Stranger by the Lake (9 page)

“Sounds like a fascinating idea,” Paul replied, nodding.

“My editor likes it,” I said. “It has all the elements of good fiction: a beautiful heroine, an attractive, irreverent young hero, a rowdy period of history. Of course I'll have to include all those embellishments my fans have come to expect—suspense, chills, narrow escapes. That will mean taking a few liberties with the facts, but that's a novelist's prerogative.”

“Naturally,” Craig said. “Facts aren't all that important.”

“I suppose you've done a lot of research?” Paul inquired, deliberately ignoring Craig's remark.

“Oh yes, I've spent hours in the reading room of the British Museum, and I've collected a great many books on the subject——”

Dr. Matthews and I began to discuss historical research. Craig Stanton listened, his manner condescending, a rather smug look on his face. He was, of course, an expert on the subject, but he chose to remain silent, going over to the cart to mix a drink, prowling around the room like a graceful animal in captivity. His movements distracted me, and I found it hard to concentrate on what Paul was saying. I was relieved to hear footsteps in the hall and see my aunt come in with the much-mentioned Althea.

Aunt Agatha wore a simple black gown, long-sleeved, the skirt sweeping the floor. The rope of lustrous pearls was around her neck. Her face was radiant with excitement, and she managed to look almost beautiful. The woman at her side was another matter altogether. Almost as tall as my aunt, she was undeniably heavy, plump and round all over. Her taffeta dress was bright green, crackling stiffly with every step she took, and her face was almost clown-like with its ludicrous makeup. Her mouth was too red, her cheeks too pink, her lids coated with violet eye shadow. Her hair was an incredible shade of red, blazing red curls tumbling in shrieking profusion, to frame her round face. There was a foggy look in her greenish-gray eyes, and she staggered as she came into the room, holding onto my aunt's arm for support.

“I
hate
to meet people!” she protested. “I don't know why you drug me over here, Aggie! There are so many more interesting things I could be doing.”

“Hush, Althea,” my aunt scolded. “Look, here's Susan. Susan, this is Althea.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said.

“My, you
are
pretty,” Althea said, smiling a lopsided smile. “Aggie always exaggerates so. My dear, you've got lovely bone structure. You must let me paint you! Yes,” she added, nodding briskly, “I'm going to like you. I fancy I shall. Twenty years ago, I'd have hated you on
sight
with those glorious cheekbones of yours, but now——”

“Here's Craig,” Aunt Agatha interrupted, “and Dr. Matthews.”

“Evenin', ducky,” she said, waving gaily to Craig. “God!. Such a gorgeous male! And the good doctor—don't say a word to me. I've had one or
two
drinks. Yes, I'll admit it, and I don't intend to listen to any of your stuffy old lectures. So there!”

With that, she opened her evening bag, whipped out a flask, and took a mighty swig, staring at us defiantly as she fastened the top back on the flask and put it in her bag again. Aunt Agatha raised her eyes heavenwards, Paul Matthews frowned, and Craig merely grinned wickedly. As for me, I found the old girl thoroughly enchanting. She might stagger, she might reek of gin, yet she knew exactly who she was, and she couldn't have cared less what anyone thought. She marched unsteadily over to one of the white sofas and plopped down, green skirt crackling noisily. She glared at us for a moment, then fell back against the cushions and was instantly asleep.

“She's a pet, actually,” Aunt Agatha told me.

“I don't doubt it for a moment,” I said.

“I felt it would do her good to get out for a while,” she explained to Paul. “She didn't want to come, but I insisted. She's really been quite upset by all the excitement——”

Paul frowned, looking very much the professional doctor. “I'm afraid we're going to have to do something about Althea one day soon,” he said in a sober voice. “She isn't getting any better——”

“Nonsense! Althea's the happiest creature on earth. As long as she has her daily quota of gin——”

“That's precisely what I mean,” he retorted. “She's too much responsibility on you, Agatha. You can't keep on nursing her like——”

“I refuse to hear another word on the subject!” Aunt Agatha said firmly, cutting him short. “Tonight we're celebrating the arrival of my lovely niece. We're all to be merry and gay. You two gentlemen must amuse us! Fetch me a drink, Craig, and make it a double!”

Paul Matthews lifted his heavy shoulders in a shrug, smiling in spite of himself. Aunt Agatha downed her drink like a trooper, with considerable relish. She and the doctor chatted about the citizens of Gordonville, my aunt pumping him for all the newest gossip, and I sipped my Scotch, perching on the arm of the sofa. Craig was standing across the room, apparently intrigued by a set of prints hanging on the wall, but I saw him glancing up at me every now and then.

I felt very content. I was sure I had captured his interest, and it was pleasant to contemplate. The room was lovely by candlelight, all faded elegance and old world charm. The fire burned quietly in the fireplace now, washing the hearth with a flickering orange light, and soft shadows spread over the dark blue wallpaper. Aunt Agatha reached up and squeezed my hand, and I gave her a reassuring smile. It was so grand being here, temporarily freed from the furor and routine of London. I finished the drink, alcohol enhancing my mood.

“Cook says dinner's ready,” Mildred said, creeping into the room like a mournful vampire. “We can be seated now, ma'am.”

“Thank you, Mildred,” Aunt Agatha replied. “Craig, if you would help Althea into the dining room——”

“Come on, luv,” Craig said, seizing Althea's wrists and pulling her to her feet. “Time to eat.”

“What? What's happening! I was havin' the most
amazing
dream——”

“Tell us about it later,” he said. Holding her firmly by the elbow, he propelled her towards the dining room. She lolled against him, a merry smile on her lips. Aunt Agatha linked her arm in mine, and Paul was left to escort Mildred out of the room.

The dining room was paneled in dark fumed oak, with colorful enameled shields and spears on the walls. Heavy brass chandeliers hung from the high beamed ceiling, spilling light over the long baronial table with its tall, heavily carved oak chairs upholstered in old red velvet. It was an impressive room, I thought, though hardly cozy. Cook started serving the meal as soon as we were seated. She was a large, heavy-set woman with a no-nonsense face and steel-gray hair, wearing a white apron over her black uniform. She was obviously in a hurry to get the meal over with so that she could clear up and drive back to Gordonville. She looked rather grumpy as she brought in the soup.

“I'm afraid she's rather put out because I asked her to stay so late,” Aunt Agatha apologized. “Too, this is Mary's day off and she wasn't here to help. Oh dear, isn't the soup a bit
cold
?”

“It's fine,” I protested.

“Tell me, Agatha,” Paul Matthews began, “have you made any more progress in your search?”

“We haven't found anything yet,” she said, “but we're still looking. We didn't search today, of course, what with Susan arriving, but yesterday we started going through all those trunks and boxes in the basement. Craig had to move ever so many. There are several more we have to go through. I'm sure we'll turn something up sooner or later——”

“You've searched the whole house?”

“Most of it. There are a few rooms we haven't got to yet.”

Paul shook his head. I could tell that he had little faith in the existence of the Gordon papers. Althea had been sitting slumped back in her chair. She suddenly sat up very straight, her gray-green eyes alert.

“Nothing but trouble,” she mumbled.

“What's that, Althea?” my aunt said.

“I said there's been nothing but trouble ever since you started poking around for those papers. That article in the paper, all those letters, and then those men trying to break into the house——”

“They were harmless chaps, just looking for excitement,” Aunt Agatha protested. “Besides, Craig caught them. I'll never forget the way he tackled that poor chap on the terrace. You should have seen it, Susan! He ran outside and
flew
at the man, knocking him down and then getting a firm grip around the startled chap's throat. I'm quite sure he would have strangled the man if I hadn't intervened——”

“Didn't you call the police?” I inquired.

“Of course not! He was merely a rather dim-witted fellow from the village, looking for thrills. I let him off with a stern warning. The
second
intruder was another matter altogether. He was actually in the house! How he broke in I'll never know. Craig caught him, too, but the fellow fought loose and ran away before we could catch him again. Paul sent the dogs over after that, and we haven't had any more trouble.”

“Humph!” Althea snorted.

“Althea, you know there haven't been any more intruders. You have a very vivid imagination, and——”

“I-know-what-I-know,” she said enigmatically, pushing her soup aside and taking out the flask for another nip.

“Althea claims she has seen people on the property at night,” my aunt said, raising her brows. “Dower House looks out over the back lawns, down towards the lake, and she claims——”

“I-don't-want-to-discuss-it,” Althea said haughtily. “I've warned you, Aggie, but you won't listen to me. Oh no, I
imagine
things! Well, when we all wake up with our throats slit you'll sing a different tune.”

“I rather fancy it would be difficult to wake up with a slit throat,” Craig said, grinning at Althea, “much less sing a tune afterwards. But if anyone could do it, you'd be just the girl, Althea. I'm betting on it.”

“Go ahead and mock,” she said with tipsy dignity. “See if I care. I may
nip
, but I'm not blind!”

“You've been nipping far too much,” Paul said sternly. “Two bottles of gin a day, more or less. It's a wonder you don't see bats——”

“Oh, I do. A whole flock of the charming little creatures hang about on the trees down by the lake. You're not so smart, you and your pills and prescriptions and fancy Latin words. I know what's-real-and-what's-not.” She made a face at him and slumped back in her chair.

“I hope this isn't
alarming
you, Susan,” Aunt Agatha said.

“I have nerves of steel,” I said, not quite truthfully.

“We turn the dogs loose in the house when we get ready to retire,” she explained. “They roam up and down the halls. I can assure you, if anyone tried to break in we'd know about it. Besides, Craig's a judo expert. He's won several trophies.”

“Wonderful,” I said.

“I'll teach you a few locks and holds,” he told me.

“I'll bet you'd love that,” I replied.

“So you see,” Aunt Agatha continued, “there's nothing whatsoever to be alarmed about.”

“Ta ta!” Althea clucked. “You'll see.”

Mildred hadn't said a word during all this time. Her face was chalky pale beneath the pancake makeup, and she looked tense, as though she might bolt out of her chair at any moment and run screaming out of the room. The poor thing was undoubtedly nervous to begin with, and all this talk about intruders didn't help. She was pathetic in her worn gray velvet and untidy coiffure, completely out of place at this baronial table, and I couldn't help but be a little sorry for her. Paul Matthews evidently felt the same way. He gave her a reassuring smile, but she merely drew back in her chair and stared fixedly at her plate.

We were on the third course now. Aunt Agatha was complaining that the meat was tough, which was certainly true. The wine was slightly sour, but that didn't prevent Althea from gulping hers down with gusto. Seeing that I didn't intend to drink mine, she reached over and took my glass, giving me a sly little smile, as though we were conspirators. Craig immediately set his glass in front of her as well, and Althea looked positively elated. Dr. Matthews frowned disapprovingly. Althea actually stuck her tongue out at him.

“——an American, I think,” my aunt was saying. “Anyway, he's shockingly wealthy. Over a million dollars he offered me. Over a million! Of course, I wrote back that it was out of the question. If we
were
to find the manuscripts, I certainly wouldn't sell them to some eccentric American collector. The fellow's living in London, and he wanted to come to Gordonwood to discuss the matter. What was the fellow's name, Craig?”

“Stephen Kirk, I believe. From Texas.”

“That's right. Anyway, he was frightfully persistent. When I wrote back that I wouldn't see him, he phoned from London. Such a
drawl!
I told him, I said, ‘Mr. Kirk, we haven't
found
the manuscripts, but if we do, they're certainly not for sale.' He upped his price, and I finally had to hang up on him.”

“What
would
you do with the papers if you happened to find them?” Dr. Matthews asked.

“First of all, I'd let Craig use them for his book, and then I'd give them to Oxford, probably, for their collection, with permission to publish. I certainly wouldn't expect to make
money
from them.”

Cook tromped in with dessert, bowls of starchy chocolate pudding. She plunked them down and looked at her watch rather pointedly, her stern face resembling thunderclouds. None of us found the pudding particularly appetizing, and in a few minutes Aunt Agatha told Cook she could clear the table and drive on back to Gordonville.

“I'm not intendin' to do all these dishes tonight!” Cook stated, very emphatic. She stood with hands on hips, glaring at all of us.