Page 49

Amy stopped chewing.

"I tried to warn you, I told you not to go to the dance as soon as I saw you had put on that revealing red dress."

"Yes, I remember."

Amy shook her head sadly. Then she smiled.

"But you got back at them, sending Pru down that chute into the messy clothing."

"A funny way to win their respect. I never became one of them, but at least they left me alone."

Amy nodded, anxious to get on with her topic.

"Now, from the letters I get and the things I hear when I see some of them, they're even more jealous of you than ever. They think you're the happiest, luckiest girl in the world."

"Do they?"

"Living here in Farthinggale, married to a handsome man, heir to such a huge fortune . . ."

I looked at her. It seemed obvious to me that it was she who was jealous. Despite her wealth and her good breeding, her fancy schools and her colleges, her clothing and her traveling, she was alone, still searching for something romantic to happen to her. The frustration led her to overeat and the overeating made her unattractive.

"You've gained a lot of weight, Amy," I said when she reached for her fifth finger sandwich. "Shouldn't you be concerned?"

"Oh, I am. I try, but sometimes I just get so . . . hungry," she said and laughed. "But you're so right," she said and put the sandwich down. She sat back and smiled. "It's such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Do you ever go into that English maze?" she asked. "I would be too frightened."

"Sometimes."

She paused and then leaned forward.

Obviously, what she was about to ask next was the real motive for her visit. It had simply taken time for her to work up the courage. I knew what she was after was intimate information that would make her valuable to the girls of Winterhaven once more. They would phone her and invite her to their homes and she would feel important and wanted. It both saddened and annoyed me.

"Tell me," she said, "now that so much time has passed. What was the reason that Troy Tatterton committed suicide?"

"First," I said in a stiffly faunal and correct voice, "it wasn't a suicide. It was a tragic accident. His horse went out of control. And second, I wasn't at Farthinggale to serve as an amateur psychiatrist, analyzing everyone like some of those horrible girls at Winterhaven did and most likely still do, just because they took an introductory psychology course."

"Well, of course, I--"

"I don't care to contribute to that sort of gossip anyway, Amy. It's not ladylike for you to do it, either. It should be beneath you by now."

"Oh, it is, it is," she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. "I was just . . . personally curious."

"We shouldn't depend on other people's tragedies for our entertainment," I said curtly and looked at my watch. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to excuse myself," I said. "I have so many things left to do. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, of course. Perhaps we can spend time with each other again in the near future. I'm not due to leave for Paris until the fall. I'm going to study art," she said proudly.

"That sounds wonderful. Yes, I'll phone you as soon as I can," I lied. I was glad to get rid of her. Even though she was not as cruel as the others, her arrival and our conversation had brought back too many unpleasant memories of my time at Winterhaven. I had succeeded in burying most in my trunk of sorrows and was unhappy to see some of it pulled out for display, even if only for a few minutes.

After she left I asked Curtis if Tony had returned or called. When he said no, I called his office and his secretary told me they still had made no contact with him. Now, more worried than ever, I wondered what I should do. He had been acting so strange since Jillian's death.

Why it should finally come to me, I do not know. I was sitting in the living room thinking about him when the possibility occurred to me. I stood up sharply and then hurried out of Farthy and across the grounds to the maze. I walked quickly through the corridors of hedges until I reached the cottage. A cold chill gripped my heart when I saw Tony's car parked in front. Slowly I approached the front of the cottage and peered into the small panel window behind the rose bush.

There Tony sat in Troy's rocking chair facing the small fireplace. He barely moved. He had probably spent most of the day here, continuing to mourn in private. Although Troy was no longer there, for Tony, being in his brother's little home among his things, sitting in his chair, was enough to give him some brotherly comfort. I thought about going in to him, but changed my mind. Sometimes privacy is very important and very precious, I thought. I was sure that Tony didn't want to be discovered in the cottage at this time. All sorts of things would have to be said and confessed, not only by him, but also by me. I turned away and returned to Farthy.

Just before dinner Tony came home. He pretended he had been working hard. I didn't have the heart to tell him his office had been calling all day. Curtis gave him some messages, which he took without speaking. Then he went directly up to his suite. He said he was hungry and he would be down to dinner, so I went to my own suite to shower and dress.