Darkwater (14 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In the heavy rain the darkness of the swamp was intensified. It might almost have been night as they hurried along the path.

Walter led the way, cautioning her to stay close. He walked fast, once or twice consciously slowing his stride when she began to fall behind. Even so she had to rush to keep pace with him.

They reached the fork in the path and went to the right. As if it were an omen, the rain stopped suddenly, and the gloom seemed to lighten perceptibly.

“Where does that other path lead?” Jennifer asked breathlessly.

“Back to Darkwater,” Walter said without even turning his head. “This path takes us directly to Mrs. Hodges' shack.”

“But when I came here before, Liza told me the path to the right would bring me back to Darkwater.”

“You must have gotten it confused.”

She was too short of breath to argue the point, but she was certain she had gotten it correct. Only, how could Liza, have gotten them confused? Unless she had wanted Jennifer to meet Mrs. Hodges. Unless...but no, Liza could surely not have wished her to be harmed. Or could she?

She had looked upon Liza as a child, an innocent. They all looked upon her that way. Yet, Jennifer had seen things – a look of malice in Liza's eyes from time to time, a wariness, a violent streak. Small things, but did they add up to a darkness of nature that no one had suspected as yet?

That was not entirely true, either. Alicia had suspected something. And Alicia was dead.

They arrived just then at the clearing where Jennifer had earlier encountered Mrs. Hodges, and Walter stopped so abruptly that Jennifer, following close behind, ran into him.

They had again come upon Mrs. Hodges in the clearing. The old crone stood directly in their path, just a few feet ahead of them. Walter wasted no time in coming to the point.

“We've come for the girl,” he said. “Where is she?”

Jennifer ‘s fear turned to puzzlement when Mrs. Hodges smiled, sweetly and innocently.

“She's at my place,” she said.

For all the sweetness of her smile, Jennifer thought it was enigmatic, too, as if she were pulling off some really outstanding stunt.

Walter must have thought the same thing. “No tricks, now. We mean to take her home to Darkwater.”

“Darkwater?” She chuckled softly. “Her home, is it now? My, my, we move up in the world, don't we?”

“It is her home, and I'm taking her back to it. Don't try to interfere.”

“Why of course she can go with you.” Mrs. Hodges showed a toothy grin. “Supposin' she wants to. Maybe she likes it better here with her dear momma.” She let loose a cackle of laughter that set Jennifer's teeth on edge.

The crone was still laughing and watching them with an expression of amusement, but she made no move to stop them when they went by her.

“Do you suppose she's up to some trick?” Jennifer asked. She glanced back, but Mrs. Hodges had not moved.

“She gives that impression, doesn't she? We'll soon know. If she's harmed Liza....” Jennifer could sense his fury. Again she wondered about the true nature of the relationship between man and child.

They came around a bend and Jennifer gasped. Directly in front of the path, a ramshackle house sat in a clearing, surrounded by a dilapidated fence. The yard was unkempt, the house itself unpainted. A pig wallowed in a pool of muddy water just inches from the crooked steps that led into the house. The front door was a screen, torn in many places and standing open at the moment. One of the windows was broken, only a few jagged spears of glass still clinging to the frame.

It was not the house, however sordid it was, that had made Jennifer gasp. It was the sight of Mrs. Hodges standing just inside the gate, awaiting their arrival.

“How did you get here so fast?” Walter demanded.

She chuckled again. “I have my ways, boyo, I have my ways.”

It was difficult to imagine, Jennifer thought, that such an old woman could have come through the thick tangle of brush that surrounded the house and gotten here before them. No doubt there was a shortcut of some sort, but it was certainly well concealed.

“We still want the girl,” Walter said.

“Why, of course,” Mrs. Hodges said. She tilted her head and called, in a sing-song voice, “Liza, come out. We've got company, child.”

Jennifer wondered how anyone accustomed to the comfort of Darkwater could come voluntarily to live in this filth and decay.

Mrs. Hodges called again, more firmly, “Liza, come out now. There's nothing to be ascared of.”

Liza appeared in the doorway. She did not look surprised to see them. But of course, Jennifer thought, she must have known that Walter would come for her.

“We've come to take you home,” Walter said.

“Yes, I know,” Liza replied.

To Jennifer's surprise, Liza smiled and came demurely down the broken steps. It was difficult to believe this was the same child who had earlier thrown such a violent tantrum. Jennifer had expected some sort of sullen resistance, at the least, and perhaps more tears.

Liza came directly to Walter. “I'm sorry for this morning.”

“I think you owe the apology to Jennifer,” he said.

Jennifer was certain Liza would balk at this, but she turned to Jennifer as humbly as anyone could ask and said, “I do apologize.”

Jennifer was so surprised she could only stammer, “And I accept your apology.”

Then, to further confound her, Liza burst into a smile and said, “I'm so glad you're going to be married. I know you'll make Walter very happy.”

Behind them, Mrs. Hodges chuckled softly.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Helen often puzzled over the change in Liza. The wedding drew nearer, and Helen expected Liza to revert to her old resentment, but she remained a changed girl. She was astonishingly docile and good-natured. She even had a certain enthusiasm for the wedding and from time to time took part in the planning, encouraged by Jennifer.

That the two of them had become friends of some sort was obvious, for they were almost always together now.

To be sure, there were occasions when the old Liza re-emerged, although Helen thought that she saw more of that than the others. And sometimes Liza would disappear for hours. Usually this happened when Jennifer was not around, so Helen couldn't say Liza was avoiding Jennifer.

Jennifer, however, was more and more tied up as the wedding arrangements progressed. Often she had to go into town. Twice she and Helen traveled to New Orleans, which kept them away for several days each time. When she was at home, Jennifer was busy designing and making her own gown, preparing guest lists, and a hundred other details.

Now that she was to be Walter's bride and not an employee, she had to “meet” the local people officially, which meant that she was often out calling.

On these occasions when Jennifer was out, Liza seemed to disappear. Once Helen saw her going into the swamp and another time emerging along the swamp path, but she could get no information from Liza.

“Where have you been all afternoon?” she asked.

“Nowhere.”

And again, “Do you see Mrs. Hodges when you're in the swamp?”

“I never go into the swamp.”

“But I saw you returning, just today.”

“No. I never go into the swamp.” This was said with such calm certainty that Helen almost conceded she had been mistaken—but later, when she thought about it, she knew she had seen Liza coming out of the swamp.

Liza had lied to her. It worried her and she thought vaguely she ought to do something, but she did not know quite what. She had an uneasy feeling that if she punished Liza, Walter would take Liza's part. And if she went to Walter with her suspicions? She thought of Alicia, always telling Walter the bad things Liza was doing. Would she sound like Alicia, at least to Walter?

In the end, she did nothing, but the uneasiness remained. She wondered if Liza had really changed. The girl was cunning. Could she be up to something?

But what?

* * * * * * *

Helen had little time to ponder these things, however. The wedding would be big and lavish, and it seemed there was hardly time now for anything but the wedding.

The wedding was scheduled for July the second, and people were coming from hundreds of miles away. The house would be filled with overnight guests and the sheds and outbuildings had been readied for the children and the servants to sleep in.

A vast canopy for the ceremony itself was set up on the lawn. The reception was to be held inside. Helen had borrowed help from the neighboring plantations. An entire army of servants would be on hand to serve the guests.

“This will be the biggest to-do anyone around here has seen since before the war,” was Bess's opinion.

For Jennifer it was a heavenly period—all the details of the wedding to be arranged, under Helen's adept supervision; so many new people to meet and make friends with; the sensation of luxury, of money to spend lavishly; the travel. All of these kept her breathless and thrilled.

Most of all, there was Walter. No longer need they exchange meaningful glances at a distance, or dream fondly of one another from afar. Now they could stroll hand in hand around the lawn of an evening, or sit cozily close in the parlor.

“Soon we shall always be together,” Walter said.

“And you will quickly grow tired of me,” she teased him, to which he replied with a fervent kiss.

At last June came, and with the glorious onslaught of summer, the wedding preparations entered their last frenzied stages. Gowns had to be fitted and final adjustments made. Food arrived, seemingly from around the world, and all Darkwater was a giant madhouse.

Helen and Bess were everywhere all at the same time, overseeing everything, ordering Walter out of their way as regally as if he were a manservant. Bess herself was responsible for all the marketing. She traveled into New Orleans, where she purchased the fresh calves' feet from which the jelly was made. Stripped of their tough outer layer, they were cut up and then ground into a powder. Hot water and sugar were added to make jelly. Cochineal was added for the pink gelatin, spinach juice for the green, and thickened lemon juice for the yellow.

Weeks before, the most precious luxury of all, ice, had been loaded onto a steamboat far upriver, packed in straw to slow the melting. A special cellar had been dug and the ice was buried in more straw. Finally the jelly was set on the ice to harden.

The crude brown sugar made and used on the plantations was replaced with white refined sugar purchased on Bess's trip to New Orleans. It came in hard cones like rock and for days Darkwater rang with the sound of mallets breaking it into chips, which were then ground into fine powder.

Smoke stood up straight from the tall kitchen chimneys on the last few days of preparation. The ovens, great metal affairs with their tops filled with live coals, were pushed into the fireplaces. Everywhere pots simmered and steamed with roux and soups and gumbo. A giant, seldom used fireplace was smoking now and across its front the meats—wild boar and venison--turned on spits, spattering their juices into pots set on the hearth.

Orange blossoms and violets were dipped into boiling syrup and allowed to harden into candy. In the kitchen yard, ice cream custards had been poured into huge cylinders which were turned continuously by strong black men. Every few minutes a man would give up his place at the tubs and sit back to blow on his freezing hands. If one rested too long, Bess was there scoring him with her sharp tongue.

Knives were rubbed on a hardwood board covered with powdered brick dust, to sharpen them. The gelatins, hardened now, and the sherbets and russes went down into the ice cellar. Vast cakes were stacked in layers and iced in the pantry, with much finger licking. Orange peels were woven into delicate little baskets, to be dipped into the boiling sugar syrup and set to harden, when they would be filled with sweets—pralines and bonbons and nougats.

Walter chose the wines and liquors and set them on the sideboard, but even here Helen reigned, making countless suggestions until Walter gave it up with a toss of his hands and went back to his fields.

Flowers filled urns and vases and ramblers and hybrid roses from the garden garlanded the front staircase.

“I don't recall ever seeing anything this grand,” Susan said, watching in awe as the last details were attended to. She shook her head as the servants were brought in for Helen's inspection, wearing livery new from the skin out. Two small boys wearing turbans rehearsed standing on each side of the immense tables, pulling golden cords that moved the huge fans above.

“Surely everything must be ready by now,” Jennifer said, looking around with amusement and awe. It was June thirtieth.

“Almost,” Helen said. “And you? Your dress is just right?”

“Perfect,” Jennifer said with a little laugh. “You mustn't start in on me with your army of servants. I would be too exhausted to stand up for the ceremony.”

“Hmm. Well, you have gotten a tan from too much time in the sun. Sleep with some sour buttermilk on your face for the next two nights. And I will do your hair myself.”

“Let me trim it,” Liza cried. With each day she had been more and more at Jennifer's side, so that Jennifer had all but forgotten her old animosity. Almost, but not quite, because she could never quite get over the impression of something below the surface, something just out of sight, but menacing. Sometimes she had the feeling that Liza was with her not out of any desire for companionship but to watch her.

But then she would shrug and tell herself that she was being foolish. As if to quiet her doubts, she greeted each gesture of Liza's with even greater enthusiasm, trying to reassure herself of their new friendship.

So, when Liza asked for a scrap of the fabric from her wedding gown, Jennifer made sure to find her a piece, and when Liza asked to trim her hair, she readily agreed.

“Yes, let Liza trim it,” Jennifer said, seeing Helen was about to refuse.

“If you like,” Helen said in a tone that left it plain what she thought of that idea.

The night before the wedding, when Jennifer had all but forgotten her hair, Liza tapped at her door, scissors in hand.

“I've come to trim your hair,” she said.

Jennifer took a seat at her dressing table and Liza came to stand behind her.

“Helen says she will come and set it when I have finished. Are you excited about tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. Aren't you?”

There was a pause. Jennifer glanced up into the mirror. Liza's attention was directed to her hair, so that she was unaware that she was observed, and she wore such a look of scornful malice on her face that it gave Jennifer a start.

“Don't do that,” Liza scolded. “You'll make me ruin your hair.”

Jennifer looked up into the mirror then and Liza's expression was again sweet and faintly puzzled.

“What's wrong? Why did you jump like that?”

“Nothing.” Jennifer shook her head. Perhaps she had only imagined it. “I'm just nervous, I guess.”

Liza frowned. “That would be an omen. Mrs. Hodges taught me to believe in omens. Do you?”

“I...I'm not sure. For instance?”

“Well, for instance, if something really awful happened tomorrow, on your wedding day. It would be a bad omen. It would mean that your marriage was cursed.”

“Liza! What a thing to say.”

“It was only a for-instance. Or something really nice could happen. That would be a good omen.”

“Well, something really nice will happen. I will become Walter's bride. I think that you have cut it short enough.”

“Yes.” Liza bent down and began to gather up the strands of hair that she had cut, tucking them into her pocket.

“You needn't clean that up,” Jennifer said. “The maids will do it.”

“Oh, I don't mind.” Liza continued to stuff hair into her pocket. “Besides, I want a lock of your hair.”

“What on earth for?”

“Because we're friends now. It's all right, isn't it?”

“Yes, I guess so. Now go tell Helen I'm ready.”

* * * * * * *

“Ugh, it smells vile,” Liza's said of the hair dressing, but Helen ignored her. She had already pounded beef marrow into a fluid state, and now she added thick castor oil. Finally, she scented the concoction with oil of bergamot and patchouli and rubbed it into Jennifer's thick, black hair, twisting each lock into curl papers so tightly that Jennifer gave a little cry of protest.

Afterward, her lips smeared with a salve of white wax and sweet oil, her face smelling of buttermilk, Jennifer was escorted off to bed, to sleep her last night as a single woman.

When she was in her bed, though, her thoughts went back to Liza, and the strange contradictions in their relationship. Liza tried so hard now to be friendly. Not since Christmas and her temper tantrum had she done anything to disagreeable.

Yet, there were moments...that face in the mirror, glowering savagely down at her head...had she only imagined that malice in the expression?

At one time she had reached the conclusion that Liza was in love with Walter. If that were so, had she gotten over her girlish love? Or had she somehow subdued it, for the sake of domestic tranquility? No, that wasn't like Liza.

But what then? Could she be harboring a bitter resentment that Walter was marrying someone else? Liza was not the sort, either, to harbor a resentment without acting on it. In her own devious ways she had acted against Alicia.

“Is she acting against me?” Jennifer asked herself. “In some subtle way I don't understand?”

Now you are being a fool, she decided, and turned over, trying again to get to sleep.

* * * * * * *

Bess was surprised to see that a light still burning in Liza's room. She opened the door without knocking. Liza sat on the edge of her bed. At the sound of the door, she jumped and thrust her hands behind her.

“What you doing still up?” Bess asked, eyeing the girl suspiciously. Of all those in the house, she was the one least impressed with Liza's good behavior. She had an abiding distrust of her.

“None of your business,” Liza snapped. “What are you doing, going around spying on people?”

“I thought I saw something shiny.” Bess came closer to the bed. “And what is this? Hair? And this bit of cloth, why, that's off Miss Jennifer's wedding dress, I recognize the fabric.”

“She gave it to me. It was just an extra piece and she said I could have it to make a doll.”

Bess's dark face went darker still. “What kind of doll you making? Let me see what you got behind your back. Give it here.”

She forced Liza's hand open. A golden chain fell to the floor.

“That's Miss Jennifer's pendant,” Bess said, picking it up. “She's all the time wearing this. You goin' to tell me she gives you this, too, huh?”

Liza said nothing, only looked sullenly down at the floor.

Bess leaned close. “What kind of doll you makin'? Is this some of that old swamp woman's mischief?”

Liza looked up then, her eyes flashing. “I could make a doll of you too, you know,” she said.

Fear flickered in Bess's eyes and she could not quite conceal it. “You could, huh? And I could just tell Mr. Walter too, couldn't I?”

“He'd never believe you. He'd laugh and say you were being silly.”

Bess took a step backward. Liza was right, those people never believed in the powers. The threat of having some evil power directed against her was beginning really to frighten her.