Houses of Stone, KATHY [classic literature books TXT] 📗

she got away with it. Mrs. Madison wouldn't dare interfere with her."

Karen sat down on the bed and opened the Bible. "It belonged to Eliza," she said in surprise. "I thought the handwriting looked familiar. She started with her parents' generation. Do you suppose there was an older Bible, with the earlier names?"

"Unlikely and irrelevant. If such a book existed it's long gone. Who's Eliza?"

"A Victorian bluestocking," Karen answered. "I ran across her diaries ... Oh, Lord! They're gone too, in the fire. Mrs. F. will probably raise hell about that. She forced them on me the day I went to the Historical Society."

"Don't worry about Mrs. Fowler." Peggy brandished the hairbrush she had been using. "We're going to break that woman! Let's go have dinner."

The phone was ringing when they returned to their room. Peggy made a dash for it. From the way her face fell, Karen deduced she had hoped the caller would be someone other than Joan.

"We're fine, how are you?" she said. "Uh . . . No. Nothing new. What? Do you want to talk to Karen?" Karen had opened the briefcase and placed the manuscript on the table; she shook her head vehemently. "Good," Peggy said. "She doesn't want to talk to you either, she's working. Oh, yeah? Well, I'll tell her. We'll let you know."

She hung up. "Joan's bored."

"She hadn't heard about the fire?"

"It wouldn't make the wire services," Peggy said. "We can pray Simon hasn't heard about it either. He'd have a fit."

"Were you expecting him to call?"

"He said he would. Maybe I'll take the phone into the bathroom and call him instead. That way you won't be disturbed."

"You just don't want me to hear those erotic verses you quote at one another," Karen said with a smile.

"That too. Go ahead, I won't bother you again."

She vanished into the bathroom trailing the telephone cord behind her and shut the door with a decisive slam.

"We are fortunate indeed, Doctor, that you happened to be in the house when this occurred," Ismene said gratefully. "You have been a frequent visitor of late; I hope that means that you have acquired many new patients in this region.''

A dark, unbecoming flush mantled his swarthy cheeks. "My services, such as they are, were unnecessary; your sister suffered an ordinary swoon, from which she would have recovered under your ministrations; but what was that wild talk of withered faces and dark forms? Miss Clara's constitution is delicate, I know; is her mind also given to morbid fancies?"

Fairness to Clara as well as concern for another moved Ismene to speak. "It was no fantasy, but an actual living woman she saw—Isabella's poor mad mother, whom Edmund, in the kindness of his noble heart, maintains here in her home. From time to time she escapes her guardian and wanders the house. The sight of her is startling in the extreme, and Clara did not know of her presence; to come upon her unawares would be a shock to the strongest system. It was to mine the first time I saw her."

"Good heavens!" the doctor murmured. "I had no idea such an individual existed. Is she not dangerous? Should she not be confined more closely?"

"I do not believe she means the least harm," Ismene said firmly. "She is too old and frail to constitute a danger to any but herself Indeed, she appeared to be as terrified of Clara as my poor sister was of her; I found her cowering against the wall, unable or unwilling to move, when I rushed to the spot in answer to Clara's cries. Her attendant had to carry her away, and I fear she may have taken harm. It would ease my mind if you would see her."

"Certainly." But the smile that altered his features so attractively did not linger. In an uncharacteristically hesitant manner he went on, "Are you certain Mr. Merrivale will not object? He appears to have kept this woman's very existence concealed from the world—"

“Only out of compassion for her, I feel certain, and to spare the feelings of those who knew her in happier days. I would wait to ask him,'' she added, seeing that his countenance continued to mirror his doubt, “but he and Isabella will probably not return until later this afternoon, and I know you must be anxious to continue your journey.

He no longer demurred, but followed her toward the remote and lofty regions where Edmund had assured her his stepmother dwelt. The door was now secure; in response to Ismene's knock came a rattling of bolts and chains whose sound engendered awful suggestions of imprisonment. Yet when her arguments with the attendant, who appeared reluctant to let them in, had at last won them admission to the chamber, she saw Edmund had spoken no more than the truth when he assured her the unfortunate creature lacked no comfort he could provide. The windows were closely barred and a heavy screen covered the hearth, which was now dark and cold, for the mild summer weather required no other source of heat. Yet the chamber was clean and airy, and the low bed had been furnished with ample covering.

“Let her see and hear me first,'' Ismene urged, placing a hand on the doctor's arm. "She may take fright at the sight of a stranger. "

The old woman was not sleeping, as the attendant had claimed, and as Ismene had believed. Hearing the soft low voice of her visitor, she opened her eyes. Almost could Ismene have fancied she saw a gleam of intelligence in the single operative orb. It was short-lived; frenzy transformed the withered features and a gabble of agitated speech distorted the gaping mouth.

With an alarmed exclamation the doctor stepped quickly forward. "There is no cause for concern," Ismene hasted to assure him. "It is her old mania, the same vague, meaningless warnings she always utters. Who knows what dread phantoms her troubled brain sees around us? Dear madam"—taking the bony fingers in hers and leaning closer—"dear