The Master of Phoenix Hall (19 page)

“How did they know?” I asked, suddenly breathless.

“That is the major question. The officials have pinpointed them to the area around here. Someone—someone big in local affairs must be involved in these attacks. Their hideout is definitely in this area, and the local constable feels that it is somewhere in the quarries.”

“Haven't they searched them?”

“Several times. But the quarries are vast. There's a whole network of caves and tunnels. The one behind Dower House is merely one of a series. It connects with others, larger. It was just a rumor before, but now it's almost a certainty. This is the closest the highwaymen have ever struck to Lockwood, and after they hit, half the men in the county were out with guns and horses, searching the area for miles around. There was no sign of them. They had disappeared.”

“And you think the lights were the highwaymen, going to their den?”

He nodded.

“Did you tell anyone about seeing them?”

“I told Roderick the next morning.”

“Oh? Then he came back from his business trip.”

“Sometime during the night. I don't know when. One of the servants came to find me. Laurel had awakened and missed me. The man wheeled me back and put me to bed. I had a chill and drank some brandy. It was after ten when I got up the next morning. Roderick was in his study.”

“What did he say when you told him about the lights?”

“Nothing much. We didn't know about the attack until later.”

“I see.”

“And do you see why I would like you to leave Dower House?”

I forced myself to smile. “Your concern is sweet, Paul, but I am not frightened by highwaymen, or rumors of highwaymen. Even if it were true, if they were in the quarries, I fail to see how that could harm me. Dower House is mine, and nothing shall drive me away.”

Paul Mellory did not say anything. He fumbled with the blanket, pulling it tighter about his knees. Paul was a fine boy, and I felt sure that he was sincere, but I knew that he admired his brother and that he was loyal. For a moment I wondered if Roderick Mellory had put him up to this, had told him to tell me about the lights and highwaymen, hoping that I would be frightened enough to agree to sell Dower House. Roderick knew that nothing he himself could say would influence me, but he also knew that I liked Paul and respected him. Perhaps he had hoped that his gentle brother would prove successful where he himself had failed.

“If the highwaymen are there,” I said, “I am sure they will be found. They can't go on like this, striking and eluding the law. They'll be captured before long, and in the meantime I have my dog, Peter, and I have a revolver. Don't worry about me, Paul.”

He looked up. There was an expression of deep concern in his eyes, and his brows were pressed into a tight frown. His cheeks were pale, and his thin lips were turned down at one corner. He stared at me for a moment, and then he smiled, slowly, the smile a mere flicker on his lips.

“You're indomitable,” he said then. “I should have known you couldn't be frightened.”

I had no time to think about these words, for Laurel Mellory came hurrying into the room. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were tinged with the hot flush of excitement. She saw us and caught herself on her way through the room, breathing heavily.

“Oh! There you are, Angela. I've been looking everywhere. You've been gone so long, I thought you'd changed your mind and left with Greg. They're serving now—pheasant and glazed hams and juicy brown roasts and cakes—I have never seen so much food. Let's get our plates and eat, and then there are ever so many men who want to dance—Paul, are you coming?”

He looked at his sister and smiled. “No, I think I'll stay here for a while. You two go on.”

“Can I bring you anything?” Laurel asked, disappointed.

“No, I'll get a plate later on.”

“Very well. Come, Angela—”

The tables were spread with snowy white linen cloths, and there were gorgeous arrangements of bronze and gold flowers, but the real spectacle was the food itself. There were huge gold-rimmed platters heaped with every kind of food imaginable. There was a crisp suckling pig with an apple in its mouth, golden pheasant under glass, platters of oysters. Plates of exquisite china held stacks of beautiful pink and chocolate cakes, and a servant in rust-colored uniform was dishing out ice cream from a deep, silver-plated dish. Other servants, all in the rust uniforms, worked in a rush to slice the meats and fill the plates held out to them by the loud impatient crowd.

“Isn't it exciting!” Laurel exclaimed as we moved away with our heaping plates. “Oh, look, there's the Mayor and his wife; she's the one in purple velvet with those white flowers. How greedy they are, using their elbows to get up to the table. And that's Albert Clinton, the little man in the shabby brown suit who is standing back with an empty plate. He owns Clinton Manor, a huge old estate in the next county. It's all run down, but he's too proud to do anything about it. It was cruel of Roderick, asking him here so that he could preen in front of the poor man. Oh, Angela, do you see that soldier with the short gold hair? He danced with me, and he said such nice things. I'm afraid he is already a little tipsy, but then the champagne is so heady, all those bubbles.”

Laurel babbled on, thrilled and excited by everything around her. It was nice to see her so animated, but I thought how she would have to pay for this over-excitement later on with those severe headaches she suffered with. I had no doubt she would be in bed for days with a painful migrain, but I supposed these few hours of breathlessness were worth it for her. I was glad someone was enjoying the ball. Paul wasn't, and I doubted if Roderick Mellory really was, excepting his self-satisfaction. I certainly was not enjoying myself. My nostrils quivered with disapproval of all the waste and frivolity, but I tried not to let Laurel notice this.

After we had eaten, a young man came over and swept Laurel away to the strains of the music. In a moment the young soldier with golden hair asked me to dance. He was indeed tipsy, but he danced marvelously, his arm tight about my waist, his body moving with supple grace. He talked amusingly and whispered an indiscrete question in my ear. I merely laughed at him, smiling at his youthful enthusiasm. Everyone seemed to be dancing now. Couples crowded the floor, and I had lost sight of Laurel. A man with silver hair asked me to dance after the young soldier had left, and then another. I had no idea how long I danced, in the arms of one man after the other. It felt exhilarating to hold my head back, my eyes half closed, spinning around. My feet seemed winged, my body seemed without will, to be turned and whirled by the man who was leading me. For a while I thought about nothing but the music and the man who happened to be guiding me at the moment.

After what seemed like hours I began to tire, and I asked my partner to lead me over to one side of the room where people were standing, watching. A servant brought me a glass of champagne, and I did not have the will to refuse, although I was already giddy. I drank it too quickly and my head began to swim. I felt like I was floating, suspended over the ballroom, seeing everything from a height. I knew that I needed fresh air. I made my way blindly to the French doors that opened onto the terrace and gardens, walking very carefully and in fear that I would stumble and fall.

It was very cool outside, but the fresh air felt wonderful. Moonlight poured over the tiled terrace, and everything seemed to be dark blue shadow and wavering silver. I took several deep breaths. My head stopped spinning around, and I could feel my equilibrium returning. A path led down to the formal gardens. There were tall box shrubs and carefully trimmed rose bushes. A white marble fountain stood in the center of a clearing, sprays of misty water billowing like plumes, and I moved toward it slowly. All this was washed in moonlight. It was calm and serenely beautiful after the bright flamboyance of the ballroom. A bird sang prettily from the bough of a tree and I stood lost in thought, listening to the warbling of the bird and wondering what Nan would say when I told her about this evening.

I did not hear footsteps. He must have come very quietly, deliberately making no noise. He might have been standing there for a long time, observing me, for when he spoke he was standing beside a trellis, one hand on the wisteria vine, the other jammed in his pocket. It was a casual pose. Perhaps he had been there all the time, even before I came.

“A perfect picture of maiden in moonlight,” he said.

I whirled around, startled.

“No, no, don't move. You spoil the picture. You look perfect just as you are, silhouetted against the fountain.”

“How dare you frighten me like that,” I snapped.

“I thought you were the woman who didn't frighten.”

“Spare me your witticisms, Mr. Mellory.”

“I see you are not wearing the dress I sent,” he remarked, coming toward me in a lazy stride. “Did it not fit?” He laughed softly. “I thought I was rather good at judging a woman's dress size.”

“You judged this woman wrong,” I retorted.

“Really? I must say the dress you are wearing is quite nice. The color is very becoming, even in moonlight. Tell me, are you enjoying the ball?”

“I—it's very lavish.” I hoped my voice showed my disdain.

“Indeed it is. You don't like lavish things?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“The simple life for you. A little home in the country and the sounds of cocks crowing in the morning. Is that really your kind of thing, Miss Todd? I can imagine you in far more elegant surroundings.”

“I see no point in discussing it with you.”

“With what I would give you for Dower House you could have many elegant things. You could travel to Europe. You could wear fine gowns. You could become a young woman of fashion.”

“I'm sure your offer is very generous, Mr. Mellory, but I've told you before that I have no intentions of selling Dower House.”

“You and I are going to fight, you know,” he said in a low voice.

“I'm prepared for that.”

“I fight dirty.”

“I'm prepared for that, too.”

“You think you can win against me?”

“I shall try.”

He was standing directly in front of me, his hands resting on his hips and his legs spread far apart. The jacket of his suit fell open, exposing the silverstitched blue vest that fit tightly across his wide chest. He was staring into my eyes, his own filled with something dark that I could not read. I could not look away. I could not give him that satisfaction. For a long time we stood like that, then Roderick Mellory began to smile. I could hear the music from the distance, a soft, muted sound that was not as loud as the bird's song.

“I do admire your will,” he said. “It's rare.”

“Will you step aside, Mr. Mellory? I think I shall leave.”

“Where is your escort—the gallant Mr. Ingram?”

“He had to leave. A child became ill at the school.”

“I see. It seems I am always finding you without escorts,” he said, referring to that day at the May Fete. “It seems a shame, an attractive and personable lady like you.” He was working slowly now, trying to irritate me further. His voice was gentle, sincere, but the smile on his lips was cynical.

“Your sister said one of your carriages would take me home,” I said.

“I will see to that—later.”

“I would like to leave now,” I replied, stressing the last word.

“But you are my guest,” he said, his voice mocking, “and I must be a good host. You've seen the ballroom, you've tasted the food, and you've drunk the champagne, but you haven't danced with me yet.”

“I'll gladly forgo that pleasure.”

“But I won't,” Roderick Mellory said, pulling me into his arms. With a quick series of motions he had propelled me into a dance, and I could not do anything but follow his lead. His arm was like a tight vise around my waist, and his free hand gripped my wrist. I struggled for a moment, helplessly, then, realizing the futility of my efforts, I let him do as he desired, whirling me around over the smooth surface of the ground. The music was far away, soft, but he moved in perfect time. Moonlight poured over us as we circled the fountain.

I closed my eyes, trying to resist the power of the man as best I was able. I moved rigidly, refusing to relax, and his arm tightened about my waist. “Relax,” he whispered in my ear, “just relax,” and in a moment I was relaxing, against my will, moving as he moved, swept away as in a trance. He was a wonderful dancer, masterful yet fluid in his movements. I felt his body against mine, and I felt his strength, and it seemed that I had no will, no being, no power to do anything but melt against him and be what he wanted me to be.

My head felt dizzy, and my wrists felt weak, and I tried to fight the sheer pleasure of the moment. I hate him, I hate him, I told myself, over and over, but another me, momentarily stronger, came alive, causing each nerve to tingle. I could not open my eyes. I could not catch my breath. I could only yield to the moment and savor it with all my body.

He stopped. I was too weak to move. I rested against his chest for a moment, trying to pull myself together. Roderick Mellory put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me away, gently.

“There,” he said. “I've done my duty.”

I could not speak, nor could I look up at him.

“You are an excellent partner,” Roderick Mellory said. “A little like a thoroughbred filly, though. A thoroughbred has too much spirit, and the spirit must be broken before the true grace will show.”

“You haven't broken my spirit.”

“Not entirely. Not yet.”

“You are insufferably rude.”

My voice trembled slightly. He had won. I had given in when we were dancing, reluctantly allowing him his little victory. Reluctantly? I wondered. At first, yes, I had fought him, but later—I refused to examine that too closely. I closed my mind to it.