In the Shadow of Lakecrest(43)

“Did she? How clever.” At least the tart sarcasm was recognizably Marjorie.

I held out a hand. “Would you like to sit up?”

“No. Makes my head swim.”

The stink of urine and sweat hung in the stale air. I took a deep breath—through my mouth, not my nose—and tried to keep from gagging.

“Marjorie, what are you doing here?”

She rolled onto her back and pulled one leg out from under the covers. A thick leather band was strapped around her ankle; she shook her foot, and I heard the rattle of a chain. Twisted coils of steel ran to an anchor in the wall.

“Your mother did this?”

“For my own good. I believe it’s referred to as ‘drying out.’ You didn’t hear about my latest escapade?”

I shook my head.

“Nearly killed myself with a mix of cocaine and home-brewed bourbon at Ramsay’s. Can you imagine le scandale?” She looked pleased at the thought of causing a fuss. “I guess Mum paid the right people to keep it out of the papers. Not for my sake, of course. For hers. Saving what’s left of her precious reputation.”

“So she’s locked you up? That’s absurd!”

“Isn’t it?”

The Marjorie I knew would be furious. Raging. The woman lying listlessly on the bed in front of me was a pale imitation of my sister-in-law, drained of the fire that made Marjorie so captivating.

“You’d think Mum would understand,” Marjorie said. “After all the pills and potions she’s forced on me. There was this horrible paste I had to spread all over my face to fade my freckles. Another cream to whiten my complexion—that one stung horribly. Syrup to help me sleep after Cecily left and I was afraid the devil was coming to snatch me in the night. It worked; it really did. I wish I still had some, but Mum cut me off.

“Isn’t it funny how Mum would love to get the whole country swallowing Lemont Industries’ magic pills, but she sneers at me for trying out anything else? Cocaine’s not nearly as bad as they’d have you believe. Hard to find these days; you have to make friends with real lowlifes to get the good stuff, and that’s what gets me in trouble. Oh, I have stories. I only wish I could remember half of them.”

“Marjorie,” I said abruptly. “This is crazy! You have to get out of here!”

“Crazy?” Her words had started to sound slurred. “We’re all crazy. This entire damned family.” She stared at me, eyes dulled of all feeling. “You’ll go crazy, too, if you stay.”

I felt sick.

“Get out,” she mumbled. “Leave me alone.”

My hands were shaking as I walked out of the room. Edna locked the door behind me, and we walked back upstairs.

“That room,” I said, as we emerged into the library. “Marjorie. It’s not right.”

“Mrs. Lemont decides what’s right,” Edna said. “She’s who I take my orders from.”

Not forever. I flashed Edna a look, and she was sharp enough to understand what I meant.

“You agreed not to tell,” Edna said. Defiant, to cover up her fear.

“I won’t.”

There was no point confronting Hannah anyway. Matthew was the one who needed to know. When he heard what Hannah had done to Marjorie, he’d understand why I didn’t trust his mother. It might even be the first step in convincing him to move away from Lakecrest. Matthew was in Detroit, but I’d call his office; they’d know how to reach him.

Trembling from the cold—or was it nerves?—I rushed toward the telephone in the entryway. My heels echoed through the Arabian Room as I ran across the painted tile floor, and then suddenly, I was flying. My feet slid out from under me, and I fell with a disorienting thud onto my side.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My whole body was tense with shock as I made a mental inspection of the pain. Ankle, knees, shoulder, head. An odd pressure in my belly. God help me, what I felt first was relief. If something happened to the baby, I’d be free.

That thought was followed immediately by crippling guilt. What kind of person would wish for something so awful? Jerky sobs swelled up and out. I told myself it was Hannah’s fault for locking Marjorie up. And Matthew’s fault for not being there to comfort me, as I’d comforted him so many times in the dark. Most of all, it was Lakecrest’s fault, this mausoleum filled with shadows and dark corners and leaks that never, ever stopped. Lakecrest itself had reached out and hurled me to the ground, a punishment for my hatred.

Or maybe the house really had driven me crazy.

It felt as if I lay there forever, wretched and alone. In fact, it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before Alice came in. She was young—no more than eighteen—but had a touching desire to please that made up for her inexperience, in my eyes at least.

“Oh, Missus!” she cried, hands fluttering. “Are you all right?”

I gingerly moved one leg, then the other. My stockings were wet, for some reason, and my left ankle felt stiff and sore. Alice took hold of my upper arms, and I managed to stand. Wincing, I shuffled to the nearest chair, a ridiculous silk-upholstered eyesore Marjorie jokingly called the sultan’s throne.

“I’ll get Edna,” Alice insisted. Though I dreaded facing the cook after our recent confrontation, I was grateful for her efficiency once she arrived.