Night of the Candles (19 page)

The right wheels struck the thick root at full speed. The gig bounded up, hovered on two wheels, then went over with a crash.

There was a thundering noise in her ears, then pain exploded in a red-gold sunburst behind her eyes.

A shrill screaming of a horse in pain. The rise and fall of angry voices. A shot. The screaming stopped.

“Why did this have to happen? She was nearly well.” Nathaniel. She recognized his voice.

There were firm, impersonal hands straightening her arms, her legs, searching for broken bones, for a heartbeat.

“I say…” Nathaniel protested.

Jason spoke above her. “Yes?”

“Nothing…” Nathaniel muttered.

“She seems to be all right, though I doubt this will do her concussion any good. Sophia’s horse is carrying the least weight, Sterling. I expect you had better double with her.”

“I prefer to walk.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Nonsense, give me your hand,” Sophia said, her voice sounding faintly strident.

There was a creak of saddle leather then Jason spoke again. “If you will hand her up to me…”

She was lifted gingerly. “Careful!” a voice that sounded like Theo cautioned.

Strong arms caught her up. She felt the smoothness of the saddle beneath her and the cradling of warm, enclosing arms and a muscled chest.

She knew she should open her eyes, make some effort to help herself. But the movement of the black stallion as he started forward set ripples of pain in motion that, combined with a vague awareness of the invidiousness of her present position, held her mute and still.

“Marta! Marta!”

The moment they stopped the horses before the front gate Theo began to call, an impression of panic in his raised voice as though he doubted the ability of anyone there to deal with the situation.

Amanda stirred. During the ride back she had decided that except for having the breath knocked from her and the jarring shock of the fall, she was indeed all right. She must have been thrown clear and cushioned from further injury by the mat of leaves beneath the trees lining the side of the road. She seemed to feel crushed bits of trash in her hair. Now she made as if to sit up straight.

Jason dismounted in one smooth motion, holding with one hand to her arm, then he reached up for her. She stared down at him then with a resigned sigh she slid into his arms. He swung her up and strode along the walk, ignoring her automatic murmur of protest.

“Where can that woman be?” Theo fumed. “She’s never around when she’s needed. Marta!”

“For heaven’s sake, Theo! Stop shouting,” Sophia said irritably.

“How else is she to know we want her?”

“I will go.”

“You do that,” Theo said with a bellicose stare, stung, apparently, by his sister’s disapproval. “I could stand a drink.” He disappeared into the dining room as Jason began to mount the stairs, Sophia going before and Nathaniel trailing after them.

Jason placed her on her bed. He stood for a moment staring down at her, then he looked across the expanse of the covers to Nathaniel.

“I expect I had better see about removing the gig and the horse from the road,” he said in an odd, indecisive voice.

“I will stay with Amanda,” Nathaniel said quickly.

Jason nodded once. “You might see if you can find out what happened.”

Nathaniel reached out and picked up Amanda’s hand and covered her listless fingers with his own. “I will try.”

Jason’s eyes were bleak as he surveyed Nathaniel and his protective hovering, then a sardonic smile curved his mouth as he turned and left the room.

Nathaniel watched him go before he glanced down and found Amanda watching him. “How … how do you feel?”

“I’m not … sure. I feel peculiar but it doesn’t hurt.”

“I don’t like your color. Much too pale. Some brandy, now…”

“No … no, I don’t think so.”

“Then … is there anything else I can do for you?”

It was comical. The mere asking of the question and the personal service that it implied, had made the color rise to Nathaniel’s face. She shook her head.

“You are all right then, you’re sure?”

This concern with her health was wearing. Once more she nodded an affirmative.

“Then tell me how it happened. I left you there beside the church, as safe as a babe in his crib!”

She frowned, trying to remember. “Sweet gum balls.”

“What?”

“Sweet gum balls. They hit the horse. He shied, and the reins broke.”

“Leather had dry-rotted, I suppose. Funny, you wouldn’t think a thing like that would be allowed at a place like this.”

“No … but Nathaniel. There was no sweet gum tree.”

“But you just said…”

“The balls were thrown!”

“Oh, now, Amanda!”

“They were. They had to have been. There were so many.”

“Just as I suspected. You must have hit your head again. You don’t know what you’re saying. No one would do a thing like that.”

“That’s not all. I think … I think Amelia was killed.”

“Killed … now Amanda, don’t take on so.”

“She was. Listen to me. The night Amelia died Marta was in her own room, inebriated. Someone had left a bottle. Amelia called out to her but…”

“Delirious, that’s what you are.”

“But it happened, Nathaniel. I know it did. Something inside me tells me I’m right, and Marta said…”

“Something tells you? You’ve made up a tale in your mind out of something that nurse said. I’d never have believed it of you, Amanda. You have always been so levelheaded. Regrettable things of that nature may happen, but to other people, not to any of our connections. No, no. It must be delirium, plain and simple. Don’t try to talk anymore. No telling what kind of damage … and no telling how much longer we will be stuck here while you are recuperating. What a thing to happen!”

Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand. “No, I won’t hear anymore. You are only upsetting yourself to no purpose.”

The door swung open before he finished, and Sophia swept into the room. Amanda closed her eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Sophia asked, her eyes on the stern lines of his face. “Besides the accident, I mean?”

“I couldn’t say.” Nathaniel put Amanda’s hand down and stepped back. “Offhand I would think she was injured more severely than we thought. Her head, you know.” His voice dropped to what he no doubt considered to be a whisper, and he moved a bit closer to the other girl. “She seems to think it was no accident but some sort of malicious design. Sweet gum balls! If that isn’t raving delirium, I don’t know what is. Did you find that woman Marta, or whatever her name is? If I were you I’d see about getting rid of her as soon as she is no longer needed. She has been feeding Amanda all kinds of nonsense, best I can make out. Something about Amelia being murdered … of course, that may be nothing more than moonshine, I don’t know.”

A sick feeling of helpless anger washed over Amanda as she heard Nathaniel’s well-meant, but incredibly shortsighted comments.

“No, I haven’t been able to find Marta,” Sophia replied. “Cook said that she left the house some time ago with a basket over her arm.” She made no reply to what Nathaniel had confided, and Amanda could not decide if it was discretion, thoughtfulness, or merely surprise that held her silent.

A basket over her arm. The image gradually filled Amanda’s mind. It was not so far to the cemetery, through the woods. It was Carl, she thought, who had pointed that out. Suppose the nurse regretted confiding in her? A basket of sweet gum balls? A runaway that would never have been explained if she had died. It would have been easy. With two deaths on her conscience, what was one more? What would happen now she had failed? It would be easy enough for a nurse to complete the job she had started.

Where were her thoughts leading her? Poor, friendless Marta. It could be that Nathaniel was right. She was out of her mind. Proof, that was what she needed.

She opened her eyes. “Did you catch him?”

“What?” Nathaniel, staring at the bedpost with a look of concentration, seemed startled.

“Carl, or whoever did … did that to Amelia’s grave?”

“Oh, no, he was too quick for us,” Sophia said when Nathaniel did not answer. “And then we heard the commotion the horse was making and turned back.”

“I wonder…” she began, then was interrupted as Marta bustled in at the open door, her gray hair windblown, with the rat of her own hair showing through her pompadour, and her cape twisted to the side.

“Fraeulein!” she exclaimed setting the basket down and unbuttoning her cape. “That one in the kitchen, she says you have had an accident again. So unlucky.”

“Where have you been?” Sophia asked in a cold voice.

“Why, I went for a walk. In the woods. It was a nice day … and I found some lovely Indian Pipes. You know them? I brought them back, roots and all. Can’t you smell them, there in my basket? Such a delicate scent. They will last for quite a time on my windowsill”

“And where else did you go?”

“Nowhere. I swear.”

“You were not near the church?”

“Not at all. I was never out of hearing distance of the house.” Marta’s voice rose in vehemence as she saw the trend of Sophia’s questions.

“I think you are lying, a habit with you. I have watched you and your ingratiating ways. I don’t know what you expect to gain in the end, and I have no interest in knowing, but I think it would be best if you packed your boxes and left this house.”

“No, fraeulein, you cannot do that. There is a sick woman in the house. Who will care for Fraeulein Amanda? Who will see after her and protect her?”

“Protect her? I don’t know what you mean, but it need not worry you.”

“It does worry me. She is my patient. I am responsible.”

“This argument is pointless. I refuse to pursue it. You will send for one of the hands to drive you into town.”

“No.” Marta’s face had shed its placid, bovine look. It wore now a grim obstinacy coupled with assurance. She drew herself up. “You would like me to be gone before Herr Jason returns. I will not leave. You cannot make me. Only Herr Jason has the right to discharge me.”

“That may be, but I believe you will leave. I believe Jason will uphold my decision, especially when I tell him a thing or two about you.”

“And what of the things I can tell him about you and your brother in return?”

“There is nothing you can tell him he does not already know. We have no secrets from Jason, Theo and I.”

“Nor do I, fraeulein. I have told him everything. So. Go to him with your tales. You will see! I will not be leaving!”

MARTA was right. When applied to, Jason appeared to feel that the whole affair was a woman’s quarrel that had nothing to do with him. Though he could not, in all truth, be said to have sided with Marta, the nurse still went about with a smug smile on her face while Sophia retired to her room in a rage.

Though she found a bruised swelling on the side of her head beneath her hair, Amanda, still in a state of numb suspension, insisted on going downstairs. She walked a bit slower than usual and her hand on the railing of the stairs felt cold, but she smiled a gay greeting to Theo as he turned from the fire in the parlor at her entrance.

Amanda, as a concession to her bruised scalp, had foregone her tight, braided coronet and allowed Marta to pile her hair in loose curls on top of her head, drawing forward several softening wisps.

As Theo rose and led her to a chair, his eyes were on her hair.

“I must say, Amanda, you grow more like your cousin every day.”

“It is only the hair style, I expect,” she said. “Marta tells me it was one Amelia favored.”

“It helps, of course, but the bone structure is there, the shading of the skin.”

“An inheritance from our French grandmother, no doubt,” she returned dismissingly, made uncomfortable by the conversation. Then she was surprised at herself. Her likeness to Amelia had never troubled her before.

“You must allow me to tell you how much I regret your accident this afternoon. I’m afraid you’re going to leave with a bad impression of Monteigne, after the things that have happened to you here. I would not like that.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure it could not be helped,” she murmured conventionally.

“It seems,” he went on in a reflective tone, “that your family has never found Monteigne a lucky place.”

“It does look that way,” she agreed.

“I would not like you to come to think it as unhappy a place as Amelia did.”

Amanda was silent for a moment then she took a deep breath. “I don’t mean to sound like a … a Paul Pry, but there is something about Amelia that troubles me. I can’t be easy in my mind about her. Won’t you help me?”

“Why … certainly, if I can.”

“You say that she was unhappy. In what way?”

Theo leaned back on the settee and picked up a cushion that lay in the corner beside him. “Well,” he said, his eyes on his fingers worrying the long, silk fringe of the cushion. “It’s hard to put into words. At first she and Jason were very gay. They went here and there, to New Orleans, St. Louis, visiting friends and relatives. Then at last the honeymoon ended. They came home to Monteigne. Jason became involved again with his concerns that he had neglected during his courtship. Amelia was understanding … at first. She occupied herself in refurbishing her room as you see it, dressing up of an evening in new clothes she had bought in New Orleans, and entertaining us all at dinner. But gradually she grew … she became…”

“You are trying to say she became bored.”

“I would rather say discontented. She had no real vocation as a housewife. Oh, she tried but…”

“Yes, I loved my cousin, but I knew her well. It was hit-and-miss, was it not?”

“Sometimes she would make a tremendous effort, and everything would be perfect, meals, flowers, the house, herself. Then for weeks afterward, chaos. She had no organization, no energy, but most of all, no interest. Understandably, Jason became impatient.”

“Yes, I see.”

“Well, so did we all … and yet…”

“You forgave her.”

“Amelia’s gaiety, her frivolous nature, the contrast between her’s and Jason’s own rather somber personality, were the very things that attracted Jason to Amelia in the first place. Yet, immediately after they arrived at Monteigne, he expected her to change to suit his way of life. She could not do it. They could neither one change what they were anymore than this useless little bit of a cushion can become a large comfortable pillow!”