Dragonwyck (16 page)

She pulled out the stool and seating herself played 'I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls.' She played it faster than usual, and the old instrument so long untouched gave forth sounds that were reedy and jangling, but the effect was gay.

She played it through twice before she lowered the cover, pushed the stool back, and went up to her room. She took off her dress and slipping into the frilled India muslin négligée, curled up in the armchair before the fire. On the inlaid walnut table beside her were several books, and the Bible her father had given her lay squat and heavy in the middle of them. She looked at it with a stirring of conscience. How long had it been since she had read the required daily stint? There were no religious observances at Dragonwyck except that on some Sundays, when it was convenient, the family attended the village church where they sat on one side near the pulpit under a carved-oak canopy and listened to very dull sermons from Dominie Huysmann.

It was weeks, thought Miranda guiltily, since she had even remembered God or salvation. She pulled the Bible onto her lap and riffled the pages. On impulse she shut her eyes and put her finger at random on a verse. It fell in the twentieth chapter of Job.

'He hath swallowed down riches, and he shall vomit them up again: God shall cast them out of his belly.'

Miranda made a disgusted face. How coarse and uninspiring! The Bible no longer opened windows into an enchanted world. It had become tiresome. She let the cover fall to with a plop. She put the Bible back on the table and took up her 'Twice-Told Tales.' On the fly leaf she had pasted Nicholas' note, which she now re-read for the hundredth time. She had read all the stories too, but they brought her closer to Nicholas because he had read them and once remarked that the author had talent and might some day be famous.

She began again on 'The Minister's Black Veil.'

THE RIVER FROZE EARLY THAT YEAR AND WITH the cessation of the regular boats, guests too ceased coming to Dragonwyck. That Nicholas had used the distraction of entertaining this continual horde of guests for a purpose of his own, Miranda had no idea, but now in November with no one but the Van Ryns and herself in residence she was suddenly much happier.

Nicholas was aware of her again. It was as though he had held her in abeyance during those summer weeks, but he had not apparently abandoned all interest in her as she had sometimes feared. Though no overt word was spoken, she felt that their relationship again approached that of the night of the Fourth-of-July Ball.

On a Tuesday morning in the middle of November, Magda rapped on Miranda's door. 'Mevrouw wishes to see you in her room,' snapped the maid. At once,' she added harshly, as the girl started for the bureau to smooth her hair and shake out the immaculate ruffles at the wrists of her blue morning gown.

Somewhat troubled, Miranda followed the maid down the hall. She had never before been summoned to Johanna's bedroom.

The Lady of the Manor lay in the ancestral Van Ryn bed. Like the Rent-Chair it had come from Holland with the first patroon, and on its headboard were carved the three leopards amidst an elaborate design of bosses and leaves. Anyone else would have been dwarfed by the four colossal oaken posts and the scarlet-and-gold tester which they supported, but Johanna's unrestrained flesh overflowed most of the mattress.

This room was gracefully proportioned and very large, but it gave no impression of space, for it was cluttered with a heterogeneous collection of shabby furniture brought by Johanna from Albany. And despite the maids' constant efforts all the little tables were littered with half-eaten boxes of bon-bons, torn clippings from magazines, and crumbs of colored wax. Johanna had lately taken an indolent interest in making the wax flower pieces which had become so fashionable. Though outside the front windows dazzling sunshine sparkled on the partly frozen river, the brown plush portières were still tight-drawn, and the room had a sour airless smell.

If this were only my room, thought Miranda, who had examined everything in one quick glance, how beautiful I would make it. It could be the loveliest room in the house.

Johanna was finishing her breakfast. She wiped her mouth and pettishly pushed an empty cup toward Magda. Tell Annetje to have more cream whipped into my morning chocolate. This was thin as dish water. Take my tray away.'

The maid silently complied.

Johanna hoisted herself up on the frilled pillows and acknowledged the girl's presence with a discontented sigh. 'Oh, good morning. I wanted to talk to you.'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Miranda anxiously. 'Is anything wrong?'

Johanna's expression of vague peevishness hardened as she surveyed the girl. Against the vivid blue of Miranda's dress the carefully arranged ringlets shone brightly gold. Johanna's resentful gaze lingered on the tiny waist, which Miranda's new stays pinched down to eighteen inches.

'Such tight lacing can't be good for you,' she said sharply. 'It's not suitable to your station. Nor is the way you wear your hair. It should be confined neatly in a net.'

A slow wave of rose washed up to the fluffy curls on Miranda's forehead. 'I'm sorry ma'am,' she said with difficulty. 'Is that—is that what you wanted to speak to me about?'

'No. I'm not satisfied with Katrine's progress. You don't pay enough attention to the child.'

'I try to, ma'am,' returned the girl unhappily.

'Well, I want you to take her into Hudson today. She has a whitlow on her finger. Let Doctor Hamilton on Diamond Street treat it.'

Miranda was bitterly disappointed. She had been looking forward to this day. Two nights ago at dinner, Nicholas had said suddenly, 'Miranda, do you skate?'

'Oh, yes, indeed I love it,' she had answered, thinking of happy winter outings on Dumpling Pond at home.

He had nodded, his brilliant eyes on her eager face. "The creek behind Bronk Island is well frozen. On Tuesday if the weather holds we'll cross the river and skate.'

This was Tuesday, and the weather had held clear and sharp in spite of bright sunshine. There would have been the joy of exercise; her muscles often rebelled against the ladylike inactivity which was now expected of her. And then she would have been alone with Nicholas.

'I don't think it's a whitlow, ma'am,' she protested. 'Trine had a splinter that I took out; you can hardly see the place now.'

Johanna pursed her mouth. 'Magda says it is a whitlow. Besides, the child must go to the cobbler's on Union Street and have her Sunday boots mended, and here's a list of things which you may get for me in the town.' She held out a scrawled piece of paper. 'You will go at once.'

'And where is Miranda to go at once?'

Both women jumped. Nicholas stood in the doorway, on his mouth an inquiring smile. He ignored Miranda, fixing his gaze on his wife.

Johanna's pasty face disintegrated into shapelessness. She moistened her lips.

'You—you startled me, Nicholas. You so seldom come in here—'

He inclined his head, and continued to wait for his answer. Johanna with a nervous motion pulled her bed jacket tight across her great breasts, straightened her crumpled nightcap.

'Miranda must take Katrine to Hudson today. The child needs a doctor,' she said at last.

His eyebrows arched. 'Could a doctor not come here, as usual?'

'It would take too long; besides, there are other commissions in Hudson.' She added on a defiant note: 'I ordered the carriage. It's waiting now.'

Nicholas inclined his head again. 'I see. The trip to Hudson is very important. Miranda and Katrine must certainly go. It changes my plans a trifle, but no matter. I've been meaning to talk with the county sheriff for some time. Your wishes are always paramount with me, my dear, as you know.'

Johanna drew a labored breath. 'What do you mean?'

'Why, that I shall of course accompany them to Hudson,' said Nicholas gently. 'They could hardly get back before nightfall, and with the temper of the farmers what it is, the roads are unsafe. The Livingston coach was waylaid last week.'

Miranda could not suppress a delighted glance at Nicholas. But he still ignored her, his unwinking gaze on Johanna's face, over which now passed an expression of helpless bewilderment, and something else. Can it be that she's frightened? thought Miranda in amazement. Nicholas was always so courteous, just as he had been now. And it was quite true that he usually did exactly as Johanna wished, especially in these last months. What a fool she is! thought the girl impatiently, and forgot Johanna, whose wishes were negligible now that Nicholas had taken hold of the situation.

That November day in Hudson was to be one of those vivid days which come seldom and unannounced, when every slightest incident is gilded with emotion. Of the dark undercurrents beneath that glowing day, she had no conception then, nor for many years.

It was enough that from the moment Nicholas seated himself beside her in the closed barouche, she should feel for the first time with him at ease—excited, adventurous, and beautiful. She wore the green silk, into which she had sewn a fresh ruching of cream lace. Over this, for warmth, went a wadded fawn-colored pelisse, and her gloves and reticule were lemon yellow. Though she had had few occasions to wear it she knew how becoming the green bonnet was with its satin ribbons and ostrich plumes. Her handkerchief was perfumed with heliotrope, and the seductive yet delicate scent added to her sense of confidence.

For the first mile, as the two cream horses drew them smoothly through the village, then slowed down for the icy puddles and ruts on the river road, Nicholas said little. But she felt him looking at her, felt the electric atmosphere within the warmed carriage, and was content. Katrine sat on the seat opposite them crooning to her doll. Now and again she examined her bandaged finger with satisfaction, pleased with its importance. It didn't hurt, but Mama said it was very bad. That's why Miranda was taking her to Hudson. It was a treat to go to Hudson. Perhaps there'd be ices to eat, and maybe Papa would buy her something.

The child looked doubtfully at Nicholas. It was queer to have him there. Sometimes for days she didn't see him at all, and when she did, usually he didn't pay any attention to her. But sometimes he gave her presents. I wish Annetje could have gone with us too, thought Katrine.

'Straighten your pantalettes, dear,' said Miranda, smiling. 'They're all rumpled.' She leaned over to help, and her golden curls fell across Katrine's pudgy legs. This tickled and Katrine was pleased. She liked Miranda, who was so pretty and gentle. Besides, she always smelled nice.

'Will we have ices in Hudson?' asked the child suddenly. 'Papa, can we?'

Nicholas' face darkened, and Miranda thought, he's wondering if she is going to be like Johanna. Then he relaxed, leaning easily against the brocaded padding of the carriage seat. And he laughed, seeming much younger.

'Certainly you may have ices. We'll go to the Hudson House for dinner. I'd planned to drive down to the Widow Mary Livingston's and trespass on her hospitality. But perhaps you'd rather dine at an inn.'

'Oh, yes, please, Papa,' begged the child with unusual animation.

'What would
you
like to do, Miranda?' said Nicholas. At the intimate note in his voice her breathing quickened.

'The inn, please,' she said eagerly. This was no day to visit another Manor House where the awesome widow would immediately engulf Nicholas, leaving Miranda stranded as usual.

After that Nicholas began to talk in his most charming manner. He told her about the country through which they were driving. By now they had passed out of his own manor, but he knew every step of the road to Hudson. At Nutten Hook he showed her a shanty where lived a witch. 'At least my farmers think so,' said Nicholas, laughing. 'She sells love potions and on moonless nights flies as far as Kinderhook on her broomstick.'

Miranda laughed too, not at what he said but for delight that he was talking to her like this. Nicholas was so rarely light and gay, and now for all the dark reserve which he never lost, he was gay. He seemed to be living only in the moment as she was.

'Look!' he cried as they crossed the Stockport Creek. Do you see the falls upstream?'

She nodded.

'Once when I was a boy I made a wager with friends that I could dive down the cataract.'

'But that was terribly dangerous. How could anyone do that?'

'I did,' said Nicholas. 'And though I broke my leg, it was worth it. It's always been my pride to master circumstances.'

Yes, thought Miranda. Even as a boy he must have been able to master any situation.

The carriage jounced over a deep rut and she was thrown against him. Her cheek brushed the shoulder of his blue broadcloth coat. There was a faint odor of starched linen,
peau d'espagne,
and the leather of his boots. As it had been at the ball, her will and her body both seemed to melt like soft wax at his nearness. In his eyes there was a peculiar expression. He picked his tall beaver hat from the floor where it had fallen, and she noticed that his hands trembled slightly.

By noon they reached the Dugway Road and pulled up the sharp hill on Second Street into Hudson.

'How pretty the town is!' cried Miranda. She would on that day have thought a collection of squatters' huts on a mud flat pretty. But the little town did have charm. Its neat houses were of brick or fieldstone and plainly showed their New England origin. Hudson had been settled by Nantucket Quakers who sought after the Revolution a newer and safer whaling port, and though encircled by land-loving Dutch farmers, the Folgers and Macys and Coffins had been profitably going down to the sea. in ships for fifty years.

'Where's Diamond Street?' asked Miranda. 'Cousin Johanna said that Doctor Hamilton lived there—for Katrine's finger.'

Nicholas shook his head. 'Hamilton's an old fogy. He knows no remedies but calomel, bark, and brandy. Take the child to that young Turner. He seems very capable.'

'But he's so rude, and he's a down renter!' cried Miranda, startled into protest by the aversion she had felt to the brusque young doctor.

'All the more reason to flatter him with my patronage,' answered Nicholas easily. 'He'll soon lose his silly views if I make him the Manor physician.'