Butterfly Palace

by Coble, Colleen

  When she slammed the door and locked it, she heard a sliding, slithering sound like a foot. Or a snake.

  But that’s ridiculous. Her breathing felt tight and labored as she started back across the room. Something swooped toward her, and she ducked instinctively with her heart pounding. Squinting in the dim light, she made out what appeared to be a cloud of colors. Black, brown, orange, violet. Her throat was too tight to scream as she backpedaled.

  She closed her eyes and raised her hands instinctively as wings came again. The soft touch of wings on her face and hands broke her paralysis, and she shrieked as she ran for the door. Again and again screams tore from her throat as delicate wings whispered over her skin.

  A hand grabbed her arm, and Drew’s voice was in her ear. “Lily, it’s okay.”

  The panic ebbed as she burrowed into his chest. His hand smoothed her hair. “There’s something here. Bats maybe.” She shuddered and closed her eyes, reveling in the comforting press of his arms and the scent of his bay-rum cologne.

  “Not bats, just butterflies. Look, it’s just butterflies.”

  She peeked open an eye and glanced around. Dozens of butterflies rested on everything. “What are they doing down here?”

  With his arm still around her, he guided her toward the door. “Maybe Mr. Marshall will know.”

  SIXTEEN

  Butterflies covered every bush, every shrub. The brightly colored insects coated the table and chairs on the patio as well. Lily didn’t want to step outside the French doors onto the brick in case she stepped on one. After last night, butterflies made her tremble.

  “See, nothing to worry about.” Mr. Marshall’s smile was kind. “This type of migration happens occasionally. The American Snout butterfly is common here, and after heavy rains, their numbers surge. We will probably have close to twenty million passing through here.”

  Mrs. Marshall’s head bobbed, and she put her gloved hand on Lily’s arm. “Mr. Hawkes will be joining Belle for breakfast in the dining room. Put him in there to wait.”

  “She’s running a few minutes late, Mrs. Marshall,” Lily said. “And she doesn’t like me to speak with Mr. Hawkes.”

  “That girl is being ridiculous. Serve him some tea or coffee until she comes down. Mr. Marshall and I have an appointment in town. Make sure he needs for nothing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Inside, she quailed at the thought of being alone with Drew. If Belle came in and found them talking intimately, her job here would be gone.

  The Marshalls were barely out the door when Drew stepped onto the terrace. He smiled at her. “I’ve been working on my catlike skills. You didn’t even hear me coming.”

  She had to smile, but she shot a glance into the house to make sure Belle wasn’t coming. “This way, Mr. Hawkes.”

  His lips tightened, and she knew he didn’t like her addressing him so formally, but she had to get used to calling him that so she didn’t slip in front of Belle. He said nothing though as he followed her into the empty dining room. Food steamed on the sideboard.

  She moved toward it. “Coffee?” She lifted the silver coffeepot.

  “Please.” He went to the head of the long table, clad in fine white linen. “May I sit here?”

  “Wherever you like.” She poured coffee into a fine china cup. “Milk or sugar?”

  “Black.” He studied her over the rim of the cup. “Where’s Belle?”

  “Running a bit late. I can go check on her.” She put down the pot and started to turn, but he caught her by the wrist.

  “I’d rather you stay and talk to me.”

  Her skin was hot where he touched her. “You’ll get me fired.”

  “We’ll hear her if she comes this way. Another one of my catlike skills.” He kept hold of her wrist.

  “Another servant may report it.”

  “Have you recovered from the butterfly attack last night?” His expression made it clear he didn’t intend to let her leave, though he released her wrist.

  She rubbed where he’d touched and stepped back two steps so if anyone peeked into the dining room it wouldn’t appear as if they were deep in conversation. “Yes, I’m fine. There are more butterflies everywhere outside too.”

  He nodded. “My wheels crunched over some in the road. I wanted to rush out and shoo them away.”

  She gestured to the French doors. “They’re all over the patio.”

  He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. “I want to hear more about the attack the other night. You distracted me.”

  “I distracted you? I don’t think so.”

  His grin widened, then an intense expression came over his face. “I meant to ask if you recognized the voice.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. Who do you suspect?”

  He released a heavy exhale. “I got to wondering if it could have been Ballard.”

  She thought about the figure running away. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “I saw him at the opera.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “Yes, and I followed him too. He’s staying at the Driskill Hotel.”

  His gaze seemed to devour her. Did he still think she was beautiful? She’d felt lovely in his eyes once upon a time, but since he left, she didn’t walk with her head as high as she used to. His desertion had taken her confidence.

  She heard a rustle in the hall and hurried to the sideboard. Lifting a tray of sweets, she turned toward Drew with a distant smile. “A sweet roll, Mr. Hawkes? I’m sure Miss Belle will be down shortly.”

  Belle swept into the room with a sweep of silk skirts. “I’m right here. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  Drew rose and pulled out a chair for Belle. “I’ve only had time to have my coffee poured.”

  “I hope I was worth waiting for.” She batted her eyes at him.

  “Absolutely.” He scooted her chair in and sat back down.

  Lily blinked her burning eyes and offered the tray of trifles to Belle. “Eggs and ham should be ready now. I’ll fetch the rest of your breakfast.”

  “Don’t bother. This is plenty, don’t you think, Mr. Hawkes?”

  Drew lifted a brow. “I’m not sure this will sustain me all day. I wouldn’t turn down some ham and eggs.”

  Belle’s lips tightened. “Fetch the other food, Lily. And don’t dawdle. We have a lot to do this morning. While we’re gone, I want you to have my new dress ready for tonight.”

  “Yes, miss.” Lily escaped from the room. Why was he complimenting her and then catering to Belle in practically the same breath?

  The police station bustled with activity on Monday morning when Lily detoured from one of her errands. She asked to speak to the officer in charge of the case and was shown back to a cramped room with only a desk and two chairs. It smelled of stale smoke and liniment. The man at the window turned, and she recognized him as the policeman in the churchyard.

  “Miss Donaldson, what a surprise. I’m Officer Pickle.” He limped a bit as he rushed to the chair and swept the papers from it. “Have a seat.”

  She thanked him and settled onto the hard oak seat. “I wondered if you’ve tracked down the perpetrator yet?”

  He looked her over before he shrugged. “Not yet. I was going to find you today since I had a few more questions.”

  “Questions?” She didn’t much care for the skepticism in his eyes.

  “A passerby told us you greeted the man with a hug. Is there something else you wish to say? Or maybe you want to retract your accusation?”

  Lily gasped and stood. “Absolutely not! What you heard is an absolute falsehood.” She yanked the kerchief from around her neck. “And what about this? It’s clearly a mark left by a knife.”

  “So you had no assignation in the churchyard?”

  She hesitated. Perhaps she should have told him the entire story. But what if he told Belle? “A boy told me Mr. Hawkes wanted to see me. He’s a frequent visitor at the Butterfly Palace, so of course I hurried to obey the summ
ons.”

  “Mr. Hawkes? He arrived a bit later.” The officer’s expression grew crafty. “Was this a usual assignation?”

  “If you mean did we meet for a romantic interlude, you couldn’t be more wrong. It was an innocent meeting.”

  “If that’s true, why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?”

  She clutched her handbag tightly in both hands. “Because I feared you would have exactly this reaction. You need to focus on finding the man who attacked me. I can assure you it was no one I knew, and it certainly wasn’t Mr. Hawkes. He’s a gentleman.”

  “You had to see something. You’ve given us no description. Surely you can see how suspicious that is.”

  “But he attacked me from behind! And it was getting dark.”

  “So you say.”

  Rage pooled in her chest. “There’s someone out there attacking women. I saw another attack, and you’re doing nothing to stop this man.”

  “What attack?”

  “Miss Jane White. I cared for her until she was taken to the hospital.”

  He nodded. “An entirely different matter. The man attacks women in their own homes. You were in the churchyard.”

  She wheeled and stalked to the door, but her lids quivered with the desire to cry. How could they suspect she was lying about this? She bore the marks on her throat.

  Her head high, she rushed out into the sunshine, then down the street and around the corner to the church. The churchyard was empty, but then, it was Monday. Lily stood on the walk and debated whether to go in. The vicar might not even be around, but no, a shadow passed in front of the window. Someone was there. She opened the gate and walked to the front door.

  “Can I help you?”

  Lily turned to see a woman of about fifty in a plain gray dress in the flower garden. The woman wore muddy gloves and held a pair of pruning shears. The floppy hat she wore obscured all but her smile. “I was attacked here last week, and I wanted to see if anyone happened to witness it.”

  The woman’s smile vanished. She took off her gloves and approached with her hands outstretched. “I’m so sorry. You’re Miss Lily Donaldson, then.”

  Lily knew the encounter had been in the paper. “That’s right.”

  “You weren’t hurt?”

  Lily shook her head. “I’m fine, actually. But I have to admit I’m looking over my shoulder every time I go out now. I’d feel better if the police had found the attacker.”

  “I’m the reverend’s wife, Molly Adams.” The woman took Lily’s arm and guided her to a bench. “I’m sorry to say I wasn’t here. My husband was though, and he spoke with the police. Did you talk to the detective about what they’ve found?”

  Lily nodded. “I just came from there.” The woman’s kindness made her want to cry, and she gulped. “The police seem to think I had some kind of assignation and my lover attacked me.”

  “I’m sorry to say the police insinuated such to me as well. I can see you’re not that kind of woman though. Your pure soul shines out through your eyes.” Molly’s gaze went to Lily’s neck. “The attacker did that?”

  “Yes, with a knife. What did your husband see?”

  Molly laid her gardening gloves on the bench. “He thought the two of you were embracing at first. Then he heard you scream. He’d already locked the door. The key often gives him trouble, so by the time he was able to get into the yard, you’d left.”

  “And he told the police he thought we were a couple?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so. I’ll tell him what you’ve told me.” Molly put her hand on Lily’s arm. “I’m sorry if he’s brought you trouble. I’ll make sure he rectifies it.”

  “I don’t know if it will make a difference. The police don’t seem to be treating this attack seriously. Did your husband get a look at the man?”

  Molly shook her head. “His eyesight isn’t very good, and he’d just lost his glasses for the third time that day. He wasn’t much help to the police.” She rose and turned back toward the porch. “I found something that might belong to you.” She opened the door and reached inside.

  Lily’s gaze went to the object in her hand. A butterfly in a globe winked in the sunlight. She swallowed hard. “Where did you get that?”

  “It was in the yard. I can’t imagine where it came from. Is it yours?”

  Lily didn’t want to touch the thing, but she forced herself to rise from the bench and reach for it. “I—I think my attacker intended to leave it by my dead body.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Adams whispered.

  The globe was oddly warm in Lily’s fingers. “I’ll take it to the police. Thank you for your time. I must be going. My mistress will be expecting me back. If your husband remembers anything, you can find me at the Butterfly Palace.”

  A strange expression crossed the woman’s face. “You work for Mrs. Marshall?”

  “I’m her niece’s maid. Is there something wrong?”

  Molly shook her head and backed away. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. Have a good day.” She turned on her heel and practically ran for the door of the church.

  SEVENTEEN

  Drew glanced at his pocket watch. At this time on a Monday afternoon, most of the household would be out except for the servants. They would be beating rugs and cleaning everything in preparation for the week ahead, which meant he might be able to have a private conversation with Lily. He fingered the note he received an hour ago.

  He went around the side of the house to the backyard. Smoke belched from the open windows of the back room. The odor of lye made his eyes water. He caught a glimpse of her head through the window of the laundry room. She was alone. He tapped on the window and she turned.

  Her smile was quickly shuttered, but she stepped to the door and opened it. “You came.” Her tone was cautious, and she glanced toward the interior door. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want Mrs. O’Reilly or Emily to see us.”

  “Of course.” He brushed past her and closed the door.

  The strong odor of soap and bluing hung in the steamy air. Perspiration instantly broke out on his forehead. The open windows failed to vent much of the heat generated by the boiling water on the stove and in the large tubs of clothing. A basket by a large wringer contained clean, wet clothes.

  She stepped toward the basket. “I need to hang up these things. The line is around the side where no one can see us.”

  “I’ll take it.” He lifted the basket of clothing and carried it through the door.

  She followed him outside, and he dropped the basket under the clothesline, located away from the garden in the side yard, then turned to face her. “Your note said it was urgent. What’s wrong?”

  She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. Her cheeks were pink from the heat and exertion. “The police think I made up the attack.”

  He hated seeing her working so hard. She should have her own servants and be dressed in the finest silks he could buy. What she said finally penetrated when she stared at him as if waiting for his reaction. “What?”

  “I went to the police station this morning. Officer Pickle thinks you and I were having an assignation and concocted the story to cover our affair.”

  His mind wandered there for a moment before he reined it in. He wanted Lily forever, not just for a fling. Never again would he dishonor her that way. His gaze went to the mark still visible on her neck. “He thinks I attacked you with a knife?” He wanted to touch it but curled his fingers into his palms instead.

  “He implied it.” She wet her lips. “There’s more. I went to the church, and the minister’s wife found this.” She thrust her hand into her apron and held it out.

  The butterfly in the globe beat its wings ineffectually against the glass that imprisoned it. He took it from her fingers. “The butterfly is still alive.”

  “Can we get it out?”

  “I can break the glass. Not sure if the stress will kill it though.”

  “It’s better than leaving it trapped in there.”

&nbs
p; The thing gave him a bad feeling. “So it wasn’t Ballard who attacked you. I don’t like this, Lily. You’ve caught the attention of a killer.”

  “I’ll be careful. We should tell the police about this.”

  “I don’t think they’ll listen.”

  “I’ll stop by and tell them myself.”

  He knelt in the garden and grabbed a rock. The first blow was too timid and glanced off the glass globe. The butterfly fluttered to the bottom of the globe and was motionless. He hit the glass with more force and small cracks spidered out. He tapped it again, and the pieces of glass separated.

  The butterfly was motionless, and he touched it with a gentle finger. The wings drooped and Lily whimpered.

  He shook his head. “I think it’s dead. Maybe we didn’t free it in time.” Picking it up, he carried it to the flowers and laid it at the base of a rosebush.

  Her eyes were filled with tears when he turned back around and began to pick up the glass. “We need to talk to Jane and Nathan. I need to wrap this up before my cover is blown. When could you go with me?”

  She inhaled, her eyes on the glass, then she looked at the laundry. “If you can secure a cab, I could slip away for about two hours as soon as these are hung up.” She knelt to lift a heavy skirt to the clothesline. “You said you saw Ballard. Are you close to arresting him?”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “You said he’s at the Driskill?”

  “Yes, that big hotel on Brazos.” He realized she’d gone still. “You’re not thinking of going to see him, are you?”

  She shook out a blouse and pinned it to the line before answering. “I might.”

  He took her arm and turned her to face him. “Lily, you can’t do that. He’s dangerous.”

  “So you keep saying, but I’ve never felt any sense of threat from him. What if he might tell me something, something that would bring justice to our fathers? I’m not frightened. It would be in a public place. He’s not going to harm me.”

  He wanted to shake some sense into her, but instead he pulled her close. His heart thudded in his chest at the sweet smell of her hair and the way she relaxed against him. “I can’t run the risk of losing you.” He pressed his lips against her head.