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Authors: Amanda Quick

BOOK: Quicksilver
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“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll both fit right in.”
FORTY-SEVEN
 
W
hat was Papa like?” Elizabeth asked.
Virginia put her teacup gently down on the delicate china saucer. She thought for a moment. “While you do not remember Papa at all, my own memories of him amount to little more than fragments of a photograph. The only reason I can recall what he actually looked like is because I do have a photograph that was taken the year that he and my mother died.”
Virginia had arrived at the Mansfield house a short time earlier. She had sent around a note declining Helen’s offer of the Mansfield carriage. Instead, Owen had escorted her in a Sweetwater carriage. He was now waiting for her in the park across the street.
When she had been ushered into the elegant drawing room, Helen and Elizabeth greeted her. Virginia had not been surprised to discover that Helen did not really want to consult about a mirror reading.
“Elizabeth wants to talk to you,” she had said. “I hope you will be kind enough to answer her questions.”
Virginia had expected Elizabeth to ask questions about her talent. Instead, the girl wanted to know about their father.
“I have a photograph, too,” Elizabeth said. “It was taken on my parents’ wedding day. Papa looks quite handsome.”
Virginia thought about her own precious photo. “Yes, he was a fine-looking man. But what I remember is the energy around him. When he walked into a room, people were immediately aware of him. They greeted him warmly. Everyone wanted to be his friend. For his part he was gracious to one and all, high and low.”
Helen paused her teacup in midair. A wistful smile fluttered around her lips. “That’s true. Robert always treated those who served him with respect. They, in turn, would have done anything for him.”
Elizabeth sat forward eagerly. “What else do you remember about him, Miss Dean?”
Virginia smiled. “Please call me Virginia.”
Elizabeth brightened. “Thank you. And you must call me Elizabeth. Everyone else does, and you are, after all, my sister.”
Virginia waited for Helen to dispute the relationship, but she said nothing. She took another sip of tea instead, and waited for Virginia to continue.
“Very well, then, Elizabeth,” Virginia said. She thought for a moment. “Your father—”
“
Our
father,” Elizabeth insisted.
“Yes,” Virginia said. “Papa was always cheerful. I do not recall him ever losing his temper. When he came to see us he brought me presents.”
There was no need to explain that the small gifts were intended as silent apologies for all the broken promises and all the times that he had failed to visit.
“Did he take you to fairs and museums?” Elizabeth asked.
A forgotten memory flitted through Virginia’s head. “I remember a trip to a museum when I was your age. Papa wanted to show me some artifacts that he believed were infused with paranormal energy.”
“That must have been exciting,” Elizabeth said.
“It was. That was the day he told me that I had a baby sister. He said that he looked forward to showing you the artifacts when you were old enough to sense the energy in them. He said the paranormal was part of our heritage and that we should understand it.”
“He talked about me?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, yes,” Virginia said. “He was very fond of you.” She looked at Helen. “And of your mother, too. He was proud of you both.”
Helen raised her brows at that.
Virginia smiled at her. “It’s true. As my mother once told me, in his own way, Papa loved both of his families.”
 
 
V
irginia took her leave a half hour later. Helen saw her to the door.
“I hope you will come back to visit Elizabeth again soon, Miss Dean,” she said. “Please know that you are welcome in this house at any time.”
“That is very kind of you, madam.”
“Call me Helen,” she said.
“You must call me Virginia, as Elizabeth does.”
The butler opened the front door. Virginia was surprised when Helen followed her onto the front step and out of earshot of the servant.
“He was not a bad or evil man, was he?” Helen said quietly.
“No,” Virginia said. “Papa enjoyed life.”
“Perhaps to excess,” Helen said dryly. “But in his boundless enthusiasm for it, he was careless of the happiness of others.”
“Yes.”
“He never wanted to consider the consequence of his actions, and he never was called upon to do so. He got away with that attitude because he could charm the birds out of the trees as well as every woman in range of his smile.” Helen shook her head ruefully. “I swear, that was his true psychical talent.”
“You may be right,” Virginia said.
Helen fixed her with an intent look. “But I will say this much for him, he fathered two fine daughters, of whom he would have been proud. Thank you, again, for your kindness to Elizabeth.”
“She is my sister.”
“And we are forever linked as family,” Helen said. “Do not forget that.”
Virginia looked across the street and saw Owen lounging, arms crossed, against the side of the gleaming black Sweetwater carriage.
“As it happens, I am to be married soon,” Virginia said.
Surprise flashed across Helen’s face, but she recovered quickly and smiled. “Congratulations.” She glanced across the street at Owen and the sleek carriage. “Dare I ask if that is your fiancé?”
“Yes. Mr. Sweetwater.” Virginia raised a hand to signal Owen. “I will introduce you.”
Helen watched Owen straighten away from the carriage and start toward them across the street. “Sweetwater. I think I have heard of the family. It’s an old one, I believe. But I know nothing about them.”
“The Sweetwaters rarely go into society,” Virginia said.
Owen smiled at her. He was halfway across the street.
“Can I ask you a personal question, Helen?” Virginia said.
“My daughter asked you a great many personal questions today. The least I can do is answer one for you.”
“Knowing what we both know about my father, it has occurred to me from time to time that while I’m sure he always intended to provide for me, it is unlikely that Papa actually got around to doing so in his will.”
Helen did not look away from Owen. “I don’t know what you mean, Virginia.”
“Even if he did remember me in his will, I cannot imagine that he went to the trouble of ensuring that I would attend Miss Peabody’s School for Young Ladies in the event of his death. He would have assumed that my mother would be around to take care of me. I’m sure it never occurred to him that there was a possibility that I would be orphaned.”
Helen sighed. “It was not in Robert’s nature to plan for the future, nor did he like to contemplate the prospect of his own death. He lived too much in the moment.”
“You were the one who saw to it that I went to the Peabody School, weren’t you? You were the one who paid the fees all those years and made certain that when I graduated I received a bequest to see me started in life.”
“It was only a small amount,” Helen said. “I should have done more for you. But it took me a long time to overcome my own pain and anger. You see, I loved Robert with all of my heart. I believed he loved me. I never realized that he had a second family until the day I was informed of his death. It came as a great shock.”
“But you nevertheless made certain that I was not sent to the workhouse or a charity orphanage. You ensured that I was given a fine education and taught proper manners. You gave me what I needed to survive as a woman alone in this world. I will always be grateful.”
Helen smiled. “Nonsense. I may not possess any psychical ability, but my intuition tells me that you would have survived quite nicely on your own resources, Virginia Dean. You are a woman of many talents.”
And then Owen was there and Virginia was introducing him to Helen and a very excited and curious Elizabeth, who came rushing out the door to meet him. There were congratulations on the forthcoming marriage and promises to attend the wedding.
Eventually Owen took Virginia’s arm and escorted her to the waiting carriage. He handed her up into the cab, got in and closed the door.
“I take it your visit with your sister and her mother went well?” he asked.
“Yes,” Virginia said. “Very well.”
Owen smiled and pulled her into his arms. His eyes, those dark, haunted eyes that she had sensed from the beginning could promise heaven or hell now promised a lifetime of love.
CANYONS OF NIGHT
 
Book Three in The Looking Glass Trilogy
T
he small vehicle was traveling too fast on the narrow, twisted road that snaked along the top of the cliffs. Charlotte Enright heard the insectlike whine of the tiny flash-rock engine behind her and hastily stepped off the pavement onto the relative safety of the shoulder. A moment later, one of the familiar low-powered Vibes that visitors rented to get around on the island careened out of the turn.
The driver hit the brakes, bringing the open-sided buggy to a halt beside her.
“Hey, look what we have here,” the man behind the wheel said to his two passengers. “It’s that weird girl with the glasses who works for that crazy old lady in the antiques store. What are you doing out here all by yourself, Weird Girl?”
There was enough light left in the late summer sky to illuminate the three young men in the car. Charlotte recognized them immediately. They had wandered into Looking Glass Antiques earlier in the day, drawn into the shop not because of an interest in antiques but by the rumors that swirled around her aunt.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to hang out on empty roads like this late at night?” the man in the passenger seat asked.
His voice echoed along the lonely stretch of road that led to the Preserve. The laughter of his two companions sent icy chills through Charlotte. She started walking. She did not look back. Maybe if she ignored the three, they would leave her alone. She quickened her pace, walking faster into the rapidly deepening twilight.
The weird girl with the glasses who works for the crazy old lady in the antiques store.
The words might just as well have been emblazoned on her T-shirt, she thought. She was pretty sure that just about everyone on the island, with the exception of her friend Rose, thought of her in exactly those words.
The driver took his foot off the brake and let the Vibe coast slowly alongside Charlotte.
“Don’t run off, Weird Girl,” the one in the passenger seat called out. “We’ve heard that it gets a little strange out here after dark. Guy back at the bar guaranteed us that if we could get into the Preserve on a moonlit night like this we would see ghosts. You’re from around here. Why don’t you show us the sights?”
“Yeah, come on now, be friendly, Weird Girl,” the driver wheedled. “You’re supposed to be nice to tourists.”
Charlotte clutched the flashlight very tightly and kept her gaze fixed on the dark woods at the end of Merton Road.
“We’ll give you a ride,” the driver said, mockingly lecherous. “Come on, get in the car.”
“All we want you to do is show us this place they call the Preserve,” the one in the backseat urged. “From what we’ve seen today, there sure as hell isn’t anything else of interest on this rock.”
Charlotte wondered how the three in the car had found their way all the way out to Merton Road. Only the locals and the summer regulars were aware that the old strip of pavement dead-ended at the border of the private nature conservancy known as the Rainshadow Preserve.
The trio in the Vibe were a familiar species on Rainshadow during the summer months. The type typically arrived on the private yachts and sailboats that crowded the marina on the weekends. They partied heavily all night long in the dockside taverns and restaurants, and when the bars closed down they moved the parties to their boats.
“Come back here, damn it,” the driver ordered. He wore a pastel polo shirt that probably had a designer label stitched inside. His light brown hair had obviously been cut in an expensive salon. “We won’t hurt you. We just want you to give us a tour of the spooky places the guy in the bar told us about.”
“Forget the ugly little bitch, Derek,” the man in the backseat said. “No boobs on her, anyway. Trying to get into this Preserve is a waste of time. Let’s go back to town. I need a drink and some weed.”
“We came all the way out here to see the Preserve,” Derek insisted, his tone turning surly. “I’m not going back until this bitch shows us where it is.” He raised his voice. “You hear me, Weird Bitch?”
“Yeah,” the man in the passenger said. “I want to see the place, too. Let’s make the bitch show us.”
Charlotte’s pulse pounded. She was walking as swiftly as she could. Any faster and she would be running. She was very frightened, but her feminine intuition warned her that if she ran the three men would be out of the Vibe in an instant, pursuing her like a pack of wild animals.

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