Page 42 of Love At First Fright
Rosemary paused.You have to mediate—Dina’s words came back to her. She sat down beside the ghost, watching how the light made her look almost translucent from some angles, the delicate amber cross pendant she wore glittering. She had to be more civil if she was going to gain the ghost’s trust. “You didn’t seem surprised I could see you the other day.”
Juliet shrugged. “I used to have a maid who was spirit-touched, too.”
“Could you tell me what’s going on, with you and Cecilia?”
“She ruined our friendship and now nothing will ever be the same.”
“How did she ruin it?” Rosemary asked.
Juliet remained still for a long time. Rosemary began to wonder if the ghost had decided to ignore her, an impertinent little American, but then she spoke.
“She accepted an offer of marriage.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes,” Juliet hissed. “We always said we weren’t going tomarry until the last moment, when we would be practically spinsters.”
“What’s that, like twenty-five?”
“Don’t be silly. Twenty-two.”
“Ah, of course.” Rosemary tried to conceal a smile. “So, spinsters?”
“We would find and marry two old clods so that when they died, we’d be able to travel Europe. Ceci, I mean Cecilia, was going to be an artist.”
Rosemary spotted another watercolour on the wall, of Juliet again. She had been painted seated at the pianoforte, her hair coiffed in blond curls, and she was looking directly at Rosemary. Or rather, the painter. Could Cecilia have painted them, if she was an artist?
“And you?” Rosemary asked.
“I would have seen the world with my dearest friend. But she had to go and get engaged to a lord. A young one.”
“I’m sure she had her reasons, Juliet.”
“Don’t presume you know anything about us,” Juliet snapped. “We promised. Either we’d marry old or we’d go and join a nunnery somewhere remote and live together as old biddies. I wouldn’t even have discovered her treachery if I hadn’t found the letter stuffed into an old naval chart last week.”
“The letter?”
“From Cecilia’s brother to Lord Davenport, herbetrothed,detailing her dowry. And she’d hidden it from me for all this time.”
Rosemary recognised that Juliet was just lashing out, and she had a suspicion as to why. Every painting in this room wasof Juliet, or of Juliet and Cecilia together, each one signed with aC.Each painting was like a message, suffused with meaning. There was a tenderness in each brushstroke that spoke of something more than friendship. They had to be done by Cecilia, if Rosemary’s theory proved correct.
“I’d like to make a suggestion,” she said.
“Well, I’m sure I can’t stop you,” Juliet grumbled, but she turned to face Rosemary nonetheless.
“Is it possible that you and Cecilia weren’t friends?”
“What do you mean? She was my dearest friend in the world, both in life and after that dreary carriage accident.”
“No, I mean, do you think it’s possible that what you felt for each other was more than friendship? And perhaps that’s the reason you feel so upset that Cecilia accepted a proposal before you died?”
Juliet fisted her cross necklace and stood abruptly. “How dare you? How dare you suggest such a thing?”
Ice penetrated Rosemary’s veins.
“Get out,” Juliet said, steel lacing her voice.
“Okay, Juliet,” Rosemary said softly. “I’m going. But stay away from the crew, please. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. And think about what I said. I’m here if you want to talk.”
