Night of the Candles (9 page)

Lying there thinking, however, she could find no reason for Sophia to have done what she suspected. No, she was being fanciful and overly sensitive. Nathaniel was not a demonstrative man, that was all. There was no need, none at all, for him to be concerned. All it would take to get her back on her feet was a few days of rest and quiet. It was enough that Nathaniel had brought the doctor to examine her. She was satisfied.

Amanda let her mind wander. When gentlemen rode over a plantation they were usually looking at the fields, the harvesting, and at this time of year, the livestock, cribs, and barns filled with the fruits of their toil. She had seen the plantation outbuildings among the trees, but where were the fields? They must be at some distance from the house, and behind the rise on which it stood, possibly, or else farther away, beyond the encroaching woods. She could visualize the three men galloping through the forest trails, skirting the edge of the fields, their horses hooves throwing up clods of dirt. Sophia had not mentioned Jason, but it was usual for the host to act as escort on a tour of inspection.

Her speculations were so certain that she jumped, startled, when a firm knock sounded on the door. It was a moment before she could gather her wits to make a reply.

The knob turned and Jason stood in the doorway.

“Miss Trent,” he said formally with the faintest hint of a bow, “I hope you are well?”

“Yes, thank you.” Unconsciously her hand went to the high neckline of her cambric gown.

He took a few steps into the room, his green gaze intent upon her face. He studied the plait that hung in a thick shining rope over her shoulder and the plain texture of the nightgown that covered her from throat to wrists, as she lay propped on her pillows beneath the covers. A slow blush mounted to her cheeks, and her eyes widened in puzzlement. For a long moment tension held them motionless, then his eyelids flickered down.

“I understand you are still troubled by your head. There is no need for you to suffer without aid. If you will send Marta to me when you are in need of something for the pain…”

“There is no need. The doctor left a vial of laudanum for me.”

“That’s good then. If there is anything I can do, any way I can be of help, you will let me know?”

Once again she thanked him, then went on. “It was kind of you to offer hospitality to Nathaniel. I do appreciate it as much, I’m sure, as he. And I wish I could tell you how sorry I am that you have had me an invalid inflicted upon you! I know you cannot like it, and I don’t blame you. Believe me, I would not stay if it wasn’t necessary.”

“You are most welcome at Monteigne, Miss Trent. I only regret that you were injured on my property. As for your fiance, I’m sure this is where I would rather be, were I in his place. But enough. Let us not talk of gratitude. There is no need.”

“But surely…”

“As a relative of my wife you have a right to hospitality.”

She was silenced, as much by the hardness of his face as by his words. Then as he turned she put out her hand.

“Mr. Monteigne…”

“Yes?”

“About the necklace … did Sophia speak to you about it?”

It was a moment before he answered, and Amanda received the impression that he was reluctant to answer.

“I have searched near the steps but found nothing. No one has mentioned finding it. I … am at a loss, to be honest, to understand what has become of it. I apologize.”

“You apologize? Why should you?”

“Come, let’s not be polite. Someone has taken the necklace. It is perfectly plain to me — it must be to anyone of sense. I regret that it has happened on my property. I will do everything in my power to return it to you, but in the meantime … I am sorry for it.”

“I … I appreciate that. But I wish I could persuade you to take it.”

“I have no need of it.”

“Surely…”

“In addition it has much more sentimental value than actual worth. I will not consider taking it out of your family.”

“You are very … kind.”

“Is that a surprise? You did not, perhaps, expect kindness from the man Amelia married?”

“I didn’t know what to expect,” Amanda replied, meeting his gaze squarely.

“You … none of you … ever troubled yourselves to come and find out. I might have been anything, any kind of man, but you abandoned Amelia to me.”

“You ran away with Amelia without consulting her family. Wasn’t that what you wanted, for her to have no contact with her relatives?”

“I would have been just as happy, if you want the truth. The point is that Amelia was not. She felt that she was forsaken. Family ties mean much to a woman. Amelia died with no one other than myself to care.”

“Whose fault is that? We were never told that she was ill.”

“You never bothered to ask.”

It was an impasse. Neither of them was able to concede the other’s point of view. Yet, as Amanda stared at his set face and saw the sternness that marked his features, like a mask to hide pain, Amanda began to see the trend of his thoughts.

“You think that … that if someone, someone other than yourself, had been here with Amelia to offer her love and sympathy, she would not have … taken her own life?”

Even as she spoke his face relaxed and tiredness came into his eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t think of it, don’t take on a useless burden of remorse. There is no need, and I did not intend it, I promise you. That burden is mine.”

That burden is mine. When he had gone Amanda lay thinking of that strange statement. Why should Jason carry a burden of remorse? He had been here, hadn’t he, when Amelia died? He had given her his love and support, hadn’t he? What did he have to reproach himself with then, unless it was the fact that he hadn’t been able to prevent her from taking her life? Yes, perhaps that. That would weigh on a man like Jason. A man like Jason. What did she know of the kind of man he was? The answer was nothing, nothing at all.

Marta returned, bringing her luncheon tray. Not a talkative person ordinarily, she seemed even quieter than usual as she moved about the room with lowered eyes.

What had Sophia said to her? Something disturbing, it appeared. Why should she do such a thing? Did she like stirring up trouble? Was she one of those people who cannot bear the quiet dullness of peace? What was it to her where the doctor had seen Marta? Was it the lure of mystery, however mundane it might prove in reality? Or was it only the idea of knowing, with the realization that knowledge is power?

Now she was being entirely too fanciful. It was the effect of having too much idle time with nothing to do but think and watch the people around her for hidden motives. With a tiny grimace of self-derision Amanda picked up her fork and began to eat.

It had been an eventful morning. She had not been able to rest, and it was not surprising that she found her headache returning after luncheon. In an effort to sleep it off, she had Marta pull the drapes against the bright encroaching sun. When the heavy woman had left with her quiet tread, Amanda lay with her eyes closed. It was dim in the room, and the silence of the afternoon somnolence lay heavy around her. Though it was cool in the morning and late evening, it grew warm during the day and after a time she threw back the comforter, leaving only the sheet to cover her arms.

Comfortable, finally, she had just began to feel drowsy when a knock sounded.

She must have been nearer to sleep than she had realized, because it was a moment before she could rouse herself sufficiently to struggle up on one elbow and speak the necessary words.

At her invitation Nathaniel stepped briskly into the room, leaving the door open behind him for the sake of convention.

“Resting, Amanda? Good, good. It’s just what you need to put you back in good frame. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, no,” she said, forcing herself to smile and appear alert. “Marta tells me you are staying here. I hope you are comfortable.”

“Ah, yes. It was decent of Monteigne to offer me his hospitality, don’t you think? But he seems a decent fellow — a trifle moody but accommodating above average, under the circumstances.”

“Yes, I feel it, too. After all, Nathaniel, we are complete strangers to him.”

“Hardly that. You are a relative, by marriage.”

“But with no real tie, especially after the way Grandfather felt about him. I never realized how it must have seemed to him, Nathaniel, our ignoring Amelia like that. Grandfather was so ill, we were so worried, and I couldn’t have gone against him myself without upsetting him terribly. Still, I could have written to Amelia.”

“To what point? I doubt it would have made the slightest difference in the end, and you could not, of course, risk an estrangement from your grandfather at that crucial time.”

“It would have disturbed him. I wonder, though, if he would not have become reconciled to the marriage, given time. He was not an unreasonable man.”

“Not unreasonable, but mighty proud. But I meant, rather, that there was little point in endangering the succession, not but what he would have left you something extra, still he might, you know, have relented to the point of making Amelia an equal heir so far as the money went.”

“Nathaniel! As if I would have minded it if he had!”

“Perhaps not, perhaps not, but we must look on it from a practical viewpoint.”

She frowned without answering. She could not fault Nathaniel for having a practical outlook on life, but it was annoying at times. She looked at his face with its strong jaw outlined by his sideburns and the firm mouth. He had a straight nose and wide-spaced eyes. His brown hair was meticulously combed, his entire appearance neat. He was a well-set-up man, of average height, and if he lacked a romantic temperament and background, he made up for it by being steady and dependable with the drive necessary for success.

As if grown nervous under her oddly intent gaze, he looked about.

“Isn’t it stuffy in here to you? Shall I raise a window? The smell of that perfume is stifling.”

“Perfume?” Amanda took a deep breath.

“Can’t you smell it? I wonder you aren’t swooning from the strength of it.”

“It seems I can … but it isn’t strong.”

“You’ve just gotten used to it. It’s stifling. I’ve got to raise a window,” he said, moving to pull the drape aside and raise the curtains to push the casement up. That done, he glanced back over his shoulder as he repositioned the drapes. “I’ve never noticed your wearing a fragrance such as this one before. What is it?”

“It isn’t mine,” she answered as she turned to look at him, then let her gaze go to the dressing table on the wall beside her.

“It hardly seems suitable for a nurse.”

“It isn’t Marta’s either. It belonged to Amelia.”

“Amelia? Then who…”

“No one has been wearing it. Marta used some night before last…”

“Oh, you mean the nurse has spilled the stuff? Why couldn’t you say as much? I can’t say I’m sorry that it isn’t yours, Amanda. I’ve always liked the light fragrance you use.”

“Soap and water, Nathaniel,” she pointed out with a wry smile, letting me matter of the perfume go. Scents had a way of lingering. That must be it.

“Very nice,” he said dismissingly as he moved to sit on the bed beside her and pick up her hand. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“A trifle headachy but really quite well. I hate being an invalid.”

“I know you do. Your Puritan nature won’t let you enjoy it, will it?”

“I’m afraid not. I like to be up and doing.”

“I understand. I’m the same way, really. You know, it’s no great wonder that we are to be married. We are very well suited.”

Amanda looked down at his firm hand covering hers before she glanced up to meet his smiling hazel eyes. Despite his sometimes irritating practicality, there was something stable about Nathaniel, something as firm and sure as his handclasp that found recognition in her own nature. “Yes,” she told him, “you are right”

“Good,” he said, covering her hand so that it was held between both of his. “I knew you were all right”

“All right?”

“It crossed my mind that you might be enjoying all this attention, this room that looks as if it were furnished for a sybarite. There has sometimes, in the past, been a touch of envy in your manner when you spoke of Amelia, my dear, though I’m sure you didn’t realize it.”

“Why, Nathaniel, you must be mistaken.”

“I assure you I’m not. I’ve marked it several times.”

“But it’s ridiculous. Why should I envy Amelia?” She was genuinely puzzled, and not a little distressed that Nathaniel, not a man of imagination, should make such a statement.

“Now, now, I didn’t mean to upset you. I realize there is nothing to it. It was only a thought, and you must see that I would never have mentioned it if I considered it had any real basis.”

“Yes, I do see,” she was forced to agree, but the damage had been done. The warmth that his presence had brought was gone. They exchanged a few more commonplaces, and then during the first lull in the conversation she told him she believed she could sleep if he didn’t mind.

He got to his feet. After a moment’s hesitation he leaned to brush a kiss across her brow. It was an indication of his concern since he would not normally have risked being seen from the open doorway.

“Sleep well,” he murmured and left the room pulling the door to behind him.

She did not sleep. For some reason that she couldn’t explain, the suggestion that she was enjoying taking Amelia’s place disturbed her. She knew it was not so, but she could not dismiss a feeling of uneasiness. The more she thought of it the more unlikely it seemed that such an idea had originated with Nathaniel. He had not known Amelia well. His relationship with Amanda had developed in the years since Amelia went away. Before that the two young women had been away at the seminary, and he had been busy setting up his law practice. He might have seen Amelia during the holidays but seldom, if ever, had he seen the two of them together.

No, he had no basis to suppose she had ever been jealous of Amelia. How could he have come by such an idea? Who could have planted the seeds of doubt in his mind?

It was possible that it had been her grandfather. He had always considered Amelia as someone special, which was one reason, his disappointment and anger over her conduct had been so intense. It had been his custom to speak of Amelia as of one dead, always eulogizing her good points, never speaking ill of her, placing the entire blame for the fiasco of her marriage on Jason’s shoulders. He had said up until the day of his death that she would come to her senses and, after a suitable show of repentance, he would allow her to return. It had made Amanda angry to hear him speak in such a manner, angry for Amelia and for her grandfather, too. Angry for Amelia because he treated her love … and her lover … so lightly, and anger for her grandfather because Amelia did not understand his stiff-necked pride and love, would not make the necessary effort to bring about their reconciliation. It was possible, she supposed, that there had been some jealousy mixed with that anger, but she did not think so.