In the Shadow of Lakecrest(14)
The women who had accompanied these men formed their own separate cluster nearby, one I felt excluded from even after Matthew had introduced me and they’d squealed at the news of our marriage. Though I tried to fake an interest in their talk about housekeeping and babies, I couldn’t think of a thing to say, and I felt cut off from their easy camaraderie. I was still an outsider, as I’d been all my life. I glanced around the terrace and saw Marjorie brandishing a cigarette with dramatic self-assurance, surrounded by a rapt group of men. I caught Hannah glaring at me before I turned pointedly away. I felt detached and light-headed, like I’d faint if I didn’t get away from all these strangers and their shrill chatter. I slipped in next to Matthew and told him I wanted to take a walk around the grounds.
“I know I promised a tour, but could it wait?” he asked. “I haven’t seen these fellows in a while.”
“I’ll go on my own. I don’t mind.”
“I’ll find you soon.” Matthew brushed his fingers along my cheek, an unexpectedly intimate gesture. I hoped Hannah had seen it.
I stepped off the terrace, and my heels sank into the thick grass. Ahead, I could see a path running along the bluff that overlooked the lake; to my right was another trail that led into a cluster of pine trees. I set off to the left, toward a white structure in the distance. A stone walkway curved past a fountain surrounded by rose bushes, each at its fragrant peak. I walked on, under trellises and through rows of columns that looked like the remnants of an ancient palace. The terrain became less orderly the farther I went, with dandelions running unchecked through the grass and crowding against a gazebo set atop a hill.
I walked up and stood inside. The building was small—no more than ten feet across—but lavishly constructed, with an intricate frieze carved into the lower portion of the dome that formed the ceiling. It seemed to have been inspired by Greek mythology: figures in flowing dresses and tunics were carrying sheaves of wheat and bunches of grapes. I looked back toward Lakecrest, a ramshackle dollhouse in the distance. The steep bluff dropped down to a private beach, where I could see tiny figures moving around on the sand. A yacht was tied up at the end of a long wooden dock—Matthew had made offhand references to sailing—and the water twinkled with reflected sunlight.
My eyes wandered along the shore, and as I turned my head northward, the bucolic landscape was interrupted by a hulking wall of deep-red brick. The remnants of a path leading toward it were barely visible under a carpet of weeds. Strangled by ivy and crumbling from the pounding of countless harsh winters, the building loomed menacingly over the untended terrain. Except for the drone of cicadas and an occasional birdcall, this part of the estate seemed to be deserted. That is why I was so startled to see a woman appear around one corner of the brick wall and walk toward me. She was somewhere between middle-aged and old, with a plump stomach and wobbly chin, and I could tell by the immaculate white of her shoes and gloves that she had money. Her smile was cautiously friendly.
“I didn’t know anyone else was out here.” She held out her hand. “How do you do. I’m Mabel Kostrick.”
“Kate Moore. That is—Kate Lemont.”
It was the first time I’d said the words aloud, and they suddenly sounded preposterous. How could that possibly be my name?
“Matthew’s wife,” I explained.
“Ah, Jasper’s boy.” Mabel didn’t look taken aback or even particularly interested. Here was one person, at least, who hadn’t been gossiping about me.
“That building over there,” I said, pointing to the near ruin behind her. “What is it?”
It was as if I’d admitted to being unfamiliar with the Mona Lisa. Mabel’s eyes widened, and she stared at me, considering her words. Finally, she simply said, “The Labyrinth.”
I’m no believer in omens, but I felt a shiver of distaste. I knew, just from the way Mabel said the word, it was a place I should avoid.
“This is my first visit to Lakecrest,” I explained.
“Oh,” she said, confused, as if my unfamiliarity with the property was no excuse. Then, deftly changing the subject, she asked, “Shall we rejoin the party?”
I was in no hurry to get back to all those curious, judgmental stares. Or to Hannah. Befriending Mabel was a chance to find out more about the family I’d married into. I dawdled on the path, making no move to leave.
“Have you known the Lemonts a long time?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I grew up nearby.”
“Lucky you,” I said, smiling. “It’s beautiful out here.”
Mabel glanced out at the lake. “We lived closer to town. I always envied this view.” She sighed, and the exhale of breath seemed to drag her features downward, making her look older. Then, in a voice so quiet she might have been talking to herself, “It’s not the same, though.”
I could have let it pass, pretended not to have heard. Instead, I waited expectantly.
“You know about Cecily?” she asked cautiously. “Matthew’s aunt?”
Embarrassed by my ignorance, I nodded and pretended to recognize the name.
“Matthew’s told me a bit,” I said. In fact, Matthew had never even mentioned her name. “I’m still sorting out who all the Lemonts are.”
“Cecily was an extraordinary woman,” Mabel said. “She’s the one who started these summer fêtes, you know. I was quite in awe the first time I came! She was so beautiful, and I was completely tongue-tied in the receiving line, but she couldn’t have been more gracious. ‘Lakecrest’s at its best come summer,’ she used to say, and do you know, they always had the most glorious weather for those parties. Cecily would say the gods were smiling on her.”