A Dreadful Splendor (43)

But if she was secretly in love with William, the marriage may have seemed like a death sentence. And if that wasn’t enough, discovering your true love was in fact your half sibling might have been too much to bear.

William’s eyes became glassy. “Tell me, Miss Timmons, who would be happier now—a young blacksmith apprentice planning to one day run his own shop, maybe catch the eye of a pretty girl over the hymnal in church? Hmm? Or the broken man you see before you.” He reached up and pulled down the open collar of his shirt so I could see the mark across his neck more clearly.

“Even after three months you can still see where the rope broke,” he said. The darkness under his eyes and hollowed cheeks made him look old beyond his years. “I lost my birthright and my love all at once.”

Maman would have called him the walking dead.

I swallowed, knowing my own close relationship with the noose. A sliver of pity prompted me to tell him the truth. “I’m sorry I disturbed you,” I said. “I only came because I wanted to see her things.”

He put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Please touch nothing.” And with that, he nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in Audra’s room.





Chapter Twenty-Seven




Once I recovered from William’s revelation, I went over the entire room at my leisure to study all the small details. Unlike the library, there was not a speck of dust to be found. From the bookcases to the mantel, everything had been kept clean. However, personal items were still in place like an untouched display.

A pair of satin slippers were tucked under a chair. There was a handprint on the throw pillow that might have been hers. An embroidery loop lay on one of the settees. The floral design was half-finished, with the needle and thread still secured on the edge as if Audra had just stepped away and would return at any moment.

This wasn’t a bedchamber; it was a tomb. A museum of treasures its owner would never enjoy again.

I put my attention on the bookcase. The titles were neatly arranged in alphabetical order—except for one on the bottom shelf whose spine jutted out. When I looked closer, I noticed the cover wouldn’t close flatly. I opened it up and found a flower with cream-colored petals had been pressed in between the pages.

A peculiar feeling pushed at the edges of my heart. I moved next to Audra’s vanity, spying a silver hairbrush. Several strands of blond hair were caught in the bristles.

The top drawer was surprisingly shallow and contained only an array of perfectly folded handkerchiefs and a thin red box. I opened it and immediately recognized the tiara with the blue stone. Even in the candlelight it sparkled like a million stars. She must have felt like royalty wearing this. It didn’t seem proper that something so beautiful should be stored away, never to be worn again.

I looked at my dull reflection in the mirror. Then I looked back at the open box.

After arranging my curls, I placed the tiara on my head as if crowning myself. I leaned closer to the mirror. Yes, it was an improvement.

I moved next to the chest of drawers; inside, I found a folded list of wedding tasks. Audra’s elegant handwriting filled the single page. One particular item had been underlined twice with a heart drawn around it: Helleborus orientalis. Bridal bouquet.

I wrinkled my nose at the oddly named flowers. What’s wrong with roses?

Next, I examined the immense armoire. It was mahogany and twice the size of the one in my room. Light cedar planks lined the back. I only had to gaze upon a few frocks to know that the style and size were comparable to the ones that had appeared in my cabinet. But I didn’t get to linger on that fact very long before something caught my attention. The clothes were mostly pushed to the side, giving one garment enough space to ensure the fabric wouldn’t be crushed. The white satin was as luminous as starlight, with delicate pearl buttons running down the front bodice. The skirt was full and trimmed with intricate lace that matched the white bonnet and veil carefully stored beside it. Like everything else in this room, the dress had been preserved, as if waiting for the rightful owner to return from the grave and give these things a renewed purpose.

I pictured my own small room back at Miss Crane’s. My meagre belongings would have been thrown out by now. No one would worry if I stayed in jail or went to the gallows.

A chill sliced across my throat like an unseen knife.

I pictured Mrs. Hartford writing the small note to her late husband.

Did you love me?

No one will pay for a séance for me. No one will write to me, desperate to find my message in the ghost book. There will be no mourners. The irony was unexpectedly cruel and heavy.

One of the candles sputtered and went out. I took that as my cue.

I blew out the rest of the lights and made my way back down the hall. After unlocking my door, I sat on the bed and went over the details of Audra’s room. There was something about her wedding list that lurked annoyingly in my mind. It had settled between my ears, refusing to budge. I could see the words in her perfect script: Helleborus orientalis.

Then I remembered! I had seen that handwriting before, especially the capital “H” followed by the “e.” The “help me” message! I pulled the ghost book from my bag, but when I opened to the secret page, the message had been erased. I groaned. I had erased the message myself.

Or had I?

The weight of the evening’s activities and revelations pulled on my tired memory. Maybe I was only imagining the handwriting was the same. I put the bag back under my bed and began to take off the dress robe.