Nobody's Secret (19 page)

“They’re coming, Vinnie,” Emily called. She was perched in the lowest branch of the elm tree in their front yard. Their house presented a sideways face to the road, so visitors to the cemetery were unlikely to notice her. She had been waiting in the tree for more than an hour.

Vinnie was at the front door, waiting for the signal. She went inside to distract their mother while Emily slithered down the tree and ran to the barn. She climbed the ladder to the hayloft and lay on her stomach near the wide window. Usually it was used to load hay into the barn for Jasper and the other animals, but today it was her window on a funeral. Her brother’s telescope lay at her side.

The sun was not yet at its zenith, but was steadily rising, bathing the cemetery in a light that put every blade of grass in sharp relief. The long shadows cast by the marble tombstones shortened steadily as the sun rose.

“It’s a lovely day to say good-bye,” Emily murmured. As if the deceased would care if the sun shone or if it rained! At moments like this, she hoped that her mother was right and that the good would find a place in heaven.

She put her eye to the telescope. Reverend Colton headed the procession. First to come was the coffin, carried by the sexton and his three sons. Behind them was Mrs. Langston, hanging heavily on Henry’s arm. Then Ursula, carrying a demure bouquet and walking with an older man who resembled her and Henry. This must be their father, Charles Langston. Emily examined him with cynical eyes.

Charles Langston dressed well, like the rest of the family, but a shade too fancily for Amherst. He had dark hair, but Emily could make out a bald spot on the top of his head that he had carefully combed over. More interesting was a bruise on his right cheek. Dr. Gridley had mentioned that James’s corpse had cuts on his right fist.

“I’ll wager every book I own that you settled an account with Mr. Langston,” she told the absent James. “I’m glad you hit him . . . but did it get you killed?”

Bringing up the rear was Sam Wentworth, looking smaller than the day before, as if his confessions at the brook had shrunk him.

The procession arrived at the freshly dug grave. Emily approved of the sexton’s choice of gravesite, as she had a clear view from her vantage point.

“Can you see?” Emily started at Vinnie’s unexpected voice. Vinnie had climbed the ladder, and her head popped up like a chipmunk. “Mother is fast asleep. What can you see?”

“Shhh,” Emily said. Vinnie made a face and descended to the barn floor. She focused the telescope on Henry, but his face was as shuttered as an empty house. The coffin was lowered into the ground and Reverend Colton began his eulogy.

Suddenly the reverend jumped out of her view. She pulled back from the eyepiece and blinked at the whole group, suddenly tiny in the distance. They were rushing to Sam, who was clutching his heart. Falling heavily onto his knees, he reached toward Ursula and her mother. Violet Langston began screaming. Emily could faintly hear the words. “His medicine! Ursula, where are Samuel’s pills?”

Ursula fumbled at her purse. She found a vial and, trembling, poured several pills into her mother’s hands. Violet Langston gave them one at a time to Sam.

Transfixed, Emily watched, leaning out the window toward the scene. After a moment, Sam sat back on the grass and seemed to be breathing easier. Emily exhaled, too, and only then realized she had been holding her breath.

“Emily, what’s going on?” Vinnie called up from the barn a few minutes later. “I can’t see from down here.”

“Sam had a bad turn,” Emily answered. “His heart, I think.”

“Is he all right now?”

“I think so. Ursula gave him his medicine. His color is much better.”

“Ursula’s mother said that she recently began making her uncle’s heart medicine.”

Vinnie’s words sparked a fuse in Emily’s brain.

When Emily didn’t respond, Vinnie asked again, “Emily, what’s happening?”

The new idea firmly lodged in Emily’s mind, she lifted the telescope to her eye again. “It looks as though Henry is taking Sam home. The rest of the family is leaving.”

“Mary Katherine told me that they are having lunch at the Amherst House with Reverend Colton.”

Emily looked up from the telescope and stared at the beams above her head. “How on earth does Mary Katherine know that?” she asked slowly.

“Her sister, Bridget, works for the Langstons.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emily asked, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice.

“Bridget just began to work there, but she said that the family is packing to go to Europe. She’s upset that she already needs to find a new position.”

Henry had said he would take his family away. “When are they going?” Emily called.

“Within a week.”

“So we don’t have much time.”

“Father comes back in a few days. Your time is running out anyway.”

Emily clambered down the ladder, the telescope under her arm. She shoved it at her sister. “Are you sure they’re going to be at the hotel?”

Vinnie nodded.

“Then I need to get into the Langstons’ house. Will Bridget be there today?”

“I think so.” Vinnie’s eyes were full of apprehension.

“That will be useful.”

“To us.” Vinnie’s voice faltered. “I won’t let you do this by yourself.”

Emily hugged her little sister. “My darling, I’ll do this alone, but you can keep lookout for me. If they return early, you can whistle like a . . . bobolink!”

Vinnie laughed nervously. “I don’t know what a bobolink sounds like.”

Emily briefly considered how to teach the complicated birdsong. “Never mind. We’ll make it a crow. I know you can caw!”

The Langstons’ house was located on the far side of the College, where many professors lived. The white house was Georgian in style, with an ostentatious garden. Emily shook her head; not one interesting plant in the bunch, although she had to admit the foxgloves and bleeding hearts were beautifully tall and full of blossoms. Emily stationed Vinnie behind an elm tree near the house with a good view of the street.

“Stay here and signal if you see the Langstons returning.”

Vinnie nodded and as Emily walked up to the house, she could hear her sister practicing a crow’s caw. “Only caw if you see them!” Emily reminded her.

Vinnie looked startled and then nodded with her finger to her lips.

Emily knocked on the front door. The girl with a wild mane of black hair who opened it could only be Mary Katherine’s sister.

“Bridget?” Emily asked. “I’m . . . ”

“Miss Emily Dickinson. Mary Katherine pointed you out to me.” Bridget smiled, and Emily could see the gaps in her front teeth. “The family is at the cemetery, Miss.”

“I know. I just came from there,” Emily said.

“How can you bear to live so close to a graveyard?” Bridget asked. “Did you know that if you stumble in a cemetery it’s a bad omen?”

Yes, this was Mary Katherine’s sister, Emily thought. “Ursula—Miss Langston asked me to come and look for something.” She felt guilty lying to Bridget, but it was the easiest way to get into the house.

“Of course, Miss Emily.” Bridget stepped back to let her enter.

“Do you like working for the Langstons?” Emily asked. It was an indiscreet question, but she was curious.

Bridget shut the door and whispered, “They’re the meanest family on the face of the earth. Nothing’s good enough for Mrs. Langston. And that daughter—all she does is make messes for me to clean up. And never so much as a thank-you.”

Emily made a sympathetic noise.

“What do you need to see, Miss?”

“Ursula’s herbarium.”

“Her what?” Bridget’s thick eyebrows lifted in a questioning look.

“A large leather book that she presses flowers into.”

“Oh, that!” Bridget brightened. “She’s always working on it.”

“Really?” Emily said. “Even since school ended?”

The maid shrugged. “She had it out this week. It’s in the flower room.”

“May I see?”

Bridget led the way through a house full of new furniture. Everything was ornate and to Emily’s austere tastes, a little overblown, much like the flowers in the garden.

They walked down a long hallway into the flower room, which connected to the outside garden. It was a small room with a table and an assortment of vases and scissors. A good-sized window let in abundant light. Jars of dark liquids lined the shelves, and a wooden mortar and pestle were placed conveniently at hand.

“Here’s the book, Miss,” Bridget said, pushing it toward Emily.

Emily began flipping its pages, pausing to admire Ursula’s neat penmanship and the superb organization of her pressed flowers. They were grouped by species, with careful notes. She found the page with foxgloves and read Ursula’s notes avidly.

Bridget looked over her shoulder. “Those are those same flowers next to the front door. She cuts them all the time and works with them in here.”

“What does she do with them?” Emily asked, although she was reading clear lists of instructions.

“She dries them and makes them into pills for Mr. Wentworth’s heart.”

The sound of a bird outside, an eager crow, reminded Emily that she was trespassing. “I must go, Bridget. May I leave through the back?”

“Of course. Follow me.” Bridget held open the back door into the garden. As Emily slipped out, she came face to face with Horace Goodman, carrying a load of firewood to the kitchen.

“You’re the girl from the tavern,” he gasped. “What are you doing here?” His eyes darted around as though he wanted to flee, but the weight of the firewood kept him rooted to the spot.

Emily had no time to waste on calming words. “Give me Mr.—James Wentworth’s things.”

The caw of the crow grew more frantic.

Horace dropped the wood, just missing Emily’s boots. “What things?”

“Horace, I know you gave the family your clothes to dress the body. I want to see the clothes he was wearing before.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Horace whispered.

“I know,” Emily said. “But I can’t help you unless you do as I say. Hurry.”

Horace turned and half-ran to a shed attached to the barn. Emily followed on his heels, expecting to be discovered by an irate member of the Langston family at any minute.

Horace stepped inside the shed and brought out a bundle of clothes, which Emily spread on the ground. She recognized the dapper suit. In one of its pockets she found a familiar handkerchief with the initials “JW.” She pulled it out, and a flask fell from its folds.

Vinnie’s birdcall suddenly stopped. Emily stuffed the flask and handkerchief in her skirt pocket.

“Emily!” Vinnie’s voice, deliberately cheerful, rang out. “Where are you? Look who I’ve met on the street. It’s Mr. Henry Langston! Come here.”

Emily peeked around the corner of the shed. Her sister and Henry were entering the garden at the far end. She still had a moment.

She turned to Horace. “Put the clothes away. Keep them in case they are needed.” He silently nodded and gathered up the suit and shoes with his enormous hands.

“Emily!”

“I’m coming!” She ran back toward the house and found Vinnie chatting with Henry. He was smiling, but the cold appraisal he gave Emily told her that he was not fooled by Vinnie’s prattling.

“Hello, Henry,” Emily said, noting the knowing look on Vinnie’s face at her familiar use of his first name.

“Emily. If I had known you wished to see our gardens so badly, I would have gladly shown them to you.”

“Sometimes I just can’t help myself,” Emily said. “I just have to look at flowers.”

Vinnie whispered loudly, “She has these turns. It’s very worrisome.”

“But I’m frightfully embarrassed to have come without permission,” Emily said. “Please excuse the intrusion. Especially on such a sad day.”

“Why aren’t I surprised that you know about the funeral?” Henry narrowed his eyes and stared her down. “I thought we agreed that your investigation was done.”

Glancing from Emily to Henry, Vinnie began to breathe faster.

“I never agreed,” Emily said somberly. “I don’t know exactly what caused James’s death. Not yet.”

Vinnie tucked her arm through Emily’s and said brightly, “We must go home now; our mother is expecting us.”

“The next time you wish to visit, please come when the family is at home and receiving,” Henry said. “It would be more . . . prudent.”

“Prudent?” Emily said coldly.

Vinnie’s grip tightened on Emily’s arm.

“I’d hate for you to waste your time,” Henry said. “Life, as we have discovered, is fleeting.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Emily’s eyes met Henry’s and held them until he looked away.

“Good-bye,” Vinnie said, practically towing Emily toward the road. When they were out of earshot, she turned to her sister. “What did he mean about being prudent? Was he warning you?”

“Threatening me is more like it,” Emily said.

When Bells stop ringing
—
Church
—
begins