Devil May Care (6 page)

His eyes were bright with malice. After a moment of stunned surprise Ellie began to laugh.

"Ted, you devil. How did you know? Henry is itching." "Ah," said Ted.

"But you know she can't do that," Ellie argued.

"You know that, Ted. It's impossible."

" There are more things in heaven and earth Ted said dreamily.

"Anyway, what was so terrible about what he said?

I asked him, but he just kept muttering '.' "

"About Kilmer?" Ted began to laugh. "Oh, God, that was funny. I knew Kate was trying to loosen his lip by plying him with drink, but I never hoped for anything that rich. Don't you remember seeing those bumper stickers all over the Washington area a few years back--the ones that said ' like Billy' and ' like Sonny'? The two were competing for the quarterback spot and the Washington fans thought it was a more important issue than Vietnam. People used to have fistfights in bars about who ought to be Number One. You couldn't support one without despising DEVIL-MAY-CARE 43

the other, and Sonny's fans were--and are--more fa- naticaj than most." "Oh," Ellie said. "Henry always did get names mixed up. He couldn't have said anything worse, could he?"

"Oh, yes," Ted said, still choking with amusement.

"He could have said a kind word about George Alien.

Kate never forgave Alien for firing Jurgensen. If Henry had praised Alien he'd probably have leprosy today instead of shingles."

"I never heard of anything so silly," Ellie exclaimed.

"Kate is pretty silly," Ted said. "That's why I love her. Now your Henry is silly in an entirely different way. He is not at all lovable."

"Are you suggesting I shouldn't marry him?"

"I never make such suggestions. Giving other people advice is one of the most irritating and useless activities known to man."

They sat in silence for a while, since Ellie could think of nothing to say in answer to that indisputable statement. It was a comfortable silence; the rain pattered softly against the windows, and growing dusk made the room a bright oasis of warmth and comfort against the dark. Finally Ted, whose eyes had been wandering around the room, reached out a hand and picked up an object from the littered table.

"What's this? Something new?"

"I don't know how you can tell, there's so much stuff in this room. That's a present I brought Kate.

In all the furor yesterday I completely forgot to give it to her. I found it this morning when I finished unpacking."

Ted turned the slim volume over in his delicate long-fingered hands. It was bound in limp leather, which had become speckled with spots of mildew and damp. The rubbed gilt lettering had faded, but was still readable.

44 Elizabeth Peters

"Vanished Grace: legends of Burton, Virginia, the Homes of Gentlefolk who are no more," he read aloud. "Where did you find this, Ellie? It's quite a rare book."

"Is it? I hate to tell you how little I paid for it. I found it in a secondhand bookstore in Georgetown, and thought Kate might get a kick out of it."

Ted opened the book and began turning the pages.

"Have you read any of it, Ellie?"

"I glanced at it, but it looked pretty dull. I did recognize a couple of the names."

"Oh, yes, some of the old gentlefolk are still in residence.

... " Ted continued to turn pages. His thin, sensitive lips twisted. "And they are just as pompous and hypocritical as their ancestors were. You were right about the book being dull, Ellie. The usual collection of sanctimonious lies. If the truth about these so-called ladies and gentlemen were ever printed, it would make Peyton Place read like Elsie Dinsmore."

"That's probably true about most towns. I thought you were one of the gentry yourself, Ted. You don't mean to say your ancestors were among the pompous hypocrites?"

"The worst of the lot, my dear. It's just as well the line is dying out--as it will with me. The last degenerate descendant of a decadent breed ... "

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. Ted glanced at her; his smile broadened and his face lost its bitterness.

"I do adore alliteration," he said. "And self-pity.

Excuse me, Ellie."

"Rain is depressing," Ellie said. "But you usually aren't ... Then you think I should just forget about my ghost?"

"I'd be tempted to encourage his visits." Ted sat in silence for a few moments, his long fingers drumming lightly on the cover of the book. "I wonder ... "

He didn't finish the sentence, but Ellie was sure she could follow his train of thought.

DEVIL-MAY-CARE 45

"Oh, no, you don't. No seances, Ted. I don't mind my young man, but I don't intend to encourage him."

"If you say so."

"No, I mean it," Ellie insisted. "I know that look, Ted. No tricks."

"Now, sweetheart, would I play tricks on you?"

Ted stood up. "Don't move, I'll let myself out. You have a phone right by your bed. Call if anything bothers you."

"Nothing will."

Yet after he had left, Ellie was aware of a faint uneasiness. Not that she was afraid, nothing like that. She was just not looking forward to going upstairs.

She put it off longer than she might otherwise have done, sitting up to watch an old Humphrey Bogart movie. The rain stopped during the evening; when she looked out the parlor windows, the sky was bright with stars. It was almost two thirty before she started up the stairs, accompanied by the usual procession of animals. In spite of her resolve, her steps slowed as she neared the top, and her heart was beating faster than usual.

Nothing happened. Not a sound, not a flicker of movement. Ellie stood on the landing, looking up and down the dimly lighted corridor, and wondering whether the empty sensation she felt was one of relief or disappointment.

She had scarcely slid down into the bed, wriggling her body between cats, when she heard the sound.

She knew the normal sounds of the house--if Roger's rustling could be called normal. This sound came from outside. She had opened the windows, to enjoy the sweet, rain-washed air, so she heard it distinctly.

It was a soft, calling sound, like a human voice raised in wordless song. As Ellie lay staring open-eyed into the darkness, it gradually grew louder--or came nearer.

She got out of bed, in a sudden abrupt movement, 48 Elizabeth Peters because she knew if she didn't move immediately she would simply pull the sheet up over her head and lie there shivering. Her plunging feet dislodged Jenny, the Siamese, who swore at her in a raucous voice.

Ellie ignored the complaint. She went straight to the window.

The ruffled muslin curtains were swaying gently in the breeze. It was a beautiful night. The sound still rose and fell, an inexplicable music.

Ellie unhooked the screen and leaned out as far as she could. In so doing she extended the area of her vision; from her second-floor room she could see across the entire western lawn. At first there was nothing visible that should not have been there--the twin magnolias, the shapes of shrubbery and flower beds, the sweep of the graveled drive. Could it possibly be a night bird that was emitting that strange, beautiful song? None of the native Virginia birds made such noises. She thought of nightingales, which she had never heard, and wondered whether some imported rarity could have escaped its owner, to serenade the night ... Then she saw it--or rather, she saw them.. There were two figures, indistinct in the starlight, but unquestionably dual. They came out of the trees beyond the lawn, moving quickly, but with uncanny smoothness, as if they were sliding or skating instead of walking.

One of them was a woman. Colors were bleached by night, shapes were uncertain, but the long, full skirts were unmistakable. They belled out, at the waist, as if they were supported by hoops or panniers.

The upper part of the body was muffled in a shawllike garment, and the hair caught the starlight with a faint, fair gleam. It might have been silver, or golden blond, or powdered white.

With the woman was another ... person. The billowing skirts concealed much of his body, but Ellie had a fleeting impression of shoulder-length hair, a DEVIL-MAY-CARE 47

dark coat, a flash of white at the throat, before the two skimming, graceful figures were swallowed up by the trees again.

The sound had stopped too. Ellie wasn't sure precisely when it had stopped; she had been so startled by the vision that her ears had stopped functioning for a second or two.

They were functioning now. She heard herself gulp, felt the painful weight in her throat as she swallowed. The sound of her own heartbeat drowned out the gentle drip of water from the eaves.

For some time she stayed where she was, searching the darkness with eyes that began to ache with strain. Finally she drew back, and refastened the screen. Her first, instinctive need was for light. She found the switch and stood blinking in the flare of brilliance. When her eyes had adjusted she stared bewildered at the animals.

They were all awake. Two of the cats had already curled themselves up, preparatory to sleeping again; only slitted eyes betrayed their curiosity about her unorthodox behavior, and their annoyance at being disturbed. Franklin was sitting up, his long silky fur puddling around his haunches, his melting dark eyes fixed on her. He too was curious, but not alarmed.

The concentrated regard of all the eyes made Ellie feel self-conscious, like a child who has committed some gaucherie in front of grownups.

"A lot of help you are," Ellie said, addressing the group in general.

Franklin yawned. He lay down.

Ellie got into bed. Her feet were cold, although the night was not. She thrust them down into the warm areas produced by huddled cats, and looked at the telephone.

It was a terrible hour to call anyone. But Ted had said ... Ellie reached for the phone.

It took him some time to answer, and when he did

48 Elizabeth Peters his voice was fuzzy with sleep, but he brushed Ellie's incoherent apologies aside.

"I know you wouldn't call unless you had a good reason. What happened? Your handsome ghost again?" "No," Ellie said, and then, surprised: "Maybe. He might have been the second figure; ir was the same genera! shape ... "

She found it surprisingly difficult to produce any specific detail in her description, except for the shape of the woman's skirts.

"It was pretty dark," Ted said. He sounded thoroughly wide awake now. "I don't suppose you could make out details. I'm afraid I can't hand you a neat rationalized explanation, Ellie. There were no costume parties in the area tonight. I'd know about them even if I weren't invited--"

Ellie's nerves were keyed up; she found herself unreasonably annoyed at this touch of self-pity.

"That's beside the point," she said sharply. "This place is off the beaten track; no one would take a shortcut through Kate's shrubbery. Whoever it was came here deliberately. And what about the music, Ted?"

"That's unaccountable," Ted admitted. "Unless it was a bird--"

Ellie's snort of disgust made him drop this feeble suggestion.

"I'll get dressed and come over," Ted said.

"No, that's not necessary. I'm sorry I disturbed you, Ted. I--wait a minute."

"What's wrong now?"

"Wait a minute," Ellie repeated. She put the telephone down very gently; her eyes were fixed on Franklin, who had suddenly risen to his feet. His upper lip was drawn back. He was growling faintly, and his head had turned toward the open window.

Ellie ran across the room. This time she did not unhook the screen. She didn't have to. The figure DEVTLMAY-CARE 49

stood out with a queer distinctiveness against the dark background of trees. It was the figure of a tall man wearing a black suit of peculiar cut. The trousers were unusually narrow, and the coat was so tight that he resembled a stick figure. As Ellie stared she heard Franklin's growl rise to a queer keening note. Then the figure raised one black-clad arm in a gesture of menace. For a second Ellie fancied that she saw its face--a narrow, fanatical face with knife- narrow lips framed by a black beard. The eyes blazed under heavy brows.

She ran to the telephone. Ted didn't let her say more than a few words.

"I'll be right over," he said, and hung up.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed holding the telephone.

The echoing silence at her ear made her feel absurdly alone, as if Ted's voice had been a lifeline from which she was now cut off. Then the dial tone began. With a shiver she hung up the telephone and forced herself to stand.

Franklin had stopped growling, but he was still looking at the window. As Ellie passed the dog she put one hand on his soft head and felt him start, in a disconcertingly human fashion. She sidled up to the window.

The starlit lawn was deserted.

How long she stood there she did not know, but it could only have been a few minutes before Ted appeared.

His house was only a quarter of a mile away by the wood path he and Kate habitually used. She jumped nervously when he appeared from among the trees, but there was no mistaking Ted, even in the faint light. His eyes went at once to her window.

"Ellie?"

"I'm here. He's gone ... "

"So I see." Ted switched on the flashlight he was carrying. "I had hoped to catch your intruder by surprise, but there's no point in stumbling around in SO Elizabeth Peters the dark any longer. I'll have a look around and then come in. Stay where you are." "I will," Ellie said.

She watched the light until it vanished around the corner of the house. A few minutes later she heard Ted's voice from the hall.

"It's me."

"I'm coming down," she called, and did so.

Franklin and two of the cats went with her; the dog seemed completely relaxed now, and delighted at this activity at an hour that was usually pretty dull. He flung himself on Ted, yapping shrilly.

Ted was dressed casually but impeccably, as usual, from his Givenchy sport shirt to his Gucci loafers.

The latter were muddy and leaf-stained. Standing by the open front door, Ted stepped out of his shoes and grinned cheerfully at Ellie.

"How about a cup of coffee?" "Ted, you're a hero," Eilie said. "You can have coffee or anything else your little heart desires. Bless you for coming."