racing with excitement, I walked through the garden and then looked back at our house. No lights appeared, and there was no movement at the windows. There was not a sound, except for the chirp of a cricket and the solitary cooing of a pigeon. There was a crescent moon tonight, but the stars shone clear overhead and I could see fairly well by the glow of the streetlamp that burned out in front of our house, for some of the light filtered through the trees and came back to where I stood on the lawn behind our home's rear entrance.
I pulled my hood up over my head and turned towards the rose arbor, where Steven was to meet me. The night air smelled wonderfully clean, and I felt splendidly alive and confident.
Then from behind me I heard the click of our back door being opened.
Panic seized me as I stood there in the centre of the open lawn, ten yards at least from the nearest tree. I did not stop to think. I took to my heels and ran for the shadows of the tree, and then, without turning around to see what was behind me, I raced on for the next one, which lay just a short distance from the rose arbor. Then I stopped and leaned against the tree, trying to catch my breath without making any noise. I was afraid to look. Perhaps, I told myself, it was only one of the servants out for a midnight stroll.
But it was not. Standing now at the back of the house, a few feet from the door that led down the stairs to the kitchen, was my father. He had a dark lantern with him, partially open at the top, and I could see his face clearly. He was wearing a rough woolen shirt over his evening trousers, which he had tucked into a pair of hunting boots.
And he was carrying a pistol in his hand.
Had he seen me? I could not be sure, for the expression on his face told me nothing. Was he going somewhere? I thought not. He was standing quite calmly, motionless, as if he were waiting for someone to arrive.
I tried to think clearly. If I had made some noise, done anything to alert him as I was coming down the stairs, then he would have come out like this, and probably with a gun. But it would have taken him longer to dress than the few moments that had elapsed from my leaving the house until I first heard him opening the back door latch.
Well, then, he was waiting for someone. And even if he had seen me, running quickly for the shadows with my hood up, it was unlikely that he had recognized me. Otherwise, he would be out here at the back of the lawn, looking to drag me in. As long as I stayed quiet here, I was safe . . . unless whoever Father was waiting for had seen me.
At that moment I felt a hand at my elbow, and I gasped, but then I quickly realized that it was Steven. He had come up behind me quietly in the darkness. 'Be still,' he said in a low undertone I could barely understand, even with his lips nearly touching my ear. 'I saw you come out. There's a way through the back to my place. We can be there in a minute or two. Or do you want to wait here?'
I gave a quick glance back to where Father was still standing. No, I could not stay. I did not want to know what Father was doing, and neither did I want Steven to know. 'Lead the way,' I said softly.
Within a short space of time we had dashed quietly through the shadows to an open spot in the fence at the back of our arbor and were in the yard of the house behind ours. From there it was only a short walk to the front porch of Steven's mansion, a huge, rambling, gabled affair that I always found dark and foreboding. Even after Brad had moved out to Legacy with his mistress and left Steven as the only occupant here, I still did not care for that house.
But the spring air was sweet and cool. We stopped on the porch to catch our breath, watching the lights and the silent trees. He took my hand. We heard the church tower clock - Father's gift, too - strike twelve. The deep brass notes echoed slowly in the soft air.
'Chimes at midnight,' said
I pulled my hood up over my head and turned towards the rose arbor, where Steven was to meet me. The night air smelled wonderfully clean, and I felt splendidly alive and confident.
Then from behind me I heard the click of our back door being opened.
Panic seized me as I stood there in the centre of the open lawn, ten yards at least from the nearest tree. I did not stop to think. I took to my heels and ran for the shadows of the tree, and then, without turning around to see what was behind me, I raced on for the next one, which lay just a short distance from the rose arbor. Then I stopped and leaned against the tree, trying to catch my breath without making any noise. I was afraid to look. Perhaps, I told myself, it was only one of the servants out for a midnight stroll.
But it was not. Standing now at the back of the house, a few feet from the door that led down the stairs to the kitchen, was my father. He had a dark lantern with him, partially open at the top, and I could see his face clearly. He was wearing a rough woolen shirt over his evening trousers, which he had tucked into a pair of hunting boots.
And he was carrying a pistol in his hand.
Had he seen me? I could not be sure, for the expression on his face told me nothing. Was he going somewhere? I thought not. He was standing quite calmly, motionless, as if he were waiting for someone to arrive.
I tried to think clearly. If I had made some noise, done anything to alert him as I was coming down the stairs, then he would have come out like this, and probably with a gun. But it would have taken him longer to dress than the few moments that had elapsed from my leaving the house until I first heard him opening the back door latch.
Well, then, he was waiting for someone. And even if he had seen me, running quickly for the shadows with my hood up, it was unlikely that he had recognized me. Otherwise, he would be out here at the back of the lawn, looking to drag me in. As long as I stayed quiet here, I was safe . . . unless whoever Father was waiting for had seen me.
At that moment I felt a hand at my elbow, and I gasped, but then I quickly realized that it was Steven. He had come up behind me quietly in the darkness. 'Be still,' he said in a low undertone I could barely understand, even with his lips nearly touching my ear. 'I saw you come out. There's a way through the back to my place. We can be there in a minute or two. Or do you want to wait here?'
I gave a quick glance back to where Father was still standing. No, I could not stay. I did not want to know what Father was doing, and neither did I want Steven to know. 'Lead the way,' I said softly.
Within a short space of time we had dashed quietly through the shadows to an open spot in the fence at the back of our arbor and were in the yard of the house behind ours. From there it was only a short walk to the front porch of Steven's mansion, a huge, rambling, gabled affair that I always found dark and foreboding. Even after Brad had moved out to Legacy with his mistress and left Steven as the only occupant here, I still did not care for that house.
But the spring air was sweet and cool. We stopped on the porch to catch our breath, watching the lights and the silent trees. He took my hand. We heard the church tower clock - Father's gift, too - strike twelve. The deep brass notes echoed slowly in the soft air.
'Chimes at midnight,' said
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