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might die. You make Hanni smile, Mr. Clarrington laugh, the Mrs. feel better.
We do not want anything to happen. We want baby to come, fine and healthy, no
trouble.
"Maybe we try too hard to keep you safe, yes? But it is because you
bring life to a house that has been dead for a very long time. This is not a
good house. Not always. It has seen bad things, many times.
"Some very bad things happen up there on the third floor. They make us
all unhappy, even now, and afraid, too. Even so much later, we are still
afraid. Please, Marri, do not go back along the corridor on the third floor?"
Her voice was pleading.
Marri laughed and went back through the open door to take the floury
hand held out to her. "Why, Hildy, I promised. And I promise again. Of course
I won't go there. But what did happen up there? Not knowing is worse than
knowing. My imagination will make up all sorts of horror stories until I know
the truth."
Hildy chose her words with such care that her accent all but
disappeared. "It is not my place to speak of my employers' troubles. We have
been together for very many years, but still I am their servant. I have no
right to tell you things that Mr. Clarrington may not want you to know, so
soon.
"Perhaps you have not seen that hesitation in him. I know how it is
when you are young. You think always about making a good impression on others.
They also, you might see, want for you to like them."
Marise squeezed the big hand. "I will ask him, then. You are quite
right, Hildy. I shouldn't have teased you or tried to worm information out of
you. It wasn't polite, and it wasn't right." She hugged the plump figure for
an instant, feeling the constant warmth and solidity of the woman.
"And don't try to fool me that you're a servant. You're one of the
family if any of us are. We all come to you when we're depressed or restless
or just hungry! Don't sell yourself short!"
Hildy's high, tinkling laugh had followed her through the corridor and
out the front door.
Now the bright curtains still made the room look as if sun shone
outside, even though the late fall day had turned gray beyond the windows.
Marise thought of her joyous young self, walking through this room, the
corridors, all the other rooms in this big pile of a house.
She had been unknowing, hopeful for the future. She had trusted fate to
guide her correctly.
She chinked her dirty dishes together into the dishwasher, measured
detergent, turned on the switch. Of the eight people, family and servants and
child, who had lived here together, only she remained.
Now she dared not set her foot outside the front door. Even though she
was healthy, still in early middle age, she did not trust fate, or the world,
or (and this she found it difficult to admit to herself) her own reactions and
abilities. The world might not be dangerous to her, but she was terribly,
frighteningly uncertain whether she might not be dangerous to it.
She sighed heavily and moved into the corridor, closing the door upon
the bright room. Once more the grateful shadows sheltered her.
--------
CHAPTER 5: OUTSIDE
Marise dialed and listened to the ring at the office end of the line.
One ... two ... three ... four ... Mrs. Fisk was not her usual prompt self,
taking all the calls to see what was going on.
"Clarrington enterprises. Mrs. Fisk." The voice was sharper than usual.
"This is Marise Clarrington, Mrs. Fisk. Is Evan in? I need to speakwith him."
"He's not in this morning, Mrs. Clarrington. I am taking his clients
today. He went to Washington to lobby for the timber bill. May I help you? He
left word it was time for your monthly call." There was an avid quality to
that voice, and Marise had a sudden realization that Fisk had some unnatural
interest in her affairs. But what couldn't be cured must be endured.
"Thank you, Mrs. Fisk. If you don't mind, I need to have my usual order
of groceries delivered. I called my order to the supermarket, and the manager
will have them ready tomorrow at noon. If your young man will pick them up and
bring them out, I will appreciate it.
"I also have just mailed the instructions for the fall plantings at the
farm. Evan should have those tomorrow. I also need to see the balance sheets
on the entire operation, farm, timber, securities, and the Trust, as well, as
soon as he has time to prepare them." She heard a sharp intake of breath from
Fisk.
"If he would like, he might bring those by. If he hasn't the time, he
might mail them. Either is fine."
"But -- I understood that you don't go outside the front door. How do
you get your mail?" There was no excuse for the question except sheer
curiosity.
But Marise had learned patience in a hard school. "I had a revolving
mailbox installed, so I can pick up the mail without opening the door. Do be
sure to give him my message, Mrs. Fisk." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]