her life."

  My voice took on intonations that reminded me of Granny, and the spooked way she used to make me feel. "Some say that there isn't anyone who can live in our hills happily unless they are born and bred there. There are sounds in the hills that no one can explain, like wolves howling at the moon, when naturalists say that gray wolves disappeared long ago from our area. Yet we all hear them. We have bears and bobcats and mountain lions, and our hunters come back with tales of having seen evidence that gray wolves still live in our hills. It doesn't matter whether or not we see the wolves, not when the wind carries their howls and cries to wake us up at night. We have all kinds of superstitions that I tried not to pay attention to. Silly things like you've got to turn around three times when you enter your home, so devils won't follow you inside. Still, strangers who come to live in our hills fall sick easily, and sometimes they never get well. Sometimes there's nothing wrong with them, and still they fall into silence, lose their appetites, grow very thin, and then death comes."

  His lips grew so tight and thin a white line developed around them. "The hills? Is Winnerrow in the hills?"

  "Winnerrow is in a valley, what the hillfolks call a `holler.' I tried all my life not to talk as they do. But the valley isn't any differen
t from the hillsides. Time stands still back there, on the hills, in the valley, and not in the way it does for Jillian. People grow old quickly, too quickly. Why, my granny never had a powder puff,-Much less put polish on her nails."

  "Don't tell me any more," he said somewhat impatiently. "I've heard enough. Now why in the world would a smart girl like you want to go back there?"

  "For my own reasons," I said stubbornly, lifting my head and feeling the tears sting behind my eyes. I couldn't tell him how I wanted to lift up the name of Casteel and give it something it had never had before

  --respectability. For my granny I'd do this, for her.

  So I stood and he sat. For an eternally long time he sat with his elegant, well-manicured hands templed under his chin, saying nothing, and then he lowered those hands and drummed a mindless beat on the crisp white breakfast cloth, and on my nerves. "I've always admired honesty," he said at length, his blue eyes calm and unreadable. "Honesty is always the best gamble when you don't know whether or not a lie will serve you better. At least you get to state your case, and if you fail, you can keep your 'integrity.'" He flashed me a brief, amused smile. "About three years after your mother ran from here, the detective agency I hired to find her finally traced her to Winnerrow. They were told she lived outside of the city limits, and those who were born or those who died in the county didn't often make it to the city records. But many residents of Winnerrow remembered a pretty young girl who married Luke Casteel. My detective even tried to find her grave for a record of the day she died, but he never found a grave with her name on the headstone . . . but long ago I knew she was never coming back. She made good her word . ."

  Were they tears I saw in his eyes? Had he loved her in his own way?

  "Can you truthfully say she loved your father, Heaven? Please, think this question over well. It's important."

  How was I to know anything about what she felt, except what I'd always heard? Yes, so Granny had said, she had loved him--because he never showed her his cruel, hateful side! "Stop asking me about her!" I cried, harassed to the point of breaking. "All my life the blame for her death has been put on my head, and now I think you're trying to put something else there as well! Give me my chance, Tony Tatterton! be obedient. I'll study hard. I'll make you proud of me!"