Page 87 of The Dravenhearst Brides
A pair of racehorses.
“Oh my God.” Her stomach bottomed out.
“If my parents’ marriage was cursed,” Merrick continued, “it was because ofyou. Neither ghosts nor hauntings inflict a shade of the damage adultery does. Remember it how you like, absolve yourself of the role you played in her death if you must, but I’ll remember it how it happened.”
Alastair grimaced. “Those wounds run deep, boy. I’m sorry for my role, but I wouldn’t take it back. Same way you’d likely refuse to takeherback.” He nodded at Margot, then lowered his voice. “The die is cast. No turning back now.”
“There’s no curse,” Merrick insisted. “I’ll not be punished for the sins of my parents.”
“No, you’ll not be punished. Dravenhearst men never are.” His gaze slid from Merrick to Margot. “Butshewill be. Mark my words.”
28
October 8, 1933
My dearest Margaret,
I think of you and Merrick every day as I read the papers. There are whispers in Louisville of a legislative hearing. No imminent plans but very promising indeed. It’s beginning.
I find myself keeping more to the townhouse as the weather cools. I must confess, the crisp morning air does constrict my stamina. Have the leaves begun to change in Frankfort? I watch from the windows here, and I think of you, knowing what I see is but the palest imitation of the beauty of the Bluegrass in the fall.
Forever Yours,
Pa
Onecouldonlyreclineon stiff, upholstered sofas for so long.
Margot gave a dramatic sigh and flopped an arm over her forehead. Being confined indoors after a fainting episode reminded her ofbefore.
She’d spent many years like this, moving from couch to couch, window seat to window seat, trying for invisibility. Because when one has a nervous breakdown amongst all of Louisville society, one has no choice but to vanish. She hadn’t wanted to be seen anyway.
Things were different now. Now, spending even a single day with her feet up felt like a prison sentence. There was nothing to keep her mind off the melancholic letter she’d just received from her father. It wasn’t so much the things he said, rather the things he didn’t. The hints between the lines.
Keeping to the townhouse.
Constricted stamina.
The woolgathering reflections of fall in the Bluegrass.
She sighed again, louder, more drawn out.
“Gracious, Margot, I didn’t peg you as one for lachrymose dramatics,” Babette said.
Margot’s gaze snapped across the room. Her mother-in-law’s specter reposed on an adjacent chaise and mimicked Margot’s posture—arm over her head, lips plumped in an exaggerated pout.
“Leave me alone.” Margot harumphed, directing her attention to the magnolias beyond the window. A rhythmic, soft thudding sounded from outside.
“Goodness me.” Babette smiled. “Aren’t we keen to play the victim today?”
“I’m not playing the victim. I’m on doctor’s orders for bedrest, and I’ll not sit here to be your plaything. Not today.”
Babette chuckled, eyes fluttering with amusement. “Myplaything? Whatever has gotten into you?”
Margot’s lips tightened as an insidious chill crept across the room. She thought of Alastair. Of Merrick and Richard. Of Eleanor. Even Xander, of what she’d begun to suspect might have happened between the butler and his former mistress.
So many people,she thought, staring Babette down,who you’ve spun ’round and ’round in your web.
Babette crowed. “Oh, I see. You learned something this morning you didn’t particularly like about me. You’ve known it all along, Margot. I showed him to you myself. Do you think I’m ashamed?” Her brows dipped, the corner of her lip quirking. “I’m not.”
