Chapter 3 #2
“Me?” Although they’d offered remedies for Dad, I hadn’t ever interacted with the Ravenswoods. I hadn’t even recognized their daughter when she appeared before me as an apparition. If that had been real at all.
But Mom, Kitty, and Lydia were already walking away. I held my book tightly and moved to get in line.
A rich laugh drifted through the crowd, warming me.
I glanced toward the back door and my heart rate picked up to see Frank Churchill standing there dressed in an elegant Regency-era costume with a sharp charcoal waistcoat.
His matching tailcoat jacket highlighted his broad shoulders, and a pressed crisp white shirt with a neatly tied cravat adorned his neck.
His fitted breeches ended right below the knee, paired with leather boots polished to a shine.
Several women huddled close to him. He ran fingers through his styled brown hair, a violin clutched in his other hand.
Frank always stood out at any party. Others gravitated toward his easy manner.
Even now, he lingered among a small gathering of people.
As my mother and sisters walked by, his grin faded. His gaze turned in my direction and I averted my eyes so as not to be caught staring.
When I risked a glance back, Frank moved through the crowd, a frown planted on his lips. What about my family could manage to erase his smile so fast?
“Mrs. Ravenswood, my name is Jessica. I was a friend of Isabella’s,” a fae woman who wore a crow mask in front of me said, tears in her eyes. “I-I had this photo of your daughter and I in college when we played polo together. I thought… thought you might like it.”
She reached out to hand the picture over, and I stretched to see the image. I sucked in a sharp breath. The darkhair and mocking green eyes. My breaths came fast, and I struggled to silence the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. It perfectly matched the woman from the cemetery.
Mrs. Ravenswood clutched the photograph in her trembling hands as if it were a delicate piece of china. “My baby always loved playing polo.” She caressed the image, devastation shining in her eyes.
Then she broke down sobbing.
Mr. Ravenswood rubbed her back. “It would bring her some peace if our daughter’s killer were brought to justice.”
My heart twisted, and I automatically stepped back.
I couldn’t do this. I’d never been good with tears and sorrow.
It was horrible of me, but what comfort could my hollow words give to such grief?
Calling on my fae power, I faded as I crept backward, holding my book close until I’d left the Ravenswoods and their anguish behind.
I proceeded through the kitchen and into a side hall. I eased open the first door on my right and gasped in surprise. A room filled with books held a beautiful window seat full of fluffy pillows. A black cat lay curled up in the setting sun.
It was as if the house knew exactly what I sought and had provided it for me. Given its magical nature, maybe it had. “Hey, kitty-cat, can I join you?”
Its fur shone oddly in the light, exhibiting an almost translucent quality.
I rubbed my eyes. The cat gave me an affronted look and jumped from the window seat.
As it walked imperiously from the room, I noticed it had a white spot on its hind left foot.
Funny, the cat I’d searched for with Frank as children had the same marking.
I plopped onto the bench, enjoying the last rays of the day filtering through the window, the calming scent of old paper, and the comforting pillow at my back. I opened my book, determined to distract myself.
Mom’s piercing laugh came from the kitchen beyond the hallway, loud as sin. “Well, you know, my eldest and Charles Bingley have become quite the pair. Near inseparable. If things keep going as they are, I believe there will be wedding bells on the horizon.”
“Oh Charles Bingley, he is a real catch and rich, too. So kind, so handsome, yes, yes,” Ms. Bates, Mom’s long-time friend, said.
“Please, I beg you, Mom, not so loud,” Lizzy pleaded.
“Why should I? Let the entire world understand that these silly rumors of tainted blood are finished. For who would dare denigrate a family married to high fae?” Mom’s smug voice drifted through the door.
“Don’t worry, Lizzy. After Jane’s good match, all my daughters will be sure to marry other rich and high-profile fae. ”
Poor Lizzy. While my sister rarely seemed to care about what others thought, Mom had a way of getting under her skin more than anyone else. She should join me in hiding away from our family’s embarrassment. Better to get lost in a book than have to reign in our inappropriate family at a party.
“What do you want from me?” Lydia’s plaintive voice came from the hallway just outside the door I’d left slightly ajar. She must have slipped into the hall from the kitchen as well. “It’s not my fault—”
“Where did you get that potion from?” Frank’s deep voice, stripped of its normal merriment, demanded.
My ears pricked. Frank was talking to Lydia? And what was that about a potion?
“Where do you think?” Lydia snapped. “Isabella gave it to me to give to you.”
“Are you certain?”
“What are you implying?”
“Something went wrong.” Frank said, dropping his volume lower. “At least, I-I think it did.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was so close to a full moon, but that shouldn’t matter, at least it hasn’t in the past.” He sounded uncertain. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to the wolfsbane potion?”
I almost dropped my book but caught it right before it hit the ground. Frank was a werewolf. That couldn’t be right. He was sweet and kind. Everyone liked him. If any fae resembled the sun’s radiance, Frank Churchill exemplified it.
But worse than that, it sounded like something went horribly wrong on the last full moon. Dread pulled through me. The same night that someone murdered Isabella.
Laying my book on the seat, I stood and eased closer to the door.
“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me.” Lydia’s voice rose with indignation. A foreboding twisted in my gut. When Lydia got this worked up, she tended to do something rash.
“I’m simply trying to figure out what happened,” Frank said calmingly.
“Sure, and if you say I’m to blame, then you can discredit me, can't you?” Lydia’s tone was sharp and unforgiving. “You know what? How about I solve this mystery for everyone right now?”
“No, Lydia, please!” Frank begged.
If my sister ratted him out, then everyone would believe he’d murdered Isabella. Werewolves were illegal and were locked up for life if caught. Add to that the anger of the fae in the town over Isabella… I shivered to think about what they might do to him.
Their footsteps moved away, returning to the kitchen. Frank continued pleading with Lydia, his voice growing more distant and more frantic.
I had to stop this.
I burst out of the room, the door swinging wide, and raced into the kitchen. Frank trailed Lydia into the main sitting area. I hurried after them, past a startled Frank and to Lydia’s side where she stood with that determined expression on her face.
“Everyone, can I have your attention? I have something very important to tell you,” she said loud enough that the rest of the discussion died. All eyes turned to her.
Oh hex, oh hex. What was I going to do? I gazed around the room in desperation at the curious faces directed toward my sister. I needed a solution to prevent Lydia from ruining Frank’s life.
My attention shifted to the piano across the room. That would have to do.
Lydia straightened her shoulders. “I think you should all be aware that—”
I shoved ahead of her. “That I have been dying to play a song tonight.” I forced a smile onto my face. “And Lydia here has gotten everyone’s attention for me. What are sisters for?”
Those at the party stared at me in a mixture of shock, dismay, and amusement.
Lydia frowned at me. “That’s not—”
“And she has kindly agreed to turn the pages for me.” I gripped Lydia’s wrist and dragged her to the piano before pushing her onto the bench. She sat with a startled thump and looked up at me in surprise.
My heart beat rapidly. I didn’t know what I was doing. I only took piano lessons for a year as a child in elementary school and quit after the teacher said that I was a menace to the name of all the musicians who came before.
Still, I grabbed the first sheet music I found and set it before me.
I slid onto the bench and looked at it as a blush crept up my cheeks.
The room’s utter silence made me feel everyone’s stares crawling over my skin.
I braved a glance over at Frank, and our eyes met.
Color had drained from his face, and bewilderment flickered in those brown depths.
Was he aware I was doing this for him? Or did he believe I was an overzealous attention hog?
I told myself not to think about him and read the title on the sheet of music before me.
My Heart Will Go On
Oh hex, worse than having to play, I definitely didn’t sing. But from the type of music, there’d be nothing but chords if some sound didn’t come out of my mouth.
So singing along it was.
“Mary—” Lydia started.
“I appreciate your kindness in turning the pages,” I said loudly, and before Lydia protested further, I forced my hands onto the keys and plunked out the first chord.
It proved far tougher than anticipated, and my fingers stumbled on the keyboard during the introduction. When the words came, I opened my mouth and sang.
The opening lines sounded off and flat even to my untrained ears.
If only Celine Dion could hear me now. I was sure she’d regret ever allowing such a beautiful song to be made into sheet music for people like me to butcher.
I plowed ahead, each chord a symphony of disharmony with my off-key voice.
Everyone in the room probably wished that the Titanic would just sink already and take me with it.
The melody was touch and go at best and half of the chords were wrong, but still I played.
I hit the keys harder, as if that would somehow make my playing more accurate.
In order to compensate, I sang louder, belting out the worst song of my life.
When it was over, I sat there, conscious of the stares.
Lizzy, across the room, watched horrified.
Frank was nowhere in sight. My nerves sparked through my body and Lydia released a huff and began to rise.
No! I couldn’t let her get up and make her announcement.
I jerked her down next to me. “I’m not done. ”
Lydia looked at me in disbelief. I grabbed the next sheet music. What was this one? I Will Always Love you. Great, Whitney Huston level arias.
A knot twisted inside my stomach. Just perfect.
But I needed a plan to stop Lydia. My only recourse, until then, involved belting out old pop songs.
I began plunking out the song. A shuffle of discontent and a collective groan issued from those nearby. I didn’t blame them. This one was so much worse than the first. And yet, I played on while Lydia sat and moved the pages, although she flinched every time I attempted to hit the high notes.
As I grabbed the page for the third song, Lydia moaned and rose to her feet. “I refuse to listen to this parlor trash anymore, Mary. You’re making my ears bleed. Turn the pages on your own.”
I stood and, without knowing what else to do, I bowed.
Relief appeared on most faces present, with only a few magnanimously offering polite applause.
Caroline Bingley stalked over to the sound system and turned it on, letting the real artists do the singing.
The crowd took their attention off Lydia and I.
A sense of release washed over me, as if breathing freely for the first time that night.
Determination remained evident on Lydia’s face. She tried to move away, but I blocked her path. “I know what you did.”
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, then narrowed. “You don’t know anything.”
“I do,” I insisted. Although she was right, I didn’t really know what she’d done that might implicate her in Isabella’s death. “And if you tell anyone about Frank, I’ll see to it that your involvement is revealed.”
“So you’d rat out your own sister to protect a childhood crush? Thanks a lot.” She turned and stormed away.
I watched her go, but her eyes no longer reflected her resolve. She stomped over to Kitty. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. This party is so lame.”
“Lydia!” Mom said, aghast.
But Lydia waved her off and, giving me one more scornful glance, yanked a confused Kitty from the room.
“Don’t mind her,” Mom said good-naturedly. “She’s my youngest, and you know how teenage daughters can be. I’m sure it’s simply that time of month.”
An awkward silence filled the room. Not even the music drowned out the commotion my family drew to themselves.
Lizzy looked like she was going to be sick.
Darcy got up and left. I’d had enough of the limelight and slipped to the side before making my way outside, dead set on never showing my face in public again.
Despite that, a new passion burned in my chest. I’d prove Frank Churchill, and Lydia, innocent. I felt certain neither of them had anything truly to do with Isabella’s death. And I would get to the bottom of what happened.
I had a cemetery to get to.