The Love Talker Part 6

She was drifting off when a sound penetrated the last crack of consciousness in her mind. At first it blended with her final waking thoughts-jukeboxes, fairy pipes in lonely glens. Laurie sat bolt upright, straining her ears. She had not been dreaming. There was music out in the cold white night-thin, ethereal music, bell-like single notes repeating a theme over and over.

The blankets had become twisted around her legs. She untangled herself and ran to the window.

The music was faint and far away, but surely the sound could not carry so clearly all the way from the distant woods. Yet the wide stretch of lawn appeared to be unmarked. The curtain of falling snow blurred objects, but she would have seen anything that moved.

The floor under the open window felt like ice. Laurie hopped from one foot to the other. She couldn't decide what to do. She had no desire to go out into that chilly emptiness alone. Even if some human agency was producing the unearthly music . . .

She stopped herself in the middle of that thought. Of course it was a human agency. The sound could not have been made by wind or water; it was too regular. The repeated motif was a tune, of sorts. So the musician must be human. Maybe Jefferson was a flautist and tootled himself to sleep after his arduous labors, like Sherlock Holmes playing the violin. Maybe Uncle Ned had taken up the recorder. Maybe Aunt Lizzie . . .

She was about to say the h.e.l.l with it and get back into bed when she heard another sound. This one did not come from outside. It was closer at hand-inside the house.

The first thump and rustle were followed by a series of soft noises, some of them unmistakably the patter of unshod feet. Laurie's scalp p.r.i.c.kled. The sounds were so close, almost as if they were right in the room. Something invisible, padding softly on bare feet . . .

Then she remembered the register in the floor.

The room below hers belonged to Aunt Lizzie. She had never noticed noises before, but that was to be expected; the old lady went to bed before she did, and apparently she was a quiet sleeper. Laurie dropped to the floor and pressed her ear to the register just in time to hear Lizzie's door open. It did not close.

This time Laurie did not hesitate, at least not mentally. She knew what she had to do, but she was s.h.i.+vering, and she had no intention of pursuing her aunt through the night-cooled house without a robe. It took her a while to find hers, thanks to her slovenly habit of dropping it on the floor when she retired, and she was still groping for her slippers when the silence belowstairs erupted into pandemonium-shouts, crashes, the barking of a dog. She abandoned the slippers and ran.

The upper hall was dark, but she knew every inch of the way. She had crept down to the kitchen often enough for a midnight snack. A light which had been left burning in the hall below, no doubt in antic.i.p.ation of Doug's return, shed a faint glow on the stairs. Laurie went faster. The battle was still in progress. As she reached the landing, someone let out a high-pitched shout. Though falsetto with pain or fury, it was a man's voice.

She followed the sounds to the kitchen. By the back door a large dark ma.s.s writhed and moaned. Her rational mind knew that it was a group of intertwined bodies, two or more, but it looked perfectly ghastly. "Does some strange survival of the ice ages . . ." That same rational mind told her to stand still and get some light on the subject.

A number of fantastic theories had flashed through her brain as she ran, but none of them was as wild as the tableau that met her astonished eyes. Doug leaned against the wall, his, hand covering the lower part of his face. Crimson dripped from between his fingers. The door was wide open. Snowflakes and a chilly breeze blew in. In the doorway stood Jefferson, snow frosting his disheveled black hair. Hanging over one of his outstretched arms was the limp body of Aunt Lizzie. Her feet were bare, her white hair bristled with curlers, and she was enveloped in an enormous flannel nightgown printed with puce roses and green leaves. Lace formed a frill around her face and fell from the wrists of the gown over her dangling hands. Her eyes were wide open.

Laurie's horrified gaze registered one last incongruous detail-a long, feathery golden tail sticking out from under the kitchen table.

Before her heart had missed more than three beats Aunt Lizzie, still dangling, remarked querulously, "What on earth am I doing here?"

"If you don't know . . ." Laurie began. Her voice failed. Lizzie frowned. "I do think," she said, "that I might be allowed to stand. This is a most uncomfortable position."

Jeff let out a long breath. Laurie saw that he appeared to be as thunderstruck as she was. Tentatively he moved his free arm and s.h.i.+fted Lizzie to a more decorous position.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. "You scared the living daylights out of me, Miss Lizzie."

"Yes, dear, I'm quite all right," Lizzie said placidly. "But I do wish you would put me down. And close the door, please. No sense heating up all outdoors."

Handling her as if she were made of gla.s.s, Jeff sat her down in the nearest chair. He turned to close the door and saw Doug, who was still dripping blood. His eyes widened.

"Good G.o.d," he said.

Doug lowered his hand. The blood, as Laurie had suspected, came from his nose. As a child he had been susceptible to nosebleed, an infirmity she had often taken advantage of.

"Is that all you can say?" he demanded thickly. "I owe you one, you son of a-"

"Douglas!"

Ida stood in the doorway, her severe navy wool robe clutched tightly around her. She had spoken out of instinct, to save Doug from uttering a vulgarity; but although she was as straight and dignified as ever her face was so ghastly that Laurie started toward her. She looked sicker than either Doug or Lizzie, who was now humming quietly to herself and swinging her feet in time to the music.

"I am quite all right," Ida said, answering the question implicit in Laurie's outstretched hands and worried face. "Though it is a wonder, considering the frightful outburst that awoke me. What is going on? Douglas, you are bleeding onto the floor."

"Sorry." Doug reached for a handful of paper towels. He applied them to his nose and said in a voice whose outrage was scarcely m.u.f.fled by the paper, "That-uh-guy hit me! I was coming in the back door when somebody ran into me and then that-"

"Just a minute." Jeff, relaxed, his hands in his pockets, surveyed the others with a faint smile. "I think I know what happened. Let me talk, okay?"

"Urgh," Doug said, through the paper towels.

"Please do so," Ida said. She went to the sink and dampened a towel, which she handed to Doug. Laurie took off her robe and tucked it around Lizzie's bare ankles.

"Oh, my dear," Lizzie said in a shocked voice. "You mustn't appear in your nightgown in front of young men."

"Be still," Ida said.

"Well, I think it isn't proper. And that gown is really quite ... it is rather. . . . Where did you get it, darling? The color isn't right for me, but perhaps in a pale green or blue instead of that dark amber shade-"

"Elizabeth!"

"Oh, goodness gracious, a person can't breathe around here," Lizzie said crossly. "Why don't you put on the kettle, Laura dear. So long as we are all here, we might as well have-"

"Right. I will." Laurie looked significantly at Ida, whose face had turned from gray to scarlet. The easiest way of shutting Lizzie up was to do as she suggested.

"Now then, Jefferson," Ida said with a martyred sigh.

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff was trying not to smile. His casual air aggravated Laurie. She was still breathing quickly from shock.

"I heard Doug drive in and thought I had better check to make sure he closed the gate," Jeff explained. "It was a nice night. I like to walk in the snow. I was coming back along the drive when I heard b.l.o.o.d.y Cain break loose in here. Thought maybe Doug had run into a burglar or something. I came along as fast as I could. Found the two of them"-his gesture indicated Doug and Lizzie-"kind of mixing it up in here. The door was wide open; I recognized them in the light from outside. I grabbed Miss Lizzie and she went limp. Scared me, like I said. Sorry, old chap, but it wasn't me that slugged you. Must have been Miss Lizzie."

"Oh, Jefferson." Lizzie's mouth formed into a tremulous circle. "Oh, I would never do such a thing as strike Douglas. Oh, I can't imagine why you are telling such lies."

"I was just kidding." With the feline grace so characteristic of him, Jeff dropped to one knee and took the old lady's hands. "I'm sorry, Miss Lizzie; I didn't mean it. He probably ran into the door. You know how men are when they get in late, after a night in town."

The knowing twinkle in his eyes won a smile from Lizzie.

"Oh, naughty," she said. "I'm sure Douglas would never . . . Would you, Douglas?"

"Never," Doug said. "Aunt Lizzie, you had better get back to bed before you catch cold. Let me carry you."

"Oh, you needn't carry me," Lizzie said, her good humor quite restored. "You'd have a hard time of it, darling boy, strong as you are. I can walk perfectly well. But I think a nice hot cup of tea before-"

"No tea, it is full of caffeine," Ida said firmly. "You won't sleep a wink. Come along, Elizabeth."

"Oh, very well . . . spoilsport!"

But she took her sister's extended arm. Ida glanced over her shoulder at the others.

"Be sure you lock up, Douglas," she said. "Good night to all of you."

The three who were left maintained silence until the sound of the old ladies' feet on the stairs had died away. Then Jeff picked up Laurie's discarded robe and held it for her.

"I hate to be instrumental in covering up that nightgown Miss Lizzie rightly admired," he said. "But you'll catch cold if you don't put this on."

Eyes black as sloes-whatever they were-met hers with a candid, friendly gravity. Laurie let him help her into the robe. She dropped limply into the chair Lizzie had vacated, and Jeff turned his attention to Doug.

"You okay? Want an ice cube down your back?"

"No, thanks." Doug dabbed at his nose. The bleeding had stopped, but he looked terrible. Laurie was reminded of certain medieval paintings that depicted, with b.l.o.o.d.y accuracy, victims of ma.s.sacre, murder, and a.s.sault.

"We may as well have that cup of tea," Jeff said. He reached the kettle just before it started to shriek and made the tea with quick efficiency. After he had served it he lifted the cloth and peered under the table.

"It's okay, you can come out now," he told the dog.

d.u.c.h.ess emerged, her wary eyes sweeping the room. When she saw only friends she erupted into exuberance, jumping up and down and waving her tail.

"Sit down," Jeff said. The dog instantly obeyed, her eyes fixed adoringly on Jeffs face.

d.u.c.h.ess's response was the last straw for Doug.

"You listen to me," he began.

"That's what I plan to do." Jeff turned to him. "Don't get me wrong, Doug; I'm just doing the job I get paid to do. I'm fond of the old folks. They've been d.a.m.ned nice to me and I'm one of those peculiar people who appreciates a favor. I guess maybe I ... Well, as I said, I like them. But even if I wanted to, I couldn't take your place in their affections." Then he added, with a flash of pride Laurie found even more attractive than his humility, "If you want to move in and take over my job, that's fine with me. You've got a better right, but you've got no obligation. I do."

"Okay," Doug said quietly. "I can't argue with that."

'Then let's sit down and talk. What happened tonight worries me, and I'm sure it worries you too. Has Miss Lizzie ever walked in her sleep before?"

"Not that I know of." Doug pulled up a chair. "You think that's what happened?"

"I don't see what else it could have been. She wouldn't go out on a night like this-undressed, in bare feet."

"My G.o.d," Laurie said, appalled at the idea, "she'd catch pneumonia in five minutes. Or if she fell, and lay there unconscious for any length of time ..."

Doug's face lost some of its healthy color.

"She was starting out the door," he admitted. "I didn't know who it was; I just saw a dark shape and grabbed it. I suppose I scared her. She started to scream and wave her arms.. .." His hand went to his nose. "She must have been the one who slugged me, at that. It hurt like h.e.l.l."

"I read somewhere you aren't supposed to wake a sleepwalker," Jeff said. "It's a shock to their nervous system. She didn't know where she was or who you were." He smiled rather maliciously at Doug, who was gingerly testing the afflicted member. "I have to admit I swung at you before I saw who you were. Don't know whether I connected or not. If I did, I'm sorry."

"My jaw hurts too," Doug muttered. "But I guess it's a good thing you came along when you did." Needing some vent for his irritation he turned a hostile eye on d.u.c.h.ess, who was still sitting at attention. "You were a h.e.l.luva lot of help," he told her. "Some watchdog!"

d.u.c.h.ess wagged her tail.

"Let's get back to the subject," Laurie said. She was pleased-of course she was; why shouldn't she be?-that the two men seemed to be getting along more amicably, but the futile exchange of courtesies designed to salve one male ego or the other irked her. "If Aunt Lizzie is walking in her sleep, something has to be done about it. It could be dangerous."

"I bet Ida knows," Doug said. "She was upset, but she wasn't surprised now was she? If this had come as a shock to her she'd have talked it over with us instead of saying good night in that final way. She's avoiding questions."

"But why would she do that? This is serious. Wouldn't she want us to help?"

Jeff shrugged. "She's a proud woman," he said slowly. "And people of her generation are funny about .. . well, about anything that suggests . . ."

"Mental illness?" Laurie supplied.

Jeff looked at her gravely. "You wouldn't be so quick to say that if you didn't know something, Laurie."

"Don't you know about the fairies?" Laurie asked, and then blushed as she realized how idiotically she had phrased the question.

"Hey," Doug began. Laurie turned to him.

"We have to tell him, Doug. He's right; this is his responsibility as well as ours. He can't help if he doesn't know the facts."

"Fairies?" Jeff's face was a blend of bewilderment and amus.e.m.e.nt. "You mean fairies-with transparent wings, like that?"

"There wouldn't be any other kind around here," Doug said sourly.

"Thanks." Jeff made him a mocking bow.

"Stop being so cute," Laurie snapped. "Aunt Lizzie probably doesn't know the slang meaning of the word, or what it implies. And as a long-time reader of Andrew Lang, let me say I personally resent that use of a perfectly good old Anglo-Saxon word."

"French, I think," Jeff said gravely.

"Oh, go to h.e.l.l."

"Naughty, naughty. Your Aunt Ida wouldn't like that." Jeff's smile disappeared. "I guess it isn't funny. Seems to me I do remember Miss Lizzie chattering on about elves or something. . . . I've got to admit I don't always listen to what she says. Do you really think she was on her way out to search for fairies on a snowy winter night?"

"She was . . ." Laurie hesitated. Then, in a rush, she finished the sentence. "She was called out by the music. I heard it too."

The men stared at her, and then at one another. Then they looked back at Laurie.

"I did hear it," she insisted. "Far-off piping, like a flute or recorder, or something. I was standing by the window trying to figure out where it came from when I heard Lizzie get out of bed. Her room is right under mine, and there is a register in the floor."

"So there is." Doug nodded. "You sure you weren't half asleep?"

"Standing up? It would be something of a coincidence, surely, if two of us started sleepwalking on the same night. I tell you, I heard it; and there was n.o.body out here. n.o.body at all."

CHAPTER 5.

You were imagining things," Doug said feebly.

"I suppose I imagined this!" Laurie's agitated gesture included the kitchen door and his battered nose.

"Wait a minute." Jeff frowned, his dark brows meeting in the center of his forehead. "It could have been a bird, Laurie."

"It wasn't any bird I ever heard. It played a tune."