The Winters(70)

“Why?” he asked Dani, his voice raspy.

Louisa’s hand was now over her heart, taking in the whole of my dress, from top to bottom.

“What a thing to do,” she whispered, sounding almost impressed.

I let go of Dani’s arm and rushed to Max, shook him to jar the frightening expression from his face. “Max, what is it?” I said, afraid to look around.

He wouldn’t stop glaring at Dani.

Finally, thankfully, Louisa spoke to the confused guests, a stiff smile on her face. “Everybody, I’m so sorry, but would you all please meet us in the great hall? We’re just going to be a little bit delayed.” She signaled a throat cut to the photographer.

Guests, complete strangers to me, shot pained expressions in my direction before fleeing. Dani looked cornered by a pack of wolves. Then, over her face came the strangest of expressions, the kind you get when you slowly, finally come to a deep realization.

“Oh,” she said. “I think I know what’s happening here.”

Max looked at me. “I believe you’ve been the victim of a vile prank,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

“That dress you are wearing,” he said, spitting out each word, “that is . . . Rebekah’s wedding dress.”

I remember the feeling of my knees giving way, of other people’s hands guiding me down to a chair. I heard Jonah say, “Max, calm down,” and Louisa add, “Let me take her upstairs and put something else on her,” their voices thick, mingling under dark water. I saw Max pacing, driving his hands through his hair, just like that hot day he’d pulled up in front of my shabby townhouse, desperately trying to come up with a plan that could keep us together. This was his plan. Come to Asherley with me, he said. You’ll be happy here.

My eyes sought Dani’s. “Did you do this to me?”

She gave me the slightest of shrugs. “Would you even believe me if I said no?”

Max spoke with a ferocious calm. “Dani, go upstairs. To your room. Shut your bedroom door. And stay there until the guests leave. Then I will decide what to do with you.”

“Why? What did I do, Daddy?” she asked. “I want you to tell me what I did. Say it out loud.”

“Don’t play with me right now.”

“You think I did this? You think I put her in Mum’s wedding dress?”

“I can’t even look at you,” he said.

She turned to me. “Don’t you see what’s happening? They’re doing this!” She looked at Louisa, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Even you.”

Louisa was so stricken by this accusation, Jonah had to steady her down to a chair next to me.

“Dani!” Max yelled. “I’m telling you—”

“They’re trying to make me seem crazy so they can put me away again—”

“Dani!”

“—this time for good, so he can take charge of the money and start a family with you, the pure and innocent new wife who’ll obey him like a good little Winter girl.”

“Dani, upstairs!”

“You’re just jealous of me. You’ve always resented me because she only loved me, not you.”

I leapt up and grabbed Max’s arm, afraid he might lunge at Dani, who stood there clutching at her own dress, leaving sweaty, star-shaped handprints on the black satin.

“Please believe me. I told you he’s never loved me. Only she loved me.” She burst into tears, throwing her head back like an anguished toddler, sinking to her knees in front of me, a human being coming apart at my feet. “Please believe me,” she wailed, lurching towards the hem of my dress, Rebekah’s dress. When I flinched from her, her expression was that of a puppy that had just taken a rolled-up newspaper to the nose.

Louisa rushed to lift her off the ground, and Dani shoved her violently.

“Get away from me, you bitch!”

Louisa turned to stone.

“Dani, leave,” Max seethed.

She stood up, smoothed down her dress, and used both hands to flick the tears off her cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll leave. And when I do, I’ll tell everyone what you did. I might be crazy but I’m not stupid. I remember what happened in here that night!” she yelled on her way out of the greenhouse. “I saw!”

I’ll never forget Max’s face in that moment. He looked defeated, like a king watching the slaughter of his army from a high hill. My skin suddenly flushed, my whole body in mutiny against this horror of a dress. It was suffocating me, squeezing the air out of me. I wanted to rip it off and run screaming into the cold bay. Now I, too, fled from the room in tears, not caring who saw me in the kitchen, an obstacle course of caterers and milling guests, eyes widening as I passed. By then the dress felt as though it would burst into flames were I in it a second longer. Louisa called after me as I took to the stairs in twos, but I kept running. I didn’t want anyone to touch me or even look at me.

I went one flight up and then another, carried by a wave of anger so potent I understood how murder can be a crime of passion. I slapped open the door at the top of the turret, then locked it behind me. I knew I’d find her there, against her father’s orders, standing with her back to me, blowing smoke out an open window, and yes, it crossed my mind to push her. It was at least five stories high with only concrete below. Do it, I heard myself say. Why don’t you? Tell Max she jumped before you could save her. Who would dispute her instability? Think how happy you’d be if she were gone from here forever. What stopped me wasn’t my moral code, I’m ashamed to say, but rather fear that the fall wouldn’t kill her, and that I’d be the one leaving Asherley in handcuffs.