The Twisted Tragedy of Miss Natalie Stewart (30 page)

“Perhaps a secret engagement might hold everyone at bay until everything can be done with all proper pomp and circumstance.”

One moment terror, the next joy. How radically my life changed from moment to moment. I grinned and threw my arms around him as we walked. A secret engagement?

“And no, that wasn’t me proposing, Natalie.
That
will be a surprise, and don’t you dare go nagging me about it.”

I giggled and suddenly felt as if every town-house window-box were as grand as a palace garden and every sound of clattering horse hooves the exclamation of angel choirs.

“But truly, Natalie,” he said earnestly, “you’ve been amazing. So strong through all of it. A lesser girl—”

“I got knocked unconscious. Twice,” I protested.

Denbury lifted my chin to look at me with his piercing gaze for a fond lecture. “Natalie, you act selflessly for others without a second thought. You go through paintings, spy on murderers, put yourself in harm’s way, get on trains, travel across the country without hesitation, stare down dead bodies, face your nightmares, talk to ghosts, stand in the way of knives, and translate sign language, all for people you care for. The world needs women of action, and I’ve admired none as much as you. Your light shines bright around you, never dimmed. I’m not sure what’s ahead, but I do know I need a partner and I choose you.”

And that is what I wanted to be more than anything in the world. His partner.

My ecstatic bliss was short lived.

My father must have been watching from the window, for he stormed down the stoop of the town house just as we closed the wrought-iron gate of the garden level behind us.

“Lord Denbury, I thought I was quite clear you were not to see my daughter. No matter what manner of strange circumstance passed between you two, you do not have free rein to escort her about as if you were her husband. I’ll not be disrespected like this, and that goes for you too, Natalie. Your voice and your whims alone do not liberate you.”

I was shocked that every biddy in the neighborhood hadn’t opened her window to listen in. Thankfully Father had enough sense to keep his voice down.

“It’s been…a trying day, Father,” I said quietly. “Would you like the truth of it or a lie?”

He stared at me a moment, likely wondering how many lies he’d endured. “The truth…Why do you keep asking that question?”

“Because you should always have the option. A lie would be a lot more pleasant than the truth,” I said, as I undid the scarf around my neck. My father’s hand went to his mouth, tears in his eyes. “Please thank Lord Denbury, Father. He just saved my life.”

“Come in,” Father choked out, ushering us upstairs.

Bessie didn’t appear to be present. That may have been for the best. We sat in the parlor. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath. “Maggie stole the remains of the painting and resurrected it in her room. It had a terrible curse on it. The dark magic attacked me, but Rachel heard the warning of Mother and fetched Lord Denbury to my side. Together, he and I fought it back. We had to dispose of the remains, as only he and I could. The curse marked Lord Denbury
and
me. And we, together, were the only ones to destroy it. Father, any danger I brought upon myself is of my own will. You mustn’t blame him,” I said strongly.

My father stared at us, part in wonder, part in horror. I reached out and squeezed his hand. “We do try to do the right thing, Father.”

He rose, dragging Jonathon up and into his arms in a wide embrace. “I lost my wife. I can’t lose my girl.” He cried against him. Jonathon returned the embrace in full.

“I told you I’d do anything for her, Mr. Stewart,” Jonathon assured him. “I mean it.”

Father drew back. He looked at me, his arm out as if scared to touch me or my bruises. I went to him, and he folded me in the same embrace.

“Mr. Stewart, I appreciate your position very much. I am sorry for any wrong you perceive. Believe me, none of this is how I’d have chosen to court your daughter if I’d have been given a choice. I’ll do right by you both as soon as I can in good faith. In the meantime, do I have your permission, Mr. Stewart, to come to call tomorrow evening? There’s an event I’d like to take Natalie to, and I’d rather have your permission than sneak about.”

“Only
with
a chaperone,” my father declared. “Evelyn wired that she’s been on nothing but express trains and that she’ll return by then.”

“Good, then,” Jonathon said. He and I opened our mouths at the same time. “Did she say anything about—”

“Yes, she said to tell you that she got to Samuel in time. He’s damaged but will be all right.”

Jonathon and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I was suddenly so proud of us, that we’d managed all that we had without her, and so glad we could still turn to her in all our times of need.

“Thank you, Mr. Stewart. I shall see you soon.” Bowing to my father and then to me, Jonathon walked off down the street, turning onto Lexington toward downtown and his generous hostess’s home. In my darkening mood, when the demon had hold of me, I’d denounced her. I felt guilty at the thought. I missed her, too, her absence only confirming how inextricably linked we were.

“Father, do you and Mrs. Northe plan to court…further?”

He coughed a bit and adjusted his collar. “Provided she doesn’t find me tedious, yes, I sincerely hope so. Especially with her gone, I realize how much I like having her around. And you’re right, Natalie. Lord Denbury brought us all together, and it’s unfair to court Evelyn and deny you. It’s just—”

“Been terrifying. Believe me. I know.”

“Would my courting her bother you? I…you two seem so close. I assume…She’s like family already.”

It was true, but I ached. I was worried. If I was at the center of mystery, so was Mrs. Northe, and she was accountable. My heart ached for all that had befallen Jonathon and for Maggie, poor Maggie. Despite Mrs. Northe’s protestations, could I have been the friend to Maggie who could have prevented what happened today? And if Mrs. Northe had paid her more attention, I’m convinced things might have turned out differently. I ached for all the things that may yet change.

“You’re right. We are close. Mrs. Northe has done so much for me, and it isn’t that I’m not grateful. I just don’t want her thinking she can take the place of all that we have lost, the whole of us. That’s too much space for any one woman to occupy, even as unparalleled a woman as Mrs. Evelyn Northe.”

“She’s not taking anyone’s place,” my father said gravely. “There is no replacing your mother. Do you hear me? No one could replace her.”

Tears were suddenly in my eyes. And that meant they were soon in his.

“Can we go to Woodlawn?” I asked quietly.

“I’d like that.”

Again the train ride up the line, again the haggard old woman with the amazing smile and a cluster of black-eyed Susans. I’d begun to wonder if she gathered them just for us. We made our way through the winding lanes on our usual course. Father had gone ahead of me. I turned the corner of the knoll to see him down on one knee, kissing the stone. He drew back, putting his hand upon the stone and walking away so that I could have my own moment.

I thought about Mrs. Northe’s husband, Peter, whom she loved too. No, no one could replace those we had lost. But God made our hearts big and full of many rooms.

The trees rustled in the breeze, as if willing me to make noise too.

“Mother…” I murmured, staring at her name. “Mother, listen. You saw me through today. I glimpsed death and you stood in its way. I want you to be always
in
the
way
, Mother. I always want your presence in my life known, felt, close. I’m scared. Things are changing—our life, our home…I just want your blessing. I want a sign from you. You are so
alive
to me in my heart, and I don’t want you to feel…I don’t want to lose you any more than I already did.

“Will you mind if Mrs. Northe assumes part of your place in this world in your absence? She could
never
replace you, but she would be there, in some ways in your stead. Give me a sign. Otherwise I can’t be at peace…I can’t accept her otherwise.”

I stared at the stone. I listened for the Whisper. She’d spoken to me in that corridor just hours ago. But never when I’d asked for her. She was ever elusive. Wild. Walking barefoot through some foreign field on a distant shore…Silence.

I stared at her name and rank as mother and wife carved boldly in old-fashioned script. I stared next at the German phrase carved below her name, a phrase from Psalm 23 that I’d murmured over and over again just recently, while embroiled in spiritual battles:

“Und ob ich schon wanderte im finstern Tal, fürchte ich kein Unglück; denn du bist bei mir…”

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for you are with me…”

And then, even lower; a lyric from a contemporary yet much beloved carol:

Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to Thy perfect light.

I stood a moment thinking about that lyric and wondering why it was there. I’m sure I had the significance written down somewhere. Whatever the case, I’d forgotten. I was always too busy trying to memorize the German.

The sky was darkening and the first star was in the sky. A distinct star.

“Remind me why that lyric, Father,” I said as he came to collect me.

“‘We Three Kings’ was your mother’s favorite song. She heard it as a young woman at General Theological during a Christmas pageant, the very first time it was ever performed. She’d sing it sometimes even in the heat of summer. Why?”

I turned away. “I think I have her answer,” I murmured, “her blessing.” I walked to the carriage, looking up, my thoughts on the chorus of the song: “Star of wonder, star of night.”

Above me, glittering in the sky was another famous star that led people to safety as I had been led, and that was the bright, the unmistakable
North
Star.

Chapter 25

I’ll have to wait and see what my father does about proposing to Mrs. Northe, about this…
family
of ours.

We had so much to tell her, and we had so much to learn. She’d likely chide me for confronting the demon and disposing of it, not that I’d known it would come to that. But that painting concerned Jonathon and me alone. If I’ve learned nothing else from classic literature, it’s that one doesn’t confront destiny with a crowd. One has to go it alone.

And I realized that was, in part, the reason why Mrs. Northe had left right at the confluence of our drama. To prove to us without a shadow of a doubt, that we—that I—could survive without her in our journey, a thought that had once been unconscionable. Still, it would be good to have her back. Soon we’d be a family…Soon I’d have to start calling her Evelyn. Or Mother. That would take some getting used to.

I hoped the demon’s spell would be broken upon Maggie, too, bringing her back around to sane and tolerable. That room needed to be cleansed. Scrubbed down with holy water. Nice floral arrangements wouldn’t hurt; something
living
and full of light to purge the negative energies that had given the demon another portal of opportunity.

So many loose ends…How can I not be overwhelmed?

Bessie rapped at my door and entered with a rather large box in her hands.

“It’s from Lord Denbury, my dear. He says to put it on, that it’s ‘a must for the evening.’” Bessie affected a fairly good British accent, and I giggled and shared her resulting grin. “He awaits you downstairs. My
lady
.” Bessie said with a gleam in her eye.

Within the box lay a gorgeous black silk and bombazine-trimmed dress, replete with onyx beading and tulle gathers that were delicate and frothy along the lines of the bust and fitted sleeves. And, a silk scarf for around my neck. The marks from the demon’s stranglehold had faded but not entirely. I gasped at the beauty of the gown. What on earth was the occasion?

“Bessie,” I called meekly down the hall.

“Ah, is this one of those dresses that needs help?” she said good-naturedly and whistled when she saw me drowning in the folds and holding the bodice up to my bosom.

“It’s gorgeous. But what’s he taking you to?” She made a face. “A funeral?”

“A play.”

“A play of a funeral?”

I laughed. Before too long I was transformed into the princess of some wild dark tale. Bessie pinned up my hair and left a few curls loose.

It was for the best that my father was at a Metropolitan reception, for he wouldn’t have liked how the neckline of the dress plunged, or how I had Bessie lace my corset extra tight to give my womanly features extra emphasis. Bessie whistled again, handed me some tea, and had the audacity to leave me alone in the sitting room to wait for my gentleman caller. I daydreamed of balls, waltzes, stolen kisses in vacant estate rooms…

A voice at the sitting room door startled me, and I looked up to behold a handsome vision all in black, tickets in one gloved hand, top hat and silver-topped walking stick in the other. I rose and curtsied.