Shadows Wait

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Help?”

  “Do you know who killed the women in the basement? It had to be someone in the Healy family.”

  “I don’t know who killed the women. Catherine didn’t tell me.” Becca’s voice was resigned rather than resentful.

  Lilly returned to her bed and sank down. “You can’t see the murders yourself?”

  “No.” The little girl’s voice was a breath, a hiss.

  Lilly’s skepticism took over. “You’re a ghost. Why didn’t you already know?”

  “I don’t know everything.” Petulance turned down Becca’s lips. “Though I surely would like to.”

  “I’ve visited your grave every day for years.” Lilly’s desperation gave strength to her words. “The only time I didn’t come was while I stayed at the Healy home. Can you please put us both at ease and forgive me for what happened? You know it was an accident. Please let me be and go on with your—”

  She’d almost said life.

  Becca’s image wavered, then disappeared. But her whispery voice managed a word. “Never.”

  Lilly wanted to growl her frustration. She swallowed it. She needed to decide what to do next, and if she wanted to visit Catherine in the basement. She took off her boots and lay back on the bed. Sleep came in almost a blink.

  * * *

  Mrs. Peterson’s glare could have shorn the hair off a lamb at twenty paces. “Are you compromising my daughter?”

  Morgan stepped back, his anger complete. “No. Your daughter is compromising me.”

  “Well!” Mrs. Peterson’s indignation turned her face bright pink. “We have never been so insulted.”

  His contempt went to an all time high. “Oh, I’m sure you have.”

  At this rate, he wondered if she might have a fit. He didn’t budge, unwilling to take the blame for Della’s impropriety. He stared down her mother until the woman blinked.

  Obviously staunch refusal worked. The woman turned to her daughter. She pointed at Della and shook her finger. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You know better than to get close to a man like that. Men are disgusting beasts only wanting your favors. They may have sickening desires, but you don’t give into them until you have a ring on your finger.”

  It was Morgan’s turn to blink. Did Mrs. Peterson believe that of all men?

  Della’s lower lip trembled. “But mother, I didn’t. He came up to me. I was pushing him away. I think he was trying to steal ... a ... a kiss.”

  Mrs. Peterson gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “How dare you sir.”

  “That is complete tripe.” He’d had enough of this. “I’m not a vindictive man, but you can be certain this will end my association with this family.”

  Before Morgan could take a step, Mr. Peterson strode into the room, a grim expression carved on his round face. Rotund and short, he was losing his hair and bursting out of his suit.

  “What is the commotion in here?” Mr. Peterson asked.

  Mrs. Peterson pointed at Morgan, and he wanted to bat her finger away. The woman had lost her manners. “Mr. Healy has compromised our daughter.”

  Morgan could see where this would go if he didn’t take immediate action. “Mrs. Healy left us in the room alone and Miss Healy touched me and tried to jam my hand into her cleavage.”

  Mr. Peterson’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I beg your pardon. That is impossible. My Della would never put herself in harm’s way like that.”

  Morgan almost snorted. “Perhaps we should talk about this in your den or office, Mr. Peterson.”

  “Exactly my thoughts.” Peterson’s eyebrows drew down in direct disapproval. “Come into the den.”

  Morgan followed the man without saying a word to the women. Mr. Peterson stalked to the back of the house, leading Morgan into a large, book-lined den that smelled of tobacco.

  “Sit down, Mr. Healy.” Mr. Peterson gestured to a wingback chair.

  Morgan did as requested, ready for the lecture, or worse. Mr. Peterson headed toward his desk and opened a box of cigars.

  “Would you like one, Mr. Healy?”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  Mr. Healy lifted one eyebrow. “I see. You disapprove?”

  “For general health I do not think it is a good idea.”

  “How odd.”

  “I’ve known more than one man who indulged over many years and has died of one lung malady or another. Men die from inhaling smoke in a fire. It is common sense that inhaling smoke in any fashion might eventually kill you.”

  To Morgan’s surprise, the man stamped out his cigar in an ashtray on the desk. “Well, you were almost a doctor. I suppose if you think it’s unsafe, I should listen. Especially if you’re going to be my son-in-law.” The insult stung for all of a second. Almost a doctor. Then the man’s assumption that Morgan would marry Della punched him in the gut full force. Before Morgan could speak, the portly man continued. “Sir, what are you going to do about this?”

  “If you think I’m going to be blackmailed into marrying your daughter, you are mistaken.”

  Mr. Peterson’s round face broke into a smile. “Most of what you saw was for show. My wife and daughter expect it. I am here as their natural protector. You would expect me to do no less.”

  “I expect you to be honest.”

  Mr. Peterson laughed. “Even when the women in my family aren’t?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t change anything. If I don’t make you marry my daughter—”

  Morgan almost stood. “Make me?”

  “Have you no honor?”

  “I have all the honor in the world. But your daughter launched herself at me. I’m not going to marry her. Not only that, I’d think you’d want a better situation for her than a man who doesn’t love her.”

  Mr. Peterson sighed and stood. He paced the floor. “Better situation? There is no such thing. Della is beautiful, and that’s enough for some. But some men are not rich like your family is. Marry her, or I will go to your father and threaten to blackmail him. He cares about his reputation, even if you don’t.”

  Morgan stood, towering over the older man. “Do your worst Peterson.”

  With that Morgan left, collecting his hat and coat along the way. He left without saying a word to the women. So much for forgetting Lilly with another woman.

  Chapter 18

  Morgan reached home and discovered the drama wasn’t over. He’d just put away his coat and hat when his mother rushed up to him. Her face was flushed, her eyes a little bright as if she’d cried recently.

  She clutched a handkerchief in one hand. “Morgan, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  One small hand clutched his sleeve, and he slipped his arm around her slim shoulders. “What’s happened, Mother?”

  “We are all in an uproar.”

  “We?”

  “Your father came home from taking Lilly to the asylum to let me and Patricia know he’s let Lilly go from her position.”

  Morgan groaned softly. “I’m not surprised.”

  “But he can’t. We need help with Patricia. Whatever would make him let her go? I know that she had the dream and thinks her friend is dead, but it was just a bad dream.”

  “She has rather decided opinions.”

  “And?”

  “You’ve never defended bold women before, Mother.”

  His mother shrugged. “She’s a lovely young woman, and we need help with Patricia. We cannot keep this up, Morgan. Too many women have left our employ. I know Patricia is hard to deal with, but surely someone must be capable. Lilly lived with people with problems such as your sister’s.” She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “She must know what to do when Patricia has one of her moods.”

  Morgan pondered alternatives. “Where is Father now?”

  “He went back to the asylum.”

  “I’m going there now.”

  She touched his arm. “Morgan, wait. I saw how you’ve looked at Lilly, and I saw her in your arms. You care for her a great deal don’
t you?”

  He almost shook his head, and he knew he could arrange a poker face better than most. “I do like her, but I won’t continue to like her. I’ll try to get her back for Patricia.”

  His mother nodded sagely and released his arm. “Even if you have feelings for her, you know how your father is. He won’t let you pursue her.”

  “You wouldn’t either if you thought you could stop me.”

  She tilted her head to the side and surprised him by smiling the slightest bit. “And you know your father and I can’t make you do anything. You are twenty-five and no longer under our control. At the end of the day, who you marry is your choice.”

  Unsettled and amazed by his mother’s attitude, he stayed silent while he took in what he’d heard. “I would never have guessed, Mother.”

  A smile, more secret-filled than revealing, covered her mouth. “You do not know me as well as you think, my dear.”

  He frowned, looking into his mother’s eyes. “Of course I know you. You’re my mother.”

  She shook her head. “Every family, every person in this family has secrets. It’s only human. Don’t you have secrets?”

  He couldn’t deny that. “You know the only secret I have.”

  “No one outside the family knows why you left school. They only know you left.”

  He didn’t tell her that Lilly knew his secret.

  “Ah, but the secret is tantalizing, and all of Simple gossips about it,” he said. “It keeps old women and men happy during the day when they have nothing else to do.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes.” Liar. Your lust for Lilly is at least as big a secret.

  His mother’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, surprising him. “Don’t let your whole life pass you by before you know what it is you want.”

  Had she? The idea floored him. She regretted something, deeply.

  “What will I regret?” he asked.

  “Follow your heart, darling.”

  “You never said that to me before.”

  “I never understood how important it was until a short time ago. I denied what I shouldn’t have, and now I have to live with regret.”

  His heart lurched, his mind awhirl. “What is wrong, Mother? Tell me.”

  She shook her head and sniffed, and once more her stoic beauty returned. Calmness warmed her face. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t take care of myself.”

  “Mother let me help you.”

  She pressed his arm. “You can’t help me. Now, don’t dilly dally. Lilly needs you to bring her back. Please, dear.”

  “Please, dear.” Patricia’s voice ridiculed, sticky sweet. Patricia walked down the stairs, her filmy white dress giving her the appearance of a ghost. She descended slowly, a princess in her own mind at the very least.

  “Patricia,” her mother said with a sigh. “Please don’t mock me.”

  Patricia reached the bottom of the stairs and slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Me? How can you say that? I’m a loving and obedient daughter. And I’m angry Father sent Lilly away.”

  Morgan wiped his hand over his face. “If Father doesn’t want her back, there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

  “You will talk to him?” Patricia simpered.

  Impatient, he wanted to snap at his sister, tired of dealing with her moods, and her inconsistencies. “I’ll talk to him.”

  * * *

  Morgan listened to the horse’s hooves striking the ground and the carriage wheels marking new grooves in the road. His thoughts jumped from one arena to another. He should rejoice that Lilly wouldn’t return. He didn’t want to see her again because that would mean caring. Despite his conviction not to care, though, he did. What’s more, Patricia needed help, and his mother and father couldn’t handle her by themselves. His mother’s behavior puzzled him as well. Perhaps there was part of her life she believed had passed her by?

  When he arrived at the asylum, he hurried into the building. He found his father in the administration offices, settled behind his desk with his usual calmness. Morgan stood at the threshold of the door. His father looked up. “Morgan, what are you doing here?”

  “Watching my father work.” There were numerous papers spread across his desk. “As superintendent you have a great deal to take care of.”

  His father moved his chair slightly to the side, the sound muffled by carpet. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it. “You and I both know you don’t want this position. You aren’t here to observe my work.”

  Morgan swallowed hard. “I don’t want this job if it isn’t to make changes for the better of the patients.”

  “Are you saying it isn’t done correctly now?”

  “With the little that I’ve observed, I’d make changes, that’s all I’m saying. Every superintendent has rules but makes subtle changes to suit his vision of what needs to be done.”

  Instead of praising his son, Masterson grunted. “You had a year left at the university and you fouled that up. You think you can run this asylum without a doctorate in medicine?”

  “I can if the state still approves my appointment on your retirement. And that won’t happen for a long time. I can return to the university and finish.”

  “If they allow you to return.”

  Morgan’s stomach twisted. His shame shouldn’t be a shame, but that’s not the way the university had seen it. It galled Morgan to no end. “They said if I stayed away for a year and ...” Morgan snorted in contempt. “... learned my lesson, I could come back. So teach me how this place is run. Show me what I’d need to do to insure success.”

  “No. I think you need a year to think about what you’ve done to complicate your life.”

  Morgan wanted to lash out, but if he also wanted his father to bring Lilly back, he needed to take a mild tactic. “Idleness for a year won’t help me. Never mind that for now. That’s not why I came here today.”

  His father shoved to his feet and planted his hands on his desk. From this position, he often tried to intimidate. Luckily for Morgan, his father’s intimidation had stopped working on him a long time ago.

  “Why did you come?” his father asked.

  “Mother and Patricia want Lilly to come back.”

  “Do you?”

  “I want her back because they do.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  “Bullshit. I will not have you taking advantage of an innocent woman.”

  Morgan had taken advantage of her all right. Far more than he hoped his father would ever discover. “I’ll stay away from her.”

  “What about Della Peterson. Is she enough to distract you? You should marry her and be done with it.”

  His father had always been blunt, and while that served to move things along, it often meant harshness that cut like a knife. The thought of having a woman like Della with him day after day, in his bed, and perhaps having his children, filled Morgan with dread. “That’s not going to happen.”

  His father’s eyebrows twitched. “Why not?”

  Morgan explained how Della had launched herself at him and Peterson’s promise to blackmail them all.

  To Morgan’s surprise, his father laughed. “How perfectly ridiculous. I cannot believe she attempted such an outrageous thing.

  “She did.” Morgan relented and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

  “I won’t give into any blackmail Peterson has up his sleeve.”

  “Good, because I’m not marrying her.”

  “Her father wants you to marry her for the money. Or she does. Everyone in this damn town thinks we’re rich.”

  Too many things ran around in Morgan’s head. “We are.”

  “Not as much as some.”

  Morgan scoffed. “We’re practically the richest family in town other than the Petersons.”

  With a shake of his head, Morgan’s father conveyed that he didn’t care one wit. “You’re a very smart man, Morgan. Alwa
ys have been.”

  Morgan had never heard this type of praise coming from his father. “Thank you.”

  “But you’re not using your head now. If you did marry Della Peterson you’d have even more money. She’s also beautiful, young, and would have children for you. What else is there?”

  Jesus. Morgan gritted his teeth. “I don’t care about that.”

  His father finally sank into his chair. “You think you’ll find love? That’s a load of shit, Morgan. There is no such thing as love in marriage. Your mother and I know that.”

  “I know you and mother don’t love each other. I’ve seen other couples together, and I’ve witnessed their love. It is possible.”

  “Hogwash. But if you want to continue to delude yourself, go right ahead.”

  Morgan’s jaw clenched. One of the things he admired the least was his father’s pig-headedness. “Because you don’t have that for yourself, you’re arrogant enough to think everyone else is making it up?”

  “Yes. You think every husband and wife you see out there are in love? That they aren’t putting on a face for society?”

  Frustration gathered inside Morgan. “I didn’t say that all of them are sincere. Many are.” He gestured with one hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not marrying a woman like Della. She’s shown her true colors.”

  “She could help you forget the lust you have for Lilly.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t lie to me boy. I know lust when I see it. If I didn’t think you would get her pregnant, you could dally with her all you like. But she’s too smart for you. One way or the other, she’d trap you into marriage.”

  The level of cynicism inside Morgan’s father never ceased to amaze Morgan, though after all these years he shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Are you going to let Lilly return to the house or not?” Morgan asked.

  “No.”

  The finality in that syllable caused two reactions within Morgan—relief and despair.

  * * *

  The knock on the Lilly’s door startled her out of the Jane Austen novel she’d been reading. Her lamp had burned down, and the window muted with shadows. She lifted the chatelaine at her waist and looked at the time. Four o’clock. She’d spent a good portion of the afternoon questioning people around the asylum about Oleta, hoping for some understanding of where the woman had gone. Finally, tired and discouraged, she’d returned to her room and started to read as an escape. The knock came again. She left the bed and opened the door.