Dark Splendor (32 page)

A room was made ready for Reverend Samuels,
and when he went up to rest from his journey, Silvia returned to
the front drawing room and found that Martha had come down to
receive the few visitors who came to express their condolences.

Martha greeted Silvia with a plaintive
smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her face was drawn and pale as she
took Silvia’s hand and pressed it in her cold, trembling palms. “We
can comfort one another.”

Silvia hugged Martha’s shoulders and took a
place beside her.

“So many people I don’t know,” she whispered
as Martha introduced her to the overseers and other gentlemen who
presented themselves.

Word of Schlange’s passing had traveled
quickly through the area, and those who had the means to travel
streamed in to pay their respects. Secretly Silvia wondered if many
of them, business associates in particular, had not come to assure
themselves the sly old man was really dead. She felt no dismay for
her uncharitable thoughts. If Schlange dealt with all as he had
with her, many would rejoice at his passing.

Nevertheless, she went through the motions
of formality expected of the mistress of Serpent Tree Hall. When at
last all the visitors had come and gone, both she and Martha were
exhausted, and Martha, showing the signs of her fatigue, excused
herself, saying she must go upstairs.

Alone again, Silvia looked tiredly around
the stately drawing room. How small and alone she felt beneath the
high arched ceilings and among the overpoweringly rich furnishings.
She had the uneasy feeling that Schlange’s ghost was already
stalking the castle, perhaps joining the feud between Aurelius and
Siegfried. She crossed one arm over her breast and rubbed an aching
shoulder. What a restless, nefarious spirit he would be. Was it
true there was no rest for wicked souls?

Shuddering, she walked to the windows, but
the view gave her no cheer. The day had become overcast and gray, a
ghastly day made for funerals and sadness. Was it Schlange’s spirit
making the house and the weather so mournful? Had he that power
too? For it seemed, in the three days since he had died, that
sorrow and gloom had grown to proportions that might never wear
away.

She tried to shake herself out of the
despondent spell. She must banish the dreadful thoughts from her
mind or they would drive her to madness. Yet, try as she would, she
couldn’t stop thinking that Schlange’s spirit might be in the
drawing room with her. It was no more unbelievable than that one
feeble old man had managed to arrange in advance every event to
take place after his death. Should she have risked making a plea to
the Reverend Samuels? Silvia paused in her pacing. She had circled
the room and come to the door which opened into the adjoining
smoking room, and now a sound from behind the door arrested her
attention. Silently she took a step closer to listen.

“Can’t you see?” Eric’s voice came angrily
from the smoking room. “It could not have worked more to her
advantage had she planned it all. She might well control the
estate.”

Were they discussing her and the terms of
the will? The solicitor, Mr. Crandall, would soon be on his way,
though his arrival would be delayed by several weeks, as he had yet
to receive the message informing him of Mr. Schlange’s death. When
he was here the reading could be done and the bequests made.
Meanwhile, only Odin knew the hiding place of Schlange’s documents.
And he had been instructed to turn them over to Crandall alone.

“That oaf Odin refuses to release the
documents to me. If we knew what changes Uncle made, we might be
able to prevent a complete loss,” Eric fumed.

“I believe he made a codicil to the will
when Crandall was here before,” Martha said. “If that is the case,
whether or not we agree, we must accept the changes in good
grace.”

Silvia pressed her ear flatly against the
door to hear the muffled voices more clearly.

“Aren’t we being premature?” Morgan cut in.
“Willy cannot run the estate, nor can she. Uncle made no secret of
the terms of his will. Willy inherits, and then the estate passes
to us or our families. As long as Willy lives we have the same
arrangement to manage the estate as we previously had with Uncle.
And the same generous compensation. As I see it, we have no cause
to complain. Uncle would not have turned the management of his
empire over to an invalid son and his wife of a few weeks. I expect
the new provision of the will was made to include a daughter-in-law
rather than to exclude us.”

“Morgan,” Eric said shortly, “it’s time you
stopped viewing the world through a rosy cloud. Everything we have
worked for is at stake here. Why do you suppose Uncle arranged this
unlikely marriage?”

“He told us why,” Morgan answered. “To
provide a companion for Willy. Little more, I expect. What do you
think, Roman?”

“I believe it would be best if she had never
come here.” Roman’s voice woke her from a daze. “But more—”

“Are you all blind?” Eric asked hotly.
“Suppose there is a child.”

“Stop it, Eric,” Martha said sharply. “Calm
yourself. There is always a way to turn even the worst situation to
your advantage. And you can rest assured Uncle would not have cast
us out for a stranger.” She sighed softly. “Nevertheless, the
estate was his to do with as he pleased. We must accept whatever
that fate might be.”

Silvia’s mouth fell open and her little chin
quivered. She could bear to hear no more, and rushed from the
drawing room as if pursued. It was as Schlange had predicted. They
had begun to hate her.

***

“You do want to go with me, don’t you,
Willy?” Silvia’s eyes were bland, her voice falsely gay.

Willy’s guileless, peaceful face was lit
with a smile. He nodded affirmatively. Willy trusted and needed
her, and she was bound by her heart to protect him, which, of
course, was as Schlange had foreseen.

The funeral was to be held in the afternoon
and she had decided Willy should attend. It would be a somber,
drawn out event, culminating in Schlange being laid to rest in a
private cemetery not far from the castle. His was the first family
grave dug in the wooded glen, and Silvia had flinched on first
seeing the deep, raw gash the rectangular pit made in the smooth,
peaceful flesh of the earth.

Willy, in his childlike way, had sensed the
tension and strain in both Silvia and Vivien. He had reacted by
clinging even more fervently to Silvia, an action which did not set
well with Vivien. It was impossible to tell if he understood that
his father was dead, but there had been an evident change in his
behavior and he had become less and less content with his
confinement as each day passed. Silvia was convinced Willy had
loved his father in spite of the old man’s contempt for him.

“He should attend the burial,” Silvia
protested again as she had done numerous times over the last two
days.

“He is accustomed to his way of life and
there is no reason to change his routine now,” Vivien retorted.
“Certainly he should not be brought out to be a laughingstock at
his father’s funeral.”

“He need not be. Willy and I can stand apart
from the others on the little crest above the plot.” She turned to
bestow a soothing smile on Willy. “I believe he understands what
has happened and in his own way would like to say good-bye to his
father.”

Vivien stared belligerently at her.

At last her tight lips parted. “You may be
right in that,” she agreed reluctantly, tapping a fingernail
against the marble top of a table. “It would arouse more suspicion
if he were absent than if he were present.” Vivien lifted her brows
thoughtfully. “But see that he is kept well away from anyone,” she
warned harshly. “I will join the crowd and dissuade any attempts to
speak to him.”

Silvia agreed. It was a small first victory
with Vivien, but a victory nevertheless. With Wilhelm gone, she
hoped eventually to persuade Vivien that Willy must not be kept
prisoner in his rooms. Perhaps she would demand it when the time
was right. As long as she remained relatively a prisoner herself,
she would exert her will to break the bonds in every way she
could.

She was proved right at the funeral. Willy
looked well dressed in his dark coat and breeches. Silvia hooked
her arm through his, and from the distance, to the crowded
gathering below, they must have looked the properly bereaved
couple, too deep in grief to join other members of the funeral
party.

Willy, though, had seemed unaffected by it
all. Still, Silvia did her best to explain what was taking place,
hoping he would indeed understand. She watched his wan face
intently as the coffin was lowered into the dark depth of the
grave, and as it disappeared, one small tear trickled from Willy’s
eye as the pale, sensitive lips formed a soundless good-bye.

Silvia pressed Willy’s hand tightly in her
own as they returned to the castle. She needed no more persuasion
that Willy had far more understanding than he had been credited
with. She was convinced it was long past time his confinement
ended, and swore to herself she would wear Vivien down until she
agreed.

***

“Ready now?” Willy had begun responding to
her questions with gestures and nods. “Let’s go, then.”

A week after Wilhelm’s funeral, she had
succeeded in getting Willy out of the house for walks. It had been
a simple enough matter to explain to his cousins that the shock of
his father’s death had changed him. She and Willy would end his
seclusion by taking daily excursions over the grounds, but for a
time preferred to do so privately.

In the afternoons she would take Willy to
visit a small duck pond she had found at the end of a seldom-used
path. There, out of sight of the castle, they would sit watching
ducks paddling around and bobbing beneath the pond’s surface for
fish and weeds.

“There he is! Watch!”

Willy’s delighted face was reward enough for
the battles with Vivien. He had come so close to laughing at the
fat green bullfrog making a desperate leaping dive into the pond
that Silvia couldn’t contain a pleased smile.

Willy insisted on sitting atop a big rock
well back from the water’s edge to watch the antics of the
frogs.

Smiling, she knelt beside him.

“Would you like to wade today?”

His smile vanished and he shook his head
furiously. His fear of the water was understandable but Silvia had
hoped he might overcome it. The day before, when she had slipped
off her shoes and dipped her feet in the shallow water near the
bank, Willy’s face had clouded with panic. Sensing his concern, she
had hurried out to reassure him.

Her hand went to his cheek and she patted it
affectionately. She wouldn’t press him. It was enough that he came
to the pond. There was no need to make him recall and relive the
horrible tragedy that had killed his mother.

The walks must be happy occasions, Silvia
vowed. She would lead him slowly into new experiences.

“We must go in now,” she said softly, taking
Willy’s hand and leading him along the grassy path. “Tomorrow,
perhaps we’ll visit the stable. You’d like to see the horses,
wouldn’t you, Willy?”

Willy grinned and squeezed her hand
fervently. Silvia smiled faintly in return, her eyes damp with
tears for the hapless soul at her side, poor, simpleminded Willy
whom she had come to love as a child.

As they neared the castle, she saw Vivien
waiting at Willy’s door, her face stern and disapproving.

Resolved not to let Vivien discourage her
work with Willy, she spoke quickly. “You should come with us,
Vivien. See how his color has improved.” Silvia pointed out Willy’s
bright cheeks and tanned face. “His appetite has improved as
well.”

“Yes, he looks healthier,” Vivien admitted.
“But I’m not convinced these outings are for the best.” Her brows
furrowed into a worried frown. “Suppose he should try to go out
alone?”

“He can’t,” Silvia snapped. “You keep him
locked in.” She turned and smiled softly at Willy, who had been
startled when she spoke sharply. “And anyway, you wouldn’t go out
alone, would you, Willy?”

Attempting a smile, Willy shook his head
from side to side.

“You see, he’s improving in all areas,
Vivien. There’s so much he could do if we teach him. He has a
remarkable sense of direction. I believe he knows the grounds
better than I. It’s almost as if he’s walked them all before.”

“He’s spent many hours at the windows
looking out. He might have learned the paths from watching us move
about below.”

“It only proves he is more capable than
Wilhelm believed,” Silvia said. In the bright light by the window,
Vivien’s face had grim lines, but Silvia could sense her resistance
weakening. “You will help me teach him, won’t you?”

Vivien’s brows lifted pensively and she made
no reply. Yet Silvia knew she was considering the matter and would
eventually come to her way of thinking. No matter how little she
liked Silvia, in the end she would do what was best for Willy.

***

Silvia, however, had not become so
preoccupied with Willy that she forgot her desire to find
Schlange’s journal. She still harbored a dim hope of bringing the
truth to light, although she believed it would make little
difference to Roman now.

Odin, truly distraught over his master’s
death, had not visited the house since the funeral, and she was
convinced the journal remained hidden within the castle. Nightly
she slipped out of her rooms after everyone retired, to search the
library, the drawing room, anywhere the journal might be hidden.
But after many nights of unsuccessful searching, loss of sleep and
lack of success had begun to leave her weary, her hope waning.

Her quest had taken her stealthily through
almost every room in the castle. She had searched relentlessly and
futilely until she began to believe there was no point in
continuing. Always with her were the troublesome thoughts of
ghostly figures, but she had come to welcome the one shadow among
them which followed her every step, waiting and watching. She felt
it was the friendly presence of Siegfried, and at times tried
approaching him, but always the whimsical shadow vanished, leaving
her even more saddened and alone.