Someone had left a tray beside my bed. Since I had nearly two hours left to eat and dress, I took my time. Sandwiches had been wrapped in wax paper, and a covered slice of apple pie tempted me. Even a small percolator could be plugged in to give me hot coffee. All Orva’s doing, I felt sure, but I was wrong.
A note lay on the tray. It was the first time I’d seen Honoria’s distinctive handwriting—almost like calligraphy with its decorative flourishes. She wanted me to rest as long as I could. Then I was to eat and come downstairs—at least by seven-thirty. Her words concluded: “This may be the most important night Mountfort Hall will ever see. All the answers are to be made clear. I feel sure of this. Honoria.”
A tall order, considering the turbulent years these walls had known, yet a new sense of anticipation grew in me. I felt refreshed and even hungry. After I plugged in the percolator, I showered, then I came back out and sat down to eat.
Afterward I put on an azalea-pink silk shirt that I could wear with white pants. No bandeau, though I clipped on the lotus earrings, feeling a little defiant. Though I wasn’t sure of whom or what.
By seven-thirty I’d put on my lipstick and a touch of blush, since my skin was too pale. The reflection I saw in the mirror was Molly Hunt, and not Amelia, and that was the way it should be. I wanted to hold tight to my own identity tonight, whatever might happen.
When I reached the room that had been Nathanial’s, I looked first of all for Garrett. He stood away from the others, leaning against a desk that must have been used by his father. He met my look without smiling, and I knew he saw the earrings. For a moment his eyes held mine and I sensed the strength he offered me. Strength and something more. I smiled at him warmly, accepting. Something had begun, and I felt almost happy.
Honoria had dressed for her role—of seeress? She wore a white silk robe with flowing Japanese sleeves and a wide sash tied with a flat bow at the back. In this kimono-like garment, she looked not so much young as ageless. A tiny enchantress.
Beside Garrett and myself, only Amelia, Charles, and Orva were present. I suspected that Orva was here only because Honoria had insisted. Aware of her fear of Honoria’s “meddling,” I went to sit beside her.
“Porter should be here soon,” Honoria told us. “He may be late leaving the city, but he will come. Of course, he’s argued against what I want to do, but higher voices have advised me, and nothing can stop us now. Evaline is coming, and of course Daphne, though I don’t know about Valerie.”
“Daphne told me this afternoon that she wouldn’t be here,” I said to Honoria. “She was pretty convincing about not wanting to come.”
“And Evaline doesn’t feel that Mama should join us,” Amelia said. “Though I don’t know how she can be kept away if she decides this is what she wants to do.”
Evaline had managed to convince her not to come, as she explained when she arrived a few minutes later.
“I don’t think Valerie should be here, Honoria. She was already in an excitable state, so I gave her a tranquilizer and she’s sound asleep.”
Charles’s mother looked no more relaxed than the rest of us. She wore a violet frock of soft chiffon that gave her a look less severe than usual. Nevertheless I had the strong feeling, as she sat down next to her son, that she greatly disapproved of whatever Honoria intended here tonight.
We all watched as Honoria performed a ritual of lighting tall white candles around the room.
“We need white for protection,” she informed us. “Though these will burn with a yellow flame that is spiritual, and that is also protective.”
Charles’s eyes followed me as I went to sit beside Orva, and I could only hope that Valerie hadn’t told him of her foolish plan. Amelia still looked innocently happy, her hand confidingly in his. Watching my sister, my spirits sank. I could see no happy future for her if she married Charles. My mother was right. Amelia was emotionally fragile. Could Amelia end up like Valerie? Is that what my mother feared?
At the last minute, just before Honoria was ready to start, Porter appeared in the doorway, bristling with indignation. Before he could burst into words, however, Honoria spoke to him sweetly, her tone somehow compelling.
“Please join us, dear. We’re about to begin.”
Whatever his intended objections, his wife’s voice seemed to quiet him almost hypnotically. He sat near the door, containing himself, but exuding disapproval of whatever was about to take place. Daphne had been wrong—Porter would stop nothing.
I noticed Miss Kitty stood at the threshold of the room, but did not enter. Did she know something we didn’t?
Call it séance or sitting or whatever, this entire scene had trappings I didn’t care for. A round teakwood table had been placed in the center of the room, and at a gesture from Honoria, Garrett sat in a chair placed opposite her at the table. His own tension was clearly high, and Honoria reached to place a hand on his arm.
“Let everything go. Let your anxious feelings float away from you. Free your mind of doubt. We need to be empty—free of disbelief before the spirit we seek can come in.”
Again her voice, her words, seemed to have an hypnotic effect. Garrett relaxed visibly, and perhaps the rest of us were affected to some extent, so we could let anxiety float away.
A slight breeze from open windows caused the candle flames to dip, and shadows moved around us with a seeming life of their own. Reflections stirred in an inverted crystal bowl that had been placed in the center of the table. A bowl for flowers in another life? Cut-glass facets broke flickering light into rainbows that were never quiet.
I tried to hold on to some last bit of reality. I didn’t want to lose myself so deeply in Honoria’s spells that I could no longer judge objectively.
Across the table Garrett and Honoria faced each other, and both stared into the shimmering rainbows of light. I stole a look around the room at the others. Porter poker-faced, Evaline Landry remote and probably wishing herself somewhere else, Amelia holding Charles’s hand tightly, and Charles with a look on his face that I recognized—amused and superior to all this nonsense. Only Orva, beside me, kept her fingers tensely interlaced in her lap. I wished that Katy had been invited. Instinctively, I knew her presence in this room would make me feel more comfortable.
“We must be very quiet now,” Honoria said. “It takes a great energy for an entity to come through—energy that can weaken quickly in the face of adverse emanations. Whatever happens, we mustn’t interrupt. Only Garrett will ask the questions.”
She seemed calm and accepting—ready for whatever might occur. “Before we begin, we must ask for help,” she added.
Her few, almost inaudible words were of prayer. Then she placed her hands palms down on the table and stared intently into the pulsating lights in the crystal bowl. It seemed a magical living sphere now, its humble origin forgotten. Softly she began to speak, and white light seemed to radiate from her silk robe.
“Will you speak to us, Nathanial? Your son is here and he has questions to ask of you. Please come in.”
Someone gasped at the word “son.” Probably Porter. Orva reached her hand for mine, steadying, as though she knew and reassured me. Suddenly a voice that was not Honoria’s normal tone spoke in the room. A voice I had heard before in this house, when it had come through uninvited.
What are the questions?
The channel had been taken over. Honoria was only a vessel now, and it was up to Garrett to carry on. He spoke simply and directly.
“Are you Nathanial Amory?”
There was no answer. Probably no energy would be wasted on what might be considered obvious. Garrett spoke again.
“We want to know how you died.”
Drowned. Only one word.
“Was it an accident?”
No.
“Who caused your death?”
A long silence followed, and Garrett repeated the
question. The voice spoke again, strong enough to be heard, but sounding as though the effort to use human vocal cords was something long forgotten.
Notebook: Find. Notebook.
“Find where?”
Again the long hesitation, the obvious effort. Hidden. Marble.
“Please tell us what you mean.”
Stolen. Money stolen. The voice was fading, as though its power to speak was lessening.
“Did the person who caused your boat to sink steal something?”
I had the feeling that the voice was struggling to answer, but suddenly Honoria gasped as though her breath had been snatched away. She moved convulsively and her face contorted. Something—something other than Nathanial—was trying to force its way into the channel.
Honoria sighed deeply, as though she surrendered, and a new voice shrilled through her—strong and terrified. Terrifying!
No no no! Help me, help me!
Garrett recovered first. “Who are you? How can we help you?”
Too late! The temple has fallen.
An empty silence followed. The channel was clear, and no further words came through from any source.
Honoria stirred and spoke in her own trembling voice. While she had taken no active part, she knew all that had happened. “We must go at once! Help me blow out the candles, Orva. The only temple I know of is the marble one old Edward Mountfort built in the basement. We must go down there right away.”
Porter tried to stop her. “Don’t, Honoria! You’re carrying this too far.” He was white and sweat rolled down his face.
She brushed past him blindly on her way to the door, and he let her go. Amelia had begun to shiver, and looked as though she might faint. Evaline Landry was very pale, but she put an arm about her as she spoke to her son.
“Go with them, Charles. I’ll take Amelia back to the cottage.”
For a moment I thought Charles would object, but Amelia beseeched him with her eyes, and he let her go off with his mother.
Garrett caught my hand and held it tightly, pulling me into the hallway after Honoria. It was as though he had a right to draw me with him, and I held on to him gratefully. Orva followed us, as Porter stumbled almost blindly toward the stairs.
Miss Kitty waited for us at the top of the stairs, and again I had the eerie feeling that she’d known something all along and had even tried to warn us of what might happen. Now, when she saw that Honoria meant to go downstairs, she neither howled nor mewed, but flew ahead, pausing now and then to look back and make sure we followed her.
At the basement level, the stairs ended in the section farthest from Edward Mountfort’s whimsical “temple.” Miss Kitty didn’t hesitate. She bounded ahead along the central hallway, still leading the way. Someone turned on lights, so that white columns of marble sprang to life ahead of us. But now the configuration had changed from what I had seen with Orva that afternoon.
One column at the top of the wide marble steps had fallen, dropping the gray lintel stone it had helped to support. Miss Kitty sprang onto the fallen lintel, and every hair on her body bristled. Someone lay beneath the heavy stone and I saw that blood had stained the marble. An arm flung to one side displayed a woman’s hand, wearing a distinctive jade ring. I recognized the ring—it belonged to Daphne Phelps.
For a moment we all stood motionless, stunned with horror. Then Garrett knelt beside the marble beam, and his hand shook as he touched Daphne’s wrist. “I think she’s been dead for a long while,” he said grimly. “Hours, perhaps. The crash down here of marble falling must have rocked the house. Didn’t anyone hear?”
Apparently no one had. Then I remembered being shaken awake by what I’d thought was a dream. Later I was able to pinpoint the time for the police, and it was an hour when everyone else, except Daphne and me, seemed to have been out of the house.
Porter’s voice shook as he spoke. “Send for an ambulance, someone!” He seemed incapable of moving, riveted to the spot by disbelief and a numbing grief.
Orva ran off to telephone. Garrett appeared to have himself sternly in hand, while Charles looked sick and close to collapse. Full realization would strike us all later, but perhaps Honoria was closer to this state because of her channeling, and she began to cry softly.
“That doesn’t help,” her husband told her—the first time I’d ever heard him sound impatient toward Honoria.
I sat down shakily on a marble step, unable to accept the fact of death. How could Daphne be so suddenly gone? Had she leaned against that column—jarred it into falling? I felt wet tears on my cheeks.
The remaining column towered above me like a threat, and I got up to move away from that menacing weight. An appalling thought had come to me. What if someone had deliberately pushed the column over when Daphne had stood beneath the lintel?
Honoria stopped crying and spoke the words I’d been thinking. “Someone shoved that column over! That’s what Daphne was trying to tell me!”
“What do you mean?” Porter asked sharply.
“The channel was open because of Nathanial, and Daphne took it. She spoke through me, calling for help, although it was already too late and she knew it.”
Porter sat down on another stone, well away from the lintel, as if his legs would no longer hold him. He stared at his wife as though everything about her suddenly sickened him.
Under her white silk garment Honoria wore jeans and a shirt. She removed the gown and spread it sorrowfully over Daphne’s body. At once a streak of scarlet stained the white cloth. But when she turned to her husband, Porter drew away as if he couldn’t bear her touch.
“What you’ve done tonight is unforgivable,” he said, seeming to blame his wife for what had happened to his daughter.
Honoria answered him quietly. “I am not responsible for Daphne’s death, my dear. It was necessary to contact Nathanial, if I hadn’t, Daphne might not have been discovered for days. She was a newer, stronger, more frightened spirit, so she could take the power from Nathanial and reach us. I suspect that she’s here now, watching us.”
Porter covered his face with his hands, but when Honoria touched his arm, he flinched and drew away.
Unexpectedly, it was Charles who took a practical approach. “The police will ask questions. Maybe it’s just as well if we don’t confuse them with side roads. They’d never understand that Daphne led us down here.”
Porter agreed at once. “Nobody should talk about that rigmarole upstairs. It has nothing to do with Daphne’s accident. Does anyone know why she was down here?”
I surprised myself by answering, since I’d intended to keep still. “Nathanial said something was hidden in a marble place.”
No one picked up my words, and when we heard sirens, Garrett went outside to bring in the police officers. The ambulance rescue squad arrived soon after, though “rescue” was no longer a word that applied.
I stood back and watched, a growing sense of sorrow for Daphne filling me. She’d been kind and sensible last night, when I’d needed her. Irrelevantly, I remembered that I’d promised to sign books for her—and never had. Little things . . .
Honoria’s agile mind was already concocting a story. She explained to the police that we had no idea why Daphne had been down here. It was only by chance that she’d been found, when Honoria had come in from an errand, through this river side. I offered my memory of a jarring dream some hours earlier, when everyone else was apparently away from the house. The others were silent.
The sirens and lights brought Evaline, who arrived shortly after the police, with Valerie on her heels, having refused to be left behind. My mother’s state was one of high excitement. At least I was glad that Amelia hadn’t come with them.
Evaline registered the scene quietly, with no reaction that I could read. However she might feel, she would be wise enough to offer no opinions to the police.
There w
as, however, no way of stopping Valerie. “Daphne’s been asking for trouble!” she cried to anyone who would listen. “She’s been inviting something awful to happen to her!” Valerie clutched at her gown and began to moan.
Both police officers looked interested, but Valerie was obviously in no condition to be questioned at the moment. Porter put an arm around her in an effort to soothe her. As we all watched, one officer knelt to take a small object from Daphne’s fingers. He held up a single lotus earring set in silver.
Valerie stared at the object in his hand for a frozen instant. Then she began to scream hysterically. The sound crashed from stone floor to marble columns deafeningly, until Porter took her by the shoulders and shook her into silence. Wild hysteria subsided, and her words came in a whisper.
“Simon! I know it was Simon. He hated us all so much. And now he’s come back to do this.”
Porter pushed Valerie into a chair that Orva had brought, and I was close enough to hear what he said to her.
“Poor Simon is dead. Do you really want him brought into this? The past has nothing to do with what’s happened here, so pull yourself together.”
Valerie quieted, her hands clasped tensely in her lap. Evaline Landry bent over her, murmuring something.
“Amelia needs us now,” Evaline said so we all could hear. “Let’s go back to the cottage.”
Valerie rose obediently and went out the door with Evaline. Not even the police tried to stop them. Questioning would come later.
15
Everyone had gone off except Honoria, Garrett, and me. The medical examiners had come, and Daphne’s body had been removed sometime before. Porter had gone to Evaline’s to pick up Valerie and Amelia and return to Charleston—something Honoria herself had suggested. During this time of confusion, Orva managed to disappear and no one inquired after her.
Woman Without a Past Page 23
