“But lucky for you, she was back in the States and you didn’t go to jail for murder.”
“True. It didn’t stop me from confronting her about it, though.”
Lizzie’s attention had refocused on the water, but her head snapped around with a dizzying speed upon hearing Sebastian’s words.
“When did you confront her?” she asked curiously but still in full possession of an irrational fear.
“When Virginia and I got back home. I headed over to Phil’s house. Sheila moved in with him the day after her performance on the front porch,” Sebastian recalled. “When she answered the door, I tackled her and ripped her from one end back to the other. I told her that I knew it all—every threat, every cruel deed, and especially the attempt on your life. I told her that if she even so much as looked in your direction or even thought about you, she’d live to regret it.”
“Sebastian,” Lizzie said his name, moved by the force of his passion to defend her.
“Phil overheard it all, too. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs carrying groceries when I lit into her. After hearing that she threatened to kill you, he kicked her out and threw her stuff out onto the lawn.”
“You know, I would like to say that there was no need. That what’s done is done, but I won’t. Instead, all I will say is thank you, Sebastian.” Lizzie said gratefully.
“I wasn’t going to let her skate by without paying some kind of consequence. No one threatens you. No one.”
Lizzie watched Sebastian’s eyes for several seconds as a missed connection tried to come together inside her brain. After a few failed attempts, Lizzie refocused on the present, rather than trying to distinguish the missing piece.
“I suppose we should go,” Sebastian said as if he just noticed the change in the light.
“I suppose we should, too,” Lizzie echoed his words. “No doubt Hazel will have dinner ready by the time we get there. I don’t know she does it with a broken leg. I can barely do it with two good ones.” Lizzie’s laugh echoed across the pond. She and Sebastian caught sight of a ripple that began in the pond’s center and slowly made its way to the shore.
Reluctantly, Lizzie left Edith’s beloved pond and followed Sebastian through the wintertime gardens, down to the parking lot at the base of the hill. As they approached the car, a tall, elegant figure leaned against the boot, waiting for them.
“Ah, there you are,” Dr. Trelawney purred as she righted herself and strolled seductively towards them, her eyes locked on Sebastian. “I thought this would be a better place to talk,” she added, referring to Hazel’s absence. “I really want to discuss a partnership with you, Miss Bennett. I don’t think you realize how beneficial it would be to have me on your side.” Dr. Trelawney reluctantly pulled her eyes from Sebastian to meet Lizzie’s.
Beneficial for who? Lizzie thought as she glared at the older woman, pissed off that she’d had the nerve to follow them to Blackwell Farm, reoffer her proposal, and stare at Sebastian as if he were the main course on an early dinner menu.
“I appreciate your tenacity and your zeal,” Lizzie began as she squared her shoulders and prepared for a fight, even if it got ugly. “But I have no interest in partnering with anyone. As Hazel told you earlier, this is my find, and I am only inclined to share it with the museum. And I have the best mentor that I could ask for. I am sorry if that goes against what you were hoping but my decision is final.” Lizzie finished with a firm nod. Dr. Trelawney, who’d been purposely posing to show off her still-youthful figure, growled low but quickly swallowed it.
“It would be in your best interest to accept my offer, Miss Bennett. My name alone can take this discovery to the highest echelons of academia—”
“As can the Museum,” Lizzie bit back. “They also possess more resources and don’t have a wicked stain tarnishing their reputation.” Lizzie struck the last blow without hesitation. “Furthermore, Doctor.” Lizzie forced herself to swallow the snarl that threatened to come out. “I do not appreciate your following me here or for your rude interruption earlier. Let me say this one last time, loud and clear. I do not want partner with you. I’d prefer to remain in one piece, alive and breathing, instead of wrapped around a tree with the brakes cut!” Lizzie delivered her final words on the matter, hackles raised and without concern of what the consequences were. Even though their contact had been limited, she’d had had enough of Dr. Trelawney and her tactics for a lifetime. There was no way that she’d let Trelawney within ten feet of Edith’s documents or allow her to cash in, especially at someone else’s expense. “Now, if you will excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
With that said, Lizzie edged past Dr. Trelawney who refused to budge. The older woman remained where she stood, red-faced and fuming at the being thwarted yet again.
“You should seriously consider changing your mind, Miss Bennett. There’s no telling what might happen if you don’t.” Trelawney hissed as Lizzie who stood in challenge.
“Don’t try to threaten me, Dr. Trelawney. I won’t go quietly into the night like Allen Chang. Threaten me again and it’ll be you who ends up wrapped around a tree!” With that Lizzie climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. Trelawney, suddenly lost for words, looked towards Sebastian who met her with a frown and a purposeful eyeroll. Seconds later, the car took off, leaving Dr. Trelawney in a cloud of dust.
************
Across the ride back to Hazel’s, Lizzie forced any thought of Dr. Trelawney from her mind. Instead, she focused on the missing half of the manuscript and the story it told.
The Secrets of Water told the story of an isolated young woman living in a community of artists, scientists, and other people of the world. The tale began with Annabelle Barker, a lonely, wealthy young woman, and her best friend, Gretchen Aderline, who, after losing her parents, comes to live with Annabelle. For the first few chapters, the girls live harmoniously together, recreating their childhood days but with the flair of grown-up ladies. As the story continued, a young, handsome, brown-eyed artist, Brendan Anderson, is introduced to their ranks and chaos ensues.
Within the span of a chapter, the artist and Annabelle were madly in love, inseparable, and planning to leave damp, dreary England for the golden shores of California. Unbeknownst to them, Gretchen, driven by jealousy of Annabelle’s money and furious at Brendan for loving Annabelle over her, had a more sinister outcome in mind. Gretchen’s jealousy drove her to desperate measures. She blackmails Annabelle’s advisor into assisting her into breaking the two lovers apart. A scheme that leaves Brendan dead and Annabelle heartbroken. Through an intercepted letter, Annabelle learns of their devious plot, but that was where the story cuts off abruptly.
When she first read the published first half, Lizzie felt as if she were visiting a long-lost friend. Page after page, she empathized with the reclusive girl and how she struggled to adapt from a quiet existence to one surrounded by vibrancy, laughter, conversation, and innovative, modern ideas. Reflecting back on the original story, Lizzie couldn’t help but see Edith in the main character. A woman that she’d grown up believing to be isolated and closed off. An Edwardian version of Emily Bronte.
Now, Lizzie saw just how true-to-life Edith’s writings were. With Sebastian at her side and English countryside passing by outside the windows, Lizzie saw just how much Edith’s writing embodied her life.
“Do you think that there is something that we’re missing? Something that provides more insight into Edith’s life at the time. Something that gives us more detail about her time with Murray. What if she had more stories but no one’s been clever enough to find them? Or what if there are letters between the two of them that can confirm the depth of their relationship? If something exists, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re in the house,” Lizzie confessed suddenly. “Or that the clue to finding them is.” She’d harbored the feeling since she first stepped foot into Edith’s sanctuary.
As Lizzie explored the intimacy of Edith’s favorite room and gazed at what she now knew to be E
dith’s likeness, she’d sat on the secret certainty that she held within her.
“If I was Edith, and if I didn’t want it to be found, I would have hidden it somewhere that was off limits. Some place that no one else had access to,” Lizzie added as she finally began to explore the possibility that she was right.
“Do you think that there is something in her writing room?” Sebastian offered as an idea although he suspected that Lizzie had already come to the same conclusion.
“I think so, Sebastian, but where? The Museum went over every square inch of that house when they purchased it. There wasn’t a single thing inside that was left unturned.”
“What about Edith’s desk?” Sebastian asked. “Nana said that it and the desk chair were the only two pieces that weren’t removed when the house was renovated.”
“Don’t you think that someone would have gone through it, though? When I worked at the museum before, there were several boxes filled with slips of paper and whatnots with BLACKWELL WRITING ROOM written across them. I spent a year cataloguing them.”
“What about a secret compartment?” Sebastian offered. “If Edith was as reclusive as they say, there’s a possibility that she was suspicious. And if that’s the case, wouldn’t it make sense that she would have had some private place where she stored her work? I mean, think about it,” he paused and drew in a short breath. “With all those artists—especially writers—she must have been a little paranoid. If you were in her shoes, wouldn’t you be afraid that someone would try to capitalize on your success or try to steal your stories and ideas? Thus driving you to take precautionary measures to protect your work?”
Lizzie sat in contemplation as Sebastian continued to argue a reason for supposed Edith’s paranoia. What he said was sound and it only caused her own suspicions to heighten.
“Sebastian, I need to go back there,” Lizzie announced with unwavering certainty. Sebastian slowed the car to a full stop and turned to face her. There was a quality to Lizzie’s voice that he’d never heard before. A tone that both concerned and excited him.
“We can go back tomorrow when it opens—”
“No!” Lizzie interrupted. “I need to go there tonight.” She faced him, her back towards the fading light, glowing around her like a halo. Sebastian saw determination clearly written upon her face. A resolve that only enhanced her loveliness.
“There are alarms and nightguards, Lizzie,” he argued just a couple of reasons to wait. “How do you suppose we get past them?”
A knowing smile slowly curved the ends of Lizzie’s mouth upwards. “Look off to the north,” she said as she pointed out the car’s window. Sebastian ducked his head down briefly and saw the answer developing right before him. “Do you remember how the power went out during the storm last night?” she recalled, touching upon how the power had flickered for several minutes before it finally gave up the ghost and conceded defeat until the storm passed come morning.
“Blackwell Farm is on the same power grid as Nana’s cottage!” Sebastian nearly shouted as he connected the final dot.
“Your friend Andy said something about it when we met him at the tea shop, remember. When he said that there might be storm tonight and for us to get the candles and oil lamps out.”
“And when it loses power, we can sneak over during the storm. I seriously doubt that the guard will be out walking in it.”
“That’s just what I was thinking.”
“We have a few problems, though.” Sebastian stopped as his mind went over the obstacles lying in their way.
“Like what? A key?” The idea came to Lizzie. No doubt that the caretakers would have the house locked tight and the last thing she wanted to do was break one of the antique windows.
“No, I have a key.” He patted his pocket. “Nana still has hers from when she worked at the Museum. No one bothered to collect it and she never returned it.”
“Okay, if you’ve got the key situation in hand, then what else could there be?”
“A small, trivial thing like the security alarm’s battery back up?”
“Didn’t you hear Hazel earlier?” Lizzie said. Sebastian shook his head that he didn’t.
“While we were waiting on Beemer to finish with Trelawney, she and Katherine were talking about how they’d like to see the security system upgraded at the estate. Hazel mentioned several times that the old system’s battery backup hasn’t worked for years and that she’s afraid that Dr. Trelawney will take advantage of that weakness for her own gain.”
“Here Nana is worried about Dr. Trelawney when it’s you she should be concerned about.” Sebastian laughed as his eyes danced with amusement. “Eliza Emily Bennett, you are something else,” he added before stepping on the gas and resuming their journey back to the cottage.
************
Just as predicted, Hazel had a roasted chicken warming in the oven when they arrived. She’d taken it upon herself to invite both Martin Beemer and Katherine Sargent to dinner as well. Lizzie had to swallow a squeal of delight when she spotted Katherine seated next to Hazel at the seldom-used formal dining table.
“I thought that you could tell Martin and Katherine more about your theory on the painting in Edith’s writing room,” Hazel said as Lizzie and Sebastian entered the room, each carrying a food-laden tray. Sebastian carried the rotisserie chicken that Hazel had purchased from the meat market just hours before. Lizzie carried a bowl of fresh potato mash, a bowl of fresh green peas, and a boat filled to the brim with savory onion gravy.
“That smells delicious,” Martin Beemer said as he breathed in the fragrant aromas of their feast. “It reminds me of when I was just a research assistant and you used to invite us over for dinner. It seems like I was over here every night back then.”
“Well, I didn’t want you all to starve, especially since I know that you all weren’t paid properly,” Hazel admitted as Lizzie began to set their dinner onto the table. “A hungry mind is a distracted mind.”
“Hazel, I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Katherine Sargent said as Hazel handed her the bowl of potato mash. “When I was just starting out, you kept me fed when I had no money to feed myself. How can I ever thank you?” Katherine offered up her sincere gratitude which Hazel begrudgingly took. Lizzie noticed that any type of compliment or praise seemed to embarrass the elder woman. Watching Hazel handle such gratitude with such grace, despite that, left Lizzie in awe.
“Hazel is the only reason why my grandmother never worried about me when I came over for my internship,” Lizzie added, wanting to join in on the bandwagon of admiration.
“And me,” Sebastian took his turn. “I never once worried about Lizzie because I knew she was in great hands.”
“Can everyone please dam up this river of compliments?” Hazel halfheartedly hissed with exasperation as she batted at the air with her hand. “We came here to eat and to discuss this painting. Pardon me for borrowing one of your grandmother’s favorite expressions,” Hazel said directly to Lizzie. “but we’re not here to butter my butt with praise.”
A round of laughter filled the small room. As the quintet dug in, Lizzie went through a full explanation of what she and Sebastian had managed to deduce.
“And you’re positive that Edith was the model for Ione?” Katherine Sargent asked with her full attention focused on Lizzie.
“Absolutely. All the data that we know coincides with what we’re theorizing,” Lizzie said certainly. She knew that her hunch was spot on. “Most importantly, the figure matches Edith’s portrait hanging in the museum, and matches the dark-haired figure in The Vestal Virgins.”
“Jacobs and I will drop by first thing in the morning. I’ll have one of the restoration teams take the painting to the museum so that one of our experts can see if it can be authenticated,” Martin Beemer said taking a combination bite of chicken, mash, peas, and gravy— a combination he called ‘the perfect bite’—and gave it a thorough chew.
A sudden crackle of thunder
rippled and vibrated through the bones of the old cottage as if the universe itself was giving its approval for their plan. Lizzie caught Sebastian glance at her from across the table. Giving him a nod, she knew that once Beemer and Sargent left, and Hazel was in bed, they’d be free to sneak over to Blackwell Farm.
With that tucked firmly in her cap, Lizzie focused on the casual conversation that had settled over the table while the thrill of later reluctantly took a backseat.
EIGHT
Months after Adelide’s arrival, Edith’s life was a whirlwind of activity. By Christmas, the need to write was insatiable. While Edith locked herself away, pounding out essays, poems, and newly, editorials for the Women’s Suffrage movement—a topic that Edith had increasingly grown passionate about—her household underwent another sudden transformation.
Addie took frequent trips to London and upon her return, she would fill Edith’s ear with all the fascinating people she’d met, the thrilling night life she’d entertained, and shopping sprees funded with Edith’s money. Edith hadn’t minded. She saw it as a way of supporting her friend who’d been robbed of everything. In Edith’s view, she could easily afford it and Addie had suffered enough across her short life. Edith saw no need for her to suffer further. All of it though, did nothing to prepare her for the next chapter of her life.
************
Edith’s world turned upside down one summer morning. She’d spent the morning reading over what she’d written the night before and consuming the novel, Indiana, by George Sand. Inspired by the writer’s love affair with Frederic Chopin, Edith devoured all of Sand’s work, leaving Indiana—her favorite—for last.
A loud commotion of raised, excited, and unfamiliar voices, drifted up the stairs, immediately grabbing Edith’s attention. Leaving her novel resting in her rocking chair, she rushed downstairs to investigate. As she descended the stairs, Edith passed two men carrying suitcases, one of whom nearly bumped into her. Confused, Edith paused momentarily to study them.
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