Butterfly Palace (12 page)

Her parents had been such good people. Why would God allow these things?

Emily turned from the stand that held the pitcher and bowl of water. “Good morning.”

“Are you always so cheerful?”

“I try. What’s to be gloomy about? I have life, a bed, food, and friends. That’s all anyone needs to be happy.”

Lily put her feet on the cool wooden floor and smiled. “I like your attitude, Emily. I usually look on the bright side, but it’s a little hard this morning.”

Emily’s eyes held sympathy. “I heard a bit of the dressing down you got from Mrs. O’Reilly. It will be all right.”

“Will it? I’m not so sure.” Lily sat on the edge of the bed and
undid her plait of hair, then tidied it into a knot atop her head. “Being with Mr. Hawkes was quite innocent.”

Emily pressed her lips together as she tied on her apron. “I’m not a schoolgirl, Lily. You knew Mr. Hawkes before, didn’t you? It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Drew hadn’t wanted her to tell anyone, but keeping all these secrets quiet ate at her bones. She didn’t have to tell Emily everything. “He’s from Larson too.”

Emily raised a brow. “Ah, I understand. Why not just tell Miss Belle the truth about that?”

“She’s already let me know my friendship with her cousin has distressed her. She seems to think it might keep our relationship from being the proper mistress and maid one. Hearing I know the man she wants to marry is hardly going to endear me to her.”

“But it might set her mind at ease about your relationship with Mr. Hawkes.”

Lily slipped off her nightgown and pulled on her gray shirt-dress. “I’ll just try to avoid him.”

“Good luck. It’s your turn to take him his breakfast.”

Lily quailed in her boots. “Can’t you take my place? If Miss Belle hears of it, I’m in trouble.”

“She won’t know anything about it. Mr. Hawkes likes his breakfast at five fifteen. There’s a small sitting room in his wing of the house, and he goes there to eat on wet mornings. It’s private enough no one will overhear you.”

Feeling like she was about to face the gallows, Lily went down the hall. Something thumped behind a door, and she paused. Lily felt a presence too, as though someone listened to them. She tipped her head to one side and waited. Behind these doors was just storage. Maybe another servant had been sent to look for something.

“Hello?” She waited, but there was no answer.

She finally headed down the hall again to the back stairs to the kitchen. She took the tray that had already been prepared for Drew up the stairs to the second floor. She had never been in the guest wing, and she got turned around once before she found the sitting room. It was attractively decorated with a small navy rug and a fringed lamp on an end table by the settee. The dining table was in the corner.

Drew was seated at the table with a book open in front of him. When she neared, she realized it was his Bible. The same one she’d seen many times over the years. His grandmother had given it to him. It made her heart soften toward him to see the pages so thumbed and yellowed with use.

He looked up. His eyes were as warm and brown as a puppy’s and just as eager. “Lily! I was just thinking about you.” He rose and took the tray from her.

Why did he have to still be so handsome and solicitous? A black lock of hair fell boyishly over his high forehead. Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she found herself remembering the taste of him. It was not something she was ever likely to forget.

She backed away with her hands behind her back. “Well, you have your breakfast. If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll leave you to eat in peace.”

“Don’t go.” His mouth twisted. “I want to listen to your voice and just look at you. I’m like a man lost in the desert who sees a pond ahead of him. I’m not quite sure if you’re real or a mirage.”

“I never went anywhere, Andy. You’re the one who left.”

“Tell me about Larson.” He put a forkful of eggs in his mouth and looked up at her expectantly.

“You probably know all about it from your cousin. Let’s not make small talk.”

His smile flattened. “How did you end up here, of all places?”

She told him about the job offer she’d received through a friend who was Belle’s cousin. It gave her the opportunity to drink in everything about him. There were tiny new lines at the edges of his eyes and a new maturity in his face. He’d been handsome in his teens. He took her breath away in his full adulthood. No wonder the rest of the servants mooned over him. No wonder Belle wanted him too. His broad shoulders filled out his white shirt. The planes and angles of his face spoke of strength, and even his neck was muscular. Where had he been all this time? Had there been other women? What woman could look at him and not want him for her own?

She realized she’d been staring and dropped her gaze to the carpet. “I should go.”

He sprang to his feet and crossed the rug in three steps to block her escape. His hands came down on her arms. Her skin warmed from his touch, and the heat moved to her belly. She swallowed hard as the familiar desire enveloped her.

“Don’t go,” he said softly. “We’re finally alone for a moment.”

He bent his head, and without thinking, she tipped her face up and closed her eyes. She was nearly shaking from the desire to touch him, to feel his kiss. The sweet scent of his breath was so dear, so familiar.

A door slammed somewhere and brought her to her senses. She allowed herself to inhale one last taste of him before stepping away. “I must go.”

He gave a grave nod, and his hands fell away. “I swore I’d treat you with more respect this time, and then I see you and all sense leaves me. I hope you can forgive me f-for losing my head when we were young. I want to be a better man than I was.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “There’s nothing for me to forgive. I was as much at fault as you.”

She turned and raced off. Hearing he regretted their love so
deeply brought hot tears to her eyes. If only she could erase every memory.

Hyde Park was a streetcar suburb about a mile outside Austin’s city limits. Belle sat in the back of the automobile with Vesters. Her uncle, driving cap crushed to his ears, drove the vehicle with a maniacal grin on his face. He rarely got the chance to drive, but he’d told Henry he could handle the driving himself. The automobile rumbled down streets lined by double rows of hackberry trees. Their destination, the pavilion, was just ahead.

“What a wonderful idea to watch the balloon ascension this afternoon,” Belle said, forcing gaiety to her voice.

She’d hoped to spend the afternoon with Drew, but he’d been called away “on business,” or so he said. Much to her dismay, her uncle had immediately invited Vesters to join them. He sat much too close to her on the leather seat, and there was no room for her to edge away.

The driver parked in a grassy lot next to the pavilion, and Vesters helped her down. She had to leave her gloved hand on his jacketed forearm, but as soon as they reached their seats on the third row, she removed it, ostensibly to smooth her skirt.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment,” her uncle said. “I see a man I need to speak with before we begin.”

Her spirits sank as her uncle left her alone with Vesters. Out on the field men scurried around getting the balloon ready to launch. The balloon was brightly colored, but the basket where the balloonist would ride looked flimsy and unsafe.

“I’ve gone up in a balloon a time or two,” Vesters said. “I surveyed storm damage to my castle last year. It was quite exhilarating.”

She pulled her wrap around her arms. “I can’t imagine.”

“Would you like some punch?” Vesters nodded to the refreshment table set up along one side of the pavilion.

“That would be lovely.” She looked around the seats as he left and hurried to the table. Several here she recognized.

A man and woman settled on Belle’s other side. “Hello.” The woman’s friendly smile matched her comfortable blue dress that was rather worn.

“Good afternoon.” Belle put warmth into her smile. Chatting with someone else might keep her from a distasteful conversation with Vesters. “Haven’t we met?” She was sure she’d seen the woman’s round face and rosy cheeks somewhere.

“I’m Molly Adams, and this is my husband, the Reverend Joshua Adams.”

“Ah, you’re at St. David’s. I’m Belle Castle.”

Her uncle interrupted. “I thought you’d save me a seat, Belle.” He muscled his way into the row. “I’d thank you to move over a bit.”

Belle barely managed to hide her shock. Her uncle was never rude or abrupt. She smiled apologetically at the minister and his wife as they shifted over one seat. Her uncle settled his girth onto the vacated seat without a word. He kept his gaze straight forward. In another minute, the displaced couple rose and moved over to another aisle.

“I don’t want you fraternizing with them,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“It’s a minister and his wife!”

“He’s been working against my election.”

She frowned. “That’s hardly cause for such rudeness.”

Her uncle pressed his lips together, and she knew she was getting no more information out of him. What could the minister possibly have said that upset Uncle Everett so much?

It had been Drew’s good luck Nathan wasn’t home when he stopped to talk to Miss White about the butterfly globe. She’d readily handed it over, and he went straightaway to the police station.

The officer he’d been ushered in to see turned the globe over in his hands. The man was in his fifties with a handlebar mustache that had more gray hairs than brown. “This is like the others. She received it two days before the attack?”

“So it would seem. The butterfly was alive when she got it. It had been left in a box at her door.”

“I need to keep this.” When Drew nodded, the officer put the globe down on his desk. “With one of the victims, it had been left on her bed beside her. The butterfly was still alive, but she wasn’t. The other victim had found hers on the kitchen table.”

“Was it found before the attack?”

The officer nodded. “About a week before. So the circumstances are slightly different. They might not be connected. All the women were single, and these globes are popular gifts.”

Drew didn’t buy it. “Surely not as anonymous gifts.”

The officer shrugged. “I sent one to my girl without a card attached. She knew who sent it. We don’t know if the other women knew who sent the gifts. Miss White doesn’t know who sent this?”

“She has no idea. At first she thought it was a gift from her brother, but he denied knowing anything about it.”

The officer leaned back in his chair. “I’ll question her, but it’s likely a coincidence.” The man rose and opened his door with a finality that told Drew the conversation was at an end.

Drew stepped into the doorway. “Are you looking at Marshall? He makes those.”

“We checked him out. Like I said, likely a coincidence.”

Drew pressed his lips together and made his way out into the morning sunshine. The police had dismissed this all too quickly for his peace of mind. He liked Everett Marshall, but he still loved Lily. What if she was working for a killer?

TWELVE

L
ily’s day off hadn’t come too soon. Holding her hat in the breeze, she inhaled and looked at the ramshackle house behind a nicer two-story home. This shack was practically falling down. Peeling paint and missing shingles told the story of years of neglect. The smell of onions wafted out one of the ill-fitting windows. Somewhere inside, a baby wailed. Jane’s little one? The owner should have kept it in better repair since it was part of his property. Perhaps he thought no one would notice it along the back side of the property past the orchard.

Lily rapped her gloved knuckles on the rotting wood of the door. “Hello?”

Did Jane live with her brother, or was it just her and the baby? And what about the child’s father? The child wailed behind the door again, and the crying grew louder.

The door opened, and Jane’s eyes widened. She shifted the infant to her other shoulder. “Miss Lily, what are you doing here?”

Lily lifted the basket in her hand. “I brought some things for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d been able to work with your injury, and I was worried perhaps your baby needed a few items.”