“Oh, I say,” she called after him, suddenly remembering how she happened to be walking along here, and not driving her car. “I left my luggage back in the car. It stalled back there in the stream. I wonder if you would mind getting it out for me?”
“Your car?” he asked rather skeptically, pausing without looking back.
“Oh, no, I meant the luggage. It’s in the car.” What an annoyingly dense creature he was.
“What’s in it?” he asked, still without turning.
The man was not only dense, but impertinent as well. “In my luggage? Why, my clothes of course,” she answered, restraining herself with an effort.
His answer was unintelligible to her, little more than a grunt, and he started off again toward the woods. She opened her mouth to insist and then closed it again. Alone, in the middle of the night and the middle of nowhere, she was not really in much of a position to argue with this strange man.
In any event it would probably be better to let Aunt Christine handle the matter. She resolved again that Aunt Christine would be sure to learn all this as soon as they reached the house. She knew that if her mother were around, this would be quickly straightened out. Well, she would put the whole business in her aunt’s hands, just as if Aunt Christine were her mother.
She followed the man into the woods. The darkness enveloped them. Jennifer found that she had almost to run to keep up with her guide. Once, when she stopped to free her skirt from an extending branch that had caught hold of it, he went on until she had lost sight of him altogether.
“Wait,” she called after him, literally tearing the fabric loose from the branch that held it. To her greater annoyance, the man went on, and she had to run to catch up to him again. He did not seem to slow his pace at all. She was furious, and only years of keeping her emotions firmly in check enabled her to keep from speaking her mind.
She could not say how far they had come through the woods. They seemed to hurry forever through the dark dampness. She was tired and unhappy, and the journey took on an unreal dreamlike quality. The trees they hurried past seemed to be moving, coming to life. She felt she had crossed from one world and time into another. Time moved at a different pace. Her watch, when she paused to glance at it, seemed to be moving faster and faster. She thought, this is what it feels like to die.
The suddenness with which they left the woods and emerged onto the lawn of Kelsey House was startling. One moment they were surrounded by the dense growth and the awesome darkness. The next moment they were at the edge of a sweeping green and in the distance the house stood framed against the sky, its windows gleaming brightly. There was an eerie glow to the scene, which seemed to come not so much from the moon, now rising, but from things themselves, as if she were seeing the very essence of them.
It was a shock to be there so suddenly, to see the house stark and singular before them. But there was more to the scene than that alone. Between where she stood and where the house stood, a group of ghostly figures danced what might have been a child’s game, or even a primitive rite of some sort. They twirled about in a circle, breaking free to spin wildly one at a time. There was the same eerie glow to the white, gauzelike gowns that they all wore; it made them look ghostlike.
The most shocking thing of all, to Jennifer’s way of thinking, was that the gauzelike robes were all they were wearing. For all practical purposes, the women, for this they clearly were, were naked.
The dance came to a sudden stop, as if the music had ended, although Jennifer had heard no sound of music. She decided it was her appearance that had made them stop, because they all turned toward her. There was an air of uncertainty, of confusion about them. For a moment they stood in silence, staring across the lawn at her. Finally one woman left the group and walked swiftly toward Jennifer. Rather, Jennifer found herself thinking, it was as if the woman floated across the lawn rather than walked. Again Jennifer had that odd sense of unreality, as if she were in a dream.
“Jennifer,” the woman called as she came near. “I’m your Aunt Christine.”
Jennifer took the extended hand stiffly. It was difficult to avoid staring at the strange creature who had greeted her. Even disregarding her peculiar garb, Aunt Christine was a singular individual. She was tall and willowy, and old—the lines about her mouth and eyes, the silver gray hair gleaming seemingly from within, gave evidence of that fact. Yet there was something about her that denied age, a childlike quality difficult to define but unmistakable nonetheless. It was almost as if she were in fact a very young person made up to appear very old; as if she were playing a role.
“I’m so happy to be here,” Jennifer returned the greeting, aware that her voice lacked enthusiasm. She was not at all sure that she was happy to be here. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she added, unable to resist another glance at the strange little group of women who waited in the distance.
“Not at all,” Aunt Christine said, quite unembarrassed by the scene. “We were nearly finished anyway, to tell the truth, and I’m sure they can manage the rest without me.”
“What....” Jennifer hesitated. “What were you all doing?”
“Doing? Why, we were dancing, of course.” Aunt Christine looked somewhat surprised. Then, abruptly, her expression changed, as if she had just remembered something. “Did your mother tell you anything about us?”
Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing at all. I didn’t even know you existed until I got your letter. I thought I was alone in the world.”
Aunt Christine had been studying her intently as she spoke, but now the older woman’s face broke into a smile again, and she seized Jennifer’s arm tightly. “Never mind about that, you aren’t alone, and never will be again, I promise you,” she said. “You’re going to stay with us forever. But just now I’m sure you must be exhausted, and listen to me chattering away like a magpie. Let’s just the two of us go on up to the house, and you can meet the others a little later.”
They started toward the house on a course that took them safely past the group of women. Glancing again in their direction, Jennifer saw that the dancing had been resumed; they twirled and swayed, moving in a circle upon the grass. The white of their robes twirled after them, like tendrils of mist.
“Would you mind awfully,” Jennifer asked in a weak voice, “asking them to put some clothes on?”
“Oh of course,” Aunt Christine said with a little laugh. “We wouldn’t go around the house like that.”
I wouldn’t go anywhere like that, Jennifer thought to herself. Aloud, she murmured a faint, “Of course.”
Kelsey House and its inhabitants were certainly a far cry from anything she might have imagined. She was beginning to suspect that there might have been very good reasons why her mother had severed the family ties and left them severed all those years. Aunt Christine had implied as much, asking if Jennifer’s mother had told her about them; what was there to tell, exactly?
Like it or not, though, she was here, and she had no intention of leaving before morning. She was exhausted; it was an effort to walk alongside Aunt Christine toward the house, and her eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. If nothing else, she was entitled to a night’s rest. For that matter, she had no alternative. Without a car, in the dark, she could scarcely consider leaving, even if she had any place to go.
“We didn’t wait dinner,” Aunt Christine went on, “because I was afraid you might be late, but I’ve kept some warm for you. And I know you’re tired. There’s plenty of time to meet the others in the morning, if you’d rather.”
“Yes, I think I would rather, thank you,” Jennifer replied. Somehow she did not quite feel up to any more surprises for one