open it, and Amanda heard the murmur of a masculine voice.
“Marta?”
“It is Herr Theodore. He was asking after your health.”
“Oh, would you ask him, please, about the necklace?”
“Certainly, fraeulein.”
Amanda could hear snatches of the conversation, enough to know that Theo was denying all knowledge of the missing piece of jewelry. She sighed, a frown flitting across her brow. It could not have disappeared.
When the door was closed, Marta came toward her. “Herr Theodore wishes me to convey to you his sorrow that you were injured, his joy that you are going to stay on for a time at Monteigne, and his most fervent hope that you will be able to come downstairs soon.”
Amanda smiled a little as Marta heaved a sigh of relief at having delivered her message.
The nurse began to grumble, smoothing the coverlet and patting the pillow. “Don’t fret yourself, fraeulein, about the bauble. It will turn up; you will see.”
The morning passed. Marta braided Amanda’s hair, plied her with pungent tisanes of mint and spices and currant syrup, and insisted on laying a cool cloth over Amanda’s forehead. Amanda submitted to her ministrations in the hope that she would be that much closer to returning to town — and from there back to her own life on her grandfather’s plantation, her packing — and her plans for the wedding.
It was just before luncheon that Sophia came to see her.
“How are you?” she asked without preamble as she swung through the door, her brown eyes without warmth.
Marta looked up and a queer expression crossed her normally stolid face. She got to her feet.
“I’m much better,” Amanda said, but Sophia was hardly listening.
“Is there anything you wanted to do, Marta?” she asked coolly. “I’m sure Amanda doesn’t need a nurse at her side constantly, but I will be happy to stay for a few minutes if you have something that needs your attention.”
“Yes,” Marta licked her lips. “I was wishing for a bit of busy work to occupy my hands, not that I’m that much of a seamstress, but the time does lag.” There was a nervous flutter in her voice but the look in her eyes as she let her gaze slide over Sophia was malignant. She moved through the door that Sophia had left open, closing it behind her with a slam.
Sophia laughed then turned toward the bed. “What have you been doing with yourself?”
“Reading — a little. Talking with Marta.”
“I’ll wager you have. What has our invaluable Marta been telling you?”
“Nothing really, we spoke of Carl and of the big dog, Cerberus.”
“Oh, Cerberus, Amelia’s pet. He’s a vicious brute, but I don’t suppose he can help it since it was Amelia who made him that way.”
“Amelia?” Amanda couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Yes, dear Amelia. She couldn’t stand to have him care for anyone else, even Jason. She was like that. Of course, Jason can control the beast by sheer strength of will, but Cerberus has no feeling for him or for anyone else now that Amelia is gone. If it were left to me, I’d have him destroyed.”
“Amelia, my cousin Amelia, made him brutal? I can’t believe it.”
“No? I find that odd. You must not have known her as well as you thought … or … how long is it since you saw her last? Two … three years? People change.”
“Amelia could never hurt anything.”
“I never said she deliberately set out to hurt anyone,” Sophia protested. “But there was something about her that inspired a fanatical loyalty. Well, look around you. There is Jason, hating you because you are not her. There is Marta, pathetically grateful to be allowed to serve you because you were connected with her. And Carl, worshiping at your feet because he thinks you are she. No one escaped her spell.”
“Except you.”
“Not even I. Look at me, twenty-six years old and a housekeeper, unnoticed, unappreciated by the only man I ever loved. She took him from me, took him, bound him to her so
“Marta?”
“It is Herr Theodore. He was asking after your health.”
“Oh, would you ask him, please, about the necklace?”
“Certainly, fraeulein.”
Amanda could hear snatches of the conversation, enough to know that Theo was denying all knowledge of the missing piece of jewelry. She sighed, a frown flitting across her brow. It could not have disappeared.
When the door was closed, Marta came toward her. “Herr Theodore wishes me to convey to you his sorrow that you were injured, his joy that you are going to stay on for a time at Monteigne, and his most fervent hope that you will be able to come downstairs soon.”
Amanda smiled a little as Marta heaved a sigh of relief at having delivered her message.
The nurse began to grumble, smoothing the coverlet and patting the pillow. “Don’t fret yourself, fraeulein, about the bauble. It will turn up; you will see.”
The morning passed. Marta braided Amanda’s hair, plied her with pungent tisanes of mint and spices and currant syrup, and insisted on laying a cool cloth over Amanda’s forehead. Amanda submitted to her ministrations in the hope that she would be that much closer to returning to town — and from there back to her own life on her grandfather’s plantation, her packing — and her plans for the wedding.
It was just before luncheon that Sophia came to see her.
“How are you?” she asked without preamble as she swung through the door, her brown eyes without warmth.
Marta looked up and a queer expression crossed her normally stolid face. She got to her feet.
“I’m much better,” Amanda said, but Sophia was hardly listening.
“Is there anything you wanted to do, Marta?” she asked coolly. “I’m sure Amanda doesn’t need a nurse at her side constantly, but I will be happy to stay for a few minutes if you have something that needs your attention.”
“Yes,” Marta licked her lips. “I was wishing for a bit of busy work to occupy my hands, not that I’m that much of a seamstress, but the time does lag.” There was a nervous flutter in her voice but the look in her eyes as she let her gaze slide over Sophia was malignant. She moved through the door that Sophia had left open, closing it behind her with a slam.
Sophia laughed then turned toward the bed. “What have you been doing with yourself?”
“Reading — a little. Talking with Marta.”
“I’ll wager you have. What has our invaluable Marta been telling you?”
“Nothing really, we spoke of Carl and of the big dog, Cerberus.”
“Oh, Cerberus, Amelia’s pet. He’s a vicious brute, but I don’t suppose he can help it since it was Amelia who made him that way.”
“Amelia?” Amanda couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Yes, dear Amelia. She couldn’t stand to have him care for anyone else, even Jason. She was like that. Of course, Jason can control the beast by sheer strength of will, but Cerberus has no feeling for him or for anyone else now that Amelia is gone. If it were left to me, I’d have him destroyed.”
“Amelia, my cousin Amelia, made him brutal? I can’t believe it.”
“No? I find that odd. You must not have known her as well as you thought … or … how long is it since you saw her last? Two … three years? People change.”
“Amelia could never hurt anything.”
“I never said she deliberately set out to hurt anyone,” Sophia protested. “But there was something about her that inspired a fanatical loyalty. Well, look around you. There is Jason, hating you because you are not her. There is Marta, pathetically grateful to be allowed to serve you because you were connected with her. And Carl, worshiping at your feet because he thinks you are she. No one escaped her spell.”
“Except you.”
“Not even I. Look at me, twenty-six years old and a housekeeper, unnoticed, unappreciated by the only man I ever loved. She took him from me, took him, bound him to her so
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