The Second House. V. J. Banis

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СКАЧАТЬ toward the road. “Come on, I suppose we had better get away before he spies another rabbit or whatever he was after.”

      In the car, and on the way home, we both tried to make jokes about the incident. For all his attempts at humor, however, I could see that Jeffrey remained very upset by what had happened. He scarcely took time to say goodbye before driving away from Aunt Gwyneth’s house.

      Chapter Three

      I suppose that I should have known then that danger hovered about Jeffrey Forrest. I had imagined myself Jeffrey’s wife, I had seen myself living in luxury, in comfort—and in happiness. But the omens were all there for me to see, and my failure to see them must have been a deliberate form of blindness on my part.

      At first I had attributed that shooting to some careless hunter, but later as I reflected upon it, this seemed less and less reasonable. I had been dressed in red and blue, hardly inconspicuous colors, and Jeffrey had been wearing a yellow shirt. Only a nearly blind hunter could have failed to see us.

      If not an accident, though, what? Surely not a deliberate attempt on our lives. I had no enemies locally; having spent so much of my time in hospitals, I hardly knew anyone well enough to have earned enmity.

      As for Jeffrey, how could he have enemies when he knew no one at all here? He had come to the area on a business mission, true. He was here to attempt to persuade a local silversmith to join his company, but surely that gentleman, whose name was Lescott, would have no motive to try to shoot Jeffrey. If the business offer were not to his taste, he could simply say “no.” I doubted that Jeffrey was particularly stubborn in his persuasion.

      No, there was no one about who had any motive to shoot at either of us, and I was left with the awkward but obviously correct theory of an accident.

      I was mistaken in thinking, however, that there was no one in the area who knew Jeffrey. The very evening after the shooting, I had occasion to meet another member of his family.

      Jeffrey and I had taken to having dinners together several nights a week. Sometimes we ate at Aunt Gwyneth’s house, where I prepared dinner for all three of us. In my years of convalescence I had learned to cook well, and I enjoyed the task.

      Other times Jeffrey and I ate out, so that we could be alone. We were not, on these occasions, particularly romantic with one another, and very little of our conversation could not have been made in Aunt Gwyneth’s company. The simple truth was that Aunt Gwyneth and Jeffrey were not awfully fond of one another. So, one or two nights each week, I joined Jeffrey in the dining room of the little hotel at which he was staying; it was the only really nice restaurant in the town. The food was well prepared, if not particularly exotic, and the atmosphere was quiet and intimate.

      We had arranged to have dinner at the hotel that particular night. I saw, as soon as I arrived, that Jeffrey was still quite upset over the shooting incident. Although it was on my mind too, I deliberately tried to put a good face on things, to cheer him up. By the time our desserts—freshly baked apple pie—had arrived, he seemed relaxed and happy again. His moods changed swiftly, as if curtains lifted and fell to hide or reveal the dark brooding landscapes of his personality.

      He was telling me a funny little story of an incident in his childhood; we were so engrossed in our conversation and laughter that I did not even see the man who approached our table. I was suddenly aware that someone was standing there, looking down upon us. We looked up; I heard Jeffrey gasp.

      “Guy,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

      For a moment I could do nothing but stare at this handsome creature who had descended upon us. He had a certain resemblance to Jeffrey, except that he was taller and more powerfully built; and the features that on Jeffrey’s face were delicate and sensitive-looking were, on this newcomer’s countenance, ruggedly handsome. He wore a frank expression that made you certain you would know at any given moment just what he was thinking and how he felt toward you.

      I became aware, as he looked from Jeffrey to me, that he did not feel kindly toward me, although I could imagine no reason why this should be so.

      I had been so busy gawking that I had almost been oblivious to the introductions Jeffrey was making. Dimly I heard him say, “Miss Liza Durant, may I introduce my cousin, Guy Delane.”

      I put my hand in his. He looked so swaggeringly nineteenth century I nearly expected him to bow from the waist and kiss it, but he only shook it gently and released it. He was not overly enthusiastic.

      “I thought Jeffrey had no relatives in the area,” I said.

      “Guy is from New York,” Jeffrey said. “And this visit is a surprise. What brings you here? I hope the family isn’t so dissatisfied with the results I’ve produced that they thought you’d be needed?”

      “From what I’ve seen, there haven’t been any results,” Guy said. It was an insulting remark, and Jeffrey’s frown showed that he resented it. He did not reply though, except to take on a pouting look. I had an impression that he would not care to stand up to his strong-voiced cousin.

      “Of course, it’s not hard to see how you’ve been diverted,” Guy added, in my direction.

      “I hope I haven’t caused any difficulties,” I said, smiling although I disliked this sort of rudeness. “I find it difficult to imagine myself diverting men from their legitimate pursuits.”

      “He’s quite right,” Jeffrey said. “If ever a lady was born to turn men’s heads, it is you.” He put a hand upon my shoulder. I knew that he meant it to reassure me in the face of Guy’s rudeness, and perhaps he meant also to take strength from me. Strangely, though, I found myself unaccountably resenting this gesture. It seemed intimate, and possessive; too, I saw that Guy noticed it at once. He smiled in a mocking manner. His manner, barely short of leering, angered me. I reached up and put my hand over Jeffrey’s.

      “You two have become well acquainted,” Guy said.

      “Miss Durant is a good friend,” Jeffrey said.

      “You’ve known one another such a short time.”

      “It is very easy to like your cousin,” I said. “He inspires one’s trust and affection.”

      Mr. Delane gave me the benefit of another of his mocking glances. “The men of our family are quite accustomed to meeting young ladies who, upon learning of our position, find us easy to like.”

      My face burned crimson. Even Jeffrey, who was obviously accustomed to being intimidated by the more aggressive personality of his cousin, flushed angrily. “That is uncalled for,” he said sharply.

      Guy’s smile only flashed more brightly. “Then I apologize, of course,” he said. This time he did give me a bow from the waist.

      “In any event,” he said to Jeffrey, “I did not come here because of your lack of success in dealing with Lescott. I came because your father is ill. Gravely ill, in fact.”

      Jeffrey grew pale at this news. For a moment he had nothing to say, and when he spoke it was to say simply, “I see.”

      I had no emotional involvement with this news, of course, except that I felt sympathy for Jeffrey. This being the case, I could view things with somewhat more detachment. As a result, I found myself wondering why Guy Delane had come such a long distance to deliver this news in person. There were telephones here, and a Western Union office. Had the two been СКАЧАТЬ