But if Randolph were alive—truly alive—she would have to live in fear.
Again. It didn’t matter if she were awake or dreaming. She would rather die than live with Randolph. Again.
Ahead, in the trees, there was a quivering light where there should not have been a light. Lucy glanced again over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t gotten turned around, but there was Bliss House rising tall and threatening behind her, its windows glowing warmly as though it were still a safe place. A place where, sometimes, she was happy.
Thank God Michael Searle is away. I will keep him safe.
Yes. Ahead of her was a light where there was supposed to be nothing, and desperation carried her toward it.
Chapter 2
LUCY
Walpurgisnacht 1899
Lucy Searle was breathless, but more from excitement than exertion as she and her best friend, Faye Archer, rode their bicycles up the dark and silent dirt road that led to the woods on the western side of Bliss House. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and no one knew where they were except, perhaps, Josiah Beard, the young physician who was Faye’s beau. Or, as Faye called him, giggling, her lover.
The Searle and Archer families were among twelve families in the county that made up what Selina Searle, Lucy’s mother, called the “first families of the county.” Only three of Virginia’s true first families—the Blands, the Carys, and the Archers—lived in the area. But given the esteem in which Selina Searle held the Archers, she never questioned Lucy’s desire to spend even a few days at a time at Maplewood, her friend’s home. The information that Mister and Missus Archer were in Charlottesville for a few days, visiting friends, had not been shared with Selina. Lucy was desperate to cut the suffocating bonds she had to her parents. Each time she thought she might be free of them, her parents pulled her back, treated her like a child. But tonight she was truly free.
Faye had gone to finishing school in Europe, while Lucy had had to be content to spend eighteen months in Boston society with an aunt who kept a very close eye on her. Not because her parents couldn’t afford to send her to Europe, but because her father, who was also Old Gate’s Episcopal priest, didn’t trust “those damned spoiled continental jackanapes” around his pretty daughter. He had noted, too, that on Faye’s return, she didn’t come as often to church.
Faye had attached a small basket to the handlebars of her new English bicycle, and in it were the two elaborately decorated half-masks that she had sent for from a costumer in Philadelphia: a black-and-silver one for herself, and a white, feathered one for Lucy. Both had matching veils attached so that their faces would be further hidden, and the girls had traded dresses so that they might confuse anyone trying to guess who they were. It was to be a masquerade ball.
Earlier that evening, Faye had pressed a white-and-gold beaded gown into Lucy’s arms. “Nobody is wearing these enormous sleeves in New York anymore, and it’s one of Josiah’s favorites. No one will know you’re not me. Especially not Josiah.” When Faye had first suggested that they might fool Josiah in particular, Lucy had thought it very daring, if a little mean. But as they approached the woods, and she could see hints of light from Bliss House peeking through the trees, her excitement grew. She had waited much of her life to get inside Bliss House, and tonight she would go as a mysterious guest. If it meant that Josiah would be the victim of a little joke, then it would be that much more enjoyable.
When they reached the end of the dirt road, they hid the bicycles among the trees and kept their voices at a whisper despite the absence of any dwelling or people nearby. The house was still a five- or ten-minute walk away.
“Are you sure Josiah said it was tonight?” Lucy, her hands shaking, stayed Faye’s arm as she took the masks from the basket. “What if they don’t let us inside?”
Faye smiled. The moonlight smoothed the already soft features of her face—her apple cheeks and dimpled chin, and generously long eyelashes—and picked up the light in her dark blond hair. Like Lucy’s, it was wound into a loose Grecian braid that sat like a crown on her head. Lucy’s hair was blond but sometimes had a hint of strawberry in it in the strong sunlight, and her eyes were a vibrant heather blue. The veil would hide the fact that her face was more heart-shaped and petite than Faye’s, and her nose rather tipped up at the end. “A sweetheart’s face” was how Faye had described it once, “like a woman on a box of fancy chocolates.” Lucy had never been sure that Faye meant it as a compliment. She had always been jealous of Faye’s combination of blond hair and large, round brown eyes, thinking it very romantic.
“Darling Lucy, don’t worry. One holiday we spent the whole night and most of the next morning at a stranger’s villa in Venice. No one came home with anything worse than a pounding head from all the wine we drank. And we’re here, not a mile from your very own house. What could possibly happen? Of course they’ll let us in. I’m expected, and I’m supposed to bring a guest.”
Lucy felt the warmth of Faye’s lips as she kissed her cheek. “Let’s be sure not to lose each other,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to be there on my own.”
They passed through the trees, grateful for the moonlight guiding their way. When they reached the garden, they put on their masks and hurried around to the front of the house. Lucy took Faye’s hand, as though they were children on some great adventure.
The house glowed with warmth and light. In the twenty years of her life, Lucy had only seen Bliss House at a distance through winter-bare trees. Randolph Bliss was several years younger than her father and had long been a member of her father’s church, which was the largest and oldest church in Old Gate. He had moved to Old Gate from New York and built the house for his wife, Amelia. But after Amelia and his young daughter died, just before Lucy was born, he spent almost two decades away from Bliss House, living up east and traveling in Europe. Since Lucy had returned from Boston a month earlier, she had only seen him twice: once in his private pew at church and once on the street. He had been back in residence at the house for almost a year, but her parents never accepted his invitations. Faye had met Randolph through Josiah, because he and Josiah’s father, Doctor Cyrus Beard, were good friends, but Randolph was still a mystery to Lucy.
Bliss House had been forbidden to her. Edward Searle, her father, had hinted that, since Randolph’s return, he had filled the house with bacchanals and unsavory foreign company, and had enticed many of the locals to sins he deigned too appalling for Lucy’s ears. But nothing about the enormous three-story house of yellow brick that was as pale as mother-of-pearl in the moonlight seemed threatening to Lucy. Its tall windows glowed gold, and strains of music floated from somewhere deep inside. Could there be a more welcoming, more pleasant house? Carrie, her mother’s housemaid, had told Lucy that no one had wanted to work there and caretake it during the years that Mister Bliss had been away, that there were spirits who ran along the galleries that surrounded the hall that would touch you if you were alone and laugh if you ran from them. Lucy didn’t particularly believe in ghosts, and Carrie herself said she didn’t know if the stories were really true.
Tonight I may find out if Carrie was right. Won’t she be surprised when I tell her I’ve been inside?
A smooth-faced young man of about Lucy’s age opened the front door.
“Hello, Terrance.” Faye lifted the hem of her skirt and sailed past him. He returned the greeting with a nod that only Lucy saw.
Despite the fact that she had just entered a place she had wanted to visit since she was a girl, Lucy found herself staring at Terrance. She was certain that they had never met before, but he seemed very familiar. He was taller than either girl, and awkwardly thin, which was why, she suspected, he looked ill at ease in his too-large jacket. His dark brown hair was badly cut. Not only was it oddly short, cropped close to his scalp, but it wasn’t slicked back with hair oil following the fashion of both servants and gentlemen alike. He had large ears and a number of moles on his neck and face, but was otherwise not unpleasant lo
oking. His eyes were as dark as Faye’s, deep set, and held a look of confidence that Lucy didn’t see often in butlers—if that’s what he was. When she realized that he was staring frankly back at her, Lucy blushed and turned away. Why did she have both the sense that he was a foreigner, and that she was supposed to know him?
Looking up, Lucy was immediately overwhelmed with the height of the room and the sparkling chandelier and dome far above their heads. She had been to beautiful homes and public buildings in Boston, Philadelphia, and New York, but she had never seen a sky of stars inside any of them. The music was louder, now that they were inside, and the hall was full of candlelight and the scent of a hundred lilies. The effect left her full of wonder.
“How lovely. Surely nothing is frightening here.”
“What?” Faye turned back to her and laughed. “Why would anyone be afraid here? Surely you don’t believe those silly stories.”
Lucy was surprised to find that she had actually spoken aloud.
“Close your mouth, Lucy. I can see it’s open even through the veil.” Faye pinched her arm. “You look like a rube,” she teased.
Mortified, Lucy closed her mouth.
A few masked people sat quietly in a long, dimly lighted salon to her right, but the dining room to her left was empty. To the rear of the hall were doorways and other rooms, but everything appeared to be happening on the upper floors. A broad staircase with a single landing rose to the second floor, but there didn’t seem to be any way to reach the third floor, whose gallery railings ran, unbroken, all around the great hall. She guessed that the stairway to it was simply hidden from sight. The music was no doubt coming from the ballroom, which Faye had told her was on the topmost floor. The paneled walls were covered with paintings: portraits and fantastic landscapes that made her want to get closer to examine them. But unlike the overstuffed rooms of her mother’s and friends’ houses, the interior of Bliss House felt open and uncluttered. Lucy felt like she could breathe here.
“We should go upstairs.” Faye started toward the staircase, and Lucy hurried to follow.
Though she recognized no one in their elaborate masks, it seemed that the entire population of the county was either loitering in the galleries or in the crowded ballroom. She had the thrilling sense that she had been transported far, far away.
At the far end of the ballroom, there was a small orchestra, and a dozen couples were dancing. On entering the room, Lucy and Faye were given cordial glasses filled with bright green liquid by a veiled woman in a gossamer harem costume. Lucy had wanted to refuse, but it was pressed on her so quickly that she would have had to force the woman to take it back.
Faye slipped her glass beneath her veil and drank the stuff in one long swallow. Lucy followed suit but was unsettled by the bittersweet taste. It was strange to see Faye in Lucy’s own dear emerald velvet-trimmed chiffon dress, and wearing two of Lucy’s rings and favorite jet-and-diamond bracelet. She felt as though she were looking at a ghost of herself.
The ballroom was beautiful. Windowless, but beautiful. Burning wall sconces cast a gentle glow over the crowd, which was flush with dancing and laughter and the heat from the fire blazing in the enormous fireplace. The mostly empty chairs along the walls were red enamel with gold cushions. Her mother would have been horrified, but they looked well with the crimson wallpaper that was covered with oriental motifs: men, with beautiful women in kimonos, pagodas, and blossoming trees. But in the very center of the ceiling hung two large metal circles, like the eyes of giant bolts. Inwardly, Lucy recoiled. They spoiled the civilized effect of the room. How strange they were.
She and Faye weren’t on their own for long.
“Finally, you’re here. Where have you been?”
Josiah Beard didn’t wait for an answer, but nodded quickly to Faye, and took Lucy’s elbow to lead her to the dance floor. Lucy almost told him that he was mistaken, but then she smiled beneath her veil, pleased and a bit excited that their plan had worked so completely.
“I thought you’d never arrive. What took you so long? Did Lucy take too long to dress?”
At the mention of her own name, Lucy felt butterflies in her stomach and wondered if Faye and Josiah often talked about her. But the thought came with a worry that she might hear something about herself that she didn’t like.
How would Faye respond? “Yes. Of course. Silly Lucy.”
As he swept her into a waltz, she noticed a woman whose bare shoulders looked very like her mother’s, but the color of her hair was wrong, and she didn’t recognize the dress. But certainly, either could be easily changed. Wasn’t she herself with a man who thought she was her best friend? As they danced, a flush came over her.
She stole a glance at her partner, who was looking down at her, a happy smile on his lips. He was handsomer than his gray, curmudgeonly father, with chestnut eyes and russet hair that tended to unruliness. He kept it fashionably long about his ears, but wore it only lightly oiled. Where the hair of the servant, Terrance, had simply looked untidy, she thought that the styling of Josiah’s hair showed an admirable independence. A few years older than she and Faye were, he was nearly finished with his studies and would soon join his father’s medical practice. Faye was fortunate. There was no man, yet, who had taken Lucy so firmly in his arms, his hand possessively on her waist. She had danced with Josiah before, but he had never held her just so.
They glided past Faye, who was surrounded by a group of men and was fluttering an old-fashioned fan that Lucy had never seen before against the heat of the room.
“You’re distracted. Are you not well? Are you not glad to see me?”
Lucy regretted the hurt in Josiah’s voice, but quickly looked away. She wasn’t playing her part very well, but Faye had reminded her to not let him see her eyes too closely as they were so different from hers in color.
“It’s warm in here. So many people.”
The number of people had, indeed, seemed to increase since they’d started dancing. Was that the same song that had been playing when she first arrived? This was a waltz, but perhaps a different one. Now she noticed that the faces of some of the other guests were very dark below their half-masks. A dark woman speaking with two men who were not. A dark man dancing with a woman with skin even paler than her own. Was that her cousin, Becky, with the man in the turban and jeweled mask?
While Lucy’s father was quite liberal about people of different races mixing socially, his brother, Becky’s father, was not. But when they danced close to the couple again, she wasn’t sure it was Becky at all.
She looked around for Randolph Bliss. It was his house, his party, and yet he hadn’t greeted them as they arrived in the ballroom. But, of course, he had no wife to act as hostess to mind such things. When she finally saw him, she noticed that he was alone, standing at the edge of the fireplace. He looked relaxed, a half-smile of pleasure on his face below the mask. Lucy admired the elegant cut of his evening clothes; though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he had a substantial presence, an air of self-possession about him. Even with a half-mask on (or perhaps because of it?) he looked much younger than his fifty-something years. Catching her looking at him, he stared back at her and nodded with an appreciative smile. For a moment she forgot who she was and was flattered.
But he doesn’t even know who I am. How fascinating.
She turned her attention back to Josiah. “It is far too crowded in here.”
Before she knew what was happening, Josiah was leading her by the hand, and they were leaving the ballroom. She looked back, for Faye. What would Faye think they were doing?
She protested, almost saying Faye’s name, but caught herself. “Won’t Lucy be worried?”
Josiah laughed.
In the hall, the chandelier shimmered just below them, and people and shadows moved along the lower gallery. They went down the back stairway to the second floor, and as they came out of the dimly lighted hall, she blinked. The gallery was crowded, and as Josiah pulled her along, she lo
oked across the expanse of hall to see that a woman had stripped naked to her waist, the silky satin jacket of her evening suit trailing down over her skirt; a man, his mask pushed back on his head so that it stared at Lucy with blank-eyed menace, was fondling and licking the woman’s breasts. The woman’s own mask—that of the whiskered face of a white rabbit—was still in place, but the sensual movement of her shoulders and the tilt of her head told Lucy that she found pleasure in it. Lucy gasped, but Josiah was pulling her away. When he turned back to her, he didn’t look like himself, but some other man, with sharper features below the half-mask, his mouth firm with intent. But she could not bring herself to pull away from him. Why, if they were out of the ballroom, was she still so beastly warm? She thought of the man at the woman’s breasts, but would not let herself look again.
Josiah stopped at a door at the end of the gallery, and as he tried the knob, she caught their reflections in a window. Was she Faye, or was she herself? She felt strange, yet happy, animated by some welcome enchantment. Her hand felt warm and secure and pulsing with life in Josiah’s.
Did Randolph see us leave? Is he thinking of what Josiah and I were hurrying toward?
Rectangular shafts of moonlight lay on the floor beneath the tall windows and turned jagged as they climbed over the room’s furnishings. She saw a child’s bed and cabinets and shelves lined with dolls: twenty or thirty dolls of all sizes in old-fashioned dresses, glass eyes shining. But not just dolls. Animals as well. Birds and chipmunks. Mice, an opossum, and a small owl. Two dolls and two fur creatures—one a nearly bald squirrel—sat in small chairs around a child’s table that had been set for tea. She strained to get a closer look, but Josiah pulled her along toward one of the windows.
The Abandoned Heart Page 2