A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (28 page)

A woman suddenly appeared from the shadows of the hall, startling him. It was Loretta, of course, the pleasant nurse-maid he’d hired to care for his mother. She came forward and took his hat and coat.

“How is she today?” he asked.

“Much weaker, I’m afraid,” she said. “Your daughter stopped by this morning to see her and that cheered her up quite a bit.”

His daughter Caroline was so full of life and light, she reminded him of his mother. He was glad Caroline took after her grandmother instead of her own mother. His wife, Fannie, was a stern, selfish woman. In these final days of his mother’s life, she was more interested in what Margaret Eversley was going to leave them in her will than she was in comforting her.

He walked down the long hall to the drawing room that overlooked the garden. It was his mother’s favorite room, and many weeks ago he’d arranged to have her bed set up there, as she could no longer climb the stairs. She was eighty-four years old, and in rapidly declining health. Her doctor had told Malcolm it would be a miracle if she lived to see Christmas.

He put a smile on his face before he went in to see her. As he walked into the room, he was once again struck by how little it had changed from his childhood. His mother loved the Victorian era, and it was filled with velvet sofas and chairs, fringe-draped tablecloths, and tables laden with heavy silver-framed portraits of their family. A large vase of flowers was on the piano in the corner, a gift from his daughter, the only new thing in the room.

His mother lay on her bed by the window. She looked shrunken and pale, a shadow of her former self, but her eyes were still bright and that was encouraging.

“Malcolm, my dear boy,” she said.

“Hello, Mother.” She reached out a skeletal hand, which he took and kissed. “You look beautiful today,” he said.

She laughed, but it came out reedy and weak. “Liar,” she said. “Has Fannie come with you?”

“No, she’s at home with the grandchildren,” he said. He hated making excuses for his wife, but his mother was under no illusions. She knew what Fannie was. Yet despite his wife’s selfish nature, his mother had always treated her with respect, which was more than could be said about the way Fannie treated her. “Charles promised to come by tomorrow,” he said. He thanked God every day for his children. They loved their grandmother and made every effort to see her. His son, Charles, was as attentive as his sister.

“Caroline brought flowers,” she said.

“I know, she told me.”

“She says she’s with child again.”

“Yes, we’re all very excited.”

“I’m happy for her and her husband, John,” she said. “Now that you’re here, I want to give you something.” She stretched a thin finger to the bedside table. “I asked Loretta to bring it down from my room.” He looked to where she was pointing and saw a small wooden box. “I want you to have it,” she said.

Malcolm opened the box. Inside was a small brooch, with a portrait of a single eye. “How odd,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s called an eye miniature,” she said. “They were popular when I was a girl.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s a portrait of my sister Lillian’s eye.”

Malcolm was amazed. His mother never talked about his Aunt Lillian.

“Lillian gave me the brooch before she set sail for America in 1853,” Margaret said.

Malcolm sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Why is it no one in the family ever talks about her?”

“It was the scandal,” she said. “Everyone wanted it to go away.”

“What scandal?” His mother was watching him with her steady eyes. He felt she wanted to tell him, but was hesitant. “Mother, she died nine years ago, and Uncle Julius passed away a few months later,” he said. “They’ve been gone a long time. Won’t you tell me now? Does it have something to do with this portrait of her eye?”

“I had to give you the brooch before I die,” she said.

Malcolm frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about dying.”

“Why? We both know I’m going to, very soon. I don’t mind. I’ve lived a long and happy life, and I’ll be with your father again and your brother.” She smiled and it lit up her face. “And I’ll be with Lillian again.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said soothingly.

“Help me sit up, and I’ll tell you about her,” she said. Malcolm arranged her pillows behind her and fixed her shawl around her thin shoulders. When she was settled, she began to tell him about her father, and how he’d tried to force Lillian to marry a man she didn’t love.

“Lord Victor Henson was a wicked man,” she said. “He was a member of the aristocracy, and he was a man who paid for love. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Mother, I believe I do,” he said, feeling like a small boy again, embarrassed to hear his mother speak of such things.

“There was talk about Victor, that he’d poisoned his first wife,” she said.

“Was it true?”

“It was never proved, but the rumors persisted,” she said. “We didn’t know at the time, but our father made some very unwise business deals and was on the verge of ruin. He told Victor, and Victor offered to help him out of it, but he had one condition. He wanted to marry Lillian.”

“How did Lillian feel about that?”

“She was terrified,” she said. “But Victor was quite determined to have her, and father felt he had no choice but to accept his terms. It was, unfortunately, the road to a different sort of ruin. Lillian couldn’t understand why Father was making her marry a man she didn’t love, since he knew she was in love with Julius.”

“How did she know Julius?”

Margaret smiled. “They met in May of 1851, at the Great Exhibition. I was with her at the time, and I knew it was love at first sight. Lillian was so happy. She invited Julius home to meet our parents, but Father wasn’t pleased. She had hoped he would see how much they cared for one another and would change his mind about her marrying Victor. Instead, he forbade her from ever seeing Julius again.”

“Is that when Lillian and Julius eloped and ran away to America?”

Margaret shook her head. “No. If only they had,” she said sadly. “Lillian was confused and hurt that Father would not be reasonable, but she was a dutiful girl and obeyed him. First, there was the announcement of her engagement to Victor at a party at our country house in Surrey. It was very fine, everyone came. Even I was given a sip of champagne to celebrate. Poor Lillian looked miserable.” She leaned into her pillows and closed her eyes. For a moment, Malcolm thought she’d fallen asleep. But when she opened her eyes again, she looked at him with a steady gaze. “Two days later, Lillian killed Victor Henson,” she said.

Malcolm felt his jaw drop. He was stunned.

She said, “I’ve shocked you.”

He nodded. “I admit you have, Mother. Tell me the rest.”

“It happened a day or two after the engagement . . . I don’t remember exactly when. Victor invited Mother, Father and Lillian to his country estate. It was one of the most beautiful homes in the county, and he was quite proud to show it off. He had plans to expand the gardens and house, and asked Lillian to come alone to his study to show her the plans. It was all a ruse to take advantage of her.”

“Take advantage?” His eyes widened. “Do you mean . . . ?”

Margaret waved her hand. “I won’t be coy, you’re a grown man and know of these things,” she said. “He attacked her, and Lillian fought back. What else could she do? She had to defend herself. She killed him with a letter opener, stabbed him in the heart.”

Malcolm couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In his wildest imaginings, he’d never thought of something like this being in his aunt’s past. “Was there an inquest?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. For a while, there was some concern she was going to be charged with murder, but she had physical injuries that helped make her case, and a female servant came forward and accused Victor of a similar attack upon herself. That seemed to be all they needed to hear. Really, at that point, they wanted it swept under the rug.”

“What happened to Grandfather’s debts?”

“He was never the same after that day,” she said. “Do you remember your grandfather?”

“Not very well, since he died when I was six. But I have a few memories of him. I remember him walking in the garden smoking a cigar.”

“Well, what happened to his debts is ironic,” Margaret said and smiled. “It was Julius who saved him from ruin. I’m not sure how it all came about exactly, for I was very young at the time, but I remember Lillian telling me about accountants and financial experts being hired to assist Father’s recovery, all at Julius’s instruction.” Malcolm wasn’t surprised. His Uncle Julius had obtained his law degree in America, and after practicing law in New York for many years had eventually retired as a Superior Court judge. He was an intelligent man. “In the end, Father was forced to sell our country estate, which was a great pity, but he landed on his feet. The scandal surrounding Lillian was quite another matter. Even though she’d been exonerated, the talk about it wouldn’t go away. Victor had many influential friends, you see, and even after his death they remained loyal. Some started to spread rumors about my sister. She and Julius married and made the decision to go to America to start a new life there.”

“Did she forgive Grandfather?”

“She said she did, but after that day, they rarely spoke. I remember when she left for America, he cried and cried. I think he knew he would never see her again. It was all very sad, and I suppose the distance didn’t help . . .” Margaret’s voice trailed away. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Did she have the eye miniature made for you?”

“Oh, no, it was made for Julius,” she said. “She had it painted for him as a farewell gift. She wanted to give him something he could remember her by. Of course, later, after everything that happened, things changed. They were married, and before she left for America, she gave it to me.”

“I remember when a letter would arrive from her, how excited you would be. You always went to your room to read it in private. Letters from my mysterious aunt. Why didn’t you tell me about all this before?”

“I promised I would never speak of it to anyone,” Margaret said. “Lillian was going to start a new life in America. She wanted to be free of the past. We wrote letters and kept in touch, but like everyone else in our family on this side of the ocean, I never saw her again.”

“Do you still have her letters?”

Margaret shook her head. “Before she died, she wrote to me and asked that I destroy them. I have to admit, I held on to them. And a few days ago, I read each one one more time.” She glanced at the fireplace. “I had Loretta burn them for me yesterday. I watched her do it. They’re dust and ashes now, like Lillian, like I will be very soon.”

“Please don’t say that, Mother. Tell me about my cousins.” He knew his aunt and uncle had two daughters, but he had never met them or communicated with them. If he were to meet them on the street, he wouldn’t know them.

“I wrote the girls after she died. They wrote me a sweet letter in return, but there was no offer to stay in touch, and we haven’t. Why would they want to? I’m a stranger to them.” Margaret pointed to the eye miniature. “I have kept so much of the past to myself all these years,” she said. “Now I have told you about my sister, and what she did, and why she had to do it. This brooch is the treasure she left me. I give it to you. But you must promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said.

“Don’t tell Fannie about the brooch. If she gets her hands on it, she’ll try to sell it. You know she will. Now that you know what it means to me, I trust you will keep it a secret.”

“Of course, I promise. I won’t tell her,” he said. “But what do you want me to do with it?”

“Keep it. That’s all I ask.”

“I could send it to my cousins,” he suggested. “Perhaps they’d like a token to remember their mother by. It is, after all, a portrait of her eye.”

“No. It must stay here, in England,” she said firmly. Then she reached out and took his hand. “Lillian was forced to leave England. Promise her portrait will stay on British soil.”

Another promise, he thought. But it was no trouble to grant her wish. “I promise,” he said.

Margaret’s hand fell limply to the bed, and her eyelids drooped. “My dear son, I’m very tired,” she said. “Will you help me lie down?”

Malcolm took his mother in his arms. She was as thin and tiny as a baby bird, and he felt tears well in his eyes as he fixed her pillows and gently lowered her head down to them.

She looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve always been a good son,” she said. “I want you to know, I’m proud of the man you’ve become, and I love you very much.”

Malcolm’s throat tightened. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re a wonderful mother,” he said. “I’m honored to be your son.”

Margaret smiled wider, and he thought his heart would break.

“Now don’t forget to take the eye miniature with you,” she said. “What I told you about Lillian . . .” She closed her eyes. “You mustn’t tell anyone. Lillian wouldn’t like it.”

“I won’t tell another living soul,” he said.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Did I tell you, I saw her yesterday?”

Malcolm adjusted the blanket over her. “Are you speaking of Caroline?”