In the Shadow of Lakecrest(70)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Was Karel the key to everything?
Skulking around the Labyrinth, dropping dark hints about Lakecrest, he knew more than I’d ever suspected, and now he’d vanished. It couldn’t be a coincidence, Karel leaving right as Cecily’s body was found. Did he know she was buried there? Had he spent all those years tending to the Labyrinth so it wouldn’t fall apart and reveal the terrible secret inside?
I struggled to reconcile what I knew and what I thought I knew. I’d gotten a few tantalizing clues, but couldn’t make sense of them. Cecily had written a note to Karel on the night she left. He had to be the Orpheus she referred to in her letter. But that letter had been maddeningly vague about the nature of their relationship. Were they lovers? Friends? Conspirators? Whatever Cecily said in her note that last night, Hannah must have read it, and at the very least, Birgitta’s story was proof that Hannah was a liar. She’d said nothing to the police about a note, in 1912 or more recently, and she’d said nothing to Matthew or me. That meant her confession about the night of Cecily’s death was an act. A performance designed to distract us from what had really happened. There were still things Hannah wanted hidden, and without knowing those secrets, I’d never find out why Cecily died.
My thoughts were slow and jumbled, my brain working at only half speed in the heat. I dragged myself from the bed to look out the window. The same idyllic blue-and-green vista, as if nothing had changed. I wondered what it looked like at the north end of the estate. The bare, scarred earth where the Labyrinth had once stood. The day the workmen arrived, I’d talked to Matthew about building tennis courts or a swimming pool there. Now I knew that land would remain empty. How could we play with our children on the site of Cecily’s grave?
I’d asked Alice what the other servants had been saying about Karel, and it wasn’t much. He’d lived in a small cottage at the edge of the estate and mostly kept to himself. What I wouldn’t give for a private detective now! But I no longer trusted Mr. Haveleck, and even if I did, I couldn’t get to the telephone to call him. My theories and suspicions led to no clear answers, and the fatigue that overcame me so often in those days gradually took over. The mystery of Cecily’s death, like everything else, would have to wait until after the baby.
If it weren’t for the calendar I kept by my bedside, I would have had a hard time distinguishing one day from the next. Every night, I marked an X on the appropriate date, and the forward march of symbols gave me the small satisfaction of progress. Only four weeks to go. Then three.
Dr. Westbrook came to check on me every Monday morning and usually said nothing more than “You’re doing fine, little mother.”
His condescending tone infuriated me, especially since I was sure he was giving more-detailed reports to Hannah. But there was no point getting angry; any time I acted upset, Hannah suggested another shot to calm me down. Matthew did his best to entertain me in the evenings, but Lemont Medical had him working round the clock. He looked worn out.
Finally, he admitted he’d been having trouble sleeping. “I didn’t want you to feel bad, but you’ve started snoring, and when you turn over . . . well, the entire bed shakes.”
He laughed to show it didn’t matter, but I insisted he move to one of the guest rooms. Giving up our nights together was a harder sacrifice than I’d imagined, and I felt lonelier than ever. My days were so monotonous that I remember exactly how my heart leapt when I heard a commotion in the front hall one afternoon. Footsteps clattered up the stairs, and a voice called out, “Kate!”
“Blanche!” I shouted back. “Oh, Blanche!”
She careened through the doorway. Hat askew, flushed cheeks.
“Aren’t you a sight!” she exclaimed.
It had been so long since anyone other than Matthew, Hannah, or the maids had seen me that I’d stopped putting any effort into my clothes or hair. I must have looked a perfect fright. Despite my embarrassment, I smiled with delight and held out my arms. We hugged and laughed, then laughed even harder when Blanche gaped at the size of my stomach. I heard more footsteps, and Edna appeared in the doorway, frowning with disapproval.
“No visitors,” Edna said halfheartedly, as if even she knew that seeing my cousin would do me good. “Mrs. Lemont doesn’t want you tired out.”
“Be a dear and bring us something to eat, will you?” I asked, eyes pleading for sympathy. “She won’t be here long.”
Edna gave a curt nod and left.
“Hop in,” I urged Blanche.
She kicked off her shoes and cooed with pleasure as she peeled off her stockings. “It’s a scorcher,” she said. “The walk from the station nearly killed me.” She pulled herself onto the bed and propped a pillow behind her back.
“Now, what have they done to you?”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest tightened with joy, with hope. Blanche was on my side, and she was the best chance I had at getting out of Lakecrest. But how? She didn’t have a car, and Hank had driven Hannah who knows where; she’d stopped in that morning to tell me, but I hadn’t been paying attention. As my mind raced with thoughts of freedom, it took an effort to concentrate on what Blanche was saying.
“I’ve called a bunch of times. Didn’t you know? That nasty woman always says you’re resting. I figured if something were really wrong, Matthew would have told me, but I couldn’t help worrying, and it’s not like you to disappear completely, so I just had to come and see for myself.”