by L C Kincaide
Ivy was mortified.
Then Robert exclaimed, “Whichever gentleman finds it will have the pleasure of escorting Miss Ivy to supper!”
They met this suggestion with great enthusiasm, and to Ivy’s growing horror, the single men in the room were scouring the carpet for it.
“Nicely done!” Emma laughed. “I wish I’d thought of it!”
“It wasn’t intentional.” Ivy turned to her, her cheeks aflame. The men were searching now, laughing and jostling one another aside, having made a game of it. Grace raised her wineglass and an approving eyebrow in Ivy’s direction.
Emma watched them scramble and the women hop out of the way, giggling.
“That’s the most fun we’ve seen around here in a while. Maybe it will become a tradition.”
“Oh, God, Emma!”
Emma continued unfazed. “Maybe we’ll call it Ivy’s search — no — Ivy’s conquest! In your honor, of course.”
Ivy wished for the floor to open and swallow her.
At long last, Saynsbery appeared in the doorway, and with great flourish announced supper was being served, and on the arm of Sir Theo Langstone, Ivy entered the dining room. Beneath the glittering chandelier, the guests enjoyed several courses along with Sherry and wine, both red and white. Elinor arranged the seating so the older generation sat together while the younger people were grouped farther down. The conversation near the head of the table was conducted in hushed, yet animated tones. At the other end, the women picked at their food.
“And to think I could’ve gone to Milan.” Grace sighed. “By November it starts to get unpleasant.”
“I thought the shows were over.”
“They are. This is for fun, with Genio. He’s the most darling photographer. You really should come for a visit. I’ll introduce you to people.”
Emma grinned. “I wouldn’t make that suggestion lightly. I may never leave.”
Grace shrugged a bony shoulder. “How about you, Ivy? Have you ever been to London?”
“No, I haven’t been abroad. But I’d like to one day.” She said, hopeful.
During this time, Carrie was following their conversation quietly. It stretched the imagination to think of this introverted young woman as Victoria’s relation on any level. In fact, there was no physical resemblance either. Her hair tied back with a ribbon was a sandy brown much like Emma’s, and her eyes, when she chanced to look up, were reminiscent of clear blue aquamarines. Certainly shy, there was also a sweetness about her.
“Emma told me how beautifully you play the piano.” Ivy tried to bring her into the conversation.
“Thank you.” Carrie blushed, peeking up through her lashes.
“I have no musical skills whatsoever. It must be wonderful to master an instrument.”
“I enjoy playing, but not so much the practice.” She confessed, warming to her subject. “But I love music, so it isn’t a hardship, really.”
“One day little Carrie will be famous.” Emma predicted. “She’s what you call, a prodigy.”
The young woman impressed Ivy; she’d never met anyone like her. “When did you realize it?”
“My parents found me playing Beethoven’s Für Elise one day.” She giggled. “I was three, and it was on my toy piano.”
Grace chortled. “Rather like Schroeder in the Peanuts cartoon!”
“I can play Heart and Soul with two fingers!” Emma announced triumphantly.
“How about a duet of Chopsticks?”
They all laughed, and it felt good to have a moment of normality. Elinor tried catching Ivy’s eye more than once, but she avoided her. Since mentioning the orchids, Elinor’s glances made her uneasy.
The multitude of courses over, Elinor announced that everyone was retiring to the drawing room for Port and Sherry. While the guests filed out, she motioned for Emma to remain.
Ivy stepped into the central hall and discovered to her annoyance that her bracelet had come undone again and was very likely under the table or chair. She wished the dress had a pocket because this trinket had already caused too much of a fuss. Doubling back, she made her way to the dining room, but raised voices stopped her from going further and hoped to retrace her steps before either of them noticed her presence; she’d had enough awkwardness for one evening.
Elinor’s voice rose as Ivy turned to go. “Whatever is the matter with you?” She paused and lowered her tone. “This is wonderful news! Think about your future, about all of your family’s future.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Emma’s reply had a strained edge. “You’re not making any sense. I wish I hadn’t come. I feel sorry for every one of my friends who’s ever had to endure this, most of all Ivy.”
“It’s been even longer for me, so don’t think you’re in a unique position to complain!” Elinor’s tone had acquired an edge. “You’re not going anywhere. Everyone stays.”
A brief silence followed when neither of them said a word, interrupted only by the tinkling of a glass and pouring of liquid.
“Now, Emma, don’t you do anything stupid we’ll all come to regret. I’d think you would be pleased.”
Emma chortled. “I won’t even pretend to know what that means.”
“It means they have accepted her.” Elinor spoke with hushed enthusiasm. “Do you not realize how — significant this is? How this changes everything for you, for your future, for all of us? We are free! Why can’t you understand that?”
“I don’t believe any of this.” Emma sounded exasperated.
“Regardless of what you believe, you will do exactly as I say. I will not have you ruining anything, not when we are so close.”
“How can you say that? How would you even know?”
“I see the signs.” Elinor said with great conviction.
“Oh, yes. The signs.” Emma’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “And I suppose the so-called curse will be lifted now, and we’ll all live happily ever after!”
“Emma, how dare you use that tone with me?” Elinor said outraged.
Emma wasn’t giving in. “I think I have this curse all figured out. People go crazy. It started with Old Margaret, and it just goes on down the line. Before long, I’ll be hallucinating and having chats with ghosts too!”
“Emma!”
“I’ve had enough! We were for once having a perfectly normal evening, and now it’s ruined! Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Emma, don’t be insolent. We’ve been working toward this for decades.”
“And what about…”
“It will be fine. You have to trust…” Elinor was trying hard to mollify her daughter, but Emma refused to cooperate.
“Trust what? What exactly is it we’re all supposed to put our blind trust in? None of it feels right to me.”
“This is hardly the time to start questioning things, Emma.” Elinor paused. “Don’t think about it further.” She continued, trying to placate her. “Let it go, have a lovely weekend, and by Monday, it will all be over.”
“Well, doesn’t that sound just peachy!” Emma shot back, her voice dripping with more sarcasm. “Have a party, drink wine, by all means enjoy your stay at the Everdon House of Horrors!”
As if on cue, a gust of wind slammed against the window. A second later the rain started its assault on the glass. Ivy tried to turn away, but could not. She loathed herself for eavesdropping, and yet, she stood rooted to the spot trying to figure out how she made it into their argument.
Elinor spoke. “You are drunk. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”
“Fine. Go ahead and pretend. It’s what everyone around here is so good at…”
A sharp slap echoed in the room, skin against bare skin followed by a gasp, then a glass shattered on the floor.
�
��Emma — I’m so sorry…” Elinor’s voice quavered on the verge of tears.
Too far from the drawing room to make her way back in time, Ivy pressed herself into a shadowy recess, her heart pounding. What had she just witnessed? Seconds later, Emma rushed past. Elinor called after her, but she headed straight for the stairs while her mother continued to the drawing room where the guests were waiting.
Ivy nearly forgot why she was there, then ducked into the dining room and swept her hand over the carpet with until she found the bracelet and jammed it deep down her bodice front. Not ideal, but it would have to do. Then she slowly made her way to the drawing room, hoping her face revealed nothing of what she had overheard. Loath to stay in the same room with Elinor, she positioned herself close to the door from where she’d be able to spot Emma easily when she returned, provided she wasn’t done with the night and stayed in her room. Elinor seated herself on one of the velvet settees, drink in hand, her back to the door and fell into conversation with Frances. Not long after, Ivy spied Emma frantically gesturing to her, and she slipped out of the room unnoticed. The central hall was empty and silent, mostly shrouded in shadows, and high above, rain drummed against the skylight glass.
Agitated, Emma’s eyes darted to the drawing room. “Ivy, we have to get out of here.”
Ivy was dumbfounded. “What? Where to?”
“No time for questions, just come with me. Now!” Emma insisted, her voice urgent.
She grabbed Ivy by the arm and pulled her across the central hall, turned toward the back and took a service corridor, identical to the one on the opposite side until they came to a door. The wind blew it in as she disengaged the bolt, and it slammed against the wall just grazing her. The driving rain stung their exposed skin like needles as soon as they were out in the open, and Emma pushed into it with a firm grip on her friend’s wrist.
“Where are you going?” Ivy tried to get an idea of what was going on in Emma’s head, but the wind ate her words.
Emma continued on course, hunched into the teeth of inclement weather. She knew exactly where she was headed. Ivy looked up to gain her bearings; they were on the western side of the house somewhere. She thought she spotted the hulking shape of a low building that was their destination, battling against the storm that tore at their hair and clothing. The driving rain had already soaked their dresses, and the fabric hung in heavy sheets making it difficult to walk. Emma released her, and with a grunt and a heave yanked at the doors. One of them caught the wind, flung open violently and hit the wall with a great bang.
“Hurry!” Emma reached for her and continued into the garage. It was dark, musty and smelled of engine oil, but it was dry and out of the relentless wind. Emma shuffled around to the other side of the parked SUV, the wet hem of her drenched gown leaving a streak behind her.
Ivy realized with mounting fear what Emma was intending to do.
“Emma, you can’t drive! You’ve been drinking!”
But Emma was determined and didn’t care. She opened the door to her mother’s car and climbed into the driver’s seat, pulling the soaking long skirt inside.
“Emma, no! You can’t do this!”
She reached for the ignition and found the key still in it. It came as no surprise it was there, and she nearly laughed out loud. Why wouldn’t it be there? It’s not like anyone was out here to steal it! The exhaust spewed from the pipe reeking of noxious fumes, the vehicle having parked there for who knows how long. Ivy coughed in the sudden stench.
“Get in before you choke to death.” Emma called throwing open the passenger door. Seeing there was no other way to deal with her, Ivy reluctantly climbed in with some effort.
She barely had time to slam it shut when Emma threw the gear in reverse, and they shot out of the garage. Gravel flying, the SUV skidded into a semi-circle before she again shifted gears, and they lurched forward just as the front doors of the house burst open. Elinor, wide-eyed with alarm shouted over the gale and the roar of the engine for Emma to stop. Matthew, hunched against the driving rain, was already lurching to his car.
They careened along the drive, the blades whipping across the rain-spattered windshield.
“Emma, please stop!” Ivy was shouting now, terrified. In their haste, they hadn’t thought to buckle themselves in.
But Emma wasn’t listening. Her eyes were round and huge, her jaw set.
“At least slow down. You’ll get us both killed!”
Matthew was gaining on them, but spotting the headlights in the rearview mirror only urged her onward. Swerving into the next bend, the combination of wet gravel and speed caused the vehicle to shift and slide. For an irrational moment, Ivy had the impression she was in an action movie, except what was happening was real, and dangerous, and totally surreal. It was possible they may not survive the weekend.
Emma again shifted gears, and this time they groaned horribly and without engaging. Her concentration diverted, the wheels left the gravel and now bit into the soft, sloping lawn. Emma gripped the wheel and turned it hard to correct, but too late. Instead of heading for the bridge, they were headed for the river which would drag them under it.
“Emma! Take your foot off the gas! You have to stop!”
They were jostling down the slope, ever closer to the water. At this point, going in was all but a certainty. Ivy hoped it wasn’t deep, and the car wouldn’t roll onto its side when it went in. Already, the reeds, skinny, ghostly shapes were waving in the headlights, and Ivy braced herself against the dashboard.
What happened next defied explanation; the SUV slowed and changed course away from the water’s edge and gradually rolled to a stop. The engine died, the wipers stopping in mid-swipe, and their ragged breathing and rain drumming against the roof and windshield mixed into the night. Emma stared ahead unseeing, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Condensation formed on the glass from their gasping breaths, and they were blinded by the searing headlights of Matthew’s approaching car.
Ivy tried to loosen Emma’s grasp, but she held fast.
“Emma, it’s all right. Everything is all right. You can let go now.”
Ivy squinted against Matthew’s glaring lights, and a moment later, his shadow passed before them as he approached.
Emma turned to face her, trembling and pale, sandy hair plastered to her head, her lovely dress a wet rag, not unlike her own.
“God!” She choked, eyes welling with tears. “What am I doing?”
Ivy reached for her. “It’s all right. There’s no harm done. We’re safe.” She hoped her words were reassuring.
Emma’s eyes were intent on Ivy’s.
“I’m so sorry, Ivy. I never meant…”
Matthew pried the door open and stuck his head in along with more rain. Concerned blue eyes surveyed the scene. “Are you hurt?” He shouted over the storm.
Emma’s head rested on Ivy’s shoulder, and she was whimpering. “No, we’re not hurt.” Ivy called back, shaking her head.
He nodded that he understood and started to pull his sister from the car. He had her out in seconds and carried her like a rag doll. Once free of the SUV, Ivy bent forward and threw up. Then she followed Matthew to his car.
“Heavens!” Elinor met them in the central hall.
Saynsbery and Clyfford were at hand holding towels, serious and completely devoid of facial expression. Professionals to the bitter end.
After reassuring his mother that the women had come to no harm, Matthew carried Emma upstairs with Clyfford on his heels.
Elinor turned to Ivy, who stood with a towel wrapped around her in a growing puddle on the marble. “What on earth was she thinking?”
Ivy didn’t know the answer to that, and she said so. She was cold and wet and needed to change into dry clothes. She desperately wanted the evening to be done with.
Elinor s
tared into space for a moment before returning her attention to her guest.
“Forgive me, dear, you are shivering. Go on upstairs. I will have hot tea sent up.”
As she trudged away, Elinor muttered to herself while the others gaped from the drawing room’s open door.
Seated at her dressing table, a cup of tea steaming before her, Ivy pulled what pins the wind hadn’t torn loose from her hair. At last out of the wet clothes and warmed in a bath, she felt better, at least physically. She had been trying to make sense of the evening, but didn’t know where to start. All of it seemed bizarre, in one way or another.
The weird conversation she had overheard between Emma and her mother about someone being accepted; what was that about? Surely Elinor hadn’t been talking about her? And even if it had been why was it so important that the Ruskins and Langstones accept her? She hadn’t foreseen this becoming a popularity contest. Did Elinor subject every newcomer to this? She made the weekend visit seem sinister. If this is how Emma saw the next couple of days unfolding, she couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away.
And how on earth would her presence here impact anyone’s future never mind this obsession with a curse? It must be a joke, but there was nothing funny about how conversation went. Or it could be they were all a bit unhinged, to put it politely. Living out here, isolated with no one for company, conjuring up ghosts would not be too far-fetched if someone were predisposed to that sort of thing. And what about Emma? The poor woman risked their lives trying to escape. But she was drunk, and who can say what strange ideas roamed in her head when under the influence? Maybe she was just overwhelmed by it all. Who wouldn’t be if they were raised to believe in family insanity, family curses and unexplained deaths? She herself could attest to that with seizures that left her disoriented and doubting what was real and what was fantasy, and sometimes her own dark thoughts. Oh, they were a good pair!
