The Master of Phoenix Hall (16 page)

He stood looking at me for a long time, but it was almost as though he were not seeing me. Although his eyes were on me, they seemed to be seeing something else entirely.

“You look ravishing,” he said. “The dress is lovely.”

“Thank you, Greg. You look tired.”

“It was a long journey, a hard one.”

“Did everything go well?”

“As well as could be expected,” he said evasively.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

He looked away from me, creasing his brows as though he were making a grave decision. He wore his handsome evening clothes casually, as though he were accustomed to them. The silky black jacket fit tightly about his shoulders, the wide black satin lapels turned back to reveal a gleaming white shirtfront and a dark maroon waistband. He wore a white tie and the lining of his swirling evening cape was of heavy white satin. Greg would look at home at Whitehall, I thought. He might be a young Lord or a member of Parliament. It was hard to believe, seeing him like this, that he was merely a country schoolteacher.

He looked into my eyes, his own suddenly very serious.

“You asked if there was anything you could do,” he said. “There may be something, Angela. You can believe in me. You can have faith in me. I need that just now. There is—” he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Something big has come up, something I can't explain just now. It's what I've been looking for all my life. It would mean leaving this place, leaving the school. It would mean the fulfillment of all my dreams. And I would like for you to be a part of it, Angela.”

“Greg, you're—you're talking in riddles. I don't know exactly what you are trying to say.”

He smiled. It was a feeble smile. Then he shook his head slowly and seemed to relax.

“I know. It wasn't fair of me to spring it like that and not give you any of the details. I can't tell you what it's all about yet. All I need to know is that you're behind me.”

“Of course I am, Greg. You should know that.”

“It will make all the difference,” he said.

I studied him for a moment, wondering what all this could be about. The worried look was gone from his face, and in its place was a look of excitement and anticipation. He looked like a schoolboy who had just been given a prolonged holiday and had months of freedom ahead. I did not know how to take this sudden change. Something important had happened. I knew that he would tell me about it when the time came and until then I could only do as he asked, have faith in him.

He put both his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. He was smiling now and those dark gray eyes with their specks of green held an emotion that I understood immediately and was afraid of. I did not want us to stop being friends. I valued the easy, relaxed companionship we shared, and I was not ready to exchange it for something new. He was very dear to me as a friend, but it would take time to learn if I could feel anything more than this present warmth and admiration.

“I'm very happy, Angela,” he said.

“I am glad, Greg.”

“I want you to be happy, too. I want you to share in my happiness.”

“I—I don't know,” I replied quietly.

“Have patience with me,” he said. “I don't want to tell you about all this until I am certain of everything. When I present my plan it is going to be perfect, with no loose ends. In a few days, maybe, I will know for sure. You'll be patient, Angela?”

I nodded. He smiled again, taking my arm. My skirts rustled as I walked outside with him. It was dark now, but in the moonlight I could see his face and the flashing white lining of his cape as he helped me into the carriage. He picked up the reins in one hand and stretched his other arm about my shoulder, pulling me close beside him. We drove to Phoenix Hall slowly, and I felt a sadness I could not comprehend. Something was lost, and I grieved for it, but I didn't know yet just what it was I was grieving for.

IX

S
ENSATION PILED
upon sensation, too fast, too bright, too beautiful for me to catch them all. We walked down the stairs into the ballroom to the lively strains of music, and I heard laughter and voices and could see a hundred faces turned up to watch us. A buzz went through the crowd, and I heard people talking about us and asking who I was. I leaned on Greg's arm for support, very nervous at this close inspection.

I saw men young and old in their handsome suits and uniforms, women in spectacular gowns of every color, whirling brilliantly on the floor. Three huge chandeliers dripped from the gold leaf ceiling, and the reflections of a thousand candles made the crystal pendants glitter with all the colors of the rainbow.

“You're trembling,” Greg whispered, grinning.

“I can't help it.”

“Hold your head up, Angela. You are by far the loveliest woman here tonight.”

“Don't say silly things. I feel light-headed as it is.”

My head seemed to whirl in fast spins. There was too much dazzle and too much color. I wanted to turn and run. I did not belong here. Prim, reserved Miss Angela Todd had no place in a glittering ballroom, I told myself, and yet I felt a certain pride at being with a man as handsome as Greg. This whole evening was like a schoolgirl's dream come true, and I was as nervous as any schoolgirl could have been.

“Who is that woman with Greg Ingram?” I heard a woman ask.

“I've never seen her,” another replied, “but I wonder where she got that gown. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”

“From Paris, more than likely. She's probably someone from London, a former flame of Roderick's.”

“With Greg Ingram? It's hardly likely, my dear.”

“This place is swarming with Roderick's former flames. They say that Lady Miriam Alton is even coming.”

“She wouldn't
dare
.”

“Miriam would do anything.”

I wondered who the controversial Lady Miriam was and what connection she had with Roderick Mellory. I did not doubt that it was a scandalous one. All these people seemed strange creatures to me, their lives so far removed from my own that I could only look at them in awe, as one would peer at bizarre and beautiful animals in a zoo.

We moved on. I saw an ancient soldier with silver gray hair, golden braid draped all over the shoulders of his royal blue jacket. He was talking to a dark eyed woman whose jet black gown was resplendent with a thousand glittering jet beads. Her lined cheeks had too much rouge on them, her eyelids were heavily coated with mauve shadow and her hair was a blazing artificial red. She peered at us through a lorgnette as we passed, and the soldier stroked a silver moustache and eyed me with appreciation.

“The affluent ones,” Greg commented. “Don't let them intimidate you, Angela. That old woman might look like a dragon, but she would give every diamond she has for your complexion.”

“Who is Lady Miriam Alton?” I asked.

“A stunning brunette of thirty-five, something of a scandal to the English Peerage. She has an ancient husband, an ancient estate, and some very modern ideas.”

“Meaning?”

Greg smiled at my curiosity. “Meaning that she often makes the headlines in the tabloids and scandal sheets.”

“Oh, one of those creatures,” I said disapprovingly.

“Lady Miriam isn't so bad,” Greg replied, plainly amused by my comment. “She tends to live with a bit more dash and color than most of the nobility. A moldering estate and a moldering husband aren't quite enough to satisfy her appetite for life.”

“You admire her?”

“I've never met her, just heard about her.”

I wondered why I should be so curious about Lady Miriam Alton. I did not know why I should feel such sudden resentment for a woman I had never laid eyes on.

“Everyone should live with dash and color,” Greg said.

“Should they?”

“Life is more than being a seamstress or a schoolteacher. A man has to reach out and grab life. A man has to force it into the shape desired. Or else remain a schoolteacher the rest of his life.”

“Would that be such a bad life, Greg?” I asked.

He did not reply. There was no need to. Greg was a complex person. He was very dissatisfied, just how dissatisfied I was only beginning to see now. He looked so very much a part of this crowd. He was as elegant, as handsome as any man present. He moved with confidence, as one who belonged, and yet he did not belong any more than I did. I could see how difficult that must be for him.

“Shall we dance, Angela?” he said, bowing slightly.

The music swirled dramatically as Greg took me into his arms. We were all at once a moving, spinning part of a multicolored kaleidoscope. I saw the sparkle of diamonds and emeralds, the flashing wings of colored satin skirts, the grace and excitement of a world I had never known. I closed my eyes, and the lights were still there. I felt the strong support of Greg's arm, felt his body guiding mine. The music swelled and shattered and swelled again, great waves of music engulfing us and moving us. I was dizzy. My cheeks flushed with excitement.

For a few moments I did belong. I was a part. Phoenix Hall and the beautiful people were as natural for me as for Lady Miriam or for anyone else. It was a glorious, heady feeling, but it disappeared as soon as the music stopped. I was brought back to reality with an abrupt halt. I opened my eyes to see strangers, people I could never know.

I was not disappointed. I had Dower House. I had more than I had ever had before.

“You look lovely with your cheecks flushed,” Greg said. “You should always have that flush of excitement. You should always wear lovely gowns and dance with your eyes closed.”

I wished I could agree with him, but I knew that lovely gowns, glittering ballrooms would always be alien to me, and I was not sorry. Greg took my hand and led me standing beside a slender white column as he went for champagne.

I peered around a bank of lacy green fern at a group of young women, exquisite, radiant creatures in pale satin gowns, chattering and laughing. They were like gorgeous butterflies. I wondered if these were some of the prospective brides Nan had spoken of. Would Roderick Mellory choose one of them to be mistress of Phoenix Hall?

I realized then what I had been aware of all evening: I was anxiously awaiting sight of that man. I had been looking for him ever since we had arrived, but I had refused to acknowledge it to myself. I wanted to see Roderick Mellory again. I hated him. I loathed everything he stood for, and yet the mere expectation of seeing him caused my pulse to race. Can hatred do that to a person, I wondered.

He was my enemy, and yet I had come to enemy ground of my own choice and with every expectation of seeing him and speaking to him again. I told myself that I had come for Laurel's sake, to make her happy, and because Greg wanted me to accompany him, but I knew now that I had come because of Roderick Mellory. I was spoiling for a fight.

As I stood by the column two old people wandered by. The man was bent over and walked with an ivory handled cane. The woman had brownish, papery skin and watery blue eyes. Her silver hair was piled in splendid waves on top of her head, and her scarlet gown was sprinkled with rhinestones. The gown hung loosely on her old body.

“Phoenix Hall has never been so resplendent,” the man said as he went hobbling past. “Not even in its prime. I remember the days when—”

“Roderick Mellory must have spent a fortune, several fortunes,” the woman replied, cutting short her companion's remarks. “Where did he manage to get the money for all these repairs?”

“He's a resourceful young man.”

“Resourceful? Perhaps, but hardly honest. No honest man makes the kind of money Roderick Mellory has made in the last few years. I would give a lot to know just
how
he made the money to refurbish Phoenix Hall.”

“They say he's a very keen business man.”

“They say a lot of things about him,” the woman snapped. “If half of the things they say are true—”

They passed on, and I found myself wondering the same thing the old woman had wondered about. How did Roderick Mellory make the money to begin such costly repairs on the estate? I supposed there must be ways of making a fortune, particularly if one had some money to begin with, but it did seem curious. I did not doubt that many of the business transactions Roderick Mellory engaged in were dishonest.

I saw Greg approaching from across the room. As I watched, one of the servants tapped him on the shoulder and said something into his ear. Greg asked the man a question, and when the servant replied I thought I saw a curious expression pass over Greg's face. What was it? Fear? Anger? Alarm? The servant left, and Greg stood there for a moment, his brow pressed into a deep frown. Splendidly dressed people moved past him, some of them speaking to him. Greg did not reply. After a while he looked up, saw me waiting and hurried over. He brought a glass of champagne.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling. He handed me the champagne.

“Is anything wrong?” I asked.

“Why do you ask that?”

“You look so—crestfallen. Worried.”

He grinned. “Nonsense,” he replied.

“What did that servant want?” I asked. “The one who spoke to you?”

He looked up sharply. “You saw?”

“Yes. It—it looked as though he had some kind of bad news.”

Greg looked into my eyes. His own were very hard, and his lips were pressed tightly together. Who is this man? I wondered. I don't know him. He had been so strange earlier this evening at the cottage, and now he was a complete stranger.

“What is it, Greg?” I asked, my voice very firm.

“I'm sorry,” he said, relaxing into his old self. He took my hand in his and squeezed it. “I didn't want to spoil your evening, Angela. This is a big night for you. I wanted it to be perfect. Now this—oh, damn. I may as well tell you. One of the boys at school has taken ill, seriously ill. The doctor has no idea what it is. The lad's been sniffling for days. He is one of the boarders and his parents can't be reached—there's nothing I can do, but I really should be there.”