In the Shadow of Lakecrest(15)
The gods? I glanced at the stone gazebo; Cecily clearly had had a taste for ancient Greek art.
“She called that the Temple,” Mabel said. “This whole section of the estate was her idea, her design. She wanted to create a refuge for female artists, where they could be inspired by nature.”
There was nothing inspirational about the place now. Cecily’s monuments were gloomy, forgotten ruins. I looked back at the Labyrinth. Its stark, unwelcoming fa?ade was a jarring contrast to the open airiness of the Temple and the decorative columns scattered around the landscape. I noticed cracks in the mortar and gaps where bricks had crumbled away. How long before the whole thing collapsed into a pile of rubble?
Mabel followed my gaze. “I’m surprised it’s still here,” she murmured. “I thought they’d have torn it down years ago.”
“Why?”
Mabel turned to me, startled. “Hasn’t Matthew told you?”
I shook my head.
Mabel looked away. Adjusting her hat to avoid looking at me, she said, “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
Mabel began walking back toward the house, and I hurried to catch up with her.
“Mrs. Kostrick! What happened?”
She kept her eyes fixed ahead. “It hardly matters, after all this time.”
Mabel seemed determined to ignore me until we arrived within earshot of the terrace and I uttered a final “Please!” I couldn’t see Matthew, but I glimpsed Hannah sitting in a high-backed armchair. The queen surveying her court.
“Cecily walked into the Labyrinth,” Mabel said brusquely, “and she never came out.”
Before I could ask any more questions, Mabel scurried ahead, through the French doors that led into a glass-walled conservatory. The party had begun to fragment; a few young men were attempting a boisterous game of croquet on the lawn, while ancient dowagers and their equally decrepit spouses took refuge from the sun under the awning that extended out from the back of the house. Only a sprinkling of people remained on the terrace, with Hannah at their center.
To my dismay, she beckoned me over. “Kate. I’ve been looking for you.”
Her hangers-on drifted away, and Hannah waved a hand toward the chair at her side. I sat, perched on the edge, hoping my upright posture gave me an air of confidence. I couldn’t let her see how much I was dreading this conversation.
“I must admit, your sudden marriage to my son came as quite a surprise.”
I met Hannah’s stare with a similarly impassive expression. I knew enough about bullies to let her attack first. It would give me time to study her tactics.
“You can understand my concern,” Hannah said, unruffled by my lack of response. “Matthew is quite a catch.”
I smiled as if we were sharing a joke. “Matthew caught me, not the other way round,” I said. “I didn’t even know who he was when we first met.”
“He can be quite charming, when he wants to be, and you seem like a delightful girl. But you must see you have no future together.”
I told myself to keep calm. Hannah was baiting me, hoping I’d lash out.
“Matthew loves me,” I said firmly.
“That is inconsequential,” Hannah said. “Matthew is the head of this family, and you are not equipped to shoulder that burden. One day you will see my honesty as a kindness.”
Her smug self-satisfaction was all the more awful for being delivered with such feigned concern. I could defend myself against straightforward insults, but how do you win against someone who pretends to take your side?
“I cannot let this marriage stand,” Hannah went on. “I will arrange a quiet annulment, and we’ll put it all down to youthful hijinks. If you leave quietly, you’ll receive a handsome settlement. I can be quite generous with those who see things my way.”
For the briefest instant, I considered it. But not long enough for Hannah to confirm her suspicions about me. Standing abruptly, I said, “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I’m going to find my husband.”
I walked away briskly, trying not to show how the encounter had shaken me. I knew Hannah wouldn’t welcome me with open arms; no mother in her position would want her son settling down with a penniless nobody. But I’d never expected such a blunt, face-to-face confrontation at our very first meeting. Had I played it all wrong? Maybe I should have been meek and groveling, telling her how pathetically grateful I was to be part of her remarkable family and married to her wonderful son.
I quickly headed into the conservatory and then through the first door I saw, which led into a room so dim I had to pause for my eyes to adjust. The walls were covered with books, thousands of them, and from the musty smell, most had been sitting there for years. A desk sat in a corner, dusty with disuse. The library, I guessed, but it did nothing to help me get my bearings, because I’d never seen it before.
I kept going, hoping to find a quiet room where I could shrug off my disappointment and decide my next move. I found a hallway that seemed to run the length of the house, and I veered down it, glancing through each doorway I passed, but nothing looked familiar. Lakecrest, daunting enough from the outside, seemed even larger from the inside. Every room was decorated in a different theme, from French Rococo to Arabian Nights, and I wondered how anyone could feel at home in a place constructed from other buildings’ ruins.