Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?
—Jeremiah 17:9, ESV
S eated at a small round garden table amid her aunt's well-tended roses and hollyhocks, Veronica attempted to unwind from the Great Chase of Roosevelt. But the nagging need to ask Edward about his sisters' sordid, wicked accusation quite kept her from enjoying the Oysters Rockefeller, salad greens with vinaigrette, asparagus, and roast beef Hattie had prepared for them.
Finally, she said, "I'm curious about how well you know Mirabel. She seemed like a nice girl, perhaps someone I could trust as a friend in New York."
Edward nodded before drinking some of his strawberry lemonade. "Our families go way back."
"I'm sure you must know her quite well, then. I noticed her dancing with Rupert at the ball…" She cocked her head and managed to look at him as she awaited his response.
Edward shot her a quick glance, then pushed his salad greens around. "She has seemed trustworthy for as long as we have known her. Her family has a summer retreat neighboring ours. We all grew up together."
That meant Edward might be closer to Mirabel than he let on. It only compounded her worries.
When she didn't respond, he added, "I sure have missed you these past few days, and I'm looking forward to spending time with you at the Cleave ball."
He peeked at Aunt Mae. To see if she approved? Her aunt didn't bat an eyelash.
"So am I." Not knowing for certain where Edward stood with this Mirabel—alleged friend of the family—she refused to sound mushy about spending time with him. What if she had completely missed a flaw in his character? "My ball gown is ready. Are you ready, Aunt Mae?"
"I believe I am." Aunt Mae reached for the decanter of vinaigrette and drizzled some onto her salad.
Her aunt had imparted nearly every detail about her luncheon with her friend, and thankfully, Mrs. Cleave had taken their story about the day's events in stride, even chuckling about it. Veronica hated to think what might have happened to her aunt's friendship with Mrs. Cleave if Veronica had lost the furry companion. She had enough to deal with where Mirabel was concerned.
Aunt Mae leaned forward, excitement in her eyes. "Wait until you see all of the flowers Evangeline plans to use as summer décor for the event."
Veronica drooped as the conversation moved away from her targeted topic.
Edward paused his fork in midair. "Are you sure you're feeling all right, Veronica? You don't seem your usual self."
She could hardly obtain further information about him and Mirabel in the presence of her aunt, so she attempted to put him at ease for the time being. "I'm just a little homesick. Nothing a good night's rest won't remedy."
Tomorrow she would try again.
T he next evening, Edward arrived to ride with Veronica and Aunt Mae to the ball.
"I'm sorely tempted to have you drive us in your Merry Oldsmobile." Aunt Mae rather wistfully surveyed the shiny red automobile through her lorgnettes as they pulled away in the carriage. "But appearing at my dear friend's ball in a carriage seems more dignified."
"I agree, but I am enjoying driving about in it until James returns." Edward checked a cufflink on his dinner jacket. Turning to Veronica at his side, he said, "You look lovely in peach silk, darling. It's beautiful with your dark hair."
"Thank you, Edward. My mother says peach is my color." And indeed, Aunt Mae had paid a great deal for the gown, with its elaborate cream lace and gold satin motifs. Veronica waved a small lace fan with a pearl handle in the stifling July heat as the carriage turned onto Fifth Avenue. "You're looking handsome yourself. I will have to fight away the ladies who want to dance with you."
Would he dance with Mirabel this evening? Then again, one dance would really not give grounds for her drawing a conclusion to the matter of his fidelity.
Inside the Cleave ballroom, guests climbed a wide set of plush carpeted steps on an impressive mahogany staircase to a spacious second-floor ballroom. Mrs. Cleave had outdone herself, decorating the opulent space with fragrant rose-covered arches, potted ferns and rose shrubs, and vases of roses adorning corners and tables in every direction. The French doors thrown wide open to the balcony and all of the arched windows open let cool air circulate among guests while waiters offered fancy hors d'oeuvres on silver platters. Guests feasted on caviar, oysters, clams, stuffed mushroom caps, and salmon croquettes. But with Veronica's world falling apart before her very eyes, she had little appetite.
Their hosts welcomed guests in a long reception line. Shortly thereafter, Edward escorted Veronica to her seat in the dining room, then he went in search of his assigned seat. The elegant dinner included a menu that ordinarily would have seemed like a treat. It began with turtle soup, followed by lamb with mint sauce or broiled teal duck. Another course of red raspberry ice was followed by pickled tomatoes, lobster, and currant jelly. Then came lady fingers or custard pie. Brie and water crackers with coffee completed the supper before dancing. Veronica could only eat a few bites of each course.
Thankfully, Edward didn't look around for Mirabel at all, seated at some other table behind him. But his conversation with Aunt Mae and the elderly gentleman seated to Veronica's left who regaled her with stories from his days as a colonel leading a regiment in the "War of the Rebellion" prevented her from making any progress with her investigation.
As the evening commenced, between her dances with Edward, she kept a steady eye on Mirabel and Edward. But Edward did not dance with Mirabel a single time. In fact, they barely exchanged more than a nod—though, of course, that would be the case if they were trying to hide their affair.
Veronica accepted only a few dances with any of the gentlemen who flocked to her side, saying her aunt needed her, which was partly true. Aunt Mae sat nearby, and after all she'd done for her, Veronica felt obligated to stay close. Edward didn't dance with any other ladies, either, preferring to speak to her or his friends between dances with her.
Halfway through the evening, a gentleman Veronica did not know led Mirabel off the dance floor and to a vacant chair next to Veronica. Mirabel fluttered her fan before her flushed face. "May I join you, Miss Lyndon?"
"O-of course." Veronica sat straighter and tugged her skirt away from the chair Mirabel sank down onto. Uncomfortable as it might be, this could be her opportunity.
Mirabel thanked her escort for the dance before turning to Veronica. "I'm so fascinated by Kentucky. I would love to visit sometime and have always admired thoroughbred racing."
"Is that so?" This she had not expected.
Mirabel nodded, her curls bouncing. "I assume you know Edward's mother despises horseracing and gambling, but it doesn't bother my family in the least. It's why you will seldom see Edward or Rupert seated at a gambling table in their mother's presence. Their mother won't stand for it, but I do know Mr. Beckett, their father, sometimes takes them to Pimlico. My father takes us there for the races annually. My mother and I look forward to it every year."
"Actually, I didn't know Edward's mother despised horseracing and gambling." This news could potentially explain why Gloria Beckett had never sent her and Aunt Mae a dinner invitation, though she tried to give Edward's mother the benefit of the doubt.
"Oh yes, she can't abide it. I do hope she is kind to you in spite of her aversion to it. My mother says to ignore her when she gets a bee up her bonnet." Mirabel looked genuinely sincere rather than smug as she shared her knowledge.
"Thank you for letting me know." Things began to make a little more sense now. Perhaps Edward's sisters felt the same way.
But then again, what if Mirabel only told her these things to scare her away from Edward and his family? What if they weren't even true?
Once Mirabel excused herself, Veronica simply had to find the balcony to cool down and collect her thoughts. Perhaps she should locate Edward. Where had he gone? Ah, speaking with Rupert and some other gentlemen about the revolution of motor carriages a few feet away.
After she stepped into the cooler air on the balcony, she stood between two enormous potted palms and behind a wall of rose bushes to fan herself. A few moments later, to her left, she spotted Mirabel looking for someone. From the right, Edward approached her.
And that was how Veronica ended up crouching behind the wall of roses with several palm branches in her face. Perhaps she could overhear a discussion between the two and discover the truth once and for all. She braced herself for the worst.
"Hello there, Edward. Are you enjoying the evening?" Mirabel inquired as the pair met on the other side of the shrubs.
"Yes, thank you. Have you seen Veronica anywhere?" Edward inquired.
A pang of guilt at hiding from him stabbed her somewhere around her breastbone, but she had to know the truth.
"Not since a few dances ago. Have you seen Rupert?" Mirabel asked. "I wanted to…" Whatever she said became muffled. "…give him this note for me."
What was going on? Veronica peeked over the wall of roses…and came face to face with a pair of bumblebees. They flitted from one rose petal to another, inches from her nose.
Oh no! No, no, no. Not bees!
Her lips parted as terror took hold of her. She had to escape. But then Mirabel tucked a folded note into Edward's hand, and he placed it in his wallet with a nod. Veronica sucked in a sharp breath.
Unfortunately, that delivered a strong waft of the fragrance of roses, and the sensation of someone tickling Veronica's nose resulted in a loud, "Achoo!"
And that was how she landed on her bottom and, a moment later, found herself looking up directly into Edward's face. Her cheeks heated with a deep blush.
"Veronica?" Edward blinked and his brows furrowed.
"Hello, Edward." Veronica smiled up at him as Mirabel leaned over the wall of peach and pink flowers to peer down at her. Veronica tried to appear natural and opened her fan again. At least she no longer teetered on her heels.
"Hello, Veronica. What are you doing down there?" Mirabel whispered with amusement in her voice. "Are you hiding? Oh yes, I know. You are hiding from Colonel Deering. You are such fun! I must think of a better hiding place for you."
"Colonel Deering?" Veronica didn't know any Colonel Deering. Then she remembered her dinner companion and nodded profusely. "Oh yes…yes, I am hiding from the colonel."
Mirabel laughed sweetly. "I saw him giving you a rendition of the war. I've had to sit beside him before. He's a perfectly nice gentleman, but it can be a tad boring to listen to him go on about military maneuvers."
Consternation plagued Veronica. Mirabel struck her as a perfectly innocent and pure girl who might turn out to be a good friend. But why were she and Edward both on the balcony? Had Mirabel passed a message to Rupert through Edward? Or was the note meant for Edward himself?
The bees distracted her as they chased each other, landing on a peach rose mere inches away, so close she could feel herself turning blue.
"And here I am again, doing a poor job of defending you from unwanted circumstances." Edward hurried around the rose wall and extended a hand. "May I help you up? I don't know how you keep ending up on the floor, but I digress—it is entirely my fault. Please forgive my inattentiveness, but I confess I had hoped to find you out here."
"It is nice here with a view of the rear gardens and all of the romantic couples below strolling hand in hand." Mirabel sighed, a dreamy look on her face. "Much cooler than indoors, though we should probably return before the next waltz begins. I had hoped to dance with Rupert at least one more time."
Veronica couldn't take her eyes off the two bumblebees buzzing from rose to rose, circulating almost in time with the notes of the waltz pouring out of the French doors. She clasped Edward's hand and maneuvered away from the bees as she struggled to her feet. She was just about to straighten and release a sigh of relief when one of the insects landed on her cheek. She froze, her heart skipping a beat.
A stinger sunk into her skin, and she let out as ladylike a scream as possible while tears filled her eyes.