“I wanted to find out what happened to Eleanor and thought I might accomplish that better if no one knew I was Olivia Stewart.” The explanation felt weak, even to her. “After someone tried to throw me off the boat, I also feared to reveal my identity, in case the murderer made another attempt.”
“I would have protected you,” he said.
Olivia shriveled under the contempt in Harrison’s eyes. They’d had a measure of trust between them, and it was gone now. Scattered and destroyed like his plane. She’d gotten used to seeing admiration in those brown orbs. Now they were cold, so cold.
“I had to find out what happened to her,” she said. “My mother wanted me to marry you in Eleanor’s place, but I told her I wanted to see if we would suit first. Once the masquerade was in place, I felt trapped. I planned to tell you, then you informed me that you wouldn’t marry Olivia Stewart if she were the last woman on Earth. I wasn’t sure what to say after that.”
“You thought I killed her.”
She hung her head at his accusation, unable to deny it. “I didn’t know you then.”
“So you went into this deception to try to prove I murdered her.” His voice was shaky. “I honestly thought you loved me.”
The pain in his voice stopped her heart. “I-I’m sorry, Harrison. I didn’t think you killed her once I got to know you better.”
“Yet when you saw Eugene, you assumed I knew he was your brother.”
She bit her lip. “I was overwhelmed. I’m sorry. I should have trusted you more.”
“Yes, you should have.” He tossed his mask onto a chair. “Our entire relationship has been a masquerade. How appropriate.” He turned and exited the library, leaving the door gaping behind him.
“Harrison!” she called after him. When he didn’t turn, she slumped onto the desk chair and struggled not to give in to tears. This was her fault.
After a few moments, she rose on stiff legs and went to the parlor with a smile pasted onto her face. Her guests turned curious faces her way, but she moved through the crowd reassuring them that all problems had been smoothed over. If only it were true. By the time the grandfather clock chimed four in the morning, she was limp with the effort of keeping the smile in place.
“We want to tally the donations,” Addie said. “Are you okay?”
Olivia managed a smile. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s find out if the ball was a success, at least as a benefit.”
“Want to do the honors?” Katie asked.
“Go ahead.” Olivia didn’t have the brain for figures tonight. She watched as the other women counted.
Katie glanced up, her eyes shining. “It’s nearly twenty thousand dollars, Olivia!” She choked up and tears filled her blue eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Addie said. “God always sees our needs.”
“I was beginning to believe that until tonight,” Olivia said. Her vision blurred and she grabbed her hanky to mop her eyes.
Addie embraced her. “What did Harrison say? Was he terribly angry and hurt?”
Olivia clung to her, inhaling her friend’s comforting perfume. “He was. I feel terrible. But there’s more. His valet is Richard Pixton.”
Addie stiffened. “Pixton? The man we’ve been looking for?”
Olivia nodded against Addie’s shoulder. “So all this time that we’ve been looking for the man, he was right under our noses.” Fresh tears poured down her face. “Richard is the one who has been terrorizing me. Calling on the speaking tube. He’s the one behind Eleanor’s murder. He tried to kill me too.”
Addie hugged her. “Oh my dear, I’m so sorry. But this isn’t Harrison’s fault. I can’t believe he would have known this.”
“He said he didn’t. I believe him.” She mopped her eyes again. “But he’s hurt and angry I didn’t tell him I’m Olivia Stewart, and he has every right to be.”
Addie bit her lip. “I was afraid of that.”
Olivia sniffled. “I know I should have told him.”
“Have you gone to the constable yet?” Katie asked, putting her hand on Olivia’s back.
Olivia pulled away from Addie. “Not yet.”
Addie squeezed Olivia’s fingers. “Olivia, trust God with this. He is there for you.”
“Thank you, Addie. Pray for me.” Olivia swallowed hard and pulled away. “I’m going to go see Harrison.”
“Ask God to open your heart and eyes,” Addie called after her.
Olivia rushed from the room. She grabbed a shawl from the foyer and stepped out into the night air. She could call for a car but she’d rather walk. Stars glittered in the black bowl of sky. Cicadas sang around her as she walked up the driveway. Walking through the silent town, she felt a presence. Were her friends praying for her? She was sure they were.
“Where is the truth in all this?” she asked God. “What is my purpose? Surely you have more plans for me than to live a vain existence of spending money and trying to impress people.”
God could see into her heart. Better than she could see herself. If he had stirred some kind of desire for more in her soul, shouldn’t she listen? Shouldn’t she explore the parts of herself that God brought to light? She’d been doing that, but now she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was selfish to want more than she had. To want a noble purpose.
“I’m going to do better, God,” she said. “I’m going to listen more. Be thankful for everything you give me and hold it with an open hand. Even if you want me to be poor. Even if I have to give everything to this unknown brother of mine. I want to become the person you see. Even if it means letting go of Harrison too.”
There was no lightning overhead, no dove flying up from the shrubs. But she could have sworn she felt God smile. Smiling herself, she quickened her step. Harrison’s house loomed in front of her. There was a light on. She’d thought she would have to rouse him and Richard from bed.
Please, God, let him listen. Let him still love me. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped onto the porch and pressed her finger on the buzzer.
THIRTY-SEVEN
HARRISON PACED THE floor of his billiards room. Nealy followed him. He hadn’t wanted to notify the constable, but it had to be done. If someone had asked who his best friend was, he would have named Eugene. To discover he’d been lying all this time—and was almost certainly the man who murdered Eleanor—made Harrison doubt everything in his life. His eyes burned and he rubbed them.
Olivia hadn’t cared enough to trust him with her identity. That could only mean she had never trusted him at all. And she was a Stewart. Now he marveled that he hadn’t seen it for himself. No wonder she knew all their business.
When the doorbell sounded, he stopped and glanced at the mantel clock. Nearly five in the morning. Only the constable would come at this hour. He strode down the hall and threw open the door.
Olivia stood on the porch. She still wore her Juliet costume and the necklace he’d given her. “May I come in?” she asked.
He stepped aside and turned his back on her as he retreated to his office, the closest room. The sooner she stated her purpose and left, the better. He heard her shut the door and greet Nealy, who had stayed behind. Traitor dog.
He flicked on the light in the office and went to stand by his desk as she appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here at this hour?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. He saw she still wore the ring as well. Why hadn’t she taken it off?
She didn’t look away from his glare. She glanced around. “Is Richard here?”
“I have no idea where he is. I haven’t seen him since he ran off.”
She twisted a long lock of hair around her finger. “He left town?”
“I’m not privy to his secrets. Nor yours.”
A breeze fluttered through the window behind him and ruffled the papers on the desk. A storm was blowing in, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his soul.
Her attention never left him. “Y
ou totally trusted him?”
“I didn’t suspect you weren’t Lady Devonworth,” he pointed out.
She had the grace to flush. “How long has he worked for you?”
“Four years. I counted him as a friend. My best friend. I hate to see him behind bars.”
“Don’t you even care that he killed my sister—that he tried to kill me?” Her voice broke.
He nearly moved to comfort her but stopped himself. “Of course I care. I told the constable to arrest him.”
“Has he?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t heard. When you rang the doorbell, I thought it was Brown.”
The wariness in her eyes faded, and she gave a tentative smile. “I believe you, Harrison. I was just shocked at first when I realized he was your valet. I’m sorry.”
“Why were you so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion?”
Her eyes pleaded for understanding. “I’ve been dressed up and posed just like the Kewpie dolls. Perfect hostess, obedient daughter, scion of society. It’s hard to believe anyone would love me for myself and not for what I can do for them. I allowed my doubts about myself to carry over to you. I was wrong.”
His anger began to ebb. “I only wanted you, Olivia. Not your name or your status.”
Tears filled her eyes. She took a step toward him. The wind picked up again. The gentle breeze changed to a sudden gust that caught the papers on the desk and blew them across the room. She stooped and began to pick them up.
“I’ll get them,” he said.
She reached for a paper and froze. She snatched it up and stared at it, then up at him. His gut clenched when he remembered one of the papers on the desk. The forged signatures.
“Would you care to explain this?” she asked, holding out a paper. Her voice sounded thick.
He knew what it was without looking. “I was going to tell you about it.”
“You forged my father’s handwriting. You let me hope he was alive.” Her voice was disbelieving.
He shook his head and took a step toward her.
She backed up, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to believe that there was a good reason for Richard Pixton to be under your roof. You had me convinced I was wrong.”
He reached a hand toward her, then dropped it when she flinched. “No, Olivia. It’s not what you think. I found that at my father’s house. See the pencil rubbing? I did that trying to figure it out. When I saw what he’d done, I confronted him about it. There’s more I need to tell you about all of this, but not until you calm down.”
“I’m perfectly calm, thank you.” Her gaze searched his. “I want to believe you, Harrison.” Her voice broke off in a sob.
“I had nothing to do with any of this, Olivia.”
She passed her hand over her forehead. “I’m so tired I can’t even think. I’m going home now. We’ll talk about it later.” She lifted her gaze and studied his face. “Can we get past this, Harrison? I want to. If you could understand how devastated I was by Eleanor’s death, perhaps you could understand my determination to know the truth.”
He thought about telling her he loved her, but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was a Stewart. He let her turn and rush from the room. Moments later the door slammed.
Tears poured down Olivia’s cheeks as she rushed back to the manor. Harrison had shown no willingness to forgive her for hiding her identity. And heaven help her, she still loved him. What a pathetic fool she was.
The manor was dark as she made her way to her room. She closed the door behind her and fell onto her bed before she let out the sobs crowding her throat. Her life was in ruins.
She lay on her back and watched the stars through the window. Her fingers crept to her lips and she remembered the night he’d kissed her for the first time while stars fell from the sky. Burying her face in her pillow, she wished that day back again.
“Olivia.” The words echoed from the speaking tube. “I need to talk to you.”
She bolted upright. Her father’s voice. She grabbed the speaking tube. “I’m on to you, Richard. I won’t be taken in again.”
Ghostly laughter floated up the tube, then the voice faded away. How dare he come here and taunt her? He knew she wouldn’t fall for his ruse now. He’d done it to torment her. How had Harrison let such a viper into his household?
Tiger curled up against her and she caressed his soft fur. He was a comfort tonight. His ears flickered and he looked toward the door. Her skin prickled when he tensed. Was someone listening outside her door? She bolted upright.
A board creaked and she struggled to see her door in the moonlight. Was the knob turning, or was it a trick of the light? Before she could decide, the door eased open and a figure stepped inside. A woman’s figure.
Olivia relaxed. “Goldia, what are you doing up at this hour?”
The light came on, half blinding her. She put up her hand to shield her eyes and realized it was her housekeeper. The door shut behind Mrs. Bagley. Swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, Olivia sat up.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, miss, we have a crisis. Could you come with me?”
Olivia swung her legs to the floor. “Of course. What’s wrong?”
The housekeeper put her fingers to her lips. “It’s your mother. Quietly, Miss Olivia. Your mother was most adamant that I didn’t rouse the Jespersons.”
Just like her mother to want to smother any gossip. “Is she ill?” Olivia rushed toward the door and followed the housekeeper into the hall. Instead of turning toward her mother’s room, Mrs. Bagley turned left toward the stairs. Olivia followed Mrs. Bagley down the staircase to the first floor. She started past her to the parlor, but the older woman grabbed her arm.
“She’s not there, Miss Olivia. This way.” She beckoned for Olivia to come with her to the back of the house toward the kitchen.
What was her mother doing in the kitchen? But when they reached it, the woman continued out the back door toward the carriage house. Were they leaving the premises?
“Mrs. Bagley, where are we going?”
“She’s in the carriage house, miss. She’s had an accident.”
An accident? What would her mother be doing wandering around the carriage house? Olivia darted past Mrs. Bagley and ran across the backyard. The carriage house was across the driveway and at the back of the property. What could her mother have been doing all the way out here where only servants went?
She reached the structure and stepped into the dusty space smelling of gasoline and oil. “Mother?” Straining to see in the dark, she could only make out the shrouded shapes of the automobiles.
The door slammed behind her, and a man’s hard hands grabbed her. A rag was thrust into her mouth, then he wrenched her arms behind her back. The man propelled her toward the smaller automobile.
She worked her tongue around the rag. It wasn’t stuck in very far and she managed to get it out of her mouth. It fell to the ground in the dark as he shoved her forward.
A scream tore out of her throat, and he clapped his hand over her mouth. “If you make another sound, your mother is dead. Understand?”
She nodded, and he took his hand away. “Richard?” she gasped. “What do you want? Where is my mother?”
“Get that rag back in her mouth, Jerry.”
Jerry? Olivia strained to see the man’s face. The sliver of moonlight through the window showed a slimmer, shorter man than Harrison’s valet. Jerry and Mrs. Bagley were in on this too?
“I can’t find the rag,” he muttered. “You have a hanky?”
“No,” Mrs. Bagley growled.
Olivia heard a woman moan. The sound came from behind her. “Mother?”
“She’s here and if you scream, I’ll kill her first,” Jerry said.
“Whatever Richard is paying you to help him, I’ll pay you more if you let us go,” Olivia said. “I promise you won’t go to jail.”
“Richard?” M
rs. Bagley laughed and shoved Olivia. “That milquetoast nephew of mine has nothing to do with this. He’s much too forgiving to mete out justice where it’s due.”
“Nephew? You’re Lulu’s sister? The one she went to live with after leaving our house?” Olivia struggled to see the woman’s face in the dark. “What do you stand to gain if I’m dead?”
“If you’re all dead, Richard will get everything. He’ll share it with the aunt who raised him. But it’s not about the money. It was never about the money.”
“It’s just revenge then?” Jerry’s grip on her arms never slackened. The only way she would be free of him would be if he let go.
“Your father gave everything to you and your sister. He let his wife toss Lulu to the dirt. She went quite mad, you know.” Mrs. Bagley’s voice rose.
“Mother, don’t,” Jerry said. “Stay calm.”
“Calm?” Mrs. Bagley’s voice rose to a near shriek. “The Stewarts are to blame for everything. For the way we lived hand to mouth. For Lulu’s death by her own hand. They have to pay for their sins. I’ve waited and waited for God to do it, but he has let them prosper. So I have to do it.”
“But you’ll go to jail. No one will believe this was an accident. You’ll be found out.”
The woman’s smile was chilling. “Jerry will testify he saw Frederick Fosberg sabotage the plane. And we also have his gun in our possession. He’ll take the fall, not us.”
“Fosberg tried to kill us?”
“He tried to kill Harrison. He was convinced Eleanor killed herself because she was afraid of having her reputation besmirched. Of course, Harrison had nothing to do with it—Jerry threw her over the cliff—but Fosberg’s rage suited our purposes.”
“It was Jerry on the boat,” Olivia said. “He tried to kill me.”
Mrs. Bagley shoved her. “Enough talk. Let’s end it, Jerry.”
Jerry shoved Olivia toward the roadster. He wrapped a rope around her arms, then lifted her into the seat and tied the rope to something on the floor that she couldn’t see. She opened her mouth to scream, and he stuffed a vile-tasting rag into her throat. From the oily texture it must have been used to wipe grease off the cars.