Butterfly Palace (3 page)

Drew eyed the man’s set jaw and read his determination. Good. “Let me see if I can rearrange my schedule.” He whipped out a black leather calendar and pretended to peruse it. He pulled out a pencil and acted as though he were erasing something. “I can make that
work. My other client may squawk, but I’ll make it up to him with a new tip.”

Vesters smiled with self-satisfaction, and Drew allowed himself a small smile as the man reached for a glass of cider. Drew looked at the young woman holding the tray. He blinked and looked again. All the blood drained from his head, and his knees went weak as he took in the blond hair and pointed chin.

Lily? It wasn’t possible. She hadn’t seen him yet as her attention was on Vesters. Drew’s gaze drank in the face he’d seen only in his dreams for four years. Those delicate features and smooth skin hadn’t changed in all this time. Her eyes were such a dark blue, and they grew even darker when she was angry. The glorious hair he’d loved to see released from its pins was hidden under an ugly maid’s cap. The years had brought a new maturity to her beauty.

Drew turned on his heels and melted into the crowd. His pulse throbbed in his throat. He had to calm himself. If Vesters smelled something off now, it could ruin the whole thing. He spared a glance back at the group, but she wasn’t looking his way. Maybe she hadn’t seen him.

What was Lily doing here, so far from Larson? She wore an apron like she was a maid. Part of him longed to rush to her and announce himself. Did she hate him? He deserved it after the way he’d left without a word.

He was in the middle of the dancing couples, so he cut in on the man squiring Belle Castle. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Castle.”

“Not at all, Mr. Hawkes.” She flashed him a coy smile.

He’d known for weeks that the beautiful brunette held some fondness for him, and he hated to encourage it now, but Everett would be happy to see him dancing with his niece and would unlikely be upset at Drew’s sudden departure. Everett would smooth things over with Vesters.

Drew was so distracted he didn’t notice when the musicians struck up a reel. Belle picked up her pace but he didn’t. Their feet became entangled. He tried to catch his balance, but everything was happening too fast. He released Belle so she wouldn’t share his disgrace. In the moment he scrambled away, his arm collided with the soft body of someone behind him. The deep red Oriental rug rose to meet him, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. The contents of the china cups darkened the red carpet to deep garnet.

The rest of the dancers stopped and stared. Someone snickered, and heat rose to his face. He quickly flipped the lady’s dress over her lower limbs and sprang to his feet. “I’m terribly sorry. I—I—” His apology died when he stared into Lily’s scarlet face.

Her eyes were wide and horrified. “Andy?”

He hadn’t heard that nickname since his father died. “I’ll explain later,” he said low enough that only she could hear. After helping her to her feet, he knelt and put the cups back on the tray. Some of them were broken, and he prayed she wasn’t blamed for the encounter.

She hadn’t left when he stood with the tray in his hands. The rest of the guests began to move off, and the music tinkled out again.

Knowing his duty, he glanced at Belle. “I’m so sorry, Miss Castle. You are unharmed?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Hawkes.” Belle smiled, and the amusement lit her eyes with a warm glow. “That was a much-needed bit of excitement for this too-dull party. I do believe I’ll take my leave though and attend to my dress.” She gestured to dark splotches on her gown. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but she held up her hand. “No harm done. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

He gave a slight bow. “I shall look forward to it.”

Christopher Lambreth, Mrs. Marshall’s son, gave a genial grin
and held out his arm. “I’ll escort you, cousin. I fear you’ve lost your usual fine sense of balance.”

Belle laughed and took his arm. When her emerald skirt disappeared in the swirl of other gowns, Drew turned his attention back to Lily. She seemed rooted to the spot. His reappearance had to have rattled her.

He took her arm. “Let’s get out of here. Make no sign that you know me.”

She gave a slight nod. “Your past actions have already made it clear I don’t know you at all.”

His lips tightened, and he guided her through the crowd to the blessed cool of the hall outside the ballroom. “Lily, what are you doing here?”

She jerked her arm from his grip. “I think the better question would be, what are
you
doing here, Andy? And the first question begs the second. Where have you been for the past four years and two months?”

Part of him rejoiced that she knew so clearly how long he’d been gone, but that fact also revealed the depth of the pain he’d caused. “It will take too long to explain now. Can you meet me tomorrow afternoon at the park? Say nothing about my identity to anyone.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I want to hear it. And besides, I don’t know what my duties are yet. I just arrived tonight.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Who are you really, Andy?” She turned toward the kitchen door.

“Wait, Lily, I want to talk to you.” But the swish of her skirt was the only response he received.

TWO

S
omehow Lily managed to keep a pleasant smile on her face while she served the guests their after-dinner drinks and dessert. Andy, here? Had it been real? She fingered the sore spot on her arm where she’d fallen and knew it was.

Seeing him again had torn the scab off a wound she’d thought had healed long ago. The moment he looked into her eyes, she instantly remembered every moment spent skipping rocks in the Red River and every stolen kiss—and more—in the livery. Her emotions churned with the desire to resurrect the love she’d felt once. But it could not be. He couldn’t be trusted.

She sidled behind a strange tree with a long scaly trunk topped by flat, spreading leaves and some kind of round, hard fruit that was planted in a wooden container. This party was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. The glorious silks the women wore made her fingers itch with the desire to touch them, especially the mauve ones. No homespun dresses here.

And the ballroom itself made her jaw drop. The great domed ceiling over the space made it appear even larger than it was. Gilded maids frolicked in the fresco with deer, and silk draped the massive windows. But what held her captive was the enormous stained glass window between the ballroom and the next room over. It
was circular and at least ten feet across. The butterfly depicted in it seemed to glow from the intricately fused colored glass. Though it was beautiful, the beady eyes of the butterfly made her shudder.

She turned away and her gaze collided with Andy’s intent one. She wanted to look away but couldn’t until a distinguished gentleman stepped to the center of the room and tapped a spoon on his glass of amber liquid.

The man’s smile beamed with pride. “I have something exciting to show you. I purchased the cocoon of what is reported to be a Red Glider.”

A buzz of excitement started around the room, and Lily heard “Africa” murmured more than once. “Everett always knows how to make a splash at his parties,” Mr. Lambreth whispered in her ear. She gasped at his nearness and sidled away. If her employer saw her talking intimately with him, she’d be discharged.

Mr. Marshall put his hand on the bark. “This is a coconut tree from Africa. I had it shipped here with the pupa still on it. The last few days, the outside has gotten translucent, which is the sign the butterfly is about to emerge. The butterfly began to try to break free nearly a week ago, a long time in the insect’s life cycle.”

“Why’s it take so long?” a male voice asked. “I’d think the struggle would kill it.”

Mr. Marshall nodded. “The butterfly needs the hardship to make it strong enough to fly. The struggle pumps fluid to its wings and gives it the strength to survive. If I were to help it by cutting away the chrysalis, it would die. So all we can do is stand back and observe its own efforts to free itself.”

Lily stared as movement began in the small cocoon. The group crowded around to watch. Once it started, it all happened so fast. She held her breath as the insect, wet and ugly, crawled out and clung motionlessly to the leaf.

“It’s letting its wings dry now,” Mr. Marshall said. “That will take hours. That’s the end of the show for now. Tomorrow this beauty will be up and flying around. I’ll release it into my garden.”

Even while he was smiling, the insect quivered and let loose of the leaf. It plummeted to the ground where it tried weakly to crawl before going motionless again.

Frowning, Mr. Marshall knelt and prodded it with the end of his spoon. “It’s dead. I don’t know what happened.”

“Maybe the struggle was too much for it. I feel that way sometimes.” A woman laughed and turned away.

Lily knew the feeling herself. She was so tired of the struggle to find a life for herself. Andy’s desertion had changed everything for her. It had hurt her mother too, coming on the heels of Papa’s death. Life seemed so hard. Would it ever get better?

One by one the others went back to talking and laughing. Lily watched her new employer touch the butterfly again with obvious distress. What caused him to care so much about those insects?

A pretty blond woman dressed in pink put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, Everett. Come along, darling.” She saw Lily standing nearby and motioned to her. “Take this insect away and dispose of it.”

Lily nearly pretended she didn’t hear. She’d never liked butterflies, though she’d been fascinated by Mr. Marshall’s obvious obsession. She nodded and moved closer. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re new. I’m Mrs. Marshall. You must be Lily Donaldson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman looked her over. “Who made your dress, Lily? It’s cut very well.”

“I did, ma’am. My mother was a dressmaker and taught me everything she knew.”

“Do you know anything about hair as well?”

“Yes, ma’am. I like trying out the new hair fashions I see in
Godey’s
.”

“I hurt my arm in a fall from my horse and am struggling to do my hair. Perhaps you can help on a temporary basis. Come to my suite first thing in the morning.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

“Please clean this up.” Mrs. Marshall put her hand on her husband’s shoulder again. “Your guests are waiting, my dear. Don’t be distressed. You have plenty of butterflies in the garden.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he muttered. “I’d like to keep it though and try to discern what went wrong. And it’s still beautiful.”

“Maybe it was just too weak to survive the emergence. It happens. I’ll have the maid put it in your study.” She motioned to Lily again. “Try not to damage it. Put it on a paper or something, and place it on Mr. Marshall’s desk.”

“And where is that, ma’am?” Lily trembled inside with the knowledge that she would have to touch it.

“Down the hall toward the kitchen. Fourth door on the left. It’s not locked.” She led her husband away.

Lily stared at the carcass. There was nothing beautiful about it in spite of what Mr. Marshall said. She tried to figure out what to put it on. She had no paper. A napkin? Maybe she could use a teaspoon to scoop it onto the napkin. A tray containing spoons was on the sideboard, so she grabbed one and found a soiled napkin. Holding her breath, she transferred the butterfly to the napkin without having to touch it. Carrying it gingerly, she took it away. It took several tries before she found the right room.

The study was dark, so she put the napkin on the floor and turned on the gaslights on the wall. She blinked when light flooded the room. Gaslights were quite wondrous. She put the butterfly on the desk, then lingered a moment to look around. More butterfly displays were on the walls and shelves.

No wonder this mansion was called the Butterfly Palace. It felt a little creepy to her though. She turned off the light and shut the door.

Belle kicked the soiled dress away from her, then pulled the bell to have one of the kitchen maids help her. Fuming, she sat on the embroidered stool in front of her dressing table. Her mirror reflected back the high color in her cheeks. Why hadn’t Drew been more attentive? Instead, she’d been forced to attend that odious Vesters fellow. At least Christopher had been nearby to make her laugh with his dry humor.

Emily poked her head in. “Can I help you, Miss Belle?”

Belle pointed at the heap of green silk. “It’s been ruined. You may discard it.”

Emily smoothed the fabric with a gentle hand. “If you don’t mind, miss, I’ll see if Mrs. O’Reilly can get the stain out. The garment is too beautiful to destroy.”

“Do whatever you like with it. I will never wear it again.” Belle turned back to the mirror and yanked the pins from her hair. “My head aches. I’d like you to brush my hair.”

“Of course, miss.” Emily laid the dress over the back of the brocade chair by the door and moved to the dressing table. She picked up the horsehair brush and drew it through Belle’s long dark hair.

Belle frowned as she remembered the way Drew had been so solicitous of the maid. “I’ve never seen that chit Mr. Hawkes fell on. Who is she?”