He heard me and looked around, cool, unsurprised, probably indifferent. My heart thudded back to its normal rate.
“Hello, Molly,” he said.
“I just came to tell my father good-bye,” I told him hurriedly. “If I can catch a plane, I’ll leave tomorrow. That will be best for me, and for everyone else.”
He came toward me and stopped beside Simon’s stone. “You’re not staying for your sister’s play?”
“There’s no point in staying. I feel deserted by everyone. I’m surprised to see you at the plantation, Garrett.”
“I’m breaking a few rules. Only Orva knows I’m here. I’ve been staying in her downstairs rooms, while she’s upstairs next to you. I’ve been trying not to run into you or Evaline and give myself away.”
“Why?” I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he had been here this whole time.
“Unfinished business. A search I’ve been trying to make.”
“Couldn’t I have helped?”
“I didn’t want to involve you, but I have been keeping an eye on you. I’m glad you’re leaving, Molly. Whatever happens, you ought to be safely away.”
“Please explain.” I was no longer sure I wanted to be away—now that Garrett was nearby.
“I’d rather show you. Maybe you can help me, if you want to.”
I wanted to, and we started back through the woods together. He seemed carefully impersonal, and that wasn’t what I needed.
“You remember those voices of Honoria’s?” he asked as we neared the house. “The voice that was supposed to be Nathanial’s spoke of a notebook and used the word marble. This could only mean Edward’s temple? Somehow Daphne must have believed something was down there too. I’ve spent hours searching through those piles of marble—with no luck. Yet I’m sure the answer is there. Maybe we can search together and cover more ground. Maybe you’ll even bring me luck.”
He flashed me a look that was not impersonal, but then turned away quickly. I wanted to say, “Stop protecting me. Let me in!” But I couldn’t be sure how he felt.
We went around to the river side and stepped into that cool quiet place I had never wanted to see again. The fallen column had not been moved, nor had the lintel stone—except when it had been lifted from Daphne’s body.
Garrett waved a hand. “I’ve been through nearly every chink on that side and found nothing. But unless someone else found it first, I still feel that my father’s notes are hidden here somewhere.”
I looked around in dismay. There were hundreds of cracks and crannies where a thin notebook could be concealed.
“If Nathanial hid something here,” I said, “perhaps Honoria should try to reach him again. All this looks hopeless.”
“I don’t think there’s a hot line to another world. So let’s get busy.”
A voice spoke from beyond the remaining upright column. As though my words had summoned her, Honoria stepped out of the shadows.
“Nathanial never knew exactly where I hid his notebook, and neither did Daphne. Only that it was here somewhere. Daphne got her inspiration from one of Nathanial’s poems that she showed me. About something hidden in a temple. I took the notebook before he died and wrapped it up carefully and put it away. Of course I didn’t tell Daphne that I knew where it was or that I was the one who put it here all those years ago.”
Leave it to Honoria to choose an unlikely hiding place! But this was neither the spirited Honoria I’d first met, nor the meeker one who allowed her husband to lead her around. She wore no “costume” today, and indulged in no dramatic performance. Her jeans looked worn, and her cambric shirt was a simple unpatterned white.
Shocked into silence, Garrett and I watched as she moved among piles of discarded marble, kneeling finally to reach a crevice we might never have found. When she drew out her hand, she held something wrapped in waterproof cloth that might have been cut from an old rain slicker. She balanced it for a moment in both hands, her eyes closed as though she experienced some feeling that carried her back in time to the day when she had placed the packet here.
When she looked at us again, she smiled faintly, almost herself. “I’ve startled you both, haven’t I? This is a diary your father kept for a little while, Garrett. A record, really. I knew I must retrieve it now before the wrong person discovered it. There was only a remote chance of that happening, before the night we spoke with your father.”
She gestured toward scattered blocks of marble.
“Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you quickly what Nathanial wrote and why I took it and hid it. I don’t mind your being the ones to know. It’s been a heavy burden for me to carry. Even though I haven’t seen these lines for years, I remember every word, and all he told me besides.”
Garrett remained standing stiffly, as if on guard against some emotional blow, but I sat down on a chunk of marble, feeling its chill through my summer slacks. And I braced myself against whatever was about to be revealed.
Honoria went on as calmly as though she related events that had happened to someone else long ago. Porter Phelps, she told us, had once been a compulsive gambler; that was his secret vice, though only a few members of the family knew. He had taken—“borrowed”—large sums of money from the bank of which he was president. And he had lost all of it at the gaming tables. The time came when exposure and disgrace were certain if the money wasn’t replaced. In those days he hadn’t achieved the iron control that was now a part of his personality and made him the ruling member of the Mountfort clan.
“He loved me—and I was in love with Nathanial Amory.” Honoria spoke quietly, as though all shattering emotion lay in the past. “Porter’s wife had died and he urged me to marry him. Nathanial wasn’t free, and perhaps never would be. He had found the family thread he’d come here looking for, and was staying only because of me. But he had nothing to offer me, not even marriage, and Porter had everything. In those days I thought wealth and position mattered. I hadn’t learned then to listen to my guides. I found that out too late, after Nathanial was gone. It seemed best for me to give up Nathanial and marry Porter. When Porter felt sure of me, he threw himself on my mercy and told me that he had done something illegal. Discovery would have meant prison for him, and disgrace for the family. As much as he loved me, he could never marry me until he was free of this enormous debt. I still loved Nathanial, and in my shocked state I went to him and told him everything. That was my mistake. He wrote down every detail I gave him about Porter in these pages—so that he could hold something over Porter’s head if that became necessary. He didn’t want me to marry Porter, of course.”
Honoria paused, lost in the past, and Garrett spoke tensely. “Do go on, please.”
About that time, she told us, something had happened that she could never account for, and that she’d been afraid to think about. Money had been put into Porter’s hands—though he would never say where it came from. Not enough to pay back all he owed, but a considerable sum. Still being a gambler, he did what gamblers do. He went to New Orleans and played every cent of it at roulette. What happened was not what usually happens to the desperate. Honoria had gone with him, and she saw to it that he came home with his winnings, so that he was able to return all he had stolen before the loss was discovered.
After that, he never gambled again. Honoria changed him. Perhaps some awakening power came to her assistance, and for a time Porter forgot that she was a lovely little toy he had collected and wanted to possess. Though as the years passed and he became more secure in his own material power, he returned to being amused and tolerant in a superior way toward his wife’s “hobby.”
“At the time all this was happening,” Honoria went on, “Nathanial knew everything—through me. He was angry because I was turning to Porter, but at first he didn’t know what to do.”
She broke off, staring at me, and I found that I’d begun to tremble.
“
This is the terrible part,” she went on, “though I still don’t know the truth and neither did Nathanial. One of the twins had been kidnapped, and Nathanial began to suspect that the child had been sold to raise the amount that saved Porter and the family. This was a dangerous position to hold. I love Porter, but he’s the wrong man to falsely accuse of such a terrible crime. Nathanial knew too much, yet not enough, and I grew afraid for him. I also knew that Porter had nothing to do with Cecelia’s kidnapping. He may have been a gambler, but he would never do anything like that. I hid Nathanial’s notebook in this pile of marble, so that it wasn’t a threat to Porter. Then, before I had time to worry about what action Nathanial might take to prevent me from marrying Porter, he was dead. While I could bring myself to protect Nathanial from himself, I could not destroy his journal.”
A flood of emotion caught Honoria and she stopped being the cool narrator and turned to Nathanial’s son—as if for forgiveness she knew was impossible.
“I still must know what happened to my father,” Garrett said quietly.
“And that’s what I need to know too—or I did,” Honoria said.
I hardly listened now, however, because I had focused on one appalling event—my own kidnapping. If I had been taken in order to save Porter, who had been responsible? Had Honoria told us all the truth—about herself, and about Porter?
Honoria saw my expression and shook her head at me. “Don’t try to follow old trails, Molly. They don’t matter anymore. When you first came here, I wanted to know the truth about your kidnapping and Nathanial’s death, but I was foolish. After Nathanial mentioned the notebook, I couldn’t let you find it by chance and misread everything. The notebook is yours now, Garrett—for whatever good it will do you.”
“But how can we let this go?” I asked. “Daphne was searching for this when someone killed her. And that is now.”
Garrett supported me. “My father died because he knew too much and might have used it. So all this is alive and dangerous in the present, Honoria. We can’t let any of it go.”
At least I could experience one moment of relief. “Simon Mountfort had nothing to do with what happened. I can be thankful for that, at least.”
“He knew about Porter’s money problems,” Honoria warned. “He knew what Porter had done and he found it difficult to live with himself, but for Valerie’s sake, he couldn’t speak out. Porter was like an older brother to Valerie. Perhaps in his heart he felt that one crime leads to another. I don’t know.”
So that was the guilt my father had carried for so long.
“Death doesn’t exonerate, Molly,” Honoria said. “So just let it all alone. What do you intend to do, Garrett?”
He was silent for a few moments, and then spoke to her directly. “Whatever I do I’ll keep to myself. Molly is leaving tomorrow, so she’ll be safely out of whatever happens.”
“You sound as though you’re sure something is going to happen,” Honoria said.
“Right. You, of all people, should be able to sense that. When pressure builds, there has to be an explosion. And there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s building. I’m going back to Charleston now, since there’s something I can do there. Look after Molly, Honoria, until she’s on that plane.”
I didn’t want to be left in anyone’s charge, but Garrett went off in a rush, before either Honoria or I could say a word.
Honoria watched me and she saw more than I wanted to reveal. “So it’s like that—the way you feel about Garrett? At least that will settle Charles’s nonsense. Though I feel a bit sorry for him—being in love with twins. It’s a good thing you’re leaving, Molly.”
By now I’d begun to wonder if I really was. How could I possibly go away when so much hung in the balance, including Garrett’s own safety?
“I’ll leave,” I said. “But not until after the play tomorrow.”
“That’s not wise. Why should you stay, Molly?”
I couldn’t answer because I wasn’t sure myself. “Let’s get out of this place, Honoria. It gives me the creeps.”
“You go upstairs,” she told me. “I still have some thinking to do. And I know I must do it here—where I’m in touch. Then I’ll go back to Charleston.”
I left her, but I didn’t return to my room immediately. I wanted to find Orva, who would be somewhere around, busy with her household duties. Perhaps I could have lunch with her and we could really talk. She was still holding something back about my father, and it was time for her to tell me what it was.
As I climbed the stairs, I thought about Honoria. Not about the terrible implications of what she’d told us, but about her. When she evoked Nathanial’s “spirit” on the night when we’d found Daphne, she had spoken only what was already in her mind. All along she’d known about Nathanial’s notes and where they were hidden. No “message” had needed to come through to her from the outside. Could she also have known that Daphne was dead?
I couldn’t seriously suspect Honoria of any crime, but I wished I knew whether she fooled herself first of all, or whether the whole “sitting” had been staged.
16
My search for Orva didn’t succeed. I looked through several rooms, ending in the upstairs kitchen. There Evaline Landry was talking to the cook. When I asked for Orva, she looked displeased.
“I’d like to know where she is myself. She left a note saying that she was taking some time off—and simply vanished. I’ve tried to reach Katy at the library, but she has the day off too. So they’re undoubtedly together. Now I must find extra help somewhere, and it couldn’t be more inconvenient. So much needs attention in order to get ready for the wedding.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I won’t bother you, but as long as we’re together, you should know that I will probably leave Charleston right after the play.”
She came out of her domestic abstraction and focused on me. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Molly. What about Mountfort Hall? What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I need some time to think. You’ll hear from me soon. I promise.”
I thanked her for her hospitality and said good-bye, in case I didn’t see her again.
She looked very upset, but there was nothing I could say to reassure her. I really didn’t know.
I walked toward the stairs, feeling uneasy about anyone else “vanishing.” But at least Orva had left a note, and she probably was with her daughter.
As I climbed the stairs, I heard a sound from the upper floor that made me stop with my hand on the banister. That creaking rhythm could only be the rocking horse. I ran up the remaining steps and looked down the long hallway toward my room.
The horse was indeed rocking, but this time it had a rider. Katy Jackson sat sidesaddle, holding on to Applejack’s head, her feet crossed at the ankles, and a pensive look on her face as she kept the wooden horse moving. When she saw me, she slipped down from its back, laughing.
“Hello, Molly. I hoped you’d come up to your room. Applejack is a friend from my childhood, so I was renewing an old acquaintance.”
“Do you know where your mother is?” I asked a bit too abruptly.
“She’s moved in with me for now. She’s more upset than I’ve ever seen her, though she won’t tell me what’s worrying her. She needs a change and a rest, and I’m happy to have her with me. Molly, can we talk?”
“Of course. I’m glad to see you before I leave Charleston.”
She followed me into my room and we sat down. “When will that be?”
The air conditioner hummed while I considered her question. “I’m not exactly sure. I’d like to stay for the play, at least. I don’t want to disappoint Amelia by taking off too suddenly. Anyway, if Orva isn’t here, I don’t want to remain in this empty house.”
“That’s why I’ve come. My mother thinks you shouldn’t be here right now. Valerie is out here staying with Mrs. Landry
, and Amelia is alone in the South Battery house. That’s where we think you should go—so you can keep each other company. If you’ll pack up your things, I’ll drive you back to the city. I’ve taken the day off to be with my mother, since she’s so upset.”
I hated to think of Orva as anything but calm and reassuring.
Katy went on. “She’s been tied up with the Mountforts all her life, so she thinks of them as though they were her family. But they’re not, and I want her away. Daphne’s death has hit her pretty hard, as it has me too. She was a good friend.”
“There’s something I wanted to talk to Orva about, Katy. Has she said anything about an earring Daphne was holding when she died? When the policeman held it up, Valerie screamed, and I wonder if your mother knows why.”
Katy seemed startled. “She hasn’t said anything about that. But then, she hasn’t talked much about what happened. Was it a lotus earring?”
“With a silver setting—yes. I understand you found it when you were little girls and brought it to her.”
“That’s right. It was a pretty thing, and Daphne was my friend, so I gave it to her. And I didn’t think anything more about it until all these years later.”
“You found it tangled in some fishing line that washed up on the riverbank?”
She nodded absently. “When Daphne brought it out again recently, she asked if I remembered anything more about finding it. But I didn’t know anything else, so I couldn’t help her.”
Woman Without a Past Page 25
