Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
CHAPTER 23
Eliza reclined like a torpid odalisque on the veranda of Sherbourne House as Lydia rifled through the ghostly messages she had copied down the night before. It was the kind of warm autumn day in which the cloudless sky arched overhead, blue as a robin’s egg. The yellow leaves of the ancient oak towering over the terrace were already beginning to fall, rattling across the stonework at their feet.
“What do you make of it?” Eliza asked, yawning. She sat up from the chaise to reclaim her tea. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.
“I’ve heard of spirit dictation, but I’ve never attempted it. Many people think it’s only a parlor trick.” Lydia held up a sheet of paper. Eliza’s handwriting looped across it: I was murdered. “Your key was clever. How did you come up with the idea all on your own?”
Eliza raised her eyebrows. “Really? I’m quite smart about such things. How else do you think Jacob and I communicated so long without Maman ever knowing?”
“I can tell you’re very proud of yourself.” Lydia smirked. “Who murdered this woman?”
“She didn’t tell me. I believe the answers might be in the south wing of the house. Ada was locked within that wing for years before the fire. Una mentioned secrets, too. Malcolm won’t allow me back there, but the workers will be starting on repairs soon, so it will have to be opened while they’re in and out. I plan on sneaking through and exploring.”
“Do you think someone killed Ada, and this is her ghost?”
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “I know who you mean by someone. I’m still not sure what Malcolm’s motive would have been, at any rate. In all our conversations, he seems to hold his mother in the highest regard. Perhaps she ran off with a lover. This ghost could be one of the other Ladies Havenwood. Many of them had tragic lives. Although, if I can find out for certain what happened to Ada, it would go a long way toward proving Malcolm’s innocence.”
“Sarah told me he and his brother were twins.”
“Yes. What are you implying?”
“If birth order was in question, and he was hungry enough for the title, he’d have reason to eliminate their mother. She was likely the only witness to their birth besides the doctor . . .”
“I see what you are saying, and I’ve thought of that as well. But Gabriel died before Ada disappeared, eliminating the need to prove primogeniture. It’s true that Malcolm and Gabriel weren’t always civil. Malcolm has been honest about that. But you and I can be a bit contentious at times, as well.” Eliza took a sip of her tea. “There’s always a bit of hair-pulling between siblings.”
Lydia shook her head. “There has to be something more with his mother. Women of her station rarely abandon their households. Did she have any enemies, do you think?”
“She had an ongoing rivalry with the housekeeper at the time—Mrs. Galbraith. They hated one another. Ada and her lady’s maid were convinced Galbraith and old Havenwood were lovers. Perhaps Galbraith had something to do with Ada’s disappearance.”
“Well, be careful with your digging and investigating. Especially concerning the supernatural,” Lydia admonished. “I’m glad you finally believe me about spirits, though. How long have I been telling you?”
Eliza sighed. “You so enjoy gloating when you’re right, don’t you? You’ve done so since we were children.”
Lydia wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her tea. “I’m always right.”
Eliza lay back with a yawn and twirled an oak leaf between her fingers. “I’m curious about this ghost. She frightened me at first, but our latest interaction didn’t seem menacing at all. I feel as if I’ve a new friend.”
“Do be careful, Liza. Spirits can be deceptive. The bad kind can play especially well at innocence.”
“Right then,” Eliza said, eager to change the subject. “How is your Clarence?”
“I’ve been volunteering at his clinic. We’ve started my formal training.”
Eliza sat up to grasp Lydia’s hand. “Oh, Lyddie! I’m so proud.”
“I’ve learned how to splint broken bones, and next I’ll be learning how to assist in surgery. Soon, I’m to be helping Clarence call on expectant mothers in the village.”
“Speaking of such things, or the prevention thereof, would you make me more of your tonic? I’m nearly out.”
Lydia nodded. “Yes. I’ll need to purchase another packet of black cohosh from the apothecary and dry some tansy. These tonics aren’t meant for continual use, Liza. They can be dangerous.”
“I realize that. I’ll use it sparingly and look into other methods, at least until things are more settled between Malcolm and me.”
Lydia lifted a brow. “You’re not as opposed to motherhood as you once were, then?”
“I’m still not keen. But I suppose I’m coming around to the thought. Both of our lives have taken some unexpected turns, haven’t they, sister? Things are certainly different than we anticipated here in England.”
“Different is certainly a way of putting it.”
When Eliza came home, her mind spinning with all the mysteries she longed to unravel, Malcolm was waiting in the foyer. As Eliza passed him, her eyes fixed on the marble floor, he put his hand out to stop her. “Still avoiding me, wife?”
“I’ll not speak to you until you apologize for the way you addressed me yesterday morning,” Eliza said churlishly, pushing his hand from her shoulder. “You scold me as if I’m a child.”
“Darling, sometimes you behave like a child that needs scolding.” Malcolm grinned. “Come into the study. I’ve a feeling I have something that’ll make you less cross.”
Eliza was dubious, but the sight of his smile never failed to weaken her tempers. She followed him through the library into his squarish study lined with hunting trophies. His desk dominated the center of the room, its base carved with elaborate gryphons. Building plans lay scrolled upon the velvet blotter. Malcolm spread the first one out flat. It showed the rear elevation of the house, rendered with mathematical precision. Arch-topped windows nestled in the dormers, and a new scalloped slate roof was a crowning finish over it all.
“I’ve just come from a meeting with the builders. Our workmen will arrive tomorrow.”
Despite herself, a smile tickled the corners of Eliza’s mouth. “How exciting.”
“And . . .” Malcolm rolled up the first set of plans and unrolled another. This set showed a long, low building punctuated by a row of stalls. “I finished the plans for your stables last night.”
Eliza gasped and put her hand to her mouth. The stables were beautiful—with green-paneled doors and ornate Corinthian pillars, the Havenwood crest perched on the keystone above the entry.
“I thought we’d break ground this spring. Still cross with me?”
Eliza turned to Malcolm, all of her remaining anger fading. She thought of the sweet, studious young man who only wanted to read and work at his figures. The quiet boy who only ever wanted his father’s approval and had never gotten it. She reached out, her hand cupping his jaw. At her touch, he closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again.
“Eliza . . . I’m sorry. I know I’m not always kind, but please try to understand. I have reasons for the things I say and do. I only mean to protect you. Not only from Eastleigh, but from anyone who would question your honor. Our honor.”
“Shhh . . . husband. I understand,” Eliza said, pulling him close. When their lips touched, it felt like a first kiss—hesitant, soft, shy. He slowly eased, melting into her with a ragged moan, his hands tangled in her hair.
“I’ll come to you tonight, darling,” he said, gently pushing her away. “I cannot do this right now.”
“Why, Malcolm? Hmm?” she said, nuzzling against him. “We’re alone. There’s a lock on the door.” Her hand went to the fork of his trousers. “I’ve missed you. Let me show you how much.”
“Eliza, please. I . . .”
Ignoring his protestations, she pushed the building plans aside and perched on the edge of the desk, rucking up her skirts. Malcolm’s cheeks blazed with color. “My God,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and stumbled backward as if he were drunk. He stood staring at her for a long moment before turning away to hastily unbuckle the closure on his trousers. She sensed what he meant to do.
“Come, husband. There’s no need to pleasure yourself. Let me satisfy you. The hours have been too long since we last enjoyed one another.” Eliza lay back and raised her hips in offering.
“I can’t, Eliza,” Malcolm said, with a ragged sigh.
“I’ll be quiet. I promise. No one will ever know what we’re getting up to.”
“Is that so?” He gave a bitter laugh, then turned and crossed the room in two strides. He braced himself over her, gripping the edges of the desk. “What torment this is! You are so lovely,” he murmured, his eyes lit with lust. His fingers hesitantly traveled from the inside of her knee up to her thigh, then higher. Eliza closed her eyes with a soft sigh, her body responding to his touch.
There was a knock at the door.
“What, what is it?” Malcolm called, pushing away from her. Eliza stood, smoothing her skirts, her body jumping with arousal and frustration.
“There’s a delivery here, m’lord.” Turner’s voice. “Lumber. They need you to sign.”
“Blast it,” Malcolm spat, his face florid. He angrily fastened his trousers, then passed a shaky hand through his hair.
“Shall I wait here?” Eliza asked.
Malcolm waved his hands, his irritation displacing the desire she’d felt only moments before. “No. And please do not try . . . that business again. Such vulgar displays of seduction are meant for common prostitutes, not ladies.” He sneered. “Bloody hell, Eliza. What were you thinking?”
What was she thinking? How dare he shame her! Her husband was a beast. More harsh and cruel than she’d ever thought possible. Almost as cruel as the man who raised him.
Eliza bit her cheek against her threatening tears and pushed Malcolm out of the way with an angry shove. Damned if he’d see her cry! She threw open the door, swept past a befuddled Turner, and went through the house to the gardens, where the sounds of Leda’s fountain drowned out the ragged, heaving sobs she could no longer contain.