Chapter 26
It had been two weeks since Evalyn’s formal soiree, and I’d heard nothing from her since.
Though I hoped she was simply busy, I knew deep down something had shifted between us.
My insides churned with anxiety day after day as I obsessively recalled the details from that night and the conversation I’d overheard about Carrie’s lover and Jet’s accident.
I wanted to confront Carrie, to ask her about Rita’s brother, to hear her say it was another lie, that even the women in her circle who called themselves friends were jealous of her and perpetuated rumors about her.
I hoped I’d be afforded the chance to see Carrie again at Evalyn’s one day soon.
I felt as if I stood on a precipice, my world shifting like sand with the tides, and I didn’t know what came next.
A part of me was relieved by the reprieve, but the other part of me longed to be included, wished I could be Evalyn’s new favorite again, paraded around like a beautiful and precious doll.
I longed to call the McLeans’ residence but didn’t to give Evalyn space, to give myself space, too.
Still, I counted the days until it was time to return to Friendship in an official capacity for my jewelry cleaning duties.
When the day finally came on a steamy May morning, I wore one of my many gifted day dresses, spent extra time on my hair and makeup, and left with my tool kit in hand.
I was surprised to arrive to a quiet house.
“Mrs. McLean isn’t here,” Jerry said. “Do you have an appointment?”
I frowned. “Is she out for the day? I can stop by later after I finish a few of my other house calls. This is my scheduled cleaning day.”
“She’s left town, ma’am,” Jerry replied.
“I’m sorry? She’s left? Where did she go?”
“Ohio with Ned on business and then they’re off to Kentucky, ma’am. For the derby.”
The truth stung. Once upon a time, she’d mentioned taking me with her to the derby.
“She also asked me to give you this for repair.” Jerry handed me a wrapped parcel.
I opened it, finding the headband I’d made for her.
The feather was broken in three places, several of the gems had been plucked from the fabric, and the top edges of the band had begun to unravel as if it had been teased apart.
Either the children had gotten ahold of it, or the headband had been intentionally damaged.
“Ma’am?” he said when I didn’t answer. “I’m afraid she’s left explicit instructions to keep her collection under lock and key.”
“That’s all right,” I said, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “I’ll see her when she returns.”
His eyes were contrite. “I’d be happy to leave a message for her.”
It was bad enough she’d left town without mentioning it to me, but to explicitly keep me away from her collection was a message—and I could read it, loud and clear.
I’d done something wrong, made some wrong step.
I thought of Ned’s flirtations, her accusations, but somehow I knew it was more than that, some other offense I’d made without intent.
I remembered Ned and Evalyn’s exchange the night of the formal party at their home on McPherson Square.
“Did you see all the hens gathered around Lizzie?” Ned had said. “She’s made quite a place for herself here, hasn’t she? Everyone appears to like her. She may usurp you as queen bee.”
Evalyn had swatted his arm. “As if that would ever happen.”
Now there was the destroyed headband, her absence without explanation, and the way she’d dashed me off at her diplomatic party like a fleck of dust. And I understood something. Evalyn saw me as a threat, and she was pushing me out of her life.
Jerry’s eyes softened when he saw my expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sure there’s some explanation.”
“Of course,” I said diplomatically, but I knew Evalyn wasn’t one for explanations. When she’d made up her mind, she’d made up her mind, and that was the end of the story.
I left with a boulder-sized lump in my throat.
* * *
An hour later, I arrived home to find two notes tucked into our letter box. Grimacing, I opened the pale-yellow note first. It was from my mineralogist friend, Ken Davis. Happy to see his name, I raced through his letter.
Dear Elisabeth,
I’ve recently learned we’re hiring a lab assistant in my department at the museum. I hope you will consider applying. You would make a wonderful addition to our staff.
Please call by the house should you have any questions.
Yours,
Ken
On the bottom of the card, he’d written his telephone number. I mused at Ken’s kindness, but no matter what, I couldn’t abandon my father. He needed me, and I knew I must let go of the silly dream of working at the museum.
I turned over the other envelope, deciding whether I wanted to open it. I knew what it would say, and I didn’t need another warning, especially now. Curiosity got the better of me.
Please do as I say and stay away. It’s for the best. They are not your friends. And your luck may soon run out. Your brother didn’t deserve to die.
I read it and reread it, my irritation overshadowing my fear.
Frustrated, I threw down the note and tore inside the house and fished the other noisome letters from my desk.
One by one, I laid them out on the table to examine them.
I searched for some clue as to who had sent them, only to come up empty once more.
I plopped down into a chair and rubbed my eyes.
After feeling sorry for myself for some time, I reached for the notes again, tracing the handwriting with my fingertip.
The script was identical on each of the cards, so they were certainly from the same person, but the handwriting itself was puzzling.
It wasn’t curled and elegant as if written by one of the high-society ladies with expensive tutors whom I’d come to know.
This handwriting was blocky and looked like it was written by an unsteady hand, someone who was uncertain of their writing abilities, in fact, which only confused me more.
Who would want to warn me? I could think of only one person in the circle who had helped me secure the job at Evalyn’s and one who had cautioned me, told me Evalyn wasn’t as she seemed.
Carrie Wellington.
I was done waiting for an invitation, done being threatened, done living in the dark.
In a swift and decisive motion, I stuffed the notes into my handbag and made a beeline for the door.