Butterfly Palace (16 page)

Lily’s breath came fast as she descended the cellar steps on Friday night. The butterfly room keys hung from her fingers. She’d tried to talk Emily into making this trip for her, but none of the maids liked to come down here. The thought of what she might see here made her pause outside the door.

All the staff talked about this room, but she hadn’t seen it yet. She would have liked to have kept it that way, but Mr. Marshall was waiting on her. She inhaled and forced herself to insert the key. It twisted in the lock, and she opened the door, then turned on the lights. The glass cases sprang into sight. Her gaze went from one case to the other. All those beautiful creatures pinned into glass coffins made her shudder. Mr. Marshall had instructed her to go to the small room at the back. He had requested she bring the Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing specimen up to show the guests.

“You doing all right?” Mrs. O’Reilly’s voice spoke from behind her.

Lily sagged with relief as she turned. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s quite creepy.”

“I felt bad I’d sent you down here on your own for the first time.” The housekeeper glanced around the space. “You’ll get used to it. Mr. Marshall is so proud of these insects. And you must admit they’re beautifully colored.”

“I hadn’t dared to look at them.” Lily shuddered but walked to join Mrs. O’Reilly at a glass case. She much preferred the insects fluttering around. The card on the display read
Bhutanitis lidderdalei
. She couldn’t even pronounce it.

“See how they have tiger-like spots? It’s to frighten predators. They live in Bhutan. That’s in South Asia.” Mrs. O’Reilly moved to the next display. “And this one is the
Ornithoptera chimaera
.”

“They’re so green. They almost look like orchids.”

Mrs. O’Reilly smiled. “See, they aren’t so terrifying. Over here is what Mr. Marshall sent you after.” She walked purposefully to the door at the back of the cavernous room and opened it.

When Mrs. O’Reilly flipped on the light, Lily took a step back. “They’re gigantic!”

The bluish-green butterfly was stretched out to display the full size of its wings. A black vein contrasted the color. Its wingspread was close to ten inches. Seeing the creature flying about would be rather daunting and scary. What if it became caught in a woman’s hair?

“Why does he collect these?”

Mrs. O’Reilly’s smile lingered lovingly on the huge specimen. “He says all beautiful things should be displayed. You must admit the butterflies are quite spectacular.”

“They’re dead.”

The housekeeper’s smile faded. “Well, yes. But their beauty remains.” She picked up the display case and thrust it into Lily’s arms. “Take this to the parlor and be quick about it. He’s likely growing impatient already.”

Carrying the butterfly carefully, Lily rushed up the stairs and down the hall to the parlor. She was breathless when she stepped into the large room filled with people. Women sat in a group chatting and the men stood by the fireplace as they most likely discussed politics and the economy. The hum of voices stopped when she entered with the case.

Mr. Marshall held out his hand. “Ah, there you are. I’m eager to show off my prize specimen.”

Lily was only too glad to hand it over. Her gaze briefly collided
with Drew’s before she quickly looked away. Belle narrowed her eyes meaningfully and jerked her head toward the door. Lily started that direction.

“Stay put, Lily,” Mr. Marshall said. “I don’t want this out of the vault for long.”

Lily retreated to a space by the wall. Her gaze darted to Belle, and when she realized her mistress had moved to see the butterfly, she glanced at Drew. He was staring at the case, and Lily allowed herself to drink in the strong planes and lines of his face. A lock of black hair had fallen over his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed by the warmth of the room. She curled her fingers into her palms. If only she had the right to brush that soft hair off his face, to trace the roughened line of his jaw.

He glanced her way and transfixed her in place. The emotion blazing in his eyes was clear for anyone who looked that way. She wanted to flee, to forget the pain there. Could his tale possibly be true? She couldn’t imagine anything that would have made her desert him, so it seemed unlikely.

She finally managed to look away. No one seemed to have noticed the intense interlude between them. Belle was laughing with her head thrown back, revealing the fine line of her throat and chin. At least she hadn’t seen. Lily exhaled and edged farther out of the throng.

She felt like a calf cut from its mama. Alone, bewildered, afraid. If she could mount the next train for Larson, she would. Back home she knew what was expected of her. Every day was like the next without the dizzying highs and lows of life here.

The group had finally quit admiring the giant butterfly, and Lily took it without looking at the poor dead thing. The sooner it was tucked away, the happier she would be. She hurried back to the basement stairs, but it was scarier this time. Darker somehow with the shadows leaping and moving like gargoyles. She raced to the
vault at the back of the room and thrust the case back in among the other valuable specimens.

When she slammed the door and locked it, she heard a sliding, slithering sound like a foot.
Or a snake
.

But that’s ridiculous
. Her breathing felt tight and labored as she started back across the room. Something swooped toward her, and she ducked instinctively with her heart pounding. Squinting in the dim light, she made out what appeared to be a cloud of colors. Black, brown, orange, violet. Her throat was too tight to scream as she backpedaled.

She closed her eyes and raised her hands instinctively as wings came again. The soft touch of wings on her face and hands broke her paralysis, and she shrieked as she ran for the door. Again and again screams tore from her throat as delicate wings whispered over her skin.

A hand grabbed her arm, and Drew’s voice was in her ear. “Lily, it’s okay.”

The panic ebbed as she burrowed into his chest. His hand smoothed her hair. “There’s something here. Bats maybe.” She shuddered and closed her eyes, reveling in the comforting press of his arms and the scent of his bay-rum cologne.

“Not bats, just butterflies. Look, it’s just butterflies.”

She peeked open an eye and glanced around. Dozens of butterflies rested on everything. “What are they doing down here?”

With his arm still around her, he guided her toward the door. “Maybe Mr. Marshall will know.”

SIXTEEN

B
utterflies covered every bush, every shrub. The brightly colored insects coated the table and chairs on the patio as well. Lily didn’t want to step outside the French doors onto the brick in case she stepped on one. After last night, butterflies made her tremble.

“See, nothing to worry about.” Mr. Marshall’s smile was kind. “This type of migration happens occasionally. The American Snout butterfly is common here, and after heavy rains, their numbers surge. We will probably have close to twenty million passing through here.”

Mrs. Marshall’s head bobbed, and she put her gloved hand on Lily’s arm. “Mr. Hawkes will be joining Belle for breakfast in the dining room. Put him in there to wait.”

“She’s running a few minutes late, Mrs. Marshall,” Lily said. “And she doesn’t like me to speak with Mr. Hawkes.”

“That girl is being ridiculous. Serve him some tea or coffee until she comes down. Mr. Marshall and I have an appointment in town. Make sure he needs for nothing.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Inside, she quailed at the thought of being alone with Drew. If Belle came in and found them talking intimately, her job here would be gone.

The Marshalls were barely out the door when Drew stepped
onto the terrace. He smiled at her. “I’ve been working on my catlike skills. You didn’t even hear me coming.”

She had to smile, but she shot a glance into the house to make sure Belle wasn’t coming. “This way, Mr. Hawkes.”

His lips tightened, and she knew he didn’t like her addressing him so formally, but she had to get used to calling him that so she didn’t slip in front of Belle. He said nothing though as he followed her into the empty dining room. Food steamed on the sideboard.

She moved toward it. “Coffee?” She lifted the silver coffeepot.

“Please.” He went to the head of the long table, clad in fine white linen. “May I sit here?”

“Wherever you like.” She poured coffee into a fine china cup. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black.” He studied her over the rim of the cup. “Where’s Belle?”

“Running a bit late. I can go check on her.” She put down the pot and started to turn, but he caught her by the wrist.

“I’d rather you stay and talk to me.”

Her skin was hot where he touched her. “You’ll get me fired.”

“We’ll hear her if she comes this way. Another one of my catlike skills.” He kept hold of her wrist.

“Another servant may report it.”

“Have you recovered from the butterfly attack last night?” His expression made it clear he didn’t intend to let her leave, though he released her wrist.

She rubbed where he’d touched and stepped back two steps so if anyone peeked into the dining room it wouldn’t appear as if they were deep in conversation. “Yes, I’m fine. There are more butterflies everywhere outside too.”

He nodded. “My wheels crunched over some in the road. I wanted to rush out and shoo them away.”

She gestured to the French doors. “They’re all over the patio.”

He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I want to hear more about the attack the other night. You distracted me.”

“
I
distracted you? I don’t think so.”

His grin widened, then an intense expression came over his face. “I meant to ask if you recognized the voice.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. Who do you suspect?”

He released a heavy exhale. “I got to wondering if it could have been Ballard.”

She thought about the figure running away. “I suppose it’s possible.”

“I saw him at the opera.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yes, and I followed him too. He’s staying at the Driskill Hotel.”

His gaze seemed to devour her. Did he still think she was beautiful? She’d felt lovely in his eyes once upon a time, but since he left, she didn’t walk with her head as high as she used to. His desertion had taken her confidence.

She heard a rustle in the hall and hurried to the sideboard. Lifting a tray of sweets, she turned toward Drew with a distant smile. “A sweet roll, Mr. Hawkes? I’m sure Miss Belle will be down shortly.”

Belle swept into the room with a sweep of silk skirts. “I’m right here. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Drew rose and pulled out a chair for Belle. “I’ve only had time to have my coffee poured.”

“I hope I was worth waiting for.” She batted her eyes at him.

“Absolutely.” He scooted her chair in and sat back down.

Lily blinked her burning eyes and offered the tray of trifles to Belle. “Eggs and ham should be ready now. I’ll fetch the rest of your breakfast.”

“Don’t bother. This is plenty, don’t you think, Mr. Hawkes?”

Drew lifted a brow. “I’m not sure this will sustain me all day. I wouldn’t turn down some ham and eggs.”

Belle’s lips tightened. “Fetch the other food, Lily. And don’t dawdle. We have a lot to do this morning. While we’re gone, I want you to have my new dress ready for tonight.”

“Yes, miss.” Lily escaped from the room. Why was he complimenting her and then catering to Belle in practically the same breath?

The police station bustled with activity on Monday morning when Lily detoured from one of her errands. She asked to speak to the officer in charge of the case and was shown back to a cramped room with only a desk and two chairs. It smelled of stale smoke and liniment. The man at the window turned, and she recognized him as the policeman in the churchyard.

“Miss Donaldson, what a surprise. I’m Officer Pickle.” He limped a bit as he rushed to the chair and swept the papers from it. “Have a seat.”

She thanked him and settled onto the hard oak seat. “I wondered if you’ve tracked down the perpetrator yet?”

He looked her over before he shrugged. “Not yet. I was going to find you today since I had a few more questions.”

“Questions?” She didn’t much care for the skepticism in his eyes.

“A passerby told us you greeted the man with a hug. Is there something else you wish to say? Or maybe you want to retract your accusation?”

Lily gasped and stood. “Absolutely not! What you heard is an absolute falsehood.” She yanked the kerchief from around her neck. “And what about this? It’s clearly a mark left by a knife.”

“So you had no assignation in the churchyard?”

She hesitated. Perhaps she should have told him the entire story. But what if he told Belle? “A boy told me Mr. Hawkes wanted to see
me. He’s a frequent visitor at the Butterfly Palace, so of course I hurried to obey the summons.”

“Mr. Hawkes? He arrived a bit later.” The officer’s expression grew crafty. “Was this a usual assignation?”

“If you mean did we meet for a romantic interlude, you couldn’t be more wrong. It was an innocent meeting.”