CHAPTER TWELVE

Alistair and the three younger Carltons return the next evening. They all wear flushed faces and grins that proclaim the enjoyment of their brief excursion. Lucas is more animated and alive than I've seen him, more so even than when he showed me his photograph collection. Despite my suspicion of Alistair, a part of me can't help but be grateful for Lucas's sake. The boy needs experiences that aren't viewed from under his mother's wing.

Unfortunately, that wing circles him protectively the instant he returns. His smile fades, but only slightly. I hope that's a sign that he's learned he isn't stuck with her his whole life.

Oliver and Alistair laugh and joke like twins. The swagger and cheeky smiles of each young man show a similar spirit. They immediately launch into tales of their exploits in Madrid, some of which I hope are exaggerated.

Eliza seems flushed with a similar joy, and occasionally intervenes to inform us all that many of these tales are indeed exaggerated.

"Oh, cousin, why must you crush my spirit with each word that leaves your lovely lips?"

"Oh, Alistair, why must you lie compulsively?" she counters. "The girl was decidedly uninterested in our poor cousin."

"That one, yes," he admits, "but who can blame me? With such a creature as yourself before me, how could I have eyes for anyone else?"

He smiles rakishly, but his eyes show a longing as he says that. I see no violence or possessiveness in that longing, but I can't help but wonder if his attraction to Eliza might be strong enough to become something sinister.

Could he have felt such an attraction for Minnie? I've assumed that if he killed her, it was to avenge Oliver's broken heart or protect him from ruining his own life, but now I wonder if he fancied her and was angry that she preferred Oliver.

Eliza smiles at Alistair, and it's clear that she knows of her cousin's interest in her. It's equally clear that she tolerates it to a point, but not nearly so far a point as Alistair would hope.

"At least one of us found love overseas," Oliver interjects. "Lucas, tell them about the lovely young lady you met on the dance floor."

Lucas blushes red as a cherry and shakes his head.

"Just show them the mark on your neck," Eliza says, reaching over and pulling down his collar. "I'm sure some of her lipstick is still there."

Lucas flinches away, and Alistair comes to his rescue. "Oh, come now, you two. Allow our young man his privacy. A gentleman should never kiss and tell. Unless, of course, he's telling other gentlemen to show them how much luckier he has it. But since we're in mixed company, we'll allow Lucas a fond memory without forcing him to reveal it."

Veronica manages a smile, but it's clear that she's unhappy to hear that Alistair has indeed allowed Lucas a dalliance with a strange foreign girl. Alistair notices that look and quickly adds, "In any case, it was only a kiss. Lucas returns as pure of heart as always and remains faithful to Tilly. Though perhaps we shouldn't tell Miss Fairfax about that particular dance."

"I think that would be wise," Veronica says, relaxing.

"Well, I hope you've all gotten it out of your system," Sebastian says, "because tomorrow, it's back to normal life."

"Speaking of," Veronica says, "Dr. Chalmers came to visit yesterday."

Eliza blanches. "Oh?"

"Yes. I got the impression that he wasn't entirely aware of the circumstances of your leaving."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. Veronica was gone when I let that particular cat out of the bag. Did Dr. Chalmers call her? Or does she just know Eliza well enough to know she wouldn't be honest with her employer?

"Well, if Rupert has a problem with how I spend my free time, he can talk to me about it," Eliza says curtly.

Color has returned to her cheeks, enough that Alistair points it out. "Lovers' quarrel, cousin?"

"Shut up," she hisses with shocking venom.

"She does prefer to call him by his first name," Oliver says.

"Yes, that's how adults speak to each other," Eliza snaps.

"Though it's hardly appropriate coming from a secretary to her employer," Veronica mentions.

"He's what, twenty years older than you?" Alistair says.

Eliza's lower lip trembles. She turns and abruptly stalks from the room.

The mood sours immediately, not surprisingly. Sebastian has withdrawn into disinterest once more. Lucas's grin is gone, and his shoulders are slumped. Oliver chuckles bitterly and shakes his head. Veronica wears an oddly triumphant smirk. Even Alistair seems subdued.

Finally, he says, "Well, I suppose I'll have to apologize to her. I'll wait until tomorrow, though. I don't think I'd survive what she did to me if I talked to her again tonight."

Conversation resumes, but it's clear the life has been stolen from the room. I excuse myself next, pleading fatigue.

"Nonsense!" Alistair calls after me. "I don't believe it! Behind that proper exterior lies a wildcat, I know it."

I smile at him. "Perhaps one day you'll meet her."

His eyes widen. "Ooh, is that a threat, Miss Mary?"

"It's a promise."

On the surface, it appears I'm only flirting playfully, and the family reacts accordingly, laughing and teasing. Veronica lifts an eyebrow at me and says, "Why, Mary! I would never have guessed you'd have such a saucy side!"

Something flashes across Alistair's eyes. He sees beneath the surface and knows that I referred to a very different sort of wildcat than the one to which he alluded. I hold his gaze a moment, then say, "Good night, Alistair."

"Good night, Mary." He recovers from his momentary fear and flashes another of his rakish smiles. As I walk out of the room, he says, "Hey, does anyone have any pictures of her from when she was younger?"

"Alistair!" Veronica cries.

The door closes behind me, and I don't hear the rest. I really am tired, and while I wonder why Eliza reacted so strongly to the teasing about the handsome village doctor, I would rather wait until the morning to dig into that mystery any further. Besides, it's probably best I save my prying for when Sebastian isn't home.

I start upstairs, but when I hear crying, I pause. I follow the sound back down the stairs to the drawing room behind the parlor.

Eliza sits in one of the upholstered chairs with her face buried in her hands. She looks up when I enter and straightens, wiping her hand across her eyes. "I must have embarrassed myself horridly out there," she says.

"Hardly," I reply. "Between you and me, your cousin is a cad."

She laughs. "He is, isn't he." She sighs. "Sometimes I think I should just give him what he wants, at least for a year or two. Maybe I'd enjoy just throwing caution to the wind and living a life of adventure for a while. It's not like he'd maintain any sort of interest longer than that."

"You're not attracted to him, are you?"

She bursts into laughter. "Oh God! Oh, if he could see the horror on your face!" She shakes her head. "No. No, I'm not attracted to him. But it's quite easy for a woman to fake attraction if she must. Men don't know the difference."

"You can do better than him," I assure her.

"I can. I have. I will. But I don't think it matters. All men are like Alistair. They might dress better and talk smoother, but when you strip everything away, all men are just wolves hunting for prey. They catch you and devour you, then they shit you out and move on to the next doe."

The viciousness of that sentiment silences me for a moment. When I recover, I say, "Your love life is none of my business, Eliza. But a man who would use you and then discard you as though you were worthless is not worth your time. No matter who he is to you."

She looks away. "Oliver's the same, you know."

The change in subject is jarring, but it's nothing I'm not used to from this family by now. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's like all men. He slept with three different girls in two days in Madrid."

"Oh, goodness!" I exclaim, unable to help myself.

"Yes. Three different girls." She shakes her head. "They seemed to enjoy themselves, so I suppose there's that."

"Did Lucas…" I can't bear to finish the question.

She chuckles. "No. No, don't worry. Lucas would probably have scored one had Alistair not swooped in to save him. Oddly enough, Alistair is quite responsible when it comes to Lucas. Though I suppose it's not so odd that he would be careful with Mother's favorite. He wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds him. But don't fret. As Alistair said, Lucas is as pure of heart and mind as he was when he left. But his day will come. Later due to Mother's stifling, but eventually, all men succumb. I tried to warn Minnie."

"About Lucas?"

"No, about Oliver. Oliver was no different with her than he is now. He claimed to love her, claimed she was the only one, acted all devastated when she cheated, meanwhile he and his mates were out prowling the bars all over the Cotswolds. Not that I'm excusing Minnie for cheating. She was as much an utter fool as he was." She shook her head. "I warned Oliver too. But no one listens to me."

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You've said that already."

"I'm still sorry."

She looks me up and down a moment before turning away again. "Don't be. I'm through punishing myself for the fact that people don't bloody listen to me. I told her to leave Oliver alone. I told her to leave—"

She catches herself, but her trembling lips betray the grief threatening to overcome her again. "I left her. The night she died, I left her."

My heartbeat quickens. I fight to keep my tone calm when I ask, "What do you mean?"

"I left her," she snaps. "It's not hard to figure out the meaning. She and I fought. I told her to leave my brother alone because they would only break each other's hearts again. She called me a meddling whore and accused me of… well, I won't repeat it, but it was enough that I said, ‘Fine. Go get yourself hurt for all I care.' I was supposed to walk her home, but I didn't. She left by herself, and she was never seen again."

She stands abruptly. "Maybe you'll take my advice. Don't get close to us. Don't get involved in our lives. We're very badly broken, all of us. Even Lucas, poor boy. Just teach him his maths and his reading and his science, and at the end of the year, collect your paycheck. Be polite if you must. Join us for dinner, and at the end, embrace us all tearfully and promise to write and visit."

She meets my eyes. "But don't. Don't write, don't visit. Escape and leave us to our own warped devices. If Minnie had done that, she might still be alive."

She leaves the room without waiting for a response. I remain, wondering if what I've just heard is an emotional warning or a direct threat. What it is, unquestionably, is good advice.

Unfortunately, I haven't been good at following advice for nearly thirty years.