Night of the Candles (13 page)

“For myself, I don’t see why Proserpine couldn’t do it. When I went into the kitchen just now she was perfectly idle,” Sophia went on. “Luncheon has been ready this hour and more, except for a caramel custard baking in the oven.”

“You know Proserpine has never been anything but a cook. She takes pride in that.”

“We cannot afford to pay her for pride.”

“Perhaps you would like to let her go and take on the cooking as well as the house?” Jason asked in a mild tone that held in its softness a hint of mockery.

“You must be mad,” Sophia said with a shudder.

“Only practical,” he answered.

“You know I can’t cook.”

“I was forgetting. I would wager Amanda can,” he said, a peculiar smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As he quirked an eyebrow in her direction, Amanda admitted it.

“You see?” he said.

“What an odd humor you are in today,” Sophia said with a shrug.

“Yes,” he agreed and smiled at Proserpine as she brought the tea tray.

“The house is very quiet,” Amanda commented as she accepted her cup from Sophia who sat behind the silver teapot.

The other woman looked up, a bright light in her brown eyes. “How remiss of one,” she exclaimed. “No doubt you are wondering why your fiance isn’t in evidence. I was supposed to have told you that he and Theo were going riding this morning.”

Amanda had meant nothing of the kind, but she let the matter stand, turning to Jason. “It is very generous of you to provide a mount for Nathaniel.”

“Not at all,” he answered, his gaze pensive as he stared into his teacup.

Her tone falsely bright, Sophia said, “Don’t worry, in no time at all you will be well enough to ride again. Then I suppose you will be leaving us.”

“Yes,” Amanda said, and there was nothing she could do to keep her answer from sounding ungracious. She sipped her tea, helplessly aware of the growing constraint in the room. An instant later she gave a slight, impatient movement of her shoulders. She was a guest in this house, and as such, it was her duty to be polite and pleasant, but no more than that. It was up to her host to keep the conversation going and provide an atmosphere of friendliness and conviviality. If he could not do that, then she need feel no guilt.

“Is something wrong?” Jason asked, a disquieting indication of how closely he was watching her.

“No,” she answered, summoning a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Your tea is all right?”

“Perfect.”

“Don’t fuss so, Jason,” Sophia said. “It was only a bump on the head.”

He made no reply, but it was not long afterward that he said something about seeing to the estate accounts, bowed to both Sophia and Amanda, and went away. Sophia did not linger. Murmuring something about the laundry, she swished from the room, leaving the tea things on the table.

Amanda sat staring into space with a frown between her eyes, more disturbed than she liked to admit. For the first time she began to see what had attracted Amelia to Jason Monteigne, that quality within him that had prompted her to elope with him, giving up family and friends. There was no doubt that he could be charming. What troubled her — one of many things that troubled her — was a feeling that there had been a purpose behind his charm. What could it be? The necklace? When found, it was his for the asking. Had he, perhaps, been sounding her out on the nightriders, checking to see if she could be trusted to remain quiet about his activities if she should discover them? Or was he, for some reason as yet unperceived, seeking to influence her opinion of himself? When she had first arrived he cared nothing for what she thought; why should her opinion trouble him now?

She was being ridiculous. He had been surprised, even shocked, to see her on the night she first came to Monteigne. Saddled with an unwelcome guest, he had been under no obligation to exercise charm.

She picked up the farming book, then set it down again. She stared around the room, noting each sign of age and neglect, wishing for a good polish and a cloth to bring the shine back to the fine old furniture. The portrait over the mantel seemed to draw her gaze, and she returned to it again and again. It had not been such a long time since it was painted, ten, perhaps eleven years. And yet in that time the dashing young centurion has become a bitter and grieving philosopher, a rider of the night.

Grown too restless to bear with her own company a moment longer, Amanda got to her feet. Soon it would be time for luncheon. She should make herself ready for it. Moving slowly, a precaution against the faint swimming in her head, she made her way to the stairs. By gripping the railing tightly, she made it up the steps though she was dismayed at her weakness. She was standing at the landing waiting for her knees to stop trembling when she heard voices. They were coming from the middle bedroom on the right across from the head of the stairs.

“You heard me,” Sophia was saying.

“No, fraeulein. It wasn’t so.”

“Explain it to Jason. I doubt he will believe you.”

“Why? Why do you do these things?”

“Never mind. I want you to think about what I’ve said.”

“I will think.”

“Think hard. Two deaths? It seems to need some explaining to me — perhaps to the sheriff.”

“Fraeulein Sophia! You cannot!”

“Be quiet! Unless you want the whole house to know?”

Their voices became muted and Amanda moved on, her weakness forgotten as she revolved in her mind what she had just heard. Two deaths. What could it mean? Why should Marta be afraid of Jason? And why was Sophia involving herself?

Luncheon was a long meal. They were all gathered around the board to partake of the bounty, most of which had been grown on Monteigne. Amanda felt a reserve in her manner toward Jason, but she seemed unable to do anything about it. She felt the tension between Marta and Sophia also. Nathaniel and Theo, telling of their ride, were the only ones who seemed unaware of the crosscurrents.

Toward the end of the meal a strained silence fell. Jason looked up as if suddenly becoming aware of his duties as a host. He turned in his seat, to speak to Nathaniel. “I believe that you plan to go into politics?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “I have my eye on a Senate seat in the State Legislature.”

“Interesting,” Theo observed. “My father was a State Senator.”

“Before the war, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes, of course. It’s been quite a while since we have had men of his sort over us. Have you no qualms about joining the rabble we have governing us now?”

Nathaniel flushed at the scathing tone. “Since the rabble is supported by Yankee troops, it seems to me to behoove us to use legal means of nullifying their power. By that I mean putting men into office who can be depended on to set things right.”

“By right I assume you mean back the way they were?” Theo inquired.

“Well, no. That won’t be possible.” Nathaniel’s eyes widened in amazement as he regarded Theo. “I’m afraid anyone who thinks it is, is either misguided or willfully blind. We are entering into a new era…”

“Yes, a new era of mediocrity,” Theo interposed.

“An era wherein men will excel and become greater through personal effort instead of birth or the sweat of others.”

“A fine thing, I’m sure.”

“I think so, yes,” Nathaniel said with simple candor.

“You are entitled to your own opinion,” Theo said, “but I doubt there are many who will agree. Most favor the solution posed by the Knights of the White Gardenia.”

“Your local nightriders?” Nathaniel smiled. “I hope they ride for many a night to come.”

“You do?” Theo sat back with his wineglass in his hand, surprise making his face blank.

“Indeed I do. The intention of this group is to spread fear, to make the elected officials think twice before they indulge in legal robbery and oppression of a helpless population. The trouble with that is, the men who start such activities can’t control them. Anybody fortunate enough to still own a set of bed linens can use them to further their own ends. One group, in all self-righteousness, takes a carpetbagger out and gives him a coat of tar and feathers before sending him North on a rail, next time another group takes out a wifebeater and gives him a taste of the whip, and a week later we have a sheeted outlaw robbing an old couple of their life savings. People become afraid. Nobody knows who belongs to the nightriders, where they will strike next, or why. In desperation, people have to stop this kind of thing. The best way is to remove its reason for being, the basic injustice. And the way to do that is through the political system. So you see, the more the men in sheets ride, the faster I’ll benefit.”

“I’m surprised you don’t put on a sheet and lend them a hand,” Sophia said, smiling across the table at Nathaniel.

“No, no,” he answered, taking the joke, if that was what it had been, at face value. “I’ll just let them hang themselves.”

It occurred to Amanda that Theo, with his hint of support for the nightriders, might be the man she had seen riding homeward in the dawn. After a moment, she dismissed the idea. If he was he would surely have the sense to remain quiet on the subject.

Involuntarily, she glanced at Jason. He sat playing with his wineglass, his narrowed eyes holding an expression bordering on contempt as he stared at Nathaniel. It was, she thought, the contempt of the man of action for the purveyor of slow, dry legalities. It might also be, a part of her mind whispered, the contempt of the man who, like her grandfather, unlike Nathaniel, refused to compromise his honor to profit by base deeds.

Abruptly Jason set the glass to one side. “You applaud individual effort, Sterling, and yet you are willing to use other people’s money to put yourself in office?”

“Unfortunately, it is necessary,” Nathaniel said, his voice grave. “The expense is more than one man can bear.”

“Granted, the expense is great, that is exactly the point. Why should you expect someone else to bear the burden?”

“I don’t believe I understand what you are getting at, sir,” Nathaniel said stiffly.

“I’m questioning the wisdom of using Amanda’s patrimony to finance your ambitions,” Jason said, his tone quiet, even gentle.

“By what right?” Nathaniel demanded.

“I see you don’t deny it. My right? Why, that of her nearest relative. The connection is by marriage only, but I feel a certain responsibility.”

“Do you indeed? I find that odd, I must say, under the circumstances.”

“Must you? But then, you do not know me well.”

“As well as Amanda does.”

“True,” Jason conceded.

“In any case, Amanda is of age and scarcely in need of your concern or aid.”

“There I cannot agree with you,” Jason said, his gaze watchful.

“Be that as it may,” Nathaniel said, his face growing alarmingly red, “I am her fiance and perfectly able to advise her in the use of her inheritance.”

“For her advantage or your own.”

“As my wife she will, naturally, benefit if I am elected.”

“And if you are not?”

“Then I will support her, as any husband would do! See here, I will not tolerate anymore of this impertinence. What I can’t understand is how you came to know of Amanda’s financial position.”

This was said with an accusing look in Amanda’s direction. When Jason made no answer, she said, “I told them, Nathaniel. It was hardly a secret since Amelia was involved in the disposition of my grandfather’s estate.”

“I still don’t like it,” he said petulantly.

“Like it or not, you will have me to contend with in this matter,” Jason told him, his voice rising for the first time as Nathaniel continued to frown at Amanda.

Nathaniel sent him a glance totally lacking in his usual urbane calm. “I don’t see what you have to gain from it.”

“No,” Jason agreed, “I was sure you wouldn’t.”

Amanda’s fiance went rigid. He looked uncertain whether to issue a challenge on the spot or get up and walk away.

“Nathaniel, please…” Amanda said.

He glanced at her impatiently, then recalling that he was at his host’s table, he gave a laugh of false heartiness, saying to Jason, “I suppose I must be glad that you will not be one of my constituents. I can see I would not be able to count on your vote!”

The clink of silver against china seemed loud in the quiet interval. Amanda played with her fork. “Has anyone seen Carl this morning?” she asked finally.

A flush rose under the tan of Theo’s face, but he went willingly into the conversational breach. “He was seen sneaking away toward the woods. With any luck he will be gone two or three days.”

“He has formed quite an attachment for you, hasn’t he, Amanda?” Nathaniel said with an attempt at lightness as he glanced at her across the table.

“It isn’t for me at all. I told you, he seems to think that I’m Amelia.”

“Ah, well,” he answered comfortably, “it’s harmless enough, I suppose. So long as he is the only one to make that mistake.”

Amanda could feel the color mounting hot to her face. His remark might have been innocently made. Still, in view of what had just passed between Jason and himself, it had the sound of a warning. She was acutely conscious of the interested gaze of the others at the table as, staring at her plate, she replied in a tense voice. “There seems little likelihood.”

Still, though she scarcely realized it, the emotion the incident had aroused in her affected her conversation with Nathaniel later. She had been embarrassed before everyone, and the smothered resentment over that fact made her less amenable to suggestion than she might have been otherwise. When they were alone in the sitting room across the hall from the parlor, she gave him her cheek when he bent to kiss her.

“My dear Amanda,” he said, “you are rather pale. I think you should rest this afternoon.”

“I’m not at all tired, Nathaniel.”

“Quite frankly, you look it, my dear,” he insisted brutally. “I think you are trying to rush things. There is really no need. You are comfortably settled here.”

“I don’t like to take advantage of Jason’s hospitality any longer than necessary. I would like to leave here as soon as possible. The quicker I regain my strength, the sooner we can be gone.”