In the Shadow of Lakecrest(83)

I wanted to press my hands against my ears and block out the horrifying images Hannah was describing. But I couldn’t. My fingers clenched into fists.

“In any other circumstances, I would have called the police, but I couldn’t let news of the baby come out. The whole family would be shunned. If only I’d let her run away, I thought in a panic, and then the idea lingered. What if her body simply disappeared? The police would continue searching, and people might talk, but no one would know the truth. In time, Cecily would be forgotten. So I grabbed her arms and dragged her inside the wall.”

In a haze, I heard Hannah describe how she’d pulled off her stockings to wipe the blood off the grass. How she’d punished Jasper by never telling him the truth about Cecily. How Karel had begged to stay at Lakecrest, hoping Cecily would one day come back.

“I did what needed to be done, for the family’s sake. Still, there are moments I wonder if Cecily’s death is on my hands.”

I looked at Hannah’s wan face, her sagging shoulders. Then I felt a pressure in my body, and I gasped. Hannah turned away to talk to someone in the doorway; I couldn’t see who it was.

“Matthew,” I whispered.

“He’s at the Monroes’. I didn’t want him to hear this.”

The pain relented, and I gulped for air.

“I may be a monster,” Hannah said, the words spilling out in a rush, “but everything I did was to protect the Lemont name. Your name. I know you don’t like me. Perhaps you never will. But I wasn’t born to this life any more than you were! The past you tried so hard to hide is gone—you are Kate Lemont of Lakecrest. One day, you’ll be hosting teas and planning your daughter’s debut at the Drake and shaking your head at your grandchildren’s fashions. You’ll be the person who holds this family together after I’m gone.”

I was dimly aware of voices outside. A commotion in the hall. I caught a glimpse of Alice’s face, tight with concern. I saw Dr. Westbrook enter the room, pushing a wheeled canister.

Hannah wiped my face. “Now, now. You’ll be all right. You’ll have a nice rest, and when you wake up, you’ll meet your new baby.”

Hannah was talking to the doctor, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Two hands pressed a breathing mask over my nose and mouth. I tried to push it away, but my palms were slippery, and I couldn’t grab on. The rubber edges dug into my cheeks. Flailing, panicking, I sucked in a breath. And another.

Then I didn’t feel anything at all.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Slowly, I opened my eyes. I saw the sheet pulled smooth against my chest and tucked under my arms. Matthew was perched on the side of the bed, looking at me expectantly.

It took me a minute to remember he was my husband.

“Darling.” He patted my cheek. Cautious. “How do you feel?”

I tried to identify the sensations scattered throughout my body. Throbbing head, tingling breasts. A dull ache further down. The vague sense that I was hovering above the bed, observing myself from a distance.

I looked around. I was in my bedroom at Lakecrest. The curtains were closed, the lamps lit. Nighttime. I heard the distinctive squeak of the door hinges, and Dr. Westbrook’s head appeared over Matthew’s shoulder.

“Ah! You’re awake.”

For one disorienting minute, I couldn’t put a name to his face, and I tried to hide my agitation. Then I remembered. I glanced down and saw how the covers were flat against my stomach.

“The baby,” I whispered.

“Hearty and healthy,” Dr. Westbrook assured me.

I reached out for Matthew, felt his hand in mine.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything’s all right.”

I tried to sort through the jumble of memories clouding my brain. Hannah, talking about Cecily’s dead body. Had I dreamed it? Why couldn’t I remember my own baby being born?

As if reading my thoughts, Dr. Westbrook said, “We had to put you under full sedation, Mrs. Lemont. You were quite agitated when I arrived.”

Agitated? Fragments of conversation flickered at the edge of my understanding.

She butchered herself.

I did what needed to be done.

You’ll be the person who holds this family together.

“No cause for worry,” Dr. Westbrook went on cheerfully. “Look who’s come to meet you.”

A high-pitched whimper made me turn. Hannah was walking into the room, holding a white bundle. She placed the baby in my arms, beaming, and I looked down at a tiny, red-faced creature.

“A girl,” Hannah said. “A beautiful baby girl.”

That’s when the tears welled up. All along, I’d expected a boy, a son for Matthew and an heir for the Lemonts. But this little girl would be mine. She wouldn’t be pushed into the family business or carry the burden of passing on the Lemont name. I could protect her.

All Matthew’s doubts about being a father seemed to have vanished. We smiled and laughed and cried, and I saw Alice, Edna, and Gerta in the doorway, basking in our joy. I felt weak with relief. With happiness.

“Stella, is it?” Matthew asked. “Or Holly?” We’d put so much thought into boys’ names that we’d never settled on a definite choice for a girl.

I stared into the baby’s face. She was so small, so new. How could I be sure what name would fit once she developed into her own person?