Warning at Eagle's Watch (8 page)

"She's finally going to make the will," whispered Belinda from between tightly clenched teeth. "That nurse..."

"Just what have you been saying to her, Hillary Holt, to coerce her so?" Arnold's face was white and strained. "This is just not fair."

Hillary just shook her head hopelessly. "You've got it all wrong. I don't know what this is all about." She turned and exited from the room, still feeling their eyes piercing into her back.

She darted up the steps, two at a time, anxious to place as much distance between herself and the very unfriendly faces below.

Scotty had meant her remarks to be sensational, to shake up these relatives that she was so annoyed with. To make them think that a will was in the making, that they had been overlooked suddenly for an unknown red-headed girl who had just arrived on the scene. She had shaken them up, all right.

But Scotty was just being dramatic. She had no intention of doing such a rash thing, in reality. She was playing with them, as Percival toyed with a mouse.

Hillary swallowed uncomfortably. A slight shiver ran up her spine. It didn't feel so very much like a game. She had seen the looks in the eyes of those people downstairs, and she had the overwhelmingly sinking sensation that it was she, and not they, who had been cast in the role of the mouse. And she didn't relish the thought one little bit.

Chapter 5

"Did you see the looks on their faces?" laughed Scotty. "I must say it really made my day."

Her clear eyes were sparkling with laughter, as Hillary took her through her leg motions in their afternoon session.

"I have to admit I didn't appreciate your little joke. You put me on quite a spot. They'll all hate me now. They're sure I'm a fortune hunter."

"Well, you're not, are you?"

"You know I'm not."

"Then I wouldn't worry about what they think. Call the lawyer, though, Hillary. I do intend to make up my will. I'm not getting any younger, as they say. No use tempting fate."

Hillary worked diligently, massaging the leg muscles in her patient's legs after their brief workout. "And just who are you going to leave the estate to, Scotty?"

"Nosy little thing, aren't you? All kidding aside, Hillary, I'm going to tell you, but I want you to promise me that you will never, ever tell anyone that you know."

"I promise."

"It's really very simple and unexciting. Besides healthy bequests to my servants and special friends, the bulk of the estate will be divided between Arnold, Mitchell, and the Highfields. They don't deserve it, of course, but they are family of a sort, and one has to consider these things. But I don't want them to know this. I rather enjoy seeing them squirm and try to outmaneuver each other. Just call it one of an old lady's few delights in life."

"Barbaric," said Hillary with a smile.

After all, it was Scotty's right to do as she pleased with her money, her right to confide or hold back her plans, as she saw best.

"Just do me a favor," Hillary said with a sigh. "Can you keep me out of this?" She remembered the accusing glances that had followed her across the dining room. She would have to come into daily contact with those people, and she didn't relish the thought.

"I'm sorry, Hillary. I guess I did rather put you in a bad position. Can we chalk it up to a blind impulse? A whim of a senile old woman?"

She gave Hillary a dramatic, appealing look.

"The only thing senile about you is your warped sense of humor," countered Hillary. She measured and charted Scotty's vital signs and settled her under the fluffy comforters on her bed. "Time to rest now. I'm going downstairs to attempt to soothe the troubled waters you've stirred up for me with your relatives."

Scotty studied her for a moment. "Well, if anyone can, you can, my dear. I dare say you'll have Mitchell Morrison jumping through a hoop in no time at all, for starters."

Hillary felt a blush rising in her freckled cheeks.

"Really, Scotty, I don't think he and I have much in common."

The old woman's laugh rang out in the room. "I can see Matilda was very right about you. Too much burying one's head in one's books can leave you missing a lot of the fun in life. Give yourself a chance to play and enjoy life, Hillary. You're only young once."

The nurse had a very unsettling lump in the back of her throat as she headed for the stairs. She was shocked that her far-off aunt had known her habits so well to form such an opinion, and equally shocked to realize that there was more than a grain of truth in her insight.

A very pensive Hillary traveled down the long stairway, for once without giving even a glance to the sober portraits she passed along the way.

As her toes barely touched the bottom step of the castle stairway, she was startled by the sudden appearance of Arnold Weaver, his elderly face wearing a cool mask of concern and friendliness, so strikingly different from the accusing stare it had worn only a few short hours before.

"Well, what a coincidence to run into you like this, Nurse Holt. I was just thinking of you."

She regarded his face, its catlike eyes searching hers evenly and deeply. But she doubled that there had been a bit of coincidence in his arrival in the foyer at the same instant as hers. Indeed, his well-timed appearance and easy remarks sounded staged to Hillary's ears, as if he had been eagerly waiting in the wings for his cue to make them.

He moved very lithely and was amazingly light on his feet for his advanced years. Her mind kept automatically comparing him to a cat: his movements, his narrowed eyes, his low, self-satisfied voice that flowed from deep in his throat like a teasing purr. He was a very difficult man to trust.

"And how is dear Priscilla this afternoon? I must say, she looked well and fit at luncheon." His tone was friendly, concerned. It made Hillary very nervous.

"She is doing amazingly well. Mr. Weaver. We have quite high hopes and expectations for her."

"Have you now?" His face was still smiling, but his eyes were not. "And have you contacted the lawyer that she requested to see? I can't help but wonder if that would be a good idea. After all, handling burdensome legal details might be too much of a strain on her, don't you agree?"

"It is her wish. I can't see that a simple consultation would pose any difficulties."

"Yes. I see. And has she perhaps mentioned to you the business that she wishes to discuss? Perhaps I could be of some service to her, instead of bringing the attorney all the way to Eagle's Watch for some mere trifle."

It was very apparent that he did not want Priscilla to see the lawyer, that he was more than slightly concerned about the business to be transacted, the fact that a will might be in the offing.

And why would that bother him? Quite obviously he had much doubt that the will would benefit him. And if Scotty were to die without having a will, Arnold Weaver, as her next of kin, would legally have a right to the entire inheritance. And there was no doubt that that very thought was sitting heavily upon his mind.

Hillary looked at his well-lined face, its facade of charm and concern clashing wildly with the thoughts she knew must be going on in his self-centered mind. She wanted no quarrels, no upsets with him, but she was finding him to be increasingly distasteful to her. She wanted to get away from him and his false words.

"I'm sure the attorney will be more than willing to make the trip, Mr. Weaver. Miss Scott must be a very important client to him. I don't think you need to worry about the strain that such procedures may cause. With my care, and the doctor's supervision, I can assure you that she will be in no medical difficulty. Excuse me now. I was just on my way out."

Her words were clipped and short. Her intention in coming downstairs had been to patch up the misunderstandings that had set her off so poorly with the rest of the guests in the house, but standing in the gloomy foyer, listening to the smooth words spoken by the suave little freeloader who stood in front of her, she felt her task was hopeless.

She had a sudden and overwhelming urge to rush out into the bright fresh air outside the thick front door. She left Arnold Weaver with a shallow smile and moved quickly across the stone floor of the foyer, pulling open the heavy black door, and plummeting forth into the warmth and sunlight of the afternoon.

And Arnold Weaver stood at the bottom of the long stairway watching her exit, his face for once stripped of the usually well-controlled charm and good-natured appearance that he tried to wear. If Hillary had been able to read the accusing and hateful thoughts that filled his white-haired head, his growing fear that she was quickly and fully becoming an important person in the life of his unpredictable Cousin Priscilla, if she had been able to see the selfish and penetrating stare of his squinted eyes as he watched her depart, she would have felt much less exalted by the glorious day that surrounded her.

She made a very pretty picture as she walked slowly in the afternoon heat, her white uniform crisp and bright, her red hair shiny and bouncing as the sun picked up its sparkling highlights. She walked around to the back of the castle, following a small gravel path that hugged the castle wall. The sound of the ocean below echoed constantly with its pounding waves.

She walked to the edge of the rocky expanse that provided the foundation for Eagle's Watch, raising her eyes to gaze out to the never-ending blueness that was the Atlantic Ocean. Far in the distance, she could see a sailing vessel, a mere speck on the horizon.

Only yesterday, she had stood in almost this same spot, seeing the view from the castle cliff for the first time. She had been resentful, nervous, unsure about her arrival, and the scene had seemed dismal and overpowering. Now, she found herself viewing the same scene with a breathless feeling of wonder, of respect, of beauty. It was a lonely spot, to be sure, but in that loneliness it possessed an incomparable aura of peace.

She sat down on a nearby rock and enjoyed the heat of the sun's rays beating against her back. The air felt clear and healthful, despite the heat, and the pungent aroma of salty ocean drifted to her waiting nostrils.

It was a beautiful area, this secluded part of Maine. Too deserted for her to want to remain forever, but it certainly had a special charm. Suddenly she realized that she was very glad to be there, to be away from the pressures and responsibility that had been her life.

Scotty was right. One had to open one's mind up in order to live and enjoy life, to be willing to risk experiencing new things, to grow.

There was a bond growing between her and Scotty, she knew, and the realization of that brought a warm feeling into her heart. Hillary had felt that she had been alone in the world for a long time.

But Scotty had said that Miss Matilda had followed her progress every step of the way. Someone had cared.

She heaved a great sigh and watched a single bird fly overhead.

Hillary would try to take Scotty's advice, to look at her from all angles, to live. And someday she would return to the surgical nursing that she loved. Also, she firmly promised herself, she would meet her Aunt Matilda, no matter what the complications, to thank her for everything.

Feeling refreshed, she returned to the castle and its challenges.

Chapter 6

In her newly found mood of peace, Hillary decided to wander around the castle for a short while to see it in the daylight hours when the bright rays of sunlight filtered in through the thick glass windows.

She was drawn to the kitchen area, where she found dinner preparations were well underway. The room buzzed with the steady bustle of activity. Mrs. Raymond was in her usual scurry, darting around the counters and appliances, giving orders to her small staff.

"Please, Annie, not too much salt in the soup. Mr. Mitchell definitely doesn't care for too much salt."

"He'll eat what he gets, like everybody else around here," came the gruff voice of the gray-haired cook who stood leaning over the steaming pots on the stove. She was tall and massive-looking in her white uniform, her more than ample figure almost bursting through the seams. "I'll cater to Mr. Mitchell when he pays my salary, and not before. If you ask me, you pay too much attention to that young dandy."