Surprise strangled Lilly’s reply for a moment. “That’s quite harsh.”
“It may be harsh, but it’s also very true.”
“I see. And is your brother a liar, too?”
“Not so far as I can tell. He can be rather blunt at times.
Lilly tried to wrap her thoughts around Patricia’s directness. She decided it made sense to redirect Patricia’s line of thought if she could. “My mother died when I was seven.”
Patricia’s gaze snapped to Lilly’s. “How?”
A lump rose in Lilly’s throat. “She got diphtheria.”
“Did you love her?”
“Of course. She was a wonderful woman.”
For a moment Patricia’s eyes softened, as if sympathy might touch her heart. “I’m sorry you were born in an asylum. I imagine that will follow you all your life.” She leaned forward even more and lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “Doesn’t that concern you? People will think you are insane.”
“I have thought of it.” She drew a deep breath. “But here I am, and I’m all right. I cannot help what other people think, can I?”
Patricia’s gaze hardened again. “Are you trying to say that I’m like you? Is that why you asked whether I’m different with people outside my family?”
“I do not think you and I are alike. How can we be?”
“Because I was born with privilege and money? Society?” Patricia laughed. “Such as society is in Simple. Imagine, my father insisting the town hold their social balls at the asylum.”
“Is the asylum the largest place nearby to hold events?”
Patricia shrugged. “There’s The Brown Hotel at the end of Main Street. It’s enormous.”
“You’ve been inside?”
Patricia’s eyes twinkled, lit from within by mischief. She pushed her empty plate to the side and dusted her hands off on her napkin. “I met a beau there once.”
Lilly stared at Patricia for a few seconds, uncertain of the woman’s exact meaning.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Patricia said.
Lilly speared chicken with her fork. “Like what?”
“As if I’ve committed some great sin in the eyes of the Lord.”
Lilly’s lips twitched as she tried not to smile. “It is my experience that only people who are guilty say things like that. Did you commit a sin?”
Patricia pouted, but the effect looked strange rather than endearing. No, her beauty had a cold, hard edge. A cruel smile twisted Patricia’s lips and turned Lilly’s blood icy. Patricia leaned forward again. “I met him there one afternoon. We went up to a hotel room, and I had relations with him.”
Lilly didn’t gasp or show shock; at least she kept as straight a face as she could manage. “Relations?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Does that make me a sinner?”
“In some people’s eyes.”
“Not in yours?”
Lilly drank her tea, but she wanted to sigh in exasperation. “I have seen and heard many strange things at the asylum. Including people having relations.”
“In an asylum?” Patricia’s eyes widened. “How odd.”
“Odd is a mild word for it. Little surprises me. I’ve read books. Things that explain humanity and how it works.”
“Rather distasteful isn’t it?” Patricia’s words came out cynical and sarcastic.
Lilly frowned. “There are despicable men who do horrible things to women.”
“Rapists?” Patricia asked. “Do you know of any?”
“No.” Lilly decided to segue the conversation to a slightly less controversial topic. “There’s a Brown Hotel in Denver I hear.”
“That’s the Brown Palace Hotel.”
“Oh, I see. Is it beautiful?”
“Very.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes.” Patricia pushed her chair back and left the table. “But with my mother and father. Not a ball, and not with a beau.” Patricia twirled in the middle of the floor and hummed a lilting tune with a beautiful voice. She came to a halt. “Amazing that you haven’t judged me about sleeping with my beau. You should be scandalized. Especially because you are so naïve and innocent.”
Lilly had had enough teasing and torment from Becca to last a lifetime. She didn’t need it from anyone else.
“Indeed. Quite amazing,” Lilly said.
Patricia’s frown returned. Lilly hadn’t given her what she wanted. Patricia stared at Lilly in a disconcerting way. Her probing gaze remained steady.
Lilly sipped her tea and chewed a piece of succulent chicken. “This is delicious. The cook is very talented.”
Patricia stared.
After a short time, Lilly’s patience snapped. “Have I offended you in some way?”
“You stayed out with my brother a long time yesterday.”
Puzzled, Lilly returned Patricia’s hard stair. “I didn’t get the impression that you or Mrs. Healy disapproved.”
“I noted the time when you left, and saw the carriage return.” Patricia fingered the white tablecloth. “What were you doing all that time?”
Where would this ridiculous conversation go? “We visited his friend Marjorie Holtz.”
Patricia sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I knew you were doing that. What else?” Lilly ignored the question. The older woman’s rude tone didn’t surprise Lilly. Patricia played a game of snatch and snip by pretending Lilly had imagined every slight. Patricia grinned, a full fledged smile filled with teasing. “You have great difficulty understanding humor, don’t you?”
Lilly battled with herself. She wanted to smack the woman on the head, but if she fought back she might make an enemy of Patricia, and she’d be kicked out of the house. Back to the asylum she’d go. On the other hand, could she endure days or weeks of this woman’s vacillating moods, or capriciousness, as Morgan had put it? What if Patricia had pushed her down the stairs?
Lilly placed her cup into the saucer with exaggerated slowness. “Patricia, I think you may have the mistaken impression I don’t understand what you’re trying to do. Do you think I’m somehow mentally deficient because I grew up in any asylum?”
Patricia self-satisfied smile didn’t alter. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”
Here we go.
Lilly chewed green beans and swallowed before plunging into the next statement. “You aren’t treating me the same all the time. You’re pretending to be nice, but under that cloak is cruelty. Spite disguised as humor.”
Patricia stood and stomped to the bell pull near the hallway door. She yanked it violently.
Lilly placed her hands over her ears. “Is it necessary to be so rough with the bell pull?”
Patricia’s glare continued. “You work for my family, Lilly.” She pointed at Lilly with one long index finger. “You think you’re clever enough to outwit me? To make me think we have things in common? You are mistaken.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, perhaps that one thing.” She shook her finger at Lilly again. “You are a liar, too, Lilly. Just like I am. We both have lied to survive. But that doesn’t make me like you. It does not mean I consider you a friend. Now get out.”
Lilly stood slowly, her cheeks heating as she realized how Patricia had swiftly and effectively outmaneuvered her. Without another word, she left Patricia’s room through the hallway door. She needed to gather her wits in her own room where she felt reasonably safe. As she turned to her room, Morgan came around the corner and halted.
“Lilly.” Concern etched his face. He approached, each new step bringing his disturbing presence nearer. “Are you all right?”
She swallowed hard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He stood too close. Those sinfully dark eyes demanded she look into them. “Your cheeks are very red, and I’ve learned from being around you that means something is wrong.”
“How perceptive. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
/> “You don’t give me much credit.” His eyes softened, turning warmer and understanding. His gaze traveled her face with curiosity. “Tell me what is wrong.”
“I cannot. Not here.” She glanced back at Patricia’s door.
He waited for a moment, so long she thought he’d stay silent forever. “Do you like gardens in the winter?”
“I ... I don’t know.”
“I can show you our small garden in the back. It’s very intriguing even in winter. I was heading outside soon for a walk.”
“In this weather? It is freezing.”
He smiled. “I think bracing cold can be good for the mind. Clears the cobwebs and the lungs.”
“Is that your medical knowledge talking?”
He laughed. “Personal belief.”
“Oh, well, then.” She moved passed him to her door. “I will meet you downstairs in the foyer just shortly.”
Before she could change her mind, she hurried into her room and closed the door. She leaned against the wood and frowned. Humiliation rolled over her. Patricia had taken her off guard and thrown her off course. What to do? She knew avoiding Morgan wouldn’t work. Better she face each challenge as she had every one previously. From this point, she might have to stay more cautious with Patricia.
* * *
Lilly stepped out of the conservatory door, Morgan leading her into a winter wonderland. Part of her wondered why she’d agreed to this. Because Patricia had shamed her with cleverness? This bothered Lilly, and she didn’t want to think too hard on it. She hated that she hadn’t been able to outthink someone—anyone. Granted, Oleta had told her more than once such vanity didn’t become a young lady, but what else did Lilly have if not her wits?
As frosty air bit at her uncovered face, Lilly gasped from the arctic-like air. She’d pulled on a warm blue wool hat and matching scarf around her neck. Her black wool duster, thank goodness, buttoned up her neck and reached to mid calf. Her boots, also as serviceable as possible in weather like this, promised to keep her warm.
Morgan wore a fashionable but warm hat, a long black coat, and winter gloves. Together they matched, as if they’d planned this as a couple. She was acutely aware that anyone might see them together and make assumptions, just as everyone had seemed to do in the restaurant.
As Morgan stepped into the three or so inches that covered the ground in a crust, his footsteps crunched. She followed as he wandered toward the small garden in the back. Three trellises made a tunnel, covered by dry and dead leaves. Pine trees encroached. In the center grew animals—rather, bushes cut to resemble animals. Beyond that, a hedge at least ten feet tall grew long and wide.
Immediately she understood. “Is that a maze? I didn’t notice when I looked out the windows on the second floor.”
He turned toward her. “It is. Do you like it?”
She frowned as she took a closer look at the animals. Greenery peeked in and out between clumps of snow, distorting the animals’ characteristics. “The animals are strange. I think I see an elephant, a donkey, a camel, a dog, a cat and the others are very odd.”
“Blame my sister. When she was a child my father indulged her rather strongly. She insisted on animals in the garden.” He waved one hand at the animals. “Here you have it. A menagerie. There’s a dolphin, a crab, a bull and a stork.” When she didn’t speak, Morgan asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I am trying to imagine your father indulging anyone.”
A soft laugh spilled from his throat, and those green eyes sparked. “He never indulges any other females as far as I know.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Not your mother?”
“Not even my mother.” Morgan’s voice held equal parts humor and despair. He gestured toward the tall hedges. “Shall we venture into the maze?”
Excitement swirled in her stomach at the same time as apprehension. She didn’t move. She knew a bad place when she felt it.
He stopped when he realized she’d remained still. “Is something wrong? Are you afraid of mazes?
She started forward. “How can I be? I’ve never been in one.”
Excitement won over fear, and she crunched across the snow until she walked with him. The day was so quiet and calm, and every step sounded so loud. Clouds, filmy and low drifted over the sky. At the moment they stepped into the maze, clouds spread over the sun.
She shivered. “Should we be in here?”
“Of course. Why not?” He continued, turning to the first right.
How could she answer? She went along with him, her breath shortening, heart beating quicker. “Have many women been here with you?”
He didn’t stop to look at her. “None save my mother and sister.”
“Why is this here? I mean why did your father have the maze built?”
They made another turn and another. “Same as the hedge animals. For Patricia. But the hedge was built for her when she was born.”
Curiosity overwhelmed her rising unease. “What has he done special for you?”
He chuckled softly. “He would say a great deal. He funded my military schooling and my medical school.”
Once more the turned. “What would you say?”
He came to a dead stop and swiveled toward her. Clouds darkened the sun even more. Morgan’s eyes were a thundercloud of emotion. “You are the most curious, unrelenting female I know.”
Gazing up at his powerful form, she had a second to fear him. She was totally alone with a powerful man. Trepidation overtook her. Combined with the mazes twists and turns and Morgan’s strong presence, her fear boiled. It filled her throat like a miasma. Her hands went clammy inside her gloves. “We should leave.”
“We just got here.”
She glanced around him, trying for escape. “I have to leave.” She started down the path in front of them, dodging a snow-covered bench.
“Wait!” His voice sounded loud in the pristine quiet.
She pushed on, in her panic forgetting to follow the footprints in the snow. Morgan grabbed her upper arm and tugged her to a stop. He held her upper arms in a gentle but insistent grip.
Morgan’s eyes blazed. “Stop. Are you all right?”
Lilly’s mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “I cannot be here. It isn’t done for an unmarried woman to be here with you like this.”
“Lilly I know you well enough to realize what you said is complete trash and you don’t believe it.”
Anger rose sharply. “How dare you presume so much, Mr. Healy?”
“I admit it. I presume a lot. It’s one of my many failings. Just ask my father.”
“You resent him, don’t you?”
His eyes widened the slightest bit. “You’re too perceptive Lilly. I respect him for what he’s accomplished, but I can’t say there is much love between us.”
Sadness settled on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t know what it is like to have a father who wanted to be a father and love his child.
Those assessing penetrating eyes missed nothing. “You don’t want to know him, do you?”
She shook her head. “He died in prison a few years ago.”
“My father hasn’t committed any crimes.”
Hasn’t he?
“You’re trembling, Lilly.”
“It’s cold.”
His hands rubbed up and down her arms, over her coat. “Now tell me why you wanted to leave this place as soon as you entered it?”
Each pressure from his fingers sent a warm jolt through her midsection. “It’s a strange fear that came out of nowhere.”
“I get the feeling you don’t show fear to anyone. Your breathing is fast, your heartbeat probably faster. What is causing this panic?”
She could lie again, and the lies seemed to pile one upon the other lately. “I read a story once about a woman who was lost forever in a maze.”
His eyes, an intense green in this light, demanded truthfulness. “I don’t believe you.”
“It is true. I have read a story like that befo
re. I think it was Edgar Allan Poe.”
He scoffed. “Poe didn’t write a story like that.”
She shrugged delicately. “So I’m mistaken about the author. I know it was as scary as any story I’ve read in my life. And I’ve read a great deal.”
“There is more to it. What is it?”
How could she tell him this? Still, she could tell from his steady gaze he wouldn’t drop it. “When I came into the maze I could feel ... evil.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Evil?”
“I don’t know when or how long ago, but someone was harmed here.”
He went silent for a short time, his gaze assessing her with complete skepticism. Or what she thought was disbelief. “How do you know this?”
She didn’t answer.
“Tell me before we freeze to death out here,” he said, pressing her arms softly.
“You wouldn’t believe me, so there is no point.”
He grunted in disbelief. “All right, have it your way. You’re a damned confusing woman, Lilly Luna.”
He walked away and headed out of the maze. Not wanting to be left alone, she followed him and caught up so they walked alongside. “You say Luna as if it’s a middle name.”
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Suzanna Luna.”
“Where was she from?”
“Ireland.”
Lilly spared Morgan a glance, and the skepticism on his face spoke volumes. “Luna isn’t an Irish name.”
“She came with her mother and father from Tipperary, Ireland when my mother was fifteen. The family name was originally O’Lonaugh.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “And at Ellis Island someone spelled it wrong?”
“No. At the asylum they spelled it wrong when mother was admitted. Then Mrs. Angel decided it would be amusing to call me Lilly Luna when I was born. The name stuck.”
“So your real name, in the records, is Lilly O’Lonaugh?”
“Yes. But I’m so used to Luna ... well, I go by that instead.”
He shook his head. “Mrs. Angel.” He stopped in his tracks, his attention fully on Lilly. “She seems like a very strange woman. Have you ever known her to abuse patients?”
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