House of Masques (12 page)

Edward stopped the horse across the street from the church. “Presbyterian,” he said. “The Worthington' church in the old days. Not now, of course, since Charles's mother is a Roman Catholic. The family plot is in the cemetery down the hill toward the river.” She followed his nod to where willows swayed above rows of headstones.

He clucked the horse on as the congregation began a new hymn.

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored

He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword…”

The chorus echoed in her mind after the music had faded behind them. She shuddered. Would a vengeful God punish her for her sins? After all, she had meant to kill Charles.
Do not think about death and retribution, not today
, she told herself. They rode toward the village in silence.

“Such a beautiful day,” Kathleen said at last.

“Shall we drive for a while?”

“Yes, I don't want to go back just yet. I'd like to put the Estate from my mind, if only for an hour or two.”

They passed the school, the firehouse, the livery stable, and the general store. On a tree-lined street large homes stood stolidly, squarely in the center of cared-for yards. A few hundred feet farther on, the road narrowed and became a cart path with grass growing between two worn tracks. On both sides gold-and-black butterflies flitted over fields of daisies dipping in the breeze.

When they came to a woods Edward put the whip in the socket on the side of the rig, pulled up and tied the horse. Kathleen heard the sound of running water coming faintly over the whispering of the pines. They walked in the hushed shade, slipping on the needle-covered path, the earth brown and without undergrowth in the perpetual twilight. The path led to a wooded glen in whose depths Kathleen saw the sparkle of water.

She followed Edward along a trail zigzagging down a steep hill. He stopped to help her over roots and around protruding rocks, not speaking, seeming to sense her mood, her need for a quiet sharing of the cool serenity of the day.

A flash of color higher on the bank caught her eye. A few feet farther on, when they came to a break in the trees, she looked up to see a couple embracing, the women in red, the man's arm tight about her waist, his head bent to her, his lips on hers. Had she and Edward come to a trysting place? Embarrassed, she glanced at Edward and sighed with relief when she found his eyes on the path ahead.

They reached the bottom of the glen where the stream, although far below its natural banks, swirled around rocks, rushed in a deep channel between large boulders, and arched over a falls as high as a man.

They climbed down to a pool below the falls. Kathleen sat on a flat rock, removed her broad-brimmed hat, and felt the breeze disarrange her hair. She had seen no one other than the couple. She and Edward were alone, in a world apart. Lulled by the sound and motion of the water, she drowsily watched the stream surge over the rim of the falls to plunge to the rocks below. Each time the sun appeared from behind the clouds rainbow segments glimmered above the water.

A sound from the pool startled her. Edward, sitting a short distance away, with his back against a tree, threw another stone into the water. Ripples spread in ever-widening circles toward the shore. Small bugs skittered across the pool's surface. A devil's darning needle darted above her head, stopped in midair, its wings a whirring blur.

She became aware of Edward's eyes on her. Was something wrong? She leaned forward to examine the reflection of her hair, her face, her dress.

“Nothing's the matter, Kathy,” he said. He had never called her Kathy before. “The truth is, I enjoy looking at you.” She felt a blush rise to her neck and face. “The way you bring your hair from behind your head over your shoulders, the tilt of your nose.” She clasped her arms about her knees, wanting to look at him but feeling shy. She knew a pleasurable excitement and a wariness at the same time. Was Edward playing another role?

She heard him scramble to his feet. Suddenly his face appeared reflected above hers in the pool.

“You're young, Kathy,” he said. “You have time to be anything you want. Anything in the world.” He tossed a twig into the water where it circled and circled before being swept downstream. “For most of us it's too late. We're writing our last acts, and last acts can only be the culmination of all that's gone before, the plot and the characters moving inevitably to the final curtain. But not for you. You're only beginning to write your story. What shall you be? What do you want from life?”

“I-I'm not sure,” she said. “Something other than I have. Something
more.”
Her voice grew passionate. “All over the country women are breaking from the cocoons you men have kept us in: Clara Barton, Elizabeth Blackwell, Lucretia Mott, Victoria Woodhull.”

“Last night I saw you set men's heads awhirl. You were lovely, Kathy. You proved you can be what you wish—a lady, a princess.”

“I'm not at all sure I want to be a lady or a princess.”

“Do you know what I wish?” Edward asked.

She looked into his intent face and shook her head.

“I wish I could know you ten years from today,” he told her. “Oh, Kathy, what a wonder you'll be then!”

“I don't know what to make of you,” she said, her voice low. Edward reached down to touch her elbow and she stood facing him, their bodies almost touching, only a sigh separating them. Very gently he laid his hand on her cheek. The warmth of his touch made her skin tingle.

“Accept my words as your due,” he said. “As a gift from an admirer to a lovely woman.” He ran his fingertips along her cheek.
He's going to kiss me
, she thought.
In a moment, Edward will kiss me.

Panic rushed through her, followed by an emotion she did not recognize, had never known before. A quickening, a new awareness. She no longer heard the splashing of the creek, for she could hear only his breathing. She no longer saw the rushing water, the trees, or the sky, for she could see only his hazel eyes gazing into hers. The world consisted of the two of them, herself and Edward, nothing more.

He dropped his hand from her face and walked to the bank of the stream where, his back to her, hands behind him, he stared at the water cascading over the falls. She felt a pang of disappointment.
Did I do something wrong?
she wondered. With an effort she kept from running to him.

“I'm not being fair,” he said. “I'm forever letting my feelings take command when I should know better.” His black hair curled, she noticed, just above the nape of his neck. “You have my apologies,” he told her.

“I don't know what you mean,” she said with a catch in her voice.

“I'm of a different time,” he said, still not facing her, “a different world. Kathy, I've seen things and done things you could never dream of.”

He's right
, she thought,
I should be careful. He's an adept dissembler, he's moody, he drinks too much. He's older. And Josiah hinted at a terrible secret in his past. I don't care, I don't care!
she wanted to cry out. Before she could speak he approached her.

“It's time we were going back to the Estate,” he said. His eyes met hers, then glanced away. “We'll be remarked on if we stay too long.”

Without waiting for a reply he took her arm and led her to the path up the hill. She was more conscious of him than she had ever been of any man—the texture of his hair, the curve of his cheek, the lithe movement of his body. She watched him as though she meant to memorize each of his features.

While they climbed she repeated his words to herself. He had called her “lovely”, a “princess”, said he admired her. She savored the words, secreted them in her mind with the knowledge they would always be where she could find and cherish them.

Sitting beside Edward in the buggy, Kathleen was acutely aware of his presence, noticed each touch of his arm against hers. She hoped the ride would never end.

“Listen,” he said. A church bell, she thought No, higher pitched, more insistent than any church bell.

“What can it be?” she asked.

“Fire,” Edward said.

Fire. She knew a thrill of fear and excitement. Edward flipped the reins and the horse trotted into the street leading to the village square. Three men in blue-and-gold uniforms hurried down the steps of the bandstand in the center of the square. Kathleen looked a short distance beyond them where four horses pulled a pumper from the firehouse. Men and women leaned from windows or gathered on the sidewalks, talking, gesturing. Children ran past along the side of the road.

The fire apparatus, headed away from Edward and Kathleen, slowed while volunteers ran alongside and pulled themselves aboard. Edward reined their buggy into a line of wagons and carriages following the firemen. As they passed the firehouse Kathleen held her hands over her ears to muffle the reverberation of the bell ringing from atop a tower behind the building.

A man in the carriage behind them called a question to a group of boys in front of the firehouse. “The Estate,” the boys chorused in reply. “The Estate. The Estate,” she heard repeated on all sides.

Kathleen looked through the trees to the mountain a mile away. Halfway up its wooded slopes smoke billowed into the gray sky. Below the smoke she saw the orange flare of flames.

Chapter Twelve

When they reached the foot of the mountain they found a tall young man with a deputy sheriff's badge on his shirtfront waving carriages away from the road to the Estate. The other drivers either pulled their teams into an adjacent field, where they tethered the horses before proceeding on foot, or drove off along a road following the base of the mountain. Edward did neither. He went directly ahead onto the mountain road. The deputy blocked their way.

“No,” he shouted, grasping the horse's bridle. “You can't go on.” He released the horse and walked to stand in the road below Edward.

“We're from the Estate,” Edward told him.

“Makes no difference. The fire's closing in on the big house. They're evacuating now.” Above the trees Kathleen saw gray smoke blowing eastward to hang like a haze over the mountain's summit.

“They need our help,” Edward persisted. Kathleen saw the deputy hesitate.

“I'm Captain Worthington's aide,” Edward added.

The deputy stood aside. “All right,” he said, “if there's trouble, it'll be on your head.” He motioned them by.

As they approached the Estate the sky darkened. She saw the chimneys of the house and knew they were almost there. “The fire's still a half-mile away,” Edward said as he drove between the entrance pillars. The gate was open, and Kathleen looked but could not find the guard.

In the distance she heard a crackling mingled with the faint shouts of many men. Gray-white flakes floated to the ground like a gentle snowfall. One warm flake landed on the back of her hand, leaving a black smudge when she tried to brush it off.

The great house, as gloomy as the lowering sky, no longer appeared threatening. Instead, enclosed on three sides by the forest, the many roofs and the expanse of weathered wooden sidings seemed alarmingly vulnerable to the fire. Kathleen saw women carrying pails of water to the rear. The thud of axes echoed from near the stables.

Edward tied the horse to the hitching post across from the front porch. After helping Kathleen to the ground he continued to hold her hand. “Find Clarissa,” he said, “and drive her to the village. This house is a huge firetrap.”

“Where will you be?” she asked, trying to keep the concern from her voice.

He nodded in the direction of the fire. “I'll go and see if I can help.”

“Be careful. Please!” She squeezed his hand, then watched him stride toward the stables.
When will I see him again?
she wondered.
I must stop deluding myself, to Edward I'm only a meaningless flirtation.
But still she was worried and knew she wanted to see him again, and soon.

Kathleen ran up the stairs, found the porch and entryway deserted, hurried along the upper hall to a side corridor where she looked into the sewing room. The quilt lay stretched on the rack but Mrs. Ehrman was nowhere to be seen.

Back in the main hall, she found Clarissa's door open. The curtain blew inward. The bed was unmade. She stopped in the center of the room. Where would Clarissa go? Where should she look next?

“So we've found you after all.” She whirled. A young man, a stranger, lounged against the door frame. He had sandy hair, cold blue eyes in a sharp face, wore a campaign hat, a neckerchief, and a uniform-like shirt and pants. A gun protruded from the holster on his belt.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He glanced over his shoulder, ignoring the question. “Floyd,” he called, “in here.” A short older man joined him in the doorway. When he saw Kathleen his eyes widened. He shifted a wad of tobacco in his cheek and smiled, revealing yellow-stained teeth. His beard was a grizzled gray, his hair darker than the beard, and he wore the same blue uniform as his companion. The shirt bloused over his belt and his left pants leg had pulled loose and hung half-in, half-out of his boot. He, too, carried a gun.

“She's prettier than the Captain,” he said. “I'll say that for her, Jeb.”

Jeb grunted. “We'll take her,” he said. Jeb yanked a sheet from the bed and, with a knife from a sheath on his belt, cut the cloth into strips. From the door Floyd, still smiling, looked Kathleen up and down. She shrank back.

“Come here,” Jeb told her. She began to scream and the young man lunged forward, his hand flicking out to slap her hard across the face. Her head snapped to one side.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“You'll do what I say when I say,” Jeb told her.

Kathleen rubbed her tingling cheek with her fingers. Who were these men? They seemed to know her. Had they been waiting for her return? But, for what purpose?

Jeb gripped Kathleen's wrist, lowered and twisted her arm behind her. She grimaced in pain. Pushing Kathleen ahead of him he shoved her facedown on the bed. He held a piece of cloth in both hands and twisted it into a rope, thrust the gag in her mouth and knotted the ends tightly behind her head, making the corners of her mouth sting. He brought both of her hands to the small of her back and tied them together. Grasping the cloth that bound her hands he pulled Kathleen to her feet.

“We're taking her like that?” Floyd asked.

“Have to, we've got no choice. I'll scout ahead while you keep just behind her.”

“They'll see the gag.”

Jeb looked around the room. “Here,” he said, picking up Kathleen's broad-brimmed hat from the floor. He bent the brim down on both sides before pushing the hat onto her head. “Best we can do,” he said. Jeb went to the door and looked up and down the hall before signaling them to follow.

They walked toward the back stairs with Jeb In the lead, Kathleen following with head down, and Floyd behind, When Kathleen paused at the head of the stairs Floyd ran his finger down her spine from neck to lower back, making her cringe and hunch her shoulders. He gave an amused snort. Jeb, already halfway down the steps, looked around with a quick warning glance.

They met no one in the house, no one at all.

Jeb stopped when he came to a screened door at the end of a narrow hall. He eased the door open with his foot and looked across the side lawn to the woods, then to the back of the house, once more to the woods. Kathleen heard the thud of axes, followed by the
swoosh
of a falling tree.

“Well?” Floyd thrust Kathleen back against the wall and squeezed by her to join the younger man at the door.

“They're felling trees. Wetting down the outbuildings. About a hundred feet away. We'll have to chance it.”

“Our horses?”

“Can't see them from here. We'll hope for the best. Are you ready?”

Jeb opened the door and walked swiftly toward the woods, looking neither right nor left. Floyd gripped Kathleen's arm above the elbow and followed. As she crossed the grass Kathleen glanced with sudden hope to the rear of the house where several men pulled a fallen tree. Would they see her? If they did, would they realize her danger? When she reached the dirt at the edge of the woods she thought she saw one of the men stop and stare in her direction. She could not be sure.

She was in the woods. Jeb and Floyd pushed through the underbrush until they entered a clearing where two tethered horses snorted restlessly.

Floyd nodded at Kathleen. “I'll take her,” he said. His eyes, fixed on hers, were set close together and the whites were lined with red veins. No, she prayed, not him.

“No,” Jeb said. She sighed. She much preferred Jeb's cold cruelty. She could hate Jeb, a clean emotion. For the older bearded man she felt a queasy distaste.

Jeb lifted her onto his saddle before swinging up behind. Floyd mounted and they set off at a walk with Floyd in the lead. The trail ran almost level as it rose gradually through thick woods along the flank of the mountain. Although they were going away from the house and the fire, the wind-blown smoke grew thicker, stinging her nose and throat. She choked, bent over in a fit of coughing. They stopped at a well house where the men dismounted to wet their neckerchiefs and tie them over their faces.

The mountain, Kathleen had observed from the village, was shaped like a knife lying on its back, the blunted point jutting into the Hudson River. They were halfway to the top, approaching the edge of the blade where the gentle incline changed to a precipitous slope.

Their route crossed deep slashes where, when the rains began, streams would hurtle to the river. Logs which had been used to bridge the gullies many years before were rotted. Some sagged precariously while others had fallen to the rocks far below. At one crevice, some thirty feet from side to side, Jeb and Floyd were forced to dismount to test the decayed timbers before leading the horses across.

As they neared the ridge of the mountain the ground became rocky, the going rougher. The pain in her cramped arms almost made Kathleen forget the stinging of her eyes. Most of the smoke had risen to hang in a cloud above their heads, leaving patches of white clinging here and there among the trees and brush.

Through the wisps of smoke Kathleen saw a movement far above them on the mountain. Men on horseback. She glanced quickly at Floyd. His downturned eyes followed the track in front of the horses, looking, she supposed, for ravines and washouts. Jeb, Jeb was the danger. She twisted her body.

“Damn you, sit still,” Jeb told her. Good, if she could just keep him distracted.

Their horses picked their footing with care. The river lay below to her right, Constitution Island near the far shore, Breakneck Mountain beyond. A scattering of boulders and a few scrawny shrubs covered the rising slope to the left. A thick finger of smoke drifted between Kathleen and the horsemen coming down. She relaxed despite the tears blurring her eyes. The other riders were completely concealed.

The trail turned abruptly back on itself, still climbing. Two more switchbacks, three at most, and they would meet the other party face-to-face. A breeze pulled at her hat. She groaned to herself as she saw the smoke thin and begin to rise.

Floyd raised his open hand. Jeb reined in beside him.

“See something?”

“Couldn't be sure,” Floyd said, his voice low. “Thought so. Look there between those two black rocks.”

“Off the trail, hurry.” They had reached another turning and Jeb dropped to the ground and plunged straight down a rocky slope. Kathleen bent forward to keep her balance on the jouncing horse. Her flesh stung where the cloth had rubbed the skin from her wrists.

Jeb led them into a clump of trees and stopped behind a boulder. He pulled Kathleen's arm so she fell sideways into his arms. With one motion he deposited her on a clump of grass with her back against the large rock. She could see nothing of the trail.

Floyd joined them and the two men peered around the boulder.

“How many?” Floyd whispered.

“Nine or ten.”

“Mules, too.”

“Yeah,” Jeb said. “With axes, spades, picks. They're coming prepared to fight the fire.”

“Look.” Floyd nodded. “That's Worthington with them on the big chestnut. The others look like West Pointers, cadets.”

“They didn't waste any time.”

“Should we risk a shot at the Captain?” Floyd asked.

“No, too many of them. We'll get our chance later when he finds we've got the girl.”

“How will he know?”

“One of us will have to go back to the Estate.”

The two men stopped their whispered conversation. Was Captain Worthington almost upon them? Could she attract his attention? How close were they now? Kathleen could only judge by the actions of Floyd and Jeb. The two men remained silent, tense. She heard horses' hooves clump on the rocks and the laconic speech of the horsemen. Closer and closer they came.

Floyd held their two horses to quiet them. Jeb, alert and rigid, lay with his body flat on the boulder. Kathleen saw a rock near her foot. Just beyond, the bank dropped down in a jumble of stones, dead leaves, and broken branches. She stretched her foot until her toe touched the rock.

Kathleen waited. The Worthington party seemed close to their hiding place—probably, she thought, at the turning where Jeb had led them from the trail a few minutes before. Now! She shoved the rock as hard as she could and knew a surge of hope as she heard the rumble of a small landslide. Jeb turned his head and muttered under his breath.

A noise came from above, a sliding rumbling sound. “Careful,” a strange voice warned, “keep your horse away from the edge.” She was puzzled. Hadn't they heard? Then she knew. At the same time she had tried to attract their attention, one of the Worthington horses had stepped on loose dirt, its noise effectively drowning out hers. The voices of the men faded, became stronger as the trail doubled back, faded again as the horsemen went on down the mountainside. Kathleen shrank within herself.

Jeb waited a long time. Ten or fifteen minutes, Kathleen thought. Then he walked back the way they had come.

“They're gone,” he reported when he returned. He gripped Kathleen under the arms and lifted her to her feet. The boulder cut into her back. Without a word he brought his palm stingingly across her face, hit her again with the back of the hand.

She stumbled between Jeb and Floyd as they led the horses back to the trail, her throat raw from the smoke, her arms and wrists aching. Jeb lifted her into the saddle to resume their climb up the face of the mountain.

Floyd glanced back at her. He rubbed his hand down his side to his leg, smiling with anticipation. All hope of rescue gone, Kathleen slumped forward, bit hard on the gag, and sobbed.