She held Lilith’s gaze a few seconds longer, her eyes narrowing a fraction. Then she turned to Penelope. “Lady Fenmore, my precious daughter. You look quite worn. Does Lord Fenmore not accompany you? You are always abandoning that poor gentleman.”
Penelope opened her mouth to reply, but George saved her the effort. “Lady Fenmore kindly arrived early to help you with the house party planning.”
“She should have come before today,” Lady Marylewick replied in saccharine tones. “But it is no matter. I’ve put together this whole affair by myself.” She turned to her secretary and kissed her cheek. “Of course little Beatrice, the dear girl, has been such a lovely help. Like a grateful and attentive daughter she is to me.”
“Beatrice!” Lilith cried. Her half-sister Beatrice! The last time Lilith had seen her, she was the angelic girl whom her mother had doted upon. Lilith always assumed Beatrice would develop into a beautiful, simpering version of their delicate mama, not this awkward lady with slightly bent shoulders, enormous eyes, and head full of wild blond curls. “You’ve grown so much. I didn’t recognize you.”
Lilith advanced to embrace her sister, but Beatrice made a quick sidestep, leaving Lilith to grasp the air.
“Good evening, Lord Marylewick.” Beatrice curtsied stiffly.
“What is this?” George asked. “I can’t pick you up and twirl you about anymore?”
Guilt colored Lilith’s conscience as the situation’s full implications sank in. She had tossed her innocent half-siblings, the adorable infants of whom she was so jealous, into the same mental box with her parents, who didn’t love her. She had tied it shut and shoved it into a dark corner in her heart. She hadn’t realized George had become more than a mere guardian to her orphaned half-siblings. He was their surrogate papa.
“Now, George, I’m teaching Beatrice the tenets of being a great lady,” Lady Marylewick said.
“Beatrice will be a grand hostess, of this I have no doubt.” George assumed the warm tones of a proud father. Beatrice blushed underneath the spray of freckles on her cheeks.
“I don’t know,” Beatrice responded. “Lady Marylewick thinks I spend too much time wandering about the countryside and thinking about, well, unnatural things. But I’m getting better, Cousin George. Truly, I am.”
“Unnatural?” Lilith echoed. What a peculiar thing to say. Unnatural in Lilith’s Bohemian set meant something quite risqué, indeed. “What do you mean?”
“Science,” Beatrice whispered as though it were a foul word.
Lilith chuckled. “What is unnatural about science? It’s completely natural. It’s the very study of nature.”
“It’s not lady talk,” Lady Marylewick explained. “Gentlemen speak of science, not ladies.”
Lilith blinked. “Pray, I speak of science. I find the subject fascinating.”
“Of course you do.” Honey dripped from Lady Marylewick’s voice.
What a subtle jab!
Was this really the same Lady Marylewick Lilith had remembered? The elegant lady who had seemed to exist in a serene sphere apart from everyone else? Had she always possessed this fissure of meanness? Lilith felt like Alice, falling down a rabbit hole to a world that appeared similar to the one she knew, except very different.
“Now, Beatrice, my dearest,” Lady Marylewick began, “this perfectly illustrates what I explained yesterday. A good hostess must be prepared when a wonderful guest arrives unexpectedly.”
“Mama!” George warned.
“That shan’t be a problem at all,” Beatrice responded. “We can put Miss Dahlgren in the Foxglove chamber.”
Miss Dahlgren, Lilith noted. Not my sister.
“Foxglove chamber?” Lady Marylewick asked.
“Yes, in the southeastern wing or the old Tudor wing,” Beatrice clarified. “Some of the wings and chambers share the same name. It confuses the incoming guests and servants. Therefore, I’ve created a consistent naming convention for the duration of the party.” She opened her notebook to reveal a detailed blueprint of Tyburn that she must have sketched.
She possessed the drawing talent of her cousin George!
Beatrice pointed to a chamber with the letter F written on it. “Foxglove is really F. It’s between the Elder and Geranium chambers. I thought flowers would be easier to use than Roman or Greek designations.”
Before Lilith could examine the impressive sketch, Lady Marylewick closed Beatrice’s notebook. “Thank you,” Lady Marylewick said to Beatrice’s eager face. “That is quite enough.”
“W-what did I do wrong?” Beatrice’s delicate features screwed in confusion. “I th-thought it would help.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Beatrice,” Lilith said kindly. “You’ve created such an impressive rendering. How talented you are. And I’m sure the precise naming scheme will prove to be most helpful. I’ll be most content in the Foxglove chamber.”
Beatrice appeared more confused than ever. Obviously, a compliment from Lilith could only mean a terrible thing.
“As you can see, dear Beatrice and I have seen to every trifling detail, every possible need, so there is nothing for you to do but to relax.” Lady Marylewick cupped her hand on Penelope’s cheek. “Do get some sleep, my poor dear, you are rather haggard. You will want to appear radiant when your husband arrives.”
The obvious pain in Penelope’s eyes sliced into Lilith.
“And Lilith, my dear child.” Lady Marylewick sauntered toward Lilith, linking their arms. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. Too long. Let us have a darling little chat to catch up. Just between us ladies.”
Why did Lilith think there would be nothing darling about this “chat”?
Lady Marylewick didn’t wait for Lilith’s response but led her to the adjacent parlor. Lilith glanced over her shoulder to see George reaching to embrace his sister and Penelope escaping his sympathetic embrace. Then Lady Marylewick closed the door.
“Come, my dear.” Lady Marylewick sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. Lilith obeyed.
Tight wrinkles streamed from the edges of Lady Marylewick’s smile. Her gaze drifted down Lilith’s body. “You were a tiny, adorable thing when I last saw you. A little garden rabbit. Not a curve on you. But how you’ve filled out.”
Was that a compliment? “Thank you.”
“Now, my dear,” Lady Marylewick continued, “I know you’re a rather excitable lady. Wild ideas just pop into your lovely head. Pop. Pop. Pop.” She laughed and then leaned in. Lilith could smell her floral perfume and the rose oil in her hair bandoline. “However, attending this prominent house party are gentlemen who influence Britain and the world. And my son, dear Lord Marylewick, so like his father, is one of the most powerful men in Britain. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Lord Marylewick shoulders a great deal of responsibility, indeed.”
“He does, the poor man. Therefore it’s essential that you and I do nothing to jeopardize his political aims or cause him one morsel of embarrassment. Nothing.” Her ladyship drew herself up. “We shall ape the manners of our betters.”
Lilith had no doubt that Lady Marylewick’s use of the plural “we” meant the singular Lilith.
“Tell me that we are of one mind on this matter,” implored Lady Marylewick. “For I assure you, I will be most displeased if George’s honor is tarnished by another’s unseemly behavior.” She capped her menace with a harmless giggle.
Lilith was beginning to unravel this different version of Lady Marylewick. A younger Lilith, blinded by her hurt and anger, couldn’t see the machinations holding up the smokescreen of perfection. She carefully considered her reply. “I seek only Lord Marylewick’s true happiness.”
Lady Marylewick studied Lilith, sensing something off-putting about her cool response. Then she gave another silvery laugh again. “By the by, I’m glad we had this tête-à-tête,” she concluded, having injected her sweet venom. “I’m sure you’re worn out from travel and desire to rest. Good night, my dear.”
Lilith matched Lady Marylewick smile for smile. This battle wasn’t over yet. “I wanted to inquire about your son’s art.”
“George’s art?”
“I’ve learned the most remarkable thing: as a boy he created lovely pictures. Of course, like all loving mothers, I know you’ve kept his precious work to remind you of those tender years. How little boys love their mamas! I’m so desirous to see his art.”
“Good heavens, that was so long ago.” Lady Marylewick waved her hand with feigned casualness. “They have been put away.”
“No doubt in a special place where they couldn’t be harmed. How thoughtful you are. Can you direct me to this place? I promise that I shall take as good care of the treasures as you have.”
Calculations worked behind Lady Marylewick’s brilliant eyes as she chose her next tactic.
“Lilith, do you not see? You are enthralled in another of your wild ideas.” She captured Lilith’s hands and squeezed them. “My dear, had I not the great responsibility of a house party to oversee, I would indulge your fancy. Now, I desire you to consider in what docile way you will pass your time during the party. I suggest sewing. As I recall, you could have improved your technique. I shall be happy to show you the proper way to form a French knot, for truly yours were tangles of thread.”