Ashes of Roses

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “That’s true,” I understood, and some of my anxiety was relieved. “There’s no time to season this thing the old-fashioned way, but Miles could bend these stays into shape for me in about half a second.”

  “There’s no end to how useful those powers of his are,” Grandma Polly declared.

  “No kidding,” I agreed, as I briefly checked for any new messages. There were none. I frowned a little, as I puzzled over that.

  “Something’s concerning you, dear,” she commented. “If it’s the dress, there are many others to choose from.”

  “There are, but it’s not that,” I replied. “We haven’t had an update from our friends, today. That’s really unusual, especially since the plan was to check the letters Evie sent to Katharine for messages written in sympathetic ink.”

  “That is puzzling, isn’t it,” Grandma Polly affirmed. “You’ve tried to contact them yourselves, I suppose?”

  “Yes, but all we got in reply was that they’re really busy, and they’ll get back to us when they can. I’d really like to know what’s going on, but not enough to go looking for them at the Lodge. All our employees believe we’re out of the country. They have no idea we’re only visiting part-time.”

  “That would raise questions if you popped up, wouldn’t it dear,” she chuckled. “Whatever prevents them from communicating, it can’t be of much concern. Otherwise, you’d be certain to hear about it.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “I’m just impatient to find out if they learned anything.”

  “I can’t imagine they’d keep it to themselves if they did,” Grandma Polly reasoned.

  “They wouldn’t,” I agreed. That meant either there were no hidden messages, or they were so busy with whatever was going on, they had yet to search for them. That didn’t alleviate my concern any, but… we would eventually find out. In the meantime, we had a corset to lace, and a ball to dress for.

  “I really hope this fits,” I said with a sudden rush of concern, as I held onto one of the bed posts, Grandma Polly cinched the corset ties, and I winced. She was amazingly strong for such a tiny, elderly woman.

  “We shall see that it does,” she replied with determination, as she gave the ties another yank.

  “If this isn’t enough, then I choose breathing instead,” I winced again.

  “Alright, dear. If you must,” she teased. I think. She ceased cinching all the air out of my lungs anyway, and tied the strings snugly. “There. How is that, dear?”

  “Not too bad,” I replied, as I cautiously tested my ability to move, breath, and function. “I won’t be running any races, but I think I can waltz without passing out.”

  “I should hope so,” she chuckled. “Now, let’s see to the rest of this.”

  In an admirably brief period of time, all things considered, I turned to face our dressing room’s three way mirror.

  “Oh, wow,” I said in awe, as I slowly turned from side to side. The exceedingly full, ivory skirt swirled gently in response. As it moved, the change in light revealed the delicate, pale gold roses woven into the silk brocade underlying the gauzy, shirred overskirt. A broad ruffle of the same swept the floor, adorned the scoop neck, and flared from the hems of the fitted elbow sleeves. Narrower ruffles followed the shirring from waist to hem, as did rows of ribbon and seed pearls. Bows were fixed artfully at the outside elbow, centered just below the neckline of the fitted bodice, and on either side of the skirt’s shirred front panel. It was amazingly beautiful, and it fit! I decided it was worth a little oxygen deprivation, after all.

  “Perfect,” Grandma Polly declared with satisfaction. “It’s as if it were made for you.”

  “I love it,” I said happily.

  As we exited the spacious dressing room, there was a light tap at the adjoining door. It opened, and Miles entered. He wore dark slacks, and a matching fitted jacket, open and cut away at the front. His linen shirt was white, as was the stiff collar, and his vest a silky ivory, similar in color to my dress.

  “Wow,” was my verdict.

  “The same to you,” he said with an appreciative look.

  “I must have a photo,” Grandma Polly declared, as she whipped out her phone.

  “Okay,” I said, as Miles tucked my hand in his arm, and we posed for her. “But if this goes on Facebook, make sure there’s no time, date, and location stamp!”

  “Wouldn’t that puzzle them all,” she laughed, and took her picture.

  Mindful of the time, we bid her and Mister Poly a good evening, although it was more like a good almost noon, considering we were currently in Cedar Oaks. Trixie ferried us back to our suite at the manor, and once assured that we would neither eat nor drink without calling her nose back into service, she returned to the Lodge. Probably.

  I glanced at my phone, as Miles glanced at his.

  “Anything?” I wondered.

  “Only another message, this one from John. He said the same thing Xander did. Everything’s fine, but they’re busy, and will get back to us when they can.”

  “Hm,” I frowned a little. “If I heard the truth in response to the written word, I wonder what I’d hear right now.”

  “I’m really wondering, myself,” Miles admitted. “We can trust our friends, though. If there’s something going on at the Lodge, they’ll tell us if they can’t handle it. The place is still standing, we can be assured of that. Trix promised to come right back if there were any signs of a problem.”

  “Okay, good,” I said in relief. “I was kind of worried something happened to one of the kids.”

  “Me too, but Trix’s absence is assurance enough.”

  “Then I’ll stop worrying, and prepare to enjoy our hard-earned night off,” I decided.

  “I already am,” Miles commented, as I fastened my earrings, and he fastened my necklace. “You look truly amazing. It’s as though the dress was made for you, rather than the distant cousin whose name I don’t remember.”

  “I love it,” I declared, but then I squirmed a little. “Except this corset kind of jabs in places. If it was fitted to her, we’re not exactly the same shape.”

  Miles held me back, and studied the not entirely fitted bodice critically. As I watched him watch my dress, the stays once fitted to someone else’s figure, slowly bent to fit mine.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s perfect!” I smiled, as I twirled and tested it out. “It doesn’t stab or press in all the wrong places, anymore.”

  “I should hope not,” Miles smiled back, as he spun me into his arms. “If I don’t know you like the back of my own hand by now, we haven’t spent nearly enough time alone.”

  I closed my eyes tightly.

  “You do, and we haven’t, but don’t go giving me one of those looks right now,” I ordered. “We’ve got a ball to get to.”

  He laughed, and hugged me instead. I guess. My eyes were still closed.

  “Far be it from me to keep you from your ball, and deprive myself of the opportunity to escort the most beautiful woman there,” he replied, and I knew him well enough to know the melting tone in his voice was both intentional, and teasing.

  “No talking, either,” I declared. He laughed softly, and kissed me instead.

  All too soon, we were interrupted by the sound of guests laughing and chatting noisily in the hall, on their way to the stairs.

  “It’s about that time,” Miles said reluctantly.

  “What do you say we go spend a week on our island, after this?” I suggested.

  “I’m all for it,” he agreed, as he helped me adjust the dress’ matching wrap around my shoulders.

  “If we’re alone, there won’t be any darkness waiting to interrupt our break,” I added.

  “There aren’t likely to be any bodies lying around waiting to be found, either,” Miles pointed out. “As soon as we get home, we’ll pack up, stock up, then head out, and have as much resting, relaxing, eating, and hanging out together, as we can stand.”

  “We’re never coming back?” I te
ased, and he laughed.

  “Not until we’ve made up for a few deficits, anyway.”

  As Miles opened the door and we stepped out into the hall, his phone vibrated.

  “Finally!” I exclaimed. He removed it from his pocket, and glanced at the screen. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “What?” I questioned.

  “It’s… your Mom,” he said, and held the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom. Is everything alright?”

  I waited anxiously, as he listened to her response. He looked at me and nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Okay, good. I’m glad to know everyone’s fine,” Miles replied. “So… what’s going on?”

  And why was she calling him, instead of me? What was it she had to say? Why was his expression serious as he stood there, listening, without saying a word?

  Several guests passed by, then several more, and still the one-sided conversation went on.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, so he wasn’t entirely speechless after all. Not that it helped my feelings, or cleared up my confusion any.

  “I suppose it does,” he said, and neither did that!

  As tempting as it was to drag him back inside the room and demand he put the call on speaker, or remind him he could utilize a soundproof forcefield and do the same right there in the hall, I did my best to be patient. This monologue had to end sometime.

  The conversation continued for several more minutes, by the end of which, I was no more enlightened than before my mother called and nearly talked my husband’s ear off. By the time Miles said goodbye and returned his phone to his pocket, I was more than ready to know what that was all about.

  “Well?” I asked. “What did Mom say? I’ve practiced all the patience I can stand, for one day.”

  Miles glanced at his watch, and his eyebrows rose.

  “I’m impressed you made it this long without ripping the phone out of my hand. I won’t leave you to wait any longer, but we’ll be more than fashionably late, if I repeat everything your mother said. In order to save time, and in answer to your question… nothing.”

  The truth flooded me, and my eyes widened.

  “Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed.

  “That about sums it up,” Miles said.

  “Only because we both know the truth, so there’s nothing to add,” I replied.

  “Not to it, no, but we can share it. We can, and must,” he said with resolve, as he offered me his arm. “That being the case, shall we?”

  “The sooner the better,” I answered, as I took it. “I think.”

  If not for a glimpse of the occasional footman as we followed the directions provided along with breakfast earlier in the day, I would wonder if we were entirely alone. The only sound to mar the stillness was that of our own footsteps.

  “Do you suppose the silent auction is still going on?” I whispered quietly, then came the rumble of applause in the distance. It rapidly grew louder, until it positively thundered. “Or maybe it’s not so silent, after all.”

  “It’s my guess Lady Carlisle just announced the final donation tally,” Miles replied.

  “They must have reached their goal,” I remarked, as the applause continued. “I’m glad for their sake. And the hospital’s.”

  Finally the clapping tapered off, and a woman spoke. Her words were too distant and muffled by doors and walls to understand, but I was certain it was Lady Carlisle. She sounded almost as pleased as she did when she learned the Carlisle fortune wasn’t depleted, after all. Whatever she said, it was brief, then the classical strains of a waltz took its place.

  “How far away is this ballroom, anyway?” I began to wonder.

  “Unless the manor is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, it can’t be much further,” Miles said, as the music came to a gradual and uncertain halt. Whoever composed this particular song either gave it a very poor ending, or… the fault lay with the owner of the angry voice that suddenly blasted forth.

  “That’s Sir Edmund,” I realized with concern. “He’s yelling the truth, whatever that is, but I can’t understand a word. Can you?”

  “No, but I can guess,” Miles replied, as we hurried our steps. “It’s around this corner, at the end of the next corridor.”

  As we drew closer, the shouting grew louder, but it was no more clear than before. Except…

  “Sir Edmund would not rather have his eyes bored out by a sharp stick, than marry the Countess,” I reported. “Or have his entrails ripped out with a fork, or—a whole lot of equally awful things. Although, according to the gaps, some of what he’s saying is true.”

  “True or not, he’s getting his point across,” Miles said.

  “But to whom?” I wondered.

  “Everyone within earshot,” Miles replied, as we reached the door. He swung it open, and we stepped inside.

  Sir Edmund stood on the orchestra platform, facing no one in particular. The Countess sat at a round table nearby, daintily eating some sort of sugary finger food that looked almost good enough to warrant calling the dog back into active service. That, and Countess Grieve’s serene expression, didn’t exactly fit the black mourning attire she wore. Her dress, gloves, and veil, were surprisingly well matched. The only thing about the outfit that was particularly odd, was that she wore it to a ball.

  “What’s more,” Sir Edmund paused for a much needed breath, as all the fancy-dressed guests in the packed ballroom looked on with interest. “I should rather be penniless on the street, with nothing but rags and a dry crust. I should prefer to die alone, than to be with this woman, who most likely hasn’t a clue what I’ve said. Otherwise, I do apologize Ava, though I sincerely doubt you care one way or another, regardless. Be that as it may, I should prefer to die alone than to be with this woman, or any woman, other than Miss Ashley Fairgrave. Please forgive me for giving you reason to feel otherwise, Ash. I never meant to hurt you, but from now on, I intend never to put anyone else above you. Including myself.”

  Ashley’s eyes were troubled, as she looked back at him. I felt troubled, myself. It was a beginning, but it would take more than that to ensure a happy ending. On the outside looking in, it was easy for me to remember that. But would she?

  Sir Edmund kept his gaze locked on Ashley’s as he stepped off the platform. The troubled look in her eyes deepened, and the murmur of conversation slowly filled the room, as he took another step closer.

  There was a tremendous bang, and several guests jumped in surprise, as the ballroom door hit the wall. A burly guy stood there, eagerly searching the faces of those nearby. It was no easy task, since many of them opted to wear masks. It was, after all, a masquerade ball.

  With a shriek of excitement, the Countess leaped to her feet. As every head in the room swiveled in her direction, she tore aside her mourning veil, raised her arm, and shouted something. Her Scottish brogue was so thick, all I knew was that she was telling the truth.

  The guy in the doorway shouted back with an accent just as heavy, and wasted no time in racing to meet her. It was up to those in his path to make way. Most of them did, without first playing the part of a bowling pin.

  The guy reached the Countess, scooped her up, and spun her around. They both talked and laughed rapidly, and it wasn’t very satisfying to know only that whatever they said, it was the truth!

  He held her back and looked at her costume, and she laughed some more. She rolled her eyes as she responded, then amid several shocked gasps on the part of those around them, she tore off her dress. Much to everyone’s surprise and relief, she had another underneath. It was white.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Is… did you understand any of that?”

  “Enough to know this is Geoff, Countess Grieve’s actual fiancé,” Miles replied.

  “Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, as this new piece completed the puzzle. “It’s her twenty-fifth birthday! It must be!”

  “It would explain why he wished her a happy one,” Miles replied.

  “So all alon
g, all of this was an act to throw off Delacroix,” I understood. “That was actually really smart!”

  “What better way to do it, than to appear entirely clueless and incapable of resistance,” Miles agreed.

  “Wow. So this is one more thing he didn’t count on!” I laughed. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “If he’s here, I don’t see him,” Miles answered.

  I suddenly remembered Ashley and Sir Edmund, and hurried to locate them. He was easy to spot, considering he was frozen in the same place as when Geoff made his dramatic entrance. Sir Edmund appeared utterly dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events. I looked around some more and found Ashley, on her way to the door. I tugged on Miles’ arm, and led the way to intercept her.

  “Ashley!” I said, and she paused. “How are you?”

  “A bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” she answered, and that was the truth.

  “That’s understandable,” I sympathized. “So… what’s the plan, now?”

  “I shall turn in my keys to Lady Carlisle,” Ashley said with resolve. “I’ve no intentions of changing the plans I’ve made. My priorities are the same.”

  “We need to speak with Lady Carlisle ourselves,” Miles interjected. “Do you know where we might find her?”

  “I’m quite certain she’s in her office, seeing the donations are transferred from the Carlisle charity account, to that of the hospital. I shall be there myself in a minute or two. I’ll be glad to show you the way, if you like.”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Miles declined. “We know the way.”

  “I guess we’ll see you there?” I asked.

  “I should like that,” Ashley answered. “It will most likely be the last we see of one another, as I intend to leave directly after.”

  I wondered where to, since the ferry wouldn’t run until the next day, but she was telling the truth.

  “Okay, well no leaving without saying goodbye,” I ordered, and she smiled.

  “Very well, then. I’ll not be long,” Ashley said.

  She left the ballroom as the orchestra dared to resume playing, and Miles and I joined the comatose Sir Edmund.

  “I take it you weren’t expecting that,” Miles remarked matter-of-factly enough, but there was laughter in his eyes.