Ashes of Roses

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  He grimaced at the realization he was once again amongst the roses. Weariness notwithstanding, he would seek a neutral location in which to rest, one which did not hold such bitter memories as were made here just hours ago.

  No sooner was his decision made, than the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Before he could leap to his feet and retreat, a young man rounded the nearby hedge. Aside from the difference in expression and the color of their eyes, their appearance was markedly similar.

  “There you are, Douglas,” the young man said cheerfully. “I wondered where you got off to.”

  Fury surged afresh, and Douglas’ brown eyes blazed, as he looked back at the young man.

  “Is it possible you are as ignorant as I myself was, until recently?” Douglas snapped. “Or were you privy to our Father’s deceit, and complicit in withholding the truth that Helen indeed survived the plague said to have taken her life?”

  His brother appeared genuinely shocked, confused, and dismayed.

  “If this is so, then certainly I had neither knowledge nor part in it,” Daniel declared.

  The fire burning in Douglas’ eyes slowly dissipated as his brother looked back at him unflinchingly, albeit with concern in his own. Douglas at last broke his gaze, and Daniel slowly took the seat facing him.

  “Do you mean to say Helen is alive, after all?”

  Douglas nodded, as he spoke with difficulty.

  “Yes. Helen is alive.”

  Daniel’s blue eyes lit with excitement, but his brother’s somber countenance swiftly served to dim his enthusiasm.

  “She… is well, I should hope?”

  Douglas shook his head slowly, as he considered that.

  “I suppose you could say so.”

  “And yet… you do not have the appearance of one who is overjoyed. Indeed, if she lives, why do you sit here brooding over Father’s cold-hearted misleading? Marry her, and let him stew over his foiled plans. Or… surely, she is not already married to another?”

  Douglas laughed shortly, as anger flashed across his face.

  “No. She is not.”

  “Then… and how, pray, did you learn of her survival?” Daniel’s eyebrows knit in perplexity.

  “I saw her here in the garden, just this afternoon,” Douglas replied briefly.

  “You saw her,” Daniel said in surprise.

  “I was overjoyed, as you can imagine, knowing how deeply I have grieved her loss,” Douglas recalled, as one who has been sorely disillusioned.

  “Indeed, until this very day,” Daniel acknowledged with concern.

  “Instead of sharing my joy, she insisted I am bound to marry another,” Douglas scowled in distaste. “She in fact implored me to do so.”

  Daniel’s frown deepened.

  “Surely you cannot mean it.”

  “I begged her to marry me. She refused,” Douglas answered shortly.

  Daniel’s eyebrows knit, as doubt and indignation battled for supremacy.

  “I should never have thought it of Helen. Whatever has she done with herself these five years, past? Whatever is she doing here, now?”

  “The one letter she sent, I’ve no doubt Father destroyed,” Douglas replied grimly. “While I was deceived and grieving her death, Helen was utterly alone, and in need. I am not certain she trusts that I did not receive word. She feels beholden to the Bannermans, as they took her in after having lost both family and fortune. She has been companion to the elder Lady Bannerman ever since.”

  “It is an uncomfortable position, to be sure, but to insist you marry another?” Daniel said in confusion. “I cannot imagine Helen doing so. Surely she must understand the promise between the two of you, and indeed between our father and her own, is of greater validity than any made since.”

  “She refuses to understand,” Douglas replied grimly. “Never did I believe her heart could grow so cold in response to my own.”

  Daniel watched in sympathy as his brother held his bowed head in his hands.

  “What do you then intend to do?”

  “I shall not marry the woman of Father’s choosing, that much is certain,” Douglas growled. “Beyond that, I do not know.”

  Daniel gave consideration to his brother’s words, and weighed his own before speaking.

  “You are then certain Helen will not have a change of heart?”

  Douglas laughed mirthlessly.

  “Her only care is for the Bannermans. She said someday I shall be thankful for her cool head and colder heart, which allows her to choose responsibility to others, over myself.”

  Anger washed across Daniel’s face.

  “Indeed, and why should you not, having discovered how little she cares, after all! I should be deeply grateful for the escape granted from being bound to such a wife!”

  Douglas’ anger abated in response to his brother’s, and grief took its place once more.

  “Perhaps someday I shall, though I fear I shall forever be tormented by her loss, and that by her choosing.”

  Sorrow for his brother filled Daniel’s eyes, then resolve took its place.

  “Perhaps you should marry Miss Bannerman, after all.”

  Douglas shot him a look of incredulity, but he continued on.

  “She is quite lovely, you know. Her letters show her to be kind, thoughtful, and entirely innocent. I cannot believe she would put another above the man she professes to love, and… if I am not mistaken, she is quite in love with you, already.”

  Douglas leaped to his feet, and paced in agitation.

  “She is likely to feel differently, once we meet,” he said almost threateningly.

  Daniel frowned.

  “See here, you needn’t turn your anger toward Miss Bannerman. She’s hardly to blame.”

  “Helen cares more for her feelings, than she does my own,” Douglas replied shortly.

  “You can hardly blame Miss Bannerman for that, or… perhaps you can. She is really quite charming. So long as you do not poison yourself against her, you may find that you much prefer her, yourself,” Daniel declared.

  Douglas looked unconvinced, but his anger abated, and he sat once more.

  “You are right, of course, that Miss Bannerman is least to blame in this. I speak so, because I am overwhelmed with emotion of every kind. I cannot imagine that will soon change.”

  “In that, you have my sympathy,” Daniel assured him. “Only see to it that you do not refuse that which is good, because you cannot see past that which is not.”

  Douglas sighed.

  “I cannot make such a promise, but I shall direct blame to whom it is due, instead of to whom it is not.”

  “Then for now I am satisfied,” Daniel said. A gong sounded, and he glanced over his shoulder. “It is time I was dressing for dinner. Will you be joining us, or shall I make your excuses?”

  Douglas considered the question, then rose to his feet.

  “I shall join you.”

  The broadcast from the past ended, and the garden came back into focus. I glanced up at Miles, and smiled at the look of amazement on his face. I was pretty sure I knew what caused it.

  “Well?” I asked. “Did you see it, too?”

  His eyes were bright with excitement as he looked back at me.

  “If you mean Douglas and his brother, then yes,” he replied. “I feel deeply sympathetic toward him, but… that was amazing! Is this what it’s like to view the truth?”

  “Not exactly, but close,” I answered. “How cool is it we got to view it together?”

  “It’s very cool, and I love that I was able to go with you,” he said, as we hugged each other.

  “Me too,” I smiled. “So… why do you suppose we saw this particular broadcast?”

  “Why have we seen any of them?” Miles countered. “I can’t begin even to guess.”

  “I’m glad to know Daniel steered Douglas away from his animosity toward Evie. I’m relieved, actually. I felt just awful for her, after hearing what he said before. But maybe he’s comi
ng around. What do you suppose happens next?”

  “I have a feeling we’ll find out,” Miles replied, as he glanced at his watch. “Real-time was indeed involved, but we still have a few minutes to dress for dinner.”

  “Okay, good, because I’m starving!” I declared, as I jumped up and pulled him to his feet. Or tried, anyway. He did most of the work.

  “I’m coming, you needn’t rip my arm out of its socket,” he teased, as he put his perfectly good arm around my shoulders.

  “Would you rather I break a few ribs?” I teased back.

  “I’d much prefer it,” he smiled, then steadied me as I stumbled. “This path is too uneven to travel, with nothing but moonlight to guide.”

  He activated his handy flashlight app, and lit the cobblestones ahead. But that’s not all it caught in its glow.

  “What is that?” I asked, as I stared intently at the semi-shadow underneath the bench just ahead.

  “Not another body, I hope,” he frowned, and I couldn’t help laughing.

  “No! Although after the day we’ve had…” I guided Miles’ phone so the beam lit the space fully. There, as if dropped, fallen, or tossed aside, lay a deep pink rosebud.

  “Good catch,” Miles said with almost as much excitement as I felt. I quickly knelt, and retrieved it.

  “This has to be Finn’s,” I declared, as I breathed in the scent of its velvety petals. “I’m sure of it. This is from the rosebush I admired right before we met him.”

  “I agree,” Miles said, as he studied it. “How many hours ago do you suppose it was cut?”

  “Between eighteen and twenty-four,” I calculated.

  “Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?”

  “Well—yeah. Why would anyone do that?” I said disapprovingly.

  “The answer may be in your hand,” Miles replied. “Because of your time at the estate and the roses there, perhaps you don’t realize, but… Anika, if this was cut during the night, and has lain here without water ever since, then it should show some sign of it.”

  I stared down at the rosebud in my hand.

  It didn’t.

  Chapter 17

  I sat beside Miles, studying the multitude of guests seated around the impressive length of the dining room table. If all the leaves weren’t called into service for this meal, then… the dining room would have to be enlarged, to do so. Cut flower arrangements, predominantly in shades of pale blue and white, spanned the length. I wondered if it was merely coincidental that they matched Lady Carlisle’s gown of ice blue. I also wondered if she wore any other color. Not that I had a lot to judge by. This was only the third time we saw the woman since our arrival three days ago! But, it wasn’t as though she had nothing to distract her during that time. I strenuously disapproved of her treatment of Ashley, and of her determination to force Sir Edmund to marry the Countess. But in many other ways, I felt sympathy for the woman.

  Jewels glittered brilliantly from the fingers, wrists, ears, and throats of the well-dressed, formally begowned women. The men were likewise impressively attired in tuxedos, though minus the jewels. Everyone looked very fancy, and imminently wealthy. They must be, for the Carlisles to put on such an elaborate three day event, culminating in the fancy dress, masquerade charity ball. Otherwise they would do better to donate the expense, but with this crowd… it was merely priming the pump.

  I was surprised to see Ashley seated there, but upon further consideration, of course she would be. It was part of her job as publicity, house, and public relations manager. Until she made her farewell, she’d execute her work flawlessly, despite the Lady of the manor eyeing her coldly from one end of the table, and Sir Edmund watching her broodingly from the other. Ashley gave no sign of being aware of either of them. She was entirely engaged in polite conversation with those around her, as graciously as if the past three days never happened.

  I felt proud of her. Titled or not, she was a lady.

  Speaking of those titled… I glanced at the Countess out of the corner of my eye. It was either that, don sunglasses, or go blind. The vivid LED bulbs imbedded in every millimeter of the fabric comprising her outfit were enough to rival the glare of the sun. No wonder she wore dark sunglasses, herself! They were positively huge. More of her face was encased by them, than not. I wouldn’t be surprised to find they were actually welding goggles. They looked a lot like Grampa Thompson’s, in the brief glimpse I managed.

  While her dress had no discernible color thanks to the thick layer of lights, her broad brimmed hat was blood red. I’d say that it, and her clunky, fuchsia orthotic running shoes didn’t match, but the band of the one also sported a layer of lights, as did the laces of the other. The engagement ring she wore was most definitely upstaged by all the rest.

  Sir Edmund sat shielding the side of his face with his hand, no doubt in self-defense. The guest seated to her right was turned away from her, but even so, he was squinting. I had no idea what those directly across from her were doing, as they were further down our own side of the table.

  “I’d say she pulled that off brilliantly, wouldn’t you?” Miles asked softly, and I laughed.

  “Her neighbors would certainly agree,” I replied, as the guy beside her wiped tears from his eyes.

  “How do you suppose the darkness would stack up to this?” Miles said quietly.

  “Well… I don’t see any,” I considered. I gave Lady Carlisle a particularly good look, but detected none.

  “I was kidding,” Miles said. Now he looked a little concerned.

  “I’d sense it, even if I couldn’t see it,” I assured him. “There isn’t any. I admit, I’m sort of disappointed.”

  I’d also be appalled if we were at risk of being eavesdropped on, but thanks to Miles’ soundproof forcefield, there was no risk of that. It was true that someone present might be able to read lips… but, if they tried their skills on us, they’d soon decide they weren’t so great, after all!

  “I wouldn’t mind getting back to doing things the old-fashioned way,” Miles agreed. “How about truths?”

  “The usual, for this sort of crowd. The sheer numbers are a little overwhelming,” I confessed. “I’m struggling to keep up, and have no idea who to block out. I’ve no way to guess who might lie about something relevant.”

  Miles looked sympathetic.

  “Do the best you can. That’s all that’s expected of you.”

  I nodded, and felt a little better. It really was a lot to manage. I might be able to go back and play them over separately, but that wouldn’t necessarily enable me to match the truth with the one telling the lie.

  Considering the lack of darkness though, maybe no one present knew anything useful. About the two murders, the destruction of the hybrids, and Finn’s disappearance, anyway.

  Lady Carlisle stood, and all eyes turned in her direction.

  Except the Countess’. In the brief, corner-of-my-eye half-glimpses I managed to make, she was staring off into space.

  “Welcome to Bannerman manor,” Lady Carlisle said graciously. “Sir Edmund and I are honored once again to host this year’s charity ball, in benefit of Camden Children’s Hospital. I trust the difference made will be even greater this year, than ever before.”

  A burst of laughter at the other end of the table caused everyone to turn in that direction. One brief glimpse, and everyone as quickly squinted, and turned away again. All I knew for certain before I was temporarily struck blind, was that it was the Countess laughing. She still was. I blinked repeatedly, and managed to see Lady Carlisle around the image burned into my retinas. One eyebrow was lifted slightly, her lips were thin, and her eyes—which were aimed over the Countess’ head—were cold. She didn’t look terribly impressed with her daughter-in-law of choice.

  The uproarious laughter continued for what felt like several minutes, as the footmen systematically slid plates in front of each guest. At last, the Countess ceased.

  Lady Carlisle jumped in, while she had the chance.

&
nbsp; “Enjoy your stay,” she said briefly, and was promptly seated.

  As embarrassing as it was to be interrupted between sentences by such a display of hilarity, I had no doubt Lady Carlisle was relieved to escape anything worse.

  “Whatever was that about?” the woman seated on the other side of Miles quietly asked the guy on her left, as dinner commenced.

  “I haven’t the slightest,” the man said in response.

  Maybe he didn’t, but he suspected the Countess was overly fond of alcohol, as her parents were, before her. I wondered if he was right, but didn’t dare risk looking in her direction to see how many empty glasses she amassed thus far. I opted to look around at the other guests, instead.

  The irritable couple staying in the room next to the one assigned to Miles, were seated far apart. Maybe it was just as well! They still didn’t look too happy with each other, although he also looked confused.

  She didn’t. She knew exactly what she was upset about. Unless they gave me something to work with, such as a misunderstanding, there wasn’t much I could do for them.

  I looked around some more, and wondered who went with who. All I could be sure of, was that those couples seated together, weren’t really together. Except us, of course, and Sir Edmund and the Countess. I guess. They were together now, but would they stay that way? It would be poetic justice, if they did! Lady Carlisle would rue the day she insisted, if she didn’t already. She was proud, though. If she refused to ever admit it, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  Monsieur Delacroix was engrossed in conversation with those around him. Or on listening in, anyway. He wasn’t actually speaking. Whatever the others said, it was either the truth, or they thought it was. I didn’t hear a tone unless I heard what the person said, and for that, I was grateful! Knowing only that they believed their words to be true when I didn’t also know what those words were, wouldn’t be any help. It would just be more noise, and there was plenty of that to sort through, already.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” the guy next to me, who was probably in his thirties, said.