Free Velvet Shadows by Andre Norton Page B

‘fore they was hung up. Best I do that, miss. The longer these here packing creases set, the harder it’s goin’ to be to get them out.”
    I nodded agreement. And the longer Submit moved purposefully about, commenting on this and that in what was now a respectful way, the more she seemed a lady’s maid. My imagination had perhaps supplied all those reservations.
    While she worked I finished my letter, sealed it. Submit, a selection of my dresses in her arms, left. And she was gone only a moment when there was a tap on my door and Mrs. Deaves entered.
    Her hair was in disarray about her shoulders and she carried her brush in one hand as she walked up and down, disregarding my offer of a chair.
    “If Teresa would only get here!” She held out the brush, eyeing it as if she were no longer sure how one used it. “She is so clever. Amélie is very good, of course, but her first duty is to Victorine and only Teresa knows just how I like things. Yet—”
    Now she stopped to face me, plainly uncomfortable. “I—in spite of my wishes I must speak of something I do not want to mention. Only my duty makes me warn you.”
    Her self-confidence was once more shaken. Gone, for the moment at least, was that determination to keep me in my place. She began pacing again, her half-fastened wrapper billowing out to display much of her full figure. And her sentences were only half-finished, delivered breathlessly as if she had been running, or was pressed for time.

    “It is about Mammy Pleasant. She—she is a fiend! What she has done—no, that I cannot tell you, I can only warn you. Do not have any dealings with her for the sake of your future, your peace of mind.”
    “But why should I have any dealings, as you express it, with this woman?”
    She stopped pacing to face me once again, studying my face as if she were not quite sure what she dared say. But when she did speak her tone again held some of the old cool superiority.
    “Exactly. She would have no reason to approach you. But she seeks power. It would be much to her interest to cultivate any member of the Sauvage household. I think she will try to reach Victorine. I shall alert Alain, of course. But until his return it is our duty to see that she does not meet his sister. The dear child is so impulsive she would be attracted by the bizarre—”
    I made a logical guess. “Does this Mammy Pleasant profess to tell fortunes? Is that her form of gaining power?”
    “That—and in other ways. Outwardly she makes a pretense of being a servant, a superior one. But there are those who know her better.” Augusta Deaves moved her hands uncertainly. I believed she was torn between the need for warning and a fear which urged her to keep silent.
    I knew she was afraid of the woman with the two-colored eyes. And thinking back to that meeting in the shop I was chilled. For Mrs. Smith had plainly been watching me. But my father had not considered her evil, and how could this woman he had dealt with be changed into the Mammy Pleasant of Mrs. Deaves’ deep dread?
    “Of course, I shall make every effort to keep Victorine from any such contact,” I agreed.
    She nodded. “But it is well that you will be going soon to Rancho del Sol, well away from this city. And—”
    “Madame, there is someone to see you.” Amélie came in. At the sound of her voice Mrs. Deaves flinched as if from a blow. But she went to answer the summons, and a moment later I heard her voice raised in warm welcome.

    “Teresa! How good it is to see you! Oh, Teresa, I have so missed you—” Then the sound of a closing door brought silence.
    I was left to consider her warning. Those who profess to tell fortunes, or those who (as the foolish believe) can summon up spirits, do exert strong influence over the gullible. But to believe that Mrs. Deaves had ever been so beguiled was hard for me to accept. She impressed me as one who intrigued coolly for what she desired, never taking an impulsive step. However, she was