“He—he looks worse!” she blurted out.
“It’s the Lord’s good mercy he ain’t dead!” Shubal’s voice quavered. “His heart—the doctor fears for him—I know it. Though he said naught to me. You must speak with him, Miss Persis. Perhaps he’ll tell you the truth.”
“I will.” The truth they must certainly have. This doctor might be the best they had on the island. But surely Key West might house a better one. How far were they now from that port? Could Uncle Augustin be taken there—or could a doctor be summoned here? Persis shivered, remembering the fury of the storm. To go to sea again—
“Thank you, Miss.” Shubal’s hand shook as he reached for the door latch. He must care a lot for Uncle Augustin, they had been together for years and years. Now the signs of his caring made her feel guilty. Uncle Augustin really meant more to Shubal than he did to her. Yet he had given her so much. Everything, another part of her mind whispered—but himself.
“Miss Rooke-”
Startled, Persis looked to the head of the stairs. There stood a woman of the same sturdy build as Molly, but clad with far more elegance in a gray muslin, a ribboned cap on her gray-brown hair which was dressed high in the manner of a much earlier time. Yet this style became her round, rather highly colored face better than the modern curls. She had the air of one used to giving orders and now offered her hand with assurance.
“I am Mrs. Pryor.”
A housekeeper perhaps, but no servant, not even what might be deemed an “upper” one, Persis deduced.
The girl curtsied as she would to the mother of one of her friends.
“Please, can you tell me how my uncle is?” If the doctor had shared the truth with anyone of this household, it must have been with the very competent appearing Mrs. Pryor.
For a moment she was eyed measuringly, and then the answer came:
“He is an old man, and one in a perilous state of health. The storm and the wreck—well, they have not been good for him. But I have seen many recoveries which were unexpected. One does not go until one’s time comes, and he is fighting—” Her words were far from reassuring.
“The doctor—he—?” Persis did not know how to put into plain language a question concerning his competence.
But Mrs. Pryor seemed to divine what she could not bring herself to ask.
“Dr. Veering is a very good physician. Having a tendency toward lung disorder, as a young man he went to stay several years in Panama. Some time ago he came here and began to experiment with plants, to see how many of the useful tropical ones could be grown this far north. Captain Leverett has fostered his project and given him Verde Key for his garden. But he lives on Lost Lady, and we are lucky. You can accept that he knows his calling well.”
“Thank you—” Persis was a little subdued. Mrs. Pryor’s unassailable dignity was having the same quelling effect on her as Miss Pickett’s had had—reducing one to the status of a schoolgirl. This state of affairs she began to resent.
“Now, my dear Miss Rooke—” The housekeeper became as brisk as Miss Pickett when she was about to order someone to do something for “her own good.” “Why not go down to the veranda—there is luncheon waiting. And since the storm has blown itself out, it is quite pleasant there.”
Persis’ inner reaction was the same as it had been to Miss Pickett’s suggestions—to do just the opposite. But that was only silly childishness. So she went.
Her journey, short as it was, through the lower floor of the house proved (to her surprise) that Captain Leverett’s residence could match any in the better part of New York. A wealth of furnishings, and the thick carpets were outstanding. Wrecker’s loot, Persis thought disdainfully, though she looked about with a curiosity she could not control.
Since her knowledge of what went on in the Keys (rank piracy, some of the shipowners her uncle had known wrathfully termed it) was founded mainly on their conversation, she had little liking for what she saw. It was true that a wrecker must be licensed by the government, that he must agree on rescue fees with the captain of the unfortunate vessel he boarded, and he was further bound by the law to hold legal auction of the cargo. But the fact remained that he prospered from the ill luck of others—richly, if this house was any indication.
At least the wreckers now operated under American law, and those from the Bahamas (about whom there were some dark stories) were forbidden these waters. Though there were always rumors of lure lights and the like to bring ships into danger.
Persis went out on the veranda and stopped short. She had forgotten the mound foundation of the house she had sighted from her chamber window. Now she seemed to be on a hill from which one could look down on a sea of green growth and white, shell-strewn sand.
Several chairs made of cane stood by a table on which the dishes were covered by a netting not unlike that used to curtain the beds. And seated on one of those chairs was a young girl who stared at Persis with something near to open rudeness.
Her hair, of a very pale shade of gold, was very elaborately dressed, the upper knot based by a band of flowers. And her complexion had manifestly been well guarded from the glare of the southern sun. But her brows and lashes were dark, giving an arresting vividness to her features which Persis thought a little bold. There was very little color in her cheeks, but her small mouth, with its pouting lower lip, was moistly red as if she had been recently sucking a cinnamon sweetmeat.
Now she smiled, her beflowered head a little atilt, her dark-fringed eyes narrowed.
“I never did like that gown. The color is certainly more yours than mine.” Her frank appraisal was delivered in a way which suggested there might be something just a little common in being able to wear lemon muslin to any advantage.
“I have to thank you very much for the loan of it,” Persis returned with the same briskness. She must watch her tongue. However, she did not greatly warm to Miss Lydia Leverett, even on this very short acquaintance. And it was not like her to take such an instant aversion to anyone.
“Welcome to Lost Lady Key—” Lydia waved a hand to the chair opposite her own. “At least the storm is over. If you sit here, you will have your back to the sea. Doubtless you have seen enough of that for the present!”
There was something about Miss Leverett’s disregard of all social formalities and niceties which seemed to put Persis on the defensive.
“Such an odd name—Lost Lady.” She seized upon the first subject she could think of, not wishing to discuss the wreck.
“Not when you know the story. There was a lady and she was lost—or disappeared,” Lydia returned. “She is our ghost now. Be warned. Some say she brings ill luck to those natives unfortunate enough to meet her.
“This was a pirate hold a hundred years ago. In fact, the foundation of this house was part of a fort built by Satin-shirt Jack. And before him there was the mound— that was made by the Old Ones.” Lydia was watching her guest, a queer little quirk about her lips as she paused. “Some of the islanders tell tales about them—all blood and sacrifice. They were supposed to be giants able to shoot one of their arrows straight through a Spaniard’s breastplate.
“But the Spanish finally killed them all—unless that dirty old witch, Askra, is really one of them. She looks as if she is old enough to be so, goodness knows. Then the pirates under Jack raided the Spanish and killed all of them—except the lady. She was the Commandant’s wife or daughter or something like that, so Jack claimed her as part of his share. Until he was found dead and she was gone—
“The Spanish came back again—or so it went. Do I frighten you, Miss Rooke, with all these bloody tales? This is a place which should be haunted—enough has happened here. And the islanders swear that the ghosts do walk.”
Persis smiled. If Lydia thought such childish stories were in the least alarming, she must have a very low impression of Persis’ intelligence. “Many old places have odd stories about them,” she answered composedly. “Even in New York.”
“New York!” Lydia sat up straighter. “How I would like to go back to New York! Indeed, visit almost any place apart from this one!” She arose abruptly and went to stand by the rail of the veranda, looking frowningly out over Lost Lady Key.