The Opal-Eyed Fan Part 10

"I suppose every piece of land has its own ghosts," he accepted her switch. "Perhaps this holds more than most. Askra's people had a city here once. Their great temple was on the mound supporting this house. Then they were hunted by the Spanish and the Seminoles turned loose to clear them from the land. And the Spanish rule was harsh in turn, being overwhelmed by a pirate attack about a hundred years ago. Has Lydia showed you the opal-eyed fan? That is a relic of the past with a very queer story-a dead pirate captain and a captive Spanish lady who disappeared.

"The Spanish came to rule once more-and then once more an Indian uprising. Finally, we came. But the sea is the last conqueror, you know. It threatens-" He moved a little on the pillows as if his shoulder hurt him.

Without thinking Persis went to the bed and settled the pile supporting him more firmly.

"You've a light hand," his face was now so close to hers that the deep blue of his eyes were like pools of the sea. A person, she thought, could be drawn into such pools. The oddity of that idea made her flush and retreat hastily. Somehow, though she had learned her deftness caring for Uncle Augustin, this was not at all like that. And she drew back to the end of the big bed as if she had fled from some danger she could not understand.

"I nursed my uncle," she tried to make her voice as matter-of-fact as she could. "One learns how to do things when one has to."

"A statement which can be applied to all our lives," Captain Leverett remarked. "And we go on learning, Persis-remember that. So you think Lost Lady is dark and cruel."

"Maybe not the land, just the stories about it." She was thankful that he returned to that. "Yes, Lydia showed me the fan-it is very strange and beautiful. But I do not think I would care to use it myself." Should she tell him of the second fan-the mock fan which concealed death within it? She wanted to, but somehow she could not find the words before she spoke.

"Perhaps you are right in that. The islanders will have it that the Lost Lady is jealous of her prize possession and would not take kindly to its falling into other hands. They say she walks-but she only shows herself to those who are in danger or an islander who has angered her. So beware of our ghost, Persis!" And now he was smiling again, the mocking note back in his voice.

"Sir-" She wanted to say that such superst.i.tions were beneath any rational mind to entertain, but knowing what lay in her chest of drawers she could not. "Sir," she began again, "I shall certainly remember your warning."

"Captain," Mrs. Pryor opened the door to look in upon them. "Nate Hawkins is here-"

Persis used the chance to escape. Escape what? She could not have said. But she did not want to think of the fan-of the Lost Lady. Nor, if she told the truth, of Crewe Leverett. Better go back to Molly and a comfortable relationship she knew so well.

12.

She found the maid drowsy and inclined to sleep, saying that Mrs. Pryor had sent her a soothing draft.

"Miss Lydia brought it herself," Molly mumbled. "Most obliging she was about it."

Then her eyes closed as if she could not keep them open a second longer. And within a moment or two she was snoring a little. But Persis continued to sit on the single chair. Though her eyes were fixed on Molly's sweating and mottled face, her thoughts were busy in another direction.

If her letter was dispatched as soon as possible-even then it could be weeks before an answer reached her. And they certainly could not stay on here. Would any lawyer in Key West respond to her plea? And if so-how long would it take for him to discover the truth? She looked down at her hands lying idly in her lap.

The purse which had been in Uncle Augustin's possession was now hers but the sum it held seemed small to her. To provide for the three of them in Key West- and perhaps pay for pa.s.sage north again-would those funds suffice? Now for the first time Persis was disturbed that she knew so little about her uncle's affairs.

Slowly she got up and went to the small, single window. This room, like the Captain's chamber, overlooked the moat and the ca.n.a.l. Men were busy on the wharf-the Nonpareil had been brought in and there seemed to be a great deal of activity going forward here. Beyond lay the wreckage of the Arrow, driven ash.o.r.e, its bow towering up so that the battered figurehead of the Indian warrior with his bowstrung arrow set to the cord now silently pointed up into the sky.

Farther out she could see the mail packet already lifting anchor, preparing to depart. In spite of her need to be about her own affairs, she was glad she was not aboard. It looked smaller and even more squalid than the Arrow had been.

"No-!"

Persis swung around to face the bed. Molly's face was screwed up in an expression the girl had never seen there before, one of sheer fear-though her eyes were closed. "No-" the sleeper repeated, as if to deny what she did see in some dream.

"Molly!" Remembering her own nightmares Persis moved quickly to her side, ready to shake her awake. "Molly, it is just a dream!"

"No!" There was such force in that denial that Persis grasped the plump shoulder almost fiercely. It was plain that Molly was caught in some horror.

"Molly! Wake up!" She shook the maid, first lightly, and then more energetically as Molly showed no signs of rousing.

Instead, the woman suddenly raised one hand and struck out at Persis.

"Let go-devil-devil!" Her mutter became a full cry now. "The knife-no!"

Persis bent over her, seized both shoulders to shake her firmly. She must break the dream which held the sleeping woman, for the grimace of fear on her face was like an ugly mask.

Molly gasped, her breath whistling between her lips. Then her eyes opened and she was staring up wildly.

"Devil-"

Consciousness came back slowly and with it bewilderment. Persis kept her hold on Molly as if to anchor the maid to the safe present.

The woman's face convulsed, and, for the first time in years, Persis saw tears gather in her eyes.

"Miss Persis!" Molly's own hands rose to s.n.a.t.c.h and grip the girl's wrists in a hold so tight her nails scored the younger woman's flesh. "Miss Persis-send her away!"

"Who, Molly?"

"The one-the one who is-" the maid's head turned on the pillow as she searched the room. "But she was here!" Beads of sweat dotted both her forehead and her upper lip. "I saw her-that witch-that Indian witch! She was goin' to kill me-with a knife-so she was! And there were a lot of others all stand' around watchin' an' jus' waitin' for her to do it! I saw her as plain as I see you right now!"

"It was a dream, Molly. I've been right here with you-there's no one else in the room."

Now the tears brimmed over in Molly's eyes and ran down her cheeks.

"I ain't never had such a dream as that before, Miss Persis. It was realer nor any dream. She-she was like a devil-wearin' that nasty false face of her an' acomin' for me with a knife. I couldn't get away nohow -" Molly's sobs shook her stolid body. "What's the matter with me, Miss Persis? Is it true what they say, that there old witch can lay a sendin' on you an' you jus' gets sicker and sicker?"

"Nonsense!" Persis interrupted with all the authority she could summon. Let Molly begin to believe that she was cursed or some such thing and she would be sick. "It was a dream-just a dream."

Molly still clung to the girl. "I ain't never had no such real dream before," she repeated with some of her old stubbornness. "Seems like if it were a dream somebody made me dream it. 'Cause there was all those people-heathens wearing feathers and masks-and with burnin' torches-jus' standin' there a-watchin' what was goin' to happen to me. An' they wanted me dead!"

"But it isn't true," Persis pointed out patiently. "You're right here in your bed, and I'm here with you." Her own dream! Molly had experienced something very close to it. However, the last thing Persis would do now was to let the maid know that they had shared the same terrible vision. For she felt that if she did Molly would cling to the fact that they both might have been led to dream by another's evil will.

Could one's dreams be dictated by an outside force? It was a very strange idea. Persis exiled that quickly to the back of her mind now. The main thing was that the maid must be soothed and led to believe that her fear had no base in fact.

"I-I was-it was so real-"

"Some dreams can be, or seem to be. But this one was not real, Molly. Now, I'll stay here with you, I promise."

Molly's hold on her loosened a trifle. "If you will, Miss Persis, I'll take that kindly, 'deed I will. I feel so sleepy." Again her eyes, though she appeared to fight to keep them open, were drooping shut. "Don't let me dream like that, please, Miss Persis."

"I won't!" the girl promised stoutly, but how she might prevent it she did not know. Then sighting something resting upon the bureau gave her a new idea. She gently disengaged herself from Molly's hold and went to pick up the worn Bible which the maid, as she well knew, read each morning and night.

"See here," she held the book with its scuffed cover out so Molly could easily see it. "You're going to put this under your pillow. Do you think then any bad dream can come near you?"

"Give it here, Miss Persis. My, you're a knowin' one! That's the truth. Ain't nothing evil goin' to come nigh that. It was my mother's an' she taught me my letters out of it."

Molly smoothed the Bible with loving hands. "T' will be like havin' mother here-like when I was a small maid and afeard of somethin'."

She was her old confident self again and Persis blessed the inspiration which had made her think of that device. Or was it only a device? She had heard once, just now she could not remember where, that something on which had been centered good thoughts was indeed a barrier against evil. And if Molly believed she was safe, then her own belief might carry over into her sleep, preventing any more dreams.

The maid settled herself once more against her pillows, eyes closed. But Persis was left with a puzzle she could not solve. The bits and pieces Molly had mentioned certainly fitted in her own nightmare. Though she had not been an actual part of that as Molly apparently had been-just an onlooker. However, if the maid had been gripped by the same horror she had felt, Persis did not wonder at her terror on waking.

Did the dark history of this house, of the mound on which it squatted, indeed force itself into sleeping minds? She herself had had bad dreams in the past but never ones as clear and as barbaric as those of last night. And to have the same touch Molly-? What did haunt Lost Lady Key?

True to her promise she settled herself once more on the chair. But this time Molly's sleep seemed undisturbed by any visions and Persis began to feel restless. Had it not been for her promise she would have at least slipped to the next room to look in upon Shubal. As she twisted a little in her chosen seat she saw the door open quietly. A moment later Lydia came in.

"She's sleeping? Good!" Lydia moved with a swish of skirts to take up a small tray on which rested a mug. "She'll feel much better when she wakes. Mrs. Pryor's tea always settles the stomach."

"It was kind of you to bring it up," Persis murmured in a whisper.

Lydia shrugged. "No matter. Your man is better, too. But you-" She was studying Persis intently. "Do you feel feverish-have you a headache?" she asked with an emphasis which seemed almost eager.

"No." Persis was not going to go into details over her disturbed night. "I am concerned, naturally."

"What did Crewe want to see you about? Tell you he was going to take over running things for you?" Lydia's eyes were very intent upon her now.

"No, in fact he suggested that I turn to sh.e.l.l hunting on the beach," Persis said, "and that I ask to see your collection."

Lydia simply stared for a long minute as if she did not believe her in the least. Then she smiled, a little unpleasantly.

"What he means, of course, is that you are to play companion so I can't see Ralph. That was not particularly clever of him. I," her chin lifted and her jawline was as firm and stubborn looking now as her brother's, "intend to do as I please in this matter. If Crewe thinks he can keep me shut up on this Key until he picks out a husband for me, that is his plan, not mine. And-" now the look she turned to Persis was close to hostile, "I would suggest that you mind your own business!"

With a last flirt of her full skirts she was gone, and the door closed behind her as firmly, if not as loudly, as if it were slammed.

Wearily, Persis arose and went once more to look out of the window. For some reason Lydia's visit brought back her preoccupation with the fan. It was almost as if some thought beyond her control connected the girl with that sinister find. Could Lydia have been the one who had disinterred that and put it in the chest drawer? But why?

Lydia was certainly linked with Ralph Grillon and determined to go her own way in spite of any restraint her brother tried to provide. She had been shrewd in her quick appraisal of what might lie behind his suggestion of sh.e.l.l hunting. Persis determined that she would play no part at all in the intrigues existing between the Bahamian and her hostess. If Crewe Leverett wanted a watchdog for his sister, let him look to his own household for such a one.

"No-"

Persis swung hastily back to the bed. Was Molly fast in another nightmare?

The maid's eyes were closed; Persis was sure she was asleep, but her hands moved back and forth across the light sheet which covered her body.

"Safe-safe-" she repeated the words as if trying to rea.s.sure herself of something. "Must have dropped it when the bed was made. But the lock-it is safe-"

Persis came again to the side of the bed. There was so much uneasiness in those gabbled words that she felt she must discover the source of this new troubling dream.

"Molly," she spoke softly, "what is safe?"

"The portfolio." To Persis' surprise the maid answered as if she were awake and fully cognizant of what she said. "It was on the floor. But now-it is safe. Must have fallen out when the bed was made-the only way-"

The portfolio! Persis had half-forgotten she had given that to Molly for safekeeping.

She slipped her hand now under the upper narrow featherbed, groping for the familiar feel of the leather. With Molly ill it was best she took it in charge again. Her fingers closed on the edge of the leather and she drew it slowly to her, taking care not to disturb the sleeper.

"Safe?" Somehow that one word held the note of a plea.

Persis clasped the portfolio tight against her. She leaned closer and said, hoping that her a.s.surance would reach the other's mind no matter how deeply guarded by slumber: "Safe, entirely safe, Molly."

The sleeper sighed, her head turned on the pillow, away from the girl. And as Persis watched her closely it was apparent that the maid was now deep asleep, as if her nightmare had so worn out her energy that she must rest to make up for what the fear had done to her. Persis began to go over the papers-the will, the letters, the depositions from the two privateersmen who witnessed the death of James Rooke in the sea battle. Everything was present. Only she could not now believe that they had not been searched for- read- Why? To her knowledge no one under this roof, save herself, Molly, and Shubal had any interest in Uncle Augustin's affairs. Ralph Grillon's story-had some servant secretly in his employ made a report, giving him that ammunition he had used to try and force his bargain on her? That seemed very fantastic, like some strange device of a novelist. But that the papers had been perused, perhaps for a second time, Persis somehow had no doubt at all.

Where could she hide them? Or need she hide them again? If they had been inspected and left to her, there would be no reason to try to protect them now. She longed to awaken Molly fully and ask her more concerning what she had murmured about the portfolio. But she could not do that.

Persis found it hard to sit still. What she had always been told was her greatest fault of character possessed her, growing stronger by the minute-her impatience. She wanted to plunge into action, to do something. Only reflection kept saying, "What?" And to that she had no answer. There was no one under this roof to whom she could go with her questions, her-her imaginings. But she felt haunted by something which she tried to tell herself was merely the result of her disturbed night-by the impression that just beyond the edge of her comprehension, forces were in action which vitally affected her but which she could not understand.

There was Crewe Leverett. Oddly her thoughts kept coming back to him. But what utter stupidity it would be to pour out to him two-no, three dreams (counting Molly's)-and the fact that she believed, without adequate proof, that her private papers had been twice rifled. And she wanted no interference from an outsider.

There had always been Uncle Augustin. Now she understood fully how much she had depended upon him. Not that she could have gone to him with any dreams or fantasies either. She could guess what his response would have been to such vaporing on her part. But the responsibility he had left her-that she would not have needed to concern herself with.

Persis had always believed most firmly in her own judgment, her own strength of character. Had she done that just because such qualities had never been put to the test before? That question left her shaken, but she would not yield to it.

She had duties-to Uncle Augustin, who at the last had trusted her, whether forced by circ.u.mstance or no-to Molly and Shubal-and last of all, to herself. She must make decisions and steer them all into the future.

Molly was sleeping now, lying quietly and without any of the distress she had shown. Persis, still holding the portfolio to her, took a quick turn up and down the room. Above all, she wanted to get this to her own chamber again. She wanted a chance to think (if she could ever control the random dart of thoughts which now struck at her calm-or what should be her calm consideration of the future).

But she had promised to stay and Persis kept her promises. What if Molly slid once more into one of those nightmares and she was not here? What if-?

There was a faint tap on the door and Persis started as if she fully expected the menace which had earlier filled the darkness for her to enter. But it was Mrs. Pryor who opened the door very quietly, moved with firm purpose to the bed and rested her hand for a brief moment on the narrow bit of forehead showing below the ruffle of Molly's nightcap. She nodded competently.

"The fever has broken, she is sleeping quite naturally," she observed. She glanced at Persis as if she wondered what the girl was doing there.

"Molly-she had a very bad dream. I promised I would stay with her-wake her if it came again."

There was very little expression on Mrs. Pryor's face. If she thought Persis oversolicitous and even rather silly, she betrayed none of that conclusion. Instead she said something which the girl found remarkable, coming as it did from such a manifestly sensible woman.

"Dreams are very odd at times. But the herb tea she took might well have been the cause. Askra told me once that her tribe in the old days took a much stronger mixture of the same properties (that is, their wise men and women did) to induce visions. Only I have never used such proportions. But-yes, dreams can be most strange. I have heard of warnings which came in dreams and because they were not heeded, the dreamer later faced misfortune."

She had not looked at Persis when she spoke. But was there a subtle warning in what she said? That was another question Persis dared not ask now. Meanwhile, Mrs. Pryor was continuing.

"You need not worry about her dreaming again, Miss Rooke. This is a very natural and deep sleep-not the kind which gives birth to such disturbing fancies. And," for the first time she faced the girl squarely, "you look very tired. It is mainly our custom to rest during the early afternoon. I will have Sukie bring something light and tasty for you and then I would advise you to take such a rest."

"But Molly-" Persis was torn between her own fatigue and her promise.

"I shall get my darning, Miss Rooke, and sit right here. It is cool with the sea breeze coming in. And you may rest a.s.sured I shall call you if anything occurs which needs your presence."

There was such authority in that it was plainly a dismissal. To counter it might well awaken some suspicion. Reluctantly, Persis agreed. It was true that Molly seemed to be resting now without any unpleasant effects. But she stood by the bed watching her narrowly until Mrs. Pryor returned with a large drawstring bag. The housekeeper drew the chair a little closer to the window and settled herself as if perfectly willing to spend some time there.

Back in her own chamber Persis discovered that Sukie-or someone-had indeed left a covered tray on the bureau top. And after she had stowed the portfolio under her pillow, much as Molly had tucked the Bible she believed would keep her from evil, Persis lifted the napkin, realizing she was indeed very hungry.

There were some slices of cold roast chicken, cut a little thin, to be sure, but still enough. Also a plate of bread and b.u.t.ter with a small side dish of the jam made from some of the exotic fruit Dr. Veering brought from Verde Key for Mrs. Pryor to experiment with, and a custard, firm and lightly browned on top-just the way which would satisfy the stomach. There was also a small jug from which Persis poured what seemed to be a fruit drink.

She ate hungrily, but drank more sparingly, for she found the slightly strange taste of the liquid not quite to her liking. Perhaps the sweetness of the custard made it seem a little bitter. For the rest, she finished most of what had been provided.

Though Persis was sure she could not sleep, not with her mind invaded by all those unanswered questions, she did pull the upper coverlet back on the bed, take off her dress and her slippers, and stretch out fully expecting to now be able to think things through calmly and rationally.