The Forgotten Room(90)

I didn’t see her at first. The small bedroom was the repository of an enormous mahogany four-poster bed and the largest armoire I’d ever seen. An oversized Victorian dresser and settee were crammed into the tiny room, making it easy to miss the diminutive woman propped up against overstuffed pillows in the bed. She was even smaller than I remembered, as if the passing years had pushed out pieces of stuffing.

“Aunt Prunella?”

She squinted at me. “Move closer so I can see you.”

I moved two steps closer to the bed.

“Closer. I don’t know why you insist on standing across the room.”

I bit back a smile, suspecting that vanity was the reason for her lack of eyeglasses. I moved so that my legs pressed against the side of the mattress.

She didn’t say anything for a while, her sharp blue eyes examining me closely, as a jeweler might examine various stones to determine their worthiness. Lifting her eyes to mine, she said, “Kate did you say? I remember you as a little girl, of course. You have the look of your mother. The same heart-shaped face with that pronounced widow’s peak.”

It was clear she hadn’t meant it as a compliment. “My father used to say that, too, although I wasn’t sure I agreed. My mother was a beautiful woman.”

“Was?”

I nodded. “She died a few years ago.”

If I thought she’d offer condolences, I would have been disappointed. I looked around for a chair, but the settee was across the room, so I remained standing where I was. “I’m afraid you and I lost contact after my father died. I was only recently made aware that you were still alive. As I explained in my letter, I’m a doctor at Stornaway Hospital, in the building I believe was the Pratt mansion where you once lived.”

Her lips pressed together so tightly that the blood leached from them, leaving them so pale that her mouth seemed to disappear altogether. “Yes. I lived there for a short time before my marriage.” Her words were cold and clipped, as if to say, And this is where I live now.

I forced myself to smile. “I believe I found a gown that once belonged to you. It was in the attic in an armoire. It’s exquisite, with tiny pink roses on it, and the tiniest waist. It has your name embroidered inside of it.”

Her face softened, allowing me to glimpse the beautiful young girl she must have once been, before the disappointments of her life had overshadowed the good parts. “I wore that gown to my engagement party. My photograph was in all the society pages for weeks afterward.” Her lips curved upward in a smile, her thoughts turned inward, making me wonder what it was like to live one’s life looking backward.

“I could return it to you, if you’d like to have it back. Although it has a terrible stain on the front. I think it might be wine.”

Her eyes snapped, her eyes hard as they regarded me. “Yes. It’s wine. A stupid and clumsy maid spilled it on me. Ruined it completely.”

Eager to change the subject, I said, “I found some sketches of Harry’s, too. Your brother was quite talented.”

She gave a quick shake of her head, as if she’d just tasted something bitter. “He was a hobbyist, nothing more. But he somehow got it into his head that he wanted to be an artist. Father set him straight, of course. Pratts did not become artists. It just wasn’t done.”

I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable to be standing next to her bed and having this conversation. She made no offer to find a chair for me, and I was not going to sit on the side of the bed. It seemed as if we were waiting the other out.

I cleared my throat. “I understand that Harry disappeared around the same time as your marriage. Did you ever find out what happened to him?”

She turned toward the window, the dim light reflected in her eyes. “No. He simply . . . left. Never even said good-bye.” She paused. “I would have liked to see him again, I think.” It might have been a trick of the light, but her eyes appeared to mist, becoming twin pools of shallow blue water. “I did something awful, and I would have liked to tell him how sorry I was. As if that could have changed anything.” She paused for a moment before turning her pale eyes on me again, blinking as if suddenly realizing that she had spoken aloud, that she had finally acknowledged her wrongdoing. “You will find, Kate, as I have, that sooner or later everyone leaves you until you are left quite alone with only disappointment and regrets for company.”

Mona entered the room, bustling about quickly, as if to deflect her mistress’s icy stare. She placed a tray across Prunella’s lap and began pouring tea from a silver pot into two mismatched Spode china cups.

“I thought ye might be parched, Miss Prunella,” Mona said as she dropped two large teaspoons of sugar and a healthy dribble of cream into a cup and handed it to Prunella. The older woman took it grudgingly and began sipping.

The windows of the room were shut, no doubt to block nuisance noises such as children and traffic as well as the inevitable dirt and dust. But it also made the air stale and stifling, and I found I was indeed in need of refreshment. Mona poured a cup for me and I took it, holding up my hand when she offered cream and sugar. Prunella seemed almost relieved, as if she budgeted her cream and sugar. But not, apparently, her stationery.

I blew on my tea, wondering why I’d come. I’d already known she was related to Harry Pratt, but what else had I hoped to learn? Knowing what had happened to Harry wouldn’t have solved the mystery of the miniature or the ruby necklace. They were simply unrelated elements, connected only by my own curiosity. And Cooper’s. So why was I there? Maybe I’d come with the hope that once Prunella knew I was alive, we would make a connection based on our mutual loneliness. The war had taught me to treasure life and all the things that connected us as human beings. Prunella and I had no family except for each other.