Enemy In The House (19 page)

“Please to have another serving,” Aunt Grappit said.

So that was the explanation of Selene, Amity thought; that was the task she had spoken of. In a dim way she had sensed some such story. But how far would Selene consider herself justified in taking the risk of using that power of hers, and her established position, to protect Simon?

Grappit gobbled some ham. “Outrageous! Why, she could make all kinds of trouble! Slave insurrections—”

“Quite the contrary.” Squire Wickes’ mild voice was suddenly encrusted in ice. “Mallam Penn is the best run penn in Jamaica, less sickness, no runaways, good relations between landowner and slaves. And Selene, who has many sources of information, has put me greatly in her debt by bringing abuses to my attention. We have laws here, you know, sir, made with a view to controlling the absolute and regrettably sometimes cruel power of the landowners. Selene’s influence is an excellent one.”

“Well—well—be that as it may—” Grappit put down his knife with an air of decision. “All this is beside the point. I am perfectly sure, sir, that young Simon Mallam strangled this poor girl, Hester.”

A
MITY WAS ALMOST TRAPPED
into making another mistake. Her first impulse was to guard herself, show nothing—but she had shown no grief, nothing when Grappit announced Simon’s death and that was a blunder. She cried, “Simon! You said he was dead! You said he was killed at Savannah—”

“I must have been misinformed,” Grappit said smoothly.

“Why—but what do you mean, Uncle? I’m his wife! You must tell me! Where is Simon?” She demanded boldly and was cold with fright at her own daring.

Squire Wickes said, “This is a very serious accusation, sir. Upon what do you base it?”

“You suggested it yourself, sir. The seaman on the smuggler, the seaman who escaped. This girl, Hester, somehow discovered his identity. It is possible that she knew him in America. When the captain of the smuggler was arrested and Simon was forced to escape, he knew that he would be in danger from Hester who could say, definitely, that he was Simon Mallam, an officer in the so-called Continental Army, obviously in Jamaica on some spying errand. So he made his way here and—killed her. It’s only a matter of putting two and two together. Therefore Simon must be somewhere near, in hiding. When did you last see him, Niece?” he asked Amity, so smoothly that she knew he hoped to take her by surprise. “I saw him in Savannah, when we left! I’d have seen him on the ship! This cannot be true—” She had no need now to summon up agitation. Her words were sharp and clear.

“A moment.” Such was Squire Wickes’ authority, his mild voice brought about instant attention. He turned to Charles. “Mr. Carey, you were a passenger on the smuggler. Was this young Mallam disguised as a seaman?”

Charles replied at once. “The fact is, sir, I wouldn’t have recognized him. I saw him only once, at my sister’s wedding, and that was six years ago. Neville and I were talking of such a possibility just before supper. Neville described Simon—tall, red-haired. I’m bound to say, sir, that the storm was severe, the men were at the pumps the whole time, and if such a man was on the ship I might not have seen him. I really can’t answer your question.” It was moderate, it was true, and Amity wished that just once Charles was not, as Neville had said, too upright and good to be true, himself, and had said flatly that Simon was not on board the ship.

It angered Grappit. “You are attempting to shield my niece, sir. I see your motive perfectly. You hope that she is a widow. You want her and her estates for yourself. That has been clear from the first. You came to South Carolina, you were always hanging around her, riding, walking—God’s life, dancing together, while that little—I mean to say my poor deluded sister-in-law China, without knowing it of course, encouraged your suit. I daresay you hope to be appointed guardian for the boy and China!” And a far better guardian than Grappit, Amity thought swiftly.

Squire Wickes said, “Dear me, I really think some immediate inquiry—” He looked at the two officers, whose eyes were avidly taking in the entire scene. “Do you two gentlemen feel up to a ride in to Spanish Town tonight?”

“Why—why, yes, sir—”

“Certainly, sir. We’ve taken that road before this at night,” the lieutenant said, rather rashly as it proved, for Squire Wickes permitted himself a wintry smile.

“Yes, so I’ve been given to understand—arriving back at the barracks barely in time for morning parade something the worse for wear. Well, well—you’ll take a note from me with you. I wish the prisoner, this smuggler skipper, Captain Boyce, to be released in my custody. Bring him to me. And in no circumstances permit his escape. You understand Captain Boyce may be an extremely valuable witness. He will know, certainly, whether or not this escaped seaman was in fact Simon Mallam. He is very likely to know something of Hester. So guard him well, gentlemen. Sir,” he said to Grappit, “if you’ll be so kind as to supply me with paper and a pen—”

Grappit sprang up, his white linens flapping. In the little flurry and commotion, Amity made what she hoped was a calm exit. Once they brought Captain Boyce, the hunt for Simon would be on, full cry. She must see Selene now, at once, she must see Simon. She would have to wait until the house was quiet. Her heart was erratic, thumping hard and then sinking away like a heavy stone.

Dolcy was in her room. The candle was lighted but shielded from Jamey who slept under a mosquito gauze on the trundle bed. Dolcy said calmly, “The men, the militia officers, they to have that room, Madam Grappit say. We move the bed here. Is that right, lady?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

Amity looked through the mist of the mosquito gauze at Jamey, sound asleep, and suddenly, a forgotten yet an important question shot into her mind.

After the earthquake was over Dolcy had returned to the house with Jamey. She had taken him with her to Hester’s room. She had been there when Amity herself came to search Hester’s clothing. She had spent the night there. There had been no moment between the time of her appearance with Jamey and the next morning when anyone could have come to search Hester’s effects without being seen by Dolcy.

Amity said softly for fear of waking the sleeping boy, “Dolcy, the night of the earthquake, when my stepmother came and found the papers, you remember, tied with blue ribbon—”

“Yes, lady.”

“Did anyone else come to the room and—and search for anything?”

“Oh, yes, lady,” Dolcy said promptly. “Madam Grappit.”

“Madam—do you mean my aunt?”

“Yes, lady. And then Massa Grappit.”

“When did they come? After my stepmother or—”

“After, lady. The old lady, Madam Grappit, come in and search through the room. She don’t speak to me so I say not a thing to her. She find nothing and go away. Then late in the night Massa, your uncle, come. No word to me so I say no word to him. He find nothing. Madam Grappit find nothing.”

It was natural enough for both Grappit and Aunt Grappit to search Hester’s small possessions, and both of them had been too late, for China had got there first. The only odd thing about it was that the Grappits had acted independently, first Aunt Grappit, then Grappit. Amity had always assumed that they acted together, in each other’s complete confidence.

Surely, if those blank papers were significant as Selene believed them to be, the murderer would not have wasted a moment to search them out and destroy them. The urgent need was to warn Simon of Captain Boyce. After a moment she went to the window which Simon had used in entering and leaving her room. She opened the jalousie.

The moon was rising, which was unfortunate, for there was a white, clear light over the world which outlined every tree and every shrub. But a deep black band of shadow lay directly below the window. Beyond it, full in the moonlight, lay the grassy path which went between the house and the enclosed garden, on out of sight around the end of the house toward the sugar house and mill.

She leaned out the window. There were vines, creepers with toughly twining stems and thick old trunks, masking the entire wall. Directly below, though, there was indeed a ledge, fully wide enough for a foothold. The path sloped up a little from the front entrance so it was in fact not a long drop from the ledge to the ground and there was a thick mass of shrubbery to cushion a fall.

If Simon could climb up to the ledge, certainly she could climb down. She couldn’t return that way. But she could get out.

“Dolcy,” she said rapidly, “the two officers who were to sleep in Jamey’s room have gone to Spanish Town. But keep Jamey here and don’t let anyone in till I come back—”

“Don’t go,” said Dolcy suddenly.

“I have to.” She opened the jalousies wide. Dolcy padded over and pushed past her to look out into the black and white night. Her gold earrings flashed in the candlelight as she turned her head, peering into the night almost as if she sniffed for danger.

“Help me,” Amity said and swung her legs over the sill. Dolcy held her firmly until her feet found the ledge. She glanced up at Dolcy’s bright turban and anxious face, framed by the candlelight behind her, released Dolcy’s hands, got a hold on a vine, then another and it was no more difficult than going down a ladder except she had to grope for footholds and once a vine was too slender and tore away so she landed with a little jolt, but landed, with shrubbery scratching and rustling around her. Dolcy leaned out and then closed the jalousies, shutting off the light.

The veranda was lighted from the lounge but there was a band of darkness directly beneath it. Amity slid lightly across the dangerous open stretch of driveway, tip-toed along in the shadow of the hedge until she found the path to the banyan tree and entered it.

The path was in deep shadow but the sky above was almost as light as day. The extraordinary hum of insects and night creatures covered any sound she might have made. Once, at a curve, she had a wide view of the sky and a glimpse of the true Southern Cross, blazing in glory. She paused for an awestruck second. Then the banyan tree spread its dark tent over her.

Selene’s cabin was dark, too. The heavy fragrance of tuberoses seemed sweeter in the moonlight. She knocked very lightly on the door but this time Selene did not open the door promptly and when she did open it, she was coldly stern. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I had to. Where is he?”

There was only the pale light from the window. She could barely see Simon as he emerged from the door at the end of the room. “Amity! You gave us a scare! We thought you were the old Squire back again—What is it?”

“They’ve sent for Captain Boyce! The captain of the
Southern Cross!”

Selene said, “We know that. McWhinn saw the officers leave and told me. Mr. Simon is to leave at once.”

“Does Captain Boyce know who you are, Simon?”

“Oh, yes. He drives a hard bargain. I had to bring considerable pressure—yes, he knows who I am.”

“Wait—that’s not all! Uncle Grappit says you killed Hester.”

“
I
killed Hester!”

The moonlight streamed so brightly through the window that Amity could see the startled jerk of Simon’s head. “Oh, I see. His idea is that Hester recognized me—”

“Yes, yes. Where are you going?”

“I’m staying here,” Simon said. “There’s a hiding place on the mountain—”

Selene interrupted. “You must go. I have done all that I can do. The men will return tomorrow. Put as many miles between Mallam Penn and yourself as you can, I can help you no more.”

Simon took Selene’s hand and kissed it. “You have been a very brave and wonderful friend to us. We both thank you.” He came to Amity. “If I know Captain Boyce, there’ll be some more bargaining. We may have more time than we think. Now go quickly when I open the door. But wait for me at the banyan tree.”

“That is foolish, that is dangerous,” Selene said sternly.

Simon opened the door barely enough for Amity to slide herself and her billowing skirts through and closed it at once, very softly. The scent of tuberoses carried poignant sweetness. The white moonlight poured down, outlining every blossom and every leaf.

She waited in the dense black shelter of the banyan tree and after a moment Simon came, a quickly moving shadow emerging from the path. He carried a sack which he put down.

“Food,” he said. “Selene gave it to me. She’s washed her hands of me and she’s right—”

“Where are you going?”

“There’s a sort of cave, all overgrown with vines. Selene knows about it. She thinks no one else does.”

“Somebody else might know. And if they get dogs—No, no, it’s not safe. You must be miles away from here by daylight!”

“Jamaica is an island, you know.”

“Simon! There are the Maroons! McWhinn told me. They live in what they call the cockpits, west of here. They might—”

“I’ve got to reach Saint Dominique as soon as I can. It’s a long swim,” he said lightly.

“For God’s sake don’t joke now!”

“I’m far from joking. I’m thinking about a boat. I’ll have to find something—somewhere. I wish,” Simon said suddenly, “that I could take you with me.”

S
HE COULDN’T SEE HIS
face clearly, in the deep shade of the banyan tree. She couldn’t hear his voice clearly, for the stridulous night clamor of the forest hummed all around them. But she knew that both his face and his voice were different. All at once, without any seeming movement, drawn together like two parts of the same being, they made one shadow instead of two.

She wanted it to last forever.

“Simon—do you mean this?”

“Do I mean what?”

“That you—that I—I mean—”

“Amy, you are a little fool. Why did you offer so coolly to set me free?”

“I made you marry me.”

“Nobody can make anybody do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Do you mean—did you really want to—”

“I wasn’t sure you really wanted marriage until you put your head against me, like this, in my arms that afternoon before we were married. Then I wasn’t sure but I thought perhaps you loved me and didn’t yet know it. I thought—God knows what I thought—but I decided to take the chance. I couldn’t believe you’d suggest marriage unless, in your heart, you loved me. But then later I knew, too, that I might have let my own desire carry me away. I thought I was unfair to you.”