Unhonored (2 page)

Margaret slipped quietly into the narrow passage. It appeared to be intended for servants to move through the house, for the finish work here was far less grand than in the arcade that she had just left. The sticks of the wainscoting were painted but had a rough finish and the floor was bare wood. The hall itself jogged in mazelike angles as though it had been fitted as an afterthought around and between more important rooms. There were more doors here, each one closed, which she passed at the regular intervals and gave them no further thought, for the sounds of the labored breathing were getting more pronounced.

It was around the next corner that she found her.

Margaret's sudden appearance startled the other woman, causing her to cry out as she stumbled backward into the corner of the alcove closet.

She wore the dark green jacket and the matching skirt of a traveling suit, both of which were soaked completely through. The left sleeve of the jacket and the blouse underneath were torn and stained even darker with blood. The long skirt, too, was heavily stained on the left side. Her hair was completely undone, hanging in thick, wet strands that clung to her about her face and shoulders. She was shaking visibly and, as Margaret watched, slid down the corner of the alcove until she crouched on the floor.

“So there you are, Lady Ellis,” Margaret said in a voice filled both with annoyance and relief.

“M-m-margaret? Is that you?” Ellis stammered between ragged breaths.

“And who else would I be?” Margaret replied, holding her hands together in front of her in her sternest, most disapproving manner. “You've given all the household quite a fright. Everyone has been looking for you. Wherever have you been?”

“I've been … running. I've been running for ever so long,” Ellis replied warily.

“Running, my lady?” Margaret sniffed. “Running to where?”

“Out.” Ellis said the word as though it were both obvious and puzzling. “I have to get out, Margaret, you
know
that.”

“Well, there'll be plenty of time for that later,” Margaret said in slightly dismissive tones. “And I'll certainly not be letting you go about in a state like that especially with the hall decorated and the guests arriving! You have to dress…”

“Dress?” Ellis glared up at Margaret. “Don't you understand? I have to get out of here!”

“Out of here? To where?” Margaret asked with impatience. “Truly, mistress, you have been away far too long!”

“I haven't been anywhere, Margaret,” Ellis said as evenly as she could manage. “Though it hasn't been for lack of trying.”

Margaret rolled her eyes and sighed. From her perspective, the house seemed to have just appeared moments ago but here Ellis looked as though she had run the legs out from under herself for quite a while. Time could be funny in the house, she thought. Maybe the house had not so much appeared around Margaret as she had appeared in it. No matter. She extended her right hand down toward the crouching, bedraggled figure shivering in the corner before her. “Come with me, my lady. We'll get you out of those wet things and into something decent and fit for company. Perhaps when you are warm and rested, you'll be able to think more clearly.”

Ellis hesitated for a moment, and then reached up and took Margaret's hand.

Margaret led Ellis back down the twisting hall, smiling to herself.

They had all played this Game before.

This time, Margaret knew she could win.

 

2

MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE

Ellis shivered as Margaret opened the door before her. The room had an overstated opulence to it, as though a European designer had been given far too much money and far too little direction in its decor. There was an ornate fireplace fitted into the opposite wall between two tall windows. The windows were dark and Ellis could hear the rain pelting the panes before it ran in wavering sheets down the glass. A bright, cheery fire flickered in the hearth, perfectly framed by the mint-green scrollwork of the fireplace's surround. An alabaster mantel sat above the fire, with another green and gold trimmed miniature alcove above the mantel framing a clock encased in a glass dome. It reminded her of the unnerving display she had seen at Summersend, filled with dead—or nearly dead—moths. Whenever someone of her acquaintance had vanished, another moth had appeared pinned in the jar.

Ellis shivered, trying to shake the memory off.

Reaching higher still above that was a framed mirror whose arched peak nearly reached the ceiling twelve feet above the floor. Jade and marble wainscoting surrounded the room with clean, white walls. To her right she could see an enormous poster bed with a headboard and footboard of carefully polished mahogany. The coverlet appeared to be as soft and inviting as the oversized pillows that nearly obscured the headboard entirely. Ellis was not sleepy but as she stood shivering in the doorway looking at the bed, she realized that she longed for rest.

She turned to peer to her left. There was a large, ornate dressing table set against the wall, cream colored and also trimmed in gold. Set in the corner beyond near one of the windows were a pair of matching chairs and a circular claw-foot table. Each was made of the same material as the bed, its surfaces gleaming with the same finish.

One of the chairs had an ornate silk dress carefully draped over it. It was white with a diamond pattern quilted into the bodice. Large, black pom-poms adorned the front in a single line branching around along the edges of a peplum skirt at the waist. An unbelievably wide Elizabethan ruff formed the collar. On the table beyond sat a white cloche hat crowned with yet another black pompom and beside it a white-sequined mask. Gazing at the elegant costume, Ellis was suddenly conscious of how miserable she felt in the thick, soaked traveling suit she wore.

Ellis stepped cautiously into the room, her eyes fixed on the dress in the corner.

“Well, it's about time you showed your face!”

Ellis started visibly at the unexpected voice coming from the corner just inside the door. She turned, taking several steps backward into the room, her hands reflexively rising in front of her.

“Ellis, you hardly need a costume, you're such a fright already,” the young woman said with a giggle. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Ellis drew in a long, shuddering breath. When she had last seen Alicia Van der Meer, she had been undeniably dead, a shriveled and shrunken corpse. Now she stood before her dressed as an Egyptian queen of the ancient world. A pattern of near-Eastern wall paintings adorned the wide hem of her long dress and the tops of her sleeves. A glittering gorgerine—a necklace of layered disks—hung around her neck while, from a circlet of gold around Alicia's head, a rearing cobra stared back at her. She was the picture of ancient royalty yet somehow Ellis could not get the image of her as the mummy she had last seen her as out of her mind. It was unnerving to see this restored woman standing before her suddenly and incredibly alive.

“Alicia?” Ellis said, blinking. “Are you all right?”

“And how else would you have me be?” Alicia replied with a mischievous grin.

Ellis threw her arms around Alicia. “I am so sorry for what happened to you!”

“Ellis, stop it!” Alicia laughed as she pushed Ellis away. “You'll ruin the dress.”

“You … you were dead … both of you,” Ellis stammered, blinking as though to comprehend what her eyes could not believe.

Margaret's eyes narrowed. “Is madam playing one of her tricks again? It is in poor taste for her ladyship to be jesting in such a manner.”

“No, Margaret … Alicia … please,” Ellis said quickly, her words coming in a rush. “I've got to find Jenny!”

“But of course you do. We
all
do,” Alicia replied. “That's the whole point, isn't it? We're all looking for Jenny!”

“What?” Ellis shook her head. “No! I've got to find her and get out of here!”

“Be calm, your ladyship,” Margaret said, her eyes narrowing critically. She turned toward Alicia with a critical frown. “It's that old trouble flaring up again. Perhaps you should go and fetch the doctor…”

“NO!” Ellis shouted, her voice demanding and firm.

Both Margaret and Alicia glared back at her.

“I mean,” Ellis said carefully, “I am in no need of the doctor. I am perfectly well. I just need a little time to myself before … before…”

“The reception, madam,” Margaret prompted.

“There is a reception?”
What game are these two playing at?
she thought.

“Yes, madam; before the masquerade.”

“Yes, of course,” Ellis said carefully. Her eyes remained fixed on Margaret. “Thank you, Margaret. You've been a great help.”

Margaret hesitated, giving a glance sideways at Alicia that was not returned.

“I am sure you have other duties to attend to,” Ellis said in measured words. “Alicia will attend to me. That will be all, Margaret.”

“Your ladyship,” Margaret protested, “it is my duty to see that you are properly dressed and prepared for this evening's—”

“I have a private matter to discuss with Miss Van der Meer,” Ellis said, her voice strong and brooking no argument. “That will be all, Margaret.”

“I'll … I'll return in half an hour, your ladyship.” The woman frowned but curtsied slightly before she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Ellis took in a deep breath, her eyes shifting to Alicia.

“Miss Kendrick, it seems, had taken the liberty of choosing the costume for madam this evening,” Alicia said through a pleasant, if insincere, smile. She crossed the room toward the party dress draped over the chair. She swept it up in a single motion, holding it up for Ellis's inspection as though she had taken up Margaret's role as her lady's maid. “I believe it will draw out the color in madam's eyes.”

Ellis drew in a breath as she gazed at Alicia.

“Ellis,” Alicia asked in a cautious voice, “what is it?”

“Alicia,” Ellis said carefully. “Who are you?”

“You are in a mood tonight,” the woman replied, her brows knitting slightly and her eyes narrowing as she spoke. “You know better than anyone who I am.”

“No, Alicia, I mean who are you supposed to be?” Ellis glanced around the room. “What's your part in this charade they call life here?”

“I am your best friend.” Alicia's lips parted slightly and she spoke through clenched teeth. “I travelled with you when you were so ill abroad. I am your companion and confidant. I am here for you, Ellis. It was your husband who brought me here to stay with you during your recovery.”

“I don't have a husband,” Ellis said.

“You don't
remember
a husband,” Alicia said through a crooked grin. “Practically the same thing. Rather daring of you, I must say, to have a husband. It's never been done in our circles and no one is really sure what to make of the idea. But you
are
Lady Ellis after all. Who are any of them to question your behavior—especially me?”

“You hate it, don't you,” Ellis said. “You hate serving me.”

“We all have our part to play, Ellis.” Alicia looked away and sighed, her hands running longingly down the smooth silk of the white dress in her hands.

“Alicia,” Ellis said softly. “What part am I supposed to play?”

Her friend looked up sharply. “You are Lady Ellis, mistress of Echo House … as you have always been.”

“Alicia, no!” Ellis took a step toward the woman, her eyes pleading. “I'm Ellis … just Ellis. You helped me try to escape Gamin. We tried to flee on the train—you, me and Ely—but the train brought us back into the town. The demon found you—killed you—and now it's the train all over again in a house that never ends. I don't want to play this terrible game anymore and I think you don't want to, either.”

“This game?” Alicia burst out the words as a laugh. She carefully replaced the dress over the back of the chair. “This game is all there is. It's all there ever will be.”

“That's not true,” Ellis replied.

Alicia gestured to the small stool in front of the makeup table. “Will you please sit down?”

“Alicia, why are you…”

“Please.” Alicia cocked her head slightly to the right, her voice adamant as she again made the gesture with emphasis. “Sit down.”

Ellis stood looking at the immovable Alicia for an interminable time before drawing in a long breath and sitting on the stool facing the mirror. Alicia swept up a towel from off of the chair next to her and moved behind Ellis almost at once. Ellis thought it odd that the woman should be obsessed with getting her hair dry when her clothing was still so obviously soaked through.

“Look, this party is being thrown by your husband as a celebration of your return to the house,” Alicia said quietly as she worked the towel about Ellis's hair. “However, having been abroad for so long a time, perhaps her ladyship has become … unaccustomed to the rules of polite society.”

“And, I trust”—Ellis spoke the words as lightly as she could manage—“you have been instructed to guide me in these matters?”

“It should be my privilege to do so, your ladyship,” Alicia continued, tossing the towel back toward the chair. She took up a long-toothed comb from the table and started the work of untangling Ellis's hair. She moved the comb carefully through Ellis's tangled locks, taking the time to gently unravel the snags. “Now that you are home, we would not want you to embarrass yourself or the house with inappropriate behavior.”

“Indeed?” Ellis said, her voice quiet. “And what if I don't want to behave appropriately?”

The comb stopped in Alicia's hands. Her voice was quavering as she spoke in almost a whisper. “No, Ellis, please! They'll find out …
he'll
find out.”