Stranger by the Lake Page 7

  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 he
r 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.

  “Of course not,” Aunt Agatha said, pacifying her. “Mary can help you with them in the morning.”

  “Some people expect a lot, and that’s a fact!” Cook grumbled, her expression so fierce I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her grab a butcher knife and go berserk.

  We adjourned to the drawing room. Althea pranced merrily over to the liquor cart and started examining the bottles. Mildred asked to be excused, claiming she wanted to wash her hair. Aunt Agatha dismissed her promptly, with considerable relief, and Mildred shuffled out of the room, taking up an oil lamp to carry back upstairs with her. Craig stationed himself by the fireplace again, and Paul Matthews stood rather clumsily in front of the beige satin draperies, as though trapped by all this elegance.

  “The meal was a disaster,” Aunt Agatha said petulantly. “Cook deliberately planned it that way because I asked her to stay late. She’s a marvelous cook—you know that, Paul. She deliberately sabotaged the meal tonight. That pudding! She makes smashing pastries, Susan. Please don’t think tonight was any indication of what we usually have——”

  “The meal was divine,” I lied. “Even if it hadn’t been, just being here with you——”

  “You’re so diplomatic,” she said, sitting down on a padded blue chair. Althea finally selected a bottle, poured her drink, and trotted over to the sofa. The candles spluttered, burning down. I wandered over to examine some engravings on the wall on the other side of the room. Paul sat down beside Aunt Agatha and they began to discuss her refusal to take her pills. There was a loud explosion in front of the house, followed by the rumbling of a decrepit motor. I assumed it was Cook on her way back to the village.

  “I see you survived this afternoon’s perils,” Craig Stanton said in a low voice, standing beside me. I had been concentrating on the sound of the car leaving and hadn’t noticed him coming over. The others were across the room, Aunt Agatha and Paul immersed in their conversation, Althea twirling the liquor around in her glass.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, my voice icily polite.

  “I didn’t go to hell,” he told me. “I went to work instead, which is more or less the same thing. I spent the rest of the afternoon at my desk in the library, trying to finish up a rather difficult chapter. Thought I’d let you know, in case you were looking for me.”

  “Why on earth should I have been looking for you?”

  “I can think of a lot of reasons.”

  “I’ll bet you could at that,” I said acidly.

  “Do we have to be enemies?” he murmured seductively.

  “We don’t have to be anything,” I hissed, glancing across the room to make sure the others couldn’t overhear us. “I intend to avoid you like the plague, Mr. Stanton. I’ve had plenty of experience with men like you.”

  “You’re delightful, you know,” he said. “Most women throw themselves at me. You’re the first one in a long time that’s tried to resist me. Quite a novel experience.”

  “I’m sure it must be.”

  I was standing against the wall now. Craig glanced over his shoulder, saw that no one was paying attention to us and stepped closer, standing directly in front of me. He placed his palms on the wall, an arm on either side of me, making a prison. He leaned forward, his dark maroon jacket hanging loosely, the black silk embroidery gleaming in the candlelight. I saw the ruffles on his shirt, the rakishly knotted black bow tie, and I could smell his after-shave lotion, teakwood, a strong male scent.

  “We’re going to be
great friends,” he told me. “You enjoyed our little encounter this afternoon. Don’t say you didn’t.”

  I gave him a cool stare, not deigning to reply.

  He chuckled and stepped away, strolling casually over toward the fireplace. He took up the poker and prodded the glowing orange logs, making blue and yellow sparks fly. I marched over to the liquor cart and poured a stiff Scotch. Craig laughed aloud when he observed this, the others turning to stare at him. He made a bow and grinned a cocky grin. Aunt Agatha smiled, pleased with him, and Paul looked bewildered. Althea merely nodded sharply. I had the strong impression that she had observed everything.

  “Did you finish your chapter this afternoon, Craig?” Aunt Agatha inquired.

  He nodded. “The first draft, at least. I’ll have to check a few of my facts before I put it in final form.”

  “I’d like to see it later on tonight,” she said.

  “Feel free.”

  Paul Matthews stood up, heaving a sigh and taking out his watch. “It’s getting late, Agatha,” he said. “I imagine I should be getting back to town.”

  “I’m ready to leave, too,” Althea said, pulling herself up with much crackling of green taffeta. “Craig, you want to escort me?”

  “Certainly, luv. My pleasure.”

  He linked his arm in hers and took her out of the room. Aunt Agatha and I walked to the front door with Dr. Matthews. Earl and his brother were in the front hall. They leaped up happily when they saw their master. He petted both dogs, smiling at their enthusiasm. Prince was darker than his brother, his coat a sleek silvery blue.

  “Down!” Paul cried. “That’s enough! Run along now.”

  The dogs looked unhappy, slumping down on their haunches. Then Earl leaped up to give me another kiss on the cheek and both of them bounded out of the hall, their heavy paws making loud thumps.

  “Earl has taken a fancy to Susan,” Aunt Agatha said.