“Go get her some more before she digs her nails in the wallpaper,” Mrs. Dillsworth cried. “Mr. Knightly just replaced it all. Go on. I'll keep her locked up until you return. Please make it quick.”
No sooner had Cora left, that the fateful thing happened. Mrs. Dillsworth turned on the stairs to answer the screams of her deranged mistress. She didn't have time to mind where her foot fell on the stair. Lavinia's heart leaped listening to it all. She stumbled from her room and found Mrs. Dillsworth lying helpless on the tile below.
“Kitty!” Lavinia screamed. “Are you hurt?” Mrs. Dillsworth laid still as the grave. Lavinia tried to heave her to her feet, but Mrs. Dillsworth sobbed in pain.
“What's happened?” Lavinia asked frantically. “Can you walk?”
“I can't feel much of my legs. I think I've shattered something,” Mrs. Dillsworth panted.
“Here's a chair, Kitty. I'll pull you over. When Mr. Saier returns, we'll send for the doctor,” Lavinia assured her. She pulled the old woman against her chest as she dragged her toward the chair. She gasped when her cream dress stained red. “Kitty, where is all this coming from?” She traced the blood trail back to the sharp marble corner of the bottom stair. She dropped Mrs. Dillsworth again, petrified by the sight of it. Nothing prepared her for this.
“What do I do?” she cried. “What do you need, Kitty? Tell me what to do!”
“There's nothing we can do for it now, miss,” Mrs. Dillsworth whispered. “Let's sit here and rest a while. I'm sure Mr. Saier will return shortly and all will be well. I'll be up and running tonight with an exceptional blueberry pie in the oven. Just you wait, my dear.”
Lavinia nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, of course,” she wailed, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Don't you worry about me. This old bat can take a beating after all these years. I've done much worse.”
“Can I make you more comfortable?” Lavinia asked.
“Yes, will you please inform my husband, George, of the hospital I will stay in? He'll get awfully worried if I don't call tonight. He stays in Concord, Massachusetts.”
“Have you any children to visit you?” Lavinia asked.
“No, ma'am. My Ava died before she could walk,” Mrs. Dillsworth said. “But she's always with me, as the sweet Lord is. I have nothing to fear tonight.”
“Is there anyone else you'd like me to call?”
“No, miss. Mr. Saier is the last person I would call family. I've no one else.”
“I'll get you some tea. It should sooth the pain,” Lavinia offered, hurrying for the kitchen.
“Wait, miss,” Mrs. Dillsworth clenched Lavinia's sleeve. Lavinia shuddered at how cold her hands were.
“There's something else I'd like you to see to for me. It is very dear to my heart.”
“Of course. Anything, ma'am,” Lavinia sobbed. “Anything to make you comfortable, Kitty.”
“Take care of Miss Hathaway.”
“Miss Hathaway is good to us. She will be treated with the utmost care and affection,” Lavinia assured her.
“You don't understand.” Mrs. Dillsworth struggled to stay awake. “She's everything to this house. Do not hate or blame her for what's happened. Do treasure and love her, for she is our own Mrs. Saier come back to us.”
Lavinia stared at her. Certainly the old woman was slipping into a world beyond. “Can you see Mrs. Saier?” Lavinia played along. “Is she beckoning you into the afterlife?”
“She doesn't want to be found out. I went to great lengths to hide her face, but I can no longer protect her. She is Mrs. Cora Saier, whom we thought dead a year ago. I pity you, miss. I know it will be hard for you to accept, but I also know your heart. By telling you this, I know you will protect her for she is your dear friend. Promise me you'll take care of her. She was a good mistress to me. I only wish that you return the gratitude.”
“You're telling me Cora Saier is alive?” Lavinia questioned.
“Miss Hathaway is my mistress,” Mrs. Dillsworth managed to get out. “Please...please care for her as I warmly as I have.”
“I will,” Lavinia replied. “I assure you, ma'am, she will be treated as she deserves.”
Mrs. Dillsworth smiled with great effort. “You are most gracious, miss. Now, I will take that tea, if you don't mind.”
“Of course,” Lavinia answered. She left her there on the floor and did not hurry back. She stood staring out to sea as her world crumbled. When she finally found the strength to return, Mrs. Dillsworth had fallen asleep with her head against the staircase. The blood had stopped rushing. The woman was dead.
* * *
To say she thought of murder was an understatement. Kitty's body was removed from the house. Lavinia appreciated the coroner's swift, clean work. He left it as if Kitty Dillsworth never existed. That's how Lavinia wanted it. Murder wasn't enough for Cora Saier. Lavinia didn't entirely practice what she'd say to her, only what she would do. Cora came in with the smelling salts, but by that time, no method would tame Lavinia's madness. The house echoed with it. Cora must have sensed it, for she stopped short in the hall.
“Miss Appleby?” she called. “Mrs. Dillsworth?”
“You don't belong here, girl,” Lavinia appeared in the hall. “This is my house now.”
Cora couldn't move. There was such a diabolical darkness in Lavinia's eyes that froze her in place. “Miss Appleby, you're not well,” she said.
“You're such a fine servant. So kind. So obedient. So meek,” Lavinia said. “Who'd have suspected the selfish, sinister lie beneath the surface? How long would you have kept it up, Cora Harlow? Until we could do nothing but trust you? Until you stole back all your fine things? Until you invited him back into your bed?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Cora answered.
“Of course you know what I'm talking about!” Lavinia shrieked. “This is my house! These are my things! He is mine and I will send you back to Hell before I give him up!”
“Where is Mrs. Dillsworth?”
“She can't help you where she is now,” Lavinia hissed. “No one's here to protect you, little Cora.”
“There's been a misunderstanding,” Cora said. “If you will let me explain-”
“Remove your spectacles,” Lavinia persisted. “I said take them off!” Cora gingerly slid them off her nose. Lavinia ripped the red curls away. Cora's hair fell in a soft river over her shoulder. All doubt removed, the rage subsided into desperation. “This can't be happening,” Lavinia wailed, trying to keep up with her pounding heart. “You can't be alive. Tomorrow is my wedding day. This isn't fair. I'd do anything for him. But any hope of him loving me now...” She turned away in tears.
Cora didn't know whether to run or comfort her. “He can still love you,” Cora told her. “I did not come for your husband. I'm here for the bastard who killed me. I've become quite the expert of him. I know what art he's stolen and put in his gallery. I know what restaurant he frequents. I know where he sleeps. I know on Sundays he wastes himself in whiskey and forgets to lock the door behind him. I know exactly how I will take my revenge. Excuse me from your house and I will return to Hell myself. You won't know me again.”
“You're not going anywhere,” Lavinia swore. The rage darkened her eyes again. “I'll see to it you never set foot outside this house. As long as you're here, I can assure myself you'll never go near my husband.”
“You mean to keep me prisoner?” Cora questioned.
“Yes,” Lavinia convinced herself. “I mean precisely that.”
“You're a few sandwiches short of a picnic,” Cora answered. “I'll pack my things.”
“Didn't you hear me, Cora?” Lavinia cried. “I am your mistress now, and I say you will not leave this house.” Ioan's pistol trembled in her hands.
“Put it down, Lavinia.”
“I will shoot.”
“Are you going to kill me then?”
“I don't know!” Lavinia cried.
“It's no use. I'm alr
eady dead,” Cora said. “I've nothing to loose. You can only hurt yourself. Let's settle this as ladies.”
“I can't let you live,” Lavinia sobbed. “You will take everything I've worked so hard for.”
“I don't want it! All I ask is that you see reason and get a hold of yourself,” Cora demanded. “You can get rid of me without sacrificing your conscience. All I have to do is turn and walk out the door.”
“He'll come looking for you. I know it,” Lavinia swore. “You'll take everything when he does. I have to make sure he doesn't.”
“Lavinia, please, don't throw your life away like this.”
“Shut up!” Lavinia ordered. “I want to pull this trigger, but I must stop myself and think of my reputation. Don't make me change my mind.” She looked around desperately. Ioan had not returned from sea, but it was only a matter of time. Time pressured her for a decision. She seized Cora's arm, pushing her along with the pistol. “Go. Do exactly as I say. Do not stop until I tell you. Move!”
Chapter 23
“Lavinia tells me Miss Hathaway abandoned us,” Ioan said. “Quit shortly after Mrs. Dillsworth fell dead. Did you see the exchange?”
“No, sir. I was out. It is most unfortunate that Kitty left us so suddenly,” Mr. Knightly lamented. “A shame still that Miss Hathaway blamed herself.”
“An illegitimate reason to break her commitment,” Ioan disagreed. “People die every day. It's inevitable that we can't change it. Why should Miss Hathaway be excused when the rest of us must endure? No doubt she used the defense to break her employment contract. Contact Mr. Spruce immediately. I want her found. She will return every penny or see swift justice.”
“I'm sure he would reply that her salary is hardly worth the effort,” Mr. Knightly pointed out.
“It doesn't matter,” Ioan said. “It's not why I pay him.”
“Why does it bother you, sir? It's a small sum. It's not even a pin prick in your fortune,” Mr. Knightly asked.
“My pistol is moved,” Ioan said. “It's missing from the drawer in my study. One does start to ask questions.”
“You suppose Miss Hathaway stole it?” Mr. Knightly asked.
“Something is amiss,” Ioan said. “Find that woman. I want every note, every record, every spec of evidence surrounding her name. I want to know who she is, exactly where she came from, and where she might be going.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Knightly said, leaving him.
Ioan looked himself over in the mirror. He looked right for the part. No groom could afford a fancier suit. It was custom made and fitted for him, but perhaps he lost weight. Somehow, it didn't feel right. Something felt terribly wrong.
“This is unheard of!” Lavinia protested to Mr. Knightly. “I shouldn't be the first one in this church. He should be here waiting on me. Why isn't he here?”
“Mr. Saier had a small matter come up which needed his attention,” Mr. Knightly continued. “He will arrive shortly.”
“Does he know we are scheduled to be man and wife in half an hour?” Lavinia questioned. “What matter is more important than that?”
“Come now, Lavinia, give the man some air,” her sister pulled her away. “You have Mr. Saier right where you want him. What's an hour more? Mind your tone.”
“What am I to tell the guests?” Lavinia cried. “Look at Mr. Kinsley. He's looking at the clock again. And dinner. What do I do about dinner if it's frigid?”
“You'll ruin your face if you keep up like this?” her sister warned. “You keep the guests entertained and I'll inform the chefs of the schedule change. Start with that fellow. He's smiling. Apparently, he's having a very good time.”
Lavinia turned to Gianni waiting at the back row of the church. She marched over to him. “Mr. Antonelli,” she demanded. “May I see your invitation?”
“I understand it is an open invitation,” Gianni told her. “Of course, it would be rude if I didn't show my gratitude.” He hissed something in Italian at the door. Two gallery assistants heaved a painting over. “Rose on the pond,” Gianni introduced. “Painted especially for the happy bride.”
“It's beautiful!” Lavinia's sister gasped.
“What do you say to this one, signora?” Gianni asked.
“Tolerable, not great,” Lavinia sniffed. “Nothing remotely close to Van Goh.”
“Of course not,” Gianni agreed. “His work looks like a child scribbled it and then vomited. My hand is real, detailed, and precise.”
“I suppose it'll do for the guest room,” Lavinia sighed.
Gianni's grin shrunk. “I had hoped it'd hang in your husband's study. Perhaps he will love it so much and decide to invest in my gallery.”
“Why would he ever?”
“He is a charitable man.”
“You're talking about business, Mr. Antonelli,” Lavinia replied. “It's the last thing I want to hear on my wedding day. Why don't you go ask Mr. Saier yourself? I am busy at present.”
“Madam,” Gianni said. “I can not just ask Mr. Ioan Saier to invest in my business. We are not properly introduced.”
“Neither are we. I don't even know how you got in here.”
“Signora, please. My business won't survive.”
“So they've caught onto you, have they?” Lavinia said. “I'm sorry, Mr. Antonelli. I really wish I could help you, but I don't see the benefit.”
“Perhaps the signora and I might reach an agreement in exchange for her husband's favor,” Gianni persisted.
“Of what sort?”
“Whatever the signora desires.”
“Come now, Mr. Antonelli,” Lavinia giggled, guiding him away from earshot. “The last thing you want people to know is that you're desperate.”
“These are difficult times, signora.”
“And what could you possibly give me that I won't already have after tonight?” she asked.
“Nothing material yet, but if you convince your husband to invest, I will name my gallery in your honor.”
“I don't care about your tasteless collection. Why would I give it my name?” Lavinia laughed.
“I will grace you with the most exquisite scenes for your morning room, and admit you and yours to my gallery free of charge,” Gianni offered.
“No, I don't suppose I'll visit it either.”
“You must take something,” Gianni pleaded.
“I have it on great authority that you're a man to be feared, Mr. Antonelli,” she commented.
“Someone has greatly misunderstood my character,” Gianni defended. “Where did you hear that opinion?”
“From my servant,” Lavinia replied. “Or shall I say, former servant. She has recently left us.”
Gianni laughed. “A servant, signora. You mean to make a fool of me? Gianni Antonelli does not converse with servants.”
“You've got some kind of nerve, you sly dog,” Lavinia lowered her voice. “What man but a mad one murders another man's wife and shows up later begging for his investment.”
“I don't understand, signora. You must have me confused-”
“You understand perfectly,” Lavinia persisted. “You murdered Mrs. Saier. Or so you thought.”
Gianni's face hardened. “What is this you talk about?” he cried.
“The little wench worked her way into my house as one of my servants. I swear it was a plot to overthrow me. I'm embarrassed I didn't see it before, but I think it more humiliating that you did such a piss poor job. Now she's my problem.”
“Signora, please,” Gianni said gravely. “It is vital that I find this servant. The matter is of life and death.”
“You're livelihood depends on it,” Lavinia informed him. “The one you built off her ransom money. Then you lost her. Clumsy little man. She'd put you right back in that asylum if she had a chance.”
“Signora, please,” Gianni begged. “Tell me where I can find her.”
“Why should I? You're a murderer. You deserve to be punished.”
“Not just I,” Gianni told her
. “You know this. I see it right through your eyes and it is everything that you fear.”
Lavinia knew she couldn't do it. She did not have the talent to murder. Starvation and dehydration would take too long. Nothing would silence Cora's screams in the walls. If there was one sure way to get rid of Mrs. Saier without blood on her hands, this was her opportunity. It had to happen now, before Mr. Saier returned to the house.
“Do deliver your inferior gift to my guest room,” Lavinia told Gianni stiffly. “I have something waiting for you in the cellar. Be you as humane as possible, for God sees all.”
The quartet wailed a canon, and the guests sighed with relief as the doors opened. All eyes turned anxiously to the wedding party. Ioan was first. He took a deep breath. Mr. Knightly returned just as Ioan started into the church. “Mr. Saier, sir, I have the information you requested,” he called.
“Later, Mr. Knightly,” Ioan answered.
“Sir, you'll want to hear this,” he insisted. “Before anything else.”
“I said not now,” Ioan told him. “What's gotten into you?”
“No record exist of a Miss Alice Hathaway,” Mr. Knightly said. “There is no such person.”
“That's impossible,” Ioan said. “There's been some mistake. Look again.”
“Apparently, there has been some mistake,” Mr. Knightly said gravely. “Mr. Dillsworth came for our dear Kitty's things this morning. He found this in her drawer. It's addressed to you.”
“This was written over a month ago,” Ioan glanced over the date. “It can hardly mean anything now.”
“What is going on out here?” Lavinia hissed. “Mr. Saier, we've started.” Ioan slipped the note into his pocket and marched for the church.
“Mr. Saier, wait,” Mr. Knightly called. “This wedding can't go on.” The church doors shut him out. Ioan joined Lavinia at the hall. They processed down the isle. He glanced around the church frequently, much to Lavinia's anxiety. “Is everything alright, Mr. Saier?” she whispered as the reverend drawled on. “Something just feels quirky,” he said.
Lavinia's stomach sank. “You're not having second thoughts, are you?”
Once We Were Page 21