Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
CHAPTER 11
Eliza tried to concentrate on the words in her hymnal, but it proved impossible to keep up with the portly choirmaster, who seemed unable to sustain a beat. She finally gave up and closed the little book in her hands, observing instead the townsfolk gathered in the white cocoon of the country chapel.
A few of the ladies from Lady Gregory’s ball were sprinkled among the congregants, their youthful muslin standing out in a sea of dark clothing. Many of them met her eyes with furtive glances, but only Sarah Nelson smiled at her from the forward pew to her right, raising her hand in a polite wave.
“Sarah’s quite comely, isn’t she? Like a soft-eyed little deer,” Eliza whispered to Lydia as they sat for the sermon. “I think we could become fast friends, don’t you?”
“I think so, too.”
After the service, the congregants spilled out into the courtyard, greeting one another and giving invitations to tea. Sarah met Eliza and Lydia with a press of her hand. “I’m hosting a game of croquet this afternoon if you’d like to come. Dickie’s away on one of his fishing trips and my house has gone much too quiet. It would be wonderful to have you there.”
“We’d be delighted, Sarah,” Eliza answered.
“I’m certainly glad!” Sarah leaned forward to kiss Eliza’s cheek. “We’ll have fresh lemonade and you can tell me all about how things are going with your beaus. Would you like to ride in my carriage?”
“Thank you, but we’ll enjoy the stroll.”
They left Sarah and walked toward the churchyard. It was a fine day—fair and bright, with puffy clouds scuttling along the horizon. Half-wild forest ponies grazed between the sun-bleached gravestones, their shaggy heads searching through the overgrowth. At the end of the path, a stately mausoleum stood well away from the rest of the monuments, flanked by urn-topped pillars and adorned with the Havenwood crest. Surrounded by juniper hedges and myrtle, the tomb seemed out of place and monolithic—as if it had been set down by some Stygian deity. It was a somber irony that the beguiling man whose company Eliza had been enjoying would someday take rest inside its walls. She looked at the crypt’s metal door and wondered how many Havenwood wives lay beyond it.
“I was hoping I’d see Lord Havenwood at church today,” she said.
Lydia made a sharp little sound. “Perhaps he’s a dirty papist like us. Or an atheist.”
“Atheism wouldn’t put me off. I must admit, I have grown tired of religion. With all its depressing talk of damnation and hellfire, it’s no wonder people go off it. Perhaps I’ll become a naturalist. Darwin’s hypotheses make far more sense than half the blathering I’ve heard from the pulpit.”
“I find my faith gives me a great deal of comfort. You’re a bit snippy this morning. Do you want to talk about your reading last night? The final card seemed to have rattled you.”
Lydia was right. It had rattled her, mostly because of the calamity it implied. She’d only drawn the Tower from Mimi Lisette’s deck once before, and Albert had died not even a week later. The worst part was not knowing how the card had gotten back into the spread. She had no way of explaining it, unless Lydia had done it on purpose. But deceit wasn’t in her sister’s nature. “Do you think it’s a bad portent?”
Lydia shrugged. “Well. It wasn’t the best kind of draw, but the future is never set solid by a tarot card. You know that. Be that as it may, I still have reservations about Lord Havenwood. I’m not sure he’s the right one for you. I’ve been making offerings to Erzulie for our love matches. She leaves the milk in my dish as sweet as the honey I’ve flavored it with, but for you, she curdles it sour as vinegar. It’s a warning, Liza.”
“You know I don’t believe in voodoo anymore, Lyddie.”
“You should. Mimi taught us never to ignore the spiritual wisdom of the loa. Especially Erzulie.”
They made their way past the final tidy rows of grave markers, each topped with a lamb in repose—the graves of children. Albert’s grave had been marked just the same. Eliza averted her eyes and quickened her pace until they came to the wagon-rutted lane. Soon they were crossing over the broad expanse of Sarah’s lawn, where her Georgian mansion rose three stories, built of trimmed limestone and flanked with hedges of yew.
Lydia trotted off to join the croquet match, where the other ladies greeted her and quickly pulled her into the game. Instead of joining them, Eliza meandered through Sarah’s gardens, admiring their orderly French parterres and pergolas, each section planned with as much care as if it were an outdoor room. She sat at the edge of a trilling fountain, its chubby satyrs cavorting beneath a canopy of water, and watched the game from a distance.
“Ah, there you are!” Sarah’s voice chimed from behind, and Eliza turned to see her friend balancing a tray of sweets upon a pitcher of lemonade as she tried to spread a cloth over a cast-iron table. “Come help me with this before I ruin everything, will you? I’m not very domestic, I’m afraid.”
Eliza laughed and went to help, taking the cloth and spreading it out over the table. Sarah set the tray of refreshments upon the linen and took a seat in one of the caned chairs facing Eliza. “I take it things are going well with Lord Havenwood?”
“Yes. We went to the theatre last night and saw Sarah Bernhardt. She was superb.”
“I heard. So has the rest of Cheltenbridge. Una Moseley saw you there.”
Eliza blanched, her smile fading. “Una doesn’t like me. You were right to warn me about her. I discovered she’s been spying on me—even paying Nigel to bring her my business. I’m not sure why.”
“Oh? Malcolm hasn’t told you, then?”
A nervous tickle ran through Eliza’s stomach. “What is it, Sarah?”
“You’ve made an enemy, my dear.” Sarah poured lemonade for Eliza and pushed it toward her. “Drink up, darling. There’s gin in that.” Eliza took a sip, tasting the warm tingle of liquor beneath the lemons. “Una is spying on you because she’s jealous. She and your Malcolm were once engaged.”
“Really? He mentioned something about his father wanting him to settle with a local girl, but he didn’t tell me who it was or that they were engaged. How shocking.”
“Well, none of it was Malcolm’s choice. He and Una had been betrothed from the time they were children—all arranged by their fathers. And Lady Havenwood never liked her; she saw Una for what she was—a social climber. True to form, as soon as Una found out Malcolm had nothing but a title to offer her, that’s when it went off.”
“Then what reason would she have to be jealous of me?”
“Darling, I know you’re not naïve. It’s the way of women to be jealous when others gobble up the scraps they’ve flung from their table.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She’d felt the same unfair twinge of jealousy toward Jacob’s new love, after all. “I’m relieved she has a reason. Until now, I’d no idea why she hated me. I’ll do my best to avoid her.”
“Good. She’s a sandwich short of a picnic, that one.”
They sat in amiable silence, watching the croquet players flit about the lawn like butterflies made of pastel gauze. Polly and Lydia seemed to be engaging in a friendly rivalry, the former’s feathered hat bobbing excitedly each time Lydia failed to make her shot. Their girlish laughter carried over the grass.
Eliza reached into her dress pocket and gave Sarah a conspiratorial grin. “Would you mind if I smoke? Lydia hates it and I have to sneak my cigarettes when we’re at home.”
“I’ll only mind if you don’t offer me one, too.”
Eliza held out the tin of black Sobranies she’d purchased at the local apothecary, and after Sarah exclaimed over their novel color and scent, they lit them, drawing in the flavorful smoke.
“How do you find him? Malcolm?” Sarah asked, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hand. “He’s always seemed so stoic.”
“I’d warrant he’s anything but.” Eliza blushed, remembering how Malcolm’s kiss had thrown her into a frenzy of unladylike arousal. “His lordship is proving to be quite the charming gentleman, despite rumors to the contrary.”
“Indeed.” Sarah took another drag off her cigarette, her lips curling at their corners. “I’m not at all surprised you’re smitten. There’s something endearing about his reserve, isn’t there? His brother was quite charming. Both boys served as midshipmen under my father—he was captain of the HMS Prentiss. Gabriel loved the sea and would have eventually had the helm of his own ship.” Sarah topped off Eliza’s glass with more of the gin-spiked lemonade. “Malcolm wasn’t suited to the military. He preferred numbers and letters. He left the navy behind to help run his father’s estate, which was in dire need of his abilities.”
“He told me a little of why.”
“Yes. The debt. The late Lord Havenwood was a gambler and an outright cad. He was horrid to those boys, and to his wife.”
Eliza thought of Malcolm’s portrait of Lady Havenwood and her mirthless beauty. “I’m becoming more and more intrigued by his mother. Was she really mad?”
“Calling her a madwoman would be unkind—she was only shy and far too young to be a mother or even a wife. We always got on well. People thought she was strange because she didn’t like parties. She’d draw up a chair and sit, watching everyone with those fantastic eyes and making them nervous. It took effort to get to know her, but it was effort well spent.”
“It sounds as if she was incredibly lonely.”
“She was. Old Lord Havenwood was hardly sparkling company, and he could turn the corner onto cruelty with enough drink.”
Lydia broke away from the croquet game and trudged toward them, her mallet dragging the ground. Eliza stubbed out her cigarette and threw it beneath the table, sweeping it under her skirt. Sarah giggled, giving her own butt a final puff before putting it out.
“Has Polly bested you, sister?” Eliza teased, handing Lydia a glass of lemonade.
“I’d prefer not to say.”
“Eliza and I were just chatting about Lord Havenwood,” Sarah said. “What are your thoughts, Lydia?”
“The rumors bother me a great deal, there’s no doubt. He’s charming, but I feel as if he’s holding something close to his chest.”
“You’re wise to be cautious. Many men have impure motives, after all. But the rumors about his having murdered his mother are only that—rumors. What on earth would his motive have been? It makes no sense.”
“Lord Eastleigh mentioned something about her knowing dark things about Malcolm,” Eliza said. “Things he wouldn’t have wanted out in the open. But he didn’t offer much more. It all seems so weakly conjectured.”
Sarah sighed. “Right. If I may be frank—Charles is an old rival and would say anything to put you off Malcolm. I was most concerned when I heard you were entertaining Eastleigh’s interest. He’s much more problematic.” Sarah covered Eliza’s hand with her own. “Malcolm has never been anything but kind to me and my own family. There’s a good bit of talk that goes on, but most of it is idle gossip. Ghosts and curses and such.” Sarah laughed. “Nonsense. All of it.”
“I’d agree. Why don’t we turn the conversation to your beau, Lydia?” Eliza said, arching an eyebrow. “She’s gone over completely for Clarence Fawcett.”
Lydia brightened. “Yes. Dr. Fawcett has been calling on me. We’ve many common interests. We’ve even talked at length about my becoming a nurse.”
“Lydia has the stomach for such work,” Eliza said. “She’s rather adept at bossing people around as well, if you hadn’t gathered.”
Lydia gave a playful swat to Eliza’s arm. “Only when they need bossing.”
“Certainly, it’s a noble calling. More and more women are working these days, it seems,” Sarah said. “Our daughters may not even have to marry to secure their futures. Imagine a world in which men might become redundant! We’ll be like Sappho and inhabit a solitary island, filled only with beautiful women.”
“An entertaining thought, that,” Eliza agreed with an ironic smile. She yawned, covering her mouth with her lace gloved hand. Her headache from the day before still throbbed dully behind her right eye. “If you’ll pardon me, ladies, I’m feeling a little tired from yesterday’s excitement. The sun and your delicious lemonade have gone to my head, Sarah. I think I’ll walk home and draw a bath.” Lydia rose slightly from her chair. Eliza patted her shoulder. “No, cher—stay. Enjoy the game.” With a kiss to Lydia’s cheek, she left the bright garden nook behind and pushed through the bushes onto the wooded lane. She was very seldom alone—Lydia was ever hovering in the background, interrupting her solitude to go on about Clarence or talk about something she’d overheard at the market. As much as she loved her sister, Lydia’s youthful energy made Eliza weary at times. They’d relied only on one another’s company for far too long.
Eliza sighed with contentment and took a slow path through the forest, enjoying the singsong call of the birds. After a while she came upon a light-filled clearing in the woods she’d never noticed before. It occurred to her she’d walked well past Sherbourne House and was now deep within Lord Havenwood’s estate. Sure enough, the manor’s south façade loomed to her left, and to her right was a path leading down a flower-strewn hillock. Wooed by her curiosity, Eliza followed the trail until she reached the bottom of the rise.
A stone circle stood in the little valley—a ring of ancient monoliths just taller than her own head. Tiny blue cornflowers sprouted between the slabs. She walked around the ring twice and knelt to pick the flowers for a bouquet. As she rose, Eliza had the distinct feeling of being watched. She looked up at the windows of Havenwood Manor. A shadow moved within, as if someone were peering down at her from parted curtains. She tented her eyes with her hands to see more clearly, but where there had been a hint of movement moments before, there was now only the reflection of clouds and sky on the surface of the glass.
She resumed her flower gathering, finding a trove of purple foxgloves behind the tallest stone, which was figured with ancient symbols. As Eliza ran her fingers over the carved surface, the sun ducked behind a cloud, sending the cairns into shadow. A soft spatter of raindrops landed on her cheeks. If she’d learned one thing about England, it was that the weather had more moods than a woman during her courses. She made her way toward home, eager for a warm bath and a nap.
As she climbed the hill to the path, the feeling of being watched settled between her shoulders once more. She paused to listen. There was only the wind soughing through the birches. Eliza walked on, brushing aside her unease. As the twin chimneys of Sherbourne House came into view, something scraped on the dirt path behind her. Footsteps. A chill settled in the marrow of her bones. She whirled to face whoever was stalking her, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
There was no one there.
Eliza stood stock-still, her eyes darting through the undergrowth. The raindrops became larger, plopping onto her white lawn dress and soaking through to her skin. A shriek of laughter came from the direction of Sarah’s house, but all the birds had gone silent. Out of the corner of her eye, movement. A shadow parted the undergrowth.
Una Moseley came onto the path, lithe and slinking. She was dressed in dove-gray muslin, her expression deep and glowering within the fine contours of her face. “I know what you’ve been doing, Miss Sullivan,” she rasped.
“Miss Moseley. What a pleasant surprise.” Eliza kept her tone measured, though the flowers in her grasp trembled. You’ve made an enemy, my dear. “Out for a ramble?”
“I saw you, last night. With him. In Lord Eastleigh’s box.” Una’s mouth screwed into a mocking twist. “Charles knows all about that now. And he’s none too pleased.”
Eliza wavered. “We hadn’t a clue it was Lord Eastleigh’s box. They were the only seats left in the house.”
“Malcolm knew they were Charles’s seats. He knew he’d be upset, too. He knows a lot more than he lets on,” Una said wistfully, twirling from side to side. “A trickster full-up with pretty lies, that one. He has such sweet kisses, too—but I’m not the only one who knows.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Eliza stepped backward and dropped her flowers to the ground. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She’d only been in one tussle with another girl—a redheaded bully who had stolen her lunch pail in finishing school, but she had bested her within moments. She could do it again, if it came to it.
“You think I’m jealous, don’t you?” Una crossed to Eliza’s side of the path, peering at her through lowered lashes. “You think our betrothal ended because of money. That’s what Sarah told you. But Sarah doesn’t know what I know.” Una waggled her fingers in front of Eliza’s nose.
Eliza widened her stance and fixed Una with an unflinching glare. “Look, Una. I know you’ve been spying on me, and I’d thank you to mind your own business, as I mean to mind mine. I don’t know what happened to spoil things between you and Malcolm. Nor do I care.”
“You’d better have care, Miss Sullivan. You’d better.” Una’s eyes grew frighteningly dark as the light grew even dimmer. “Else Malcolm will break more than your pretty heart.”