The next day seemed to drift by slowly, filling the house with a sleepy air that lingered even as I readied myself for the evening’s charity ball. Rosa chided me as she entered the spare bedroom that had become my own, fetching her best makeup to try to cover the dark circles that had formed under my eyes.
“Really, Lorena, I would have hoped you to be more responsible than this,” she muttered, holding me still as she covered my face with powder, nearly staining my dress white. “It’s not as though the charity ball is this big surprise - I had your invitation sent to your room weeks ago!”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, an embarrassed flush forming across my cheeks. “I kept thinking of Lord Waverly.”
“I suppose he is rather handsome for a murderer, isn’t he?” Rosa retorted. “What coffin should I order for the wedding?”
My expression fell into a glare as Rosa turned to gather more supplies. “I was not thinking of him in that sense! I simply kept thinking of his wife, is all. It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?”
A shudder ran down Rosa’s spine before she turned away. “I try not to think of it,” she said softly. “No one knows why he would have done it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”
“I think it to be a rather terrible thing that no one tries to remember her. It’s like everyone’s all but forgotten about Lady Waverly. I don’t even know her name.” Perhaps I had spoken out of line, because Rosa only shot me a troubled look. Though it was true that I had only recently joined the higher class, I couldn’t imagine the death of one’s friend becoming such a taboo subject – especially while her husband walked a free man.
“It’s not that we want to forget her,” Rosa said. “But I’ve heard a terrible rumor that Lord Waverly becomes quite frightful if he hears her name spoken. I suppose it’s a precaution, then, to avoid becoming his next victim until we find true evidence of the crime.”
--
The charity ball was nowhere near as exciting as Lord Goddard’s ball had been, though Rosa urged me to try to at least look mildly interested in what the host had to say. However, as the events droned on, I found my mind wandering again to thoughts of Eliza – and of Lucius.
Rosa knew right away what I was thinking of when my eyes drifted to the parlor, where Lucius stood chatting quietly with another man. Waving her glass of wine in front of me to gather my attention, she met my gaze with a firm, serious look. “You will not speak to him, Lorena. Have I your word?”
I paused.
Lucius stood alone as the other man shook his hand before exiting the ball. He lingered, twirling a glass with his yet-again gloved fingers.
“Lorena Martin,” Rosa said firmly. “Your word?”
I could almost imagine the ghost of Eliza among the crowd, peering at Lucius with empty, haunted eyes. No one mourned her, because no one knew where her body rested. Would her hand still wear his ring, or had Lucius removed it?
I stood up, ignoring Rosa’s words, knowing without a doubt that if I were Eliza, I wouldn’t want to spend eternity forgotten – or worse, in a shallow grave in the backyard of Waverly Manor.
I knew Lucius had spotted me when his normally-neutral face dropped to a scowl, though the change was too subtle for others to notice. I approached him with none of the caution I had carried the night before, peering up at him with a confident air that he seemed to take note of.
“And what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting, Miss Martin?” He asked, his voice practically dripping with ice.
“You told me before that if I were so certain of the late Lady Waverly’s existence, that I would know her name,” I remarked. Lucius seemed to pale, his skin shimmering with a clammy sweat as he stared at me with curious, wide eyes. “And now I approach you with her name. Tell me, Lucius, have you forgiven yourself for the murder of Eliza-”
He moved closer so suddenly that I thought he would attack, though I fought the urge to scream. Cold eyes peered down at me, though he couldn’t hide the unmistakable pain in his expression.
I had been right, after all.
“I’ll not make a scene and give you the honor, Lorena,” he said quietly, his voice seemingly creaking with what seemed like either grief or pain. “I’ll not let you convict me of a crime you so desperately want me to commit, though if you want to make a villain of me, I’ll allow that much. Eliza is forgotten, and it would be in your best interest to forget her, as well.”
“Are you threatening me, Lord Waverly?”
“I’m merely promising, is all.” He stepped back, a sly grin on his face despite the way he clutched at his chest. Something grave changed within him, and then he was rushing for the door. “I fear my – heart condition, is occurring yet again. I advise our next meeting to be different – if we meet at all, Miss Martin.”
Had I not been frozen to my spot in fear, perhaps I would have chased after him when he ran outside. I didn’t even notice I was being watched until Rosa grabbed me, though she didn’t drag me outside but rather, shook me to attention.
“Do you not realize what you’ve done?” She asked, her voice a whisper as she watched the crowds surrounding us.
“Eliza did exist,” I said stupidly, my mind still clouded in shock.
“And you’re to meet her, if he sees you again.”
--
I had a rather nasty habit of defying Rosa, it seemed, since I left the charity ball far earlier than her – against her advice. Rosa begged me to stay, worried that I would run into a rather-dangerous Lucius Waverly on my journey home. The carriage wasn’t coming until after the party ended, and thus I prepared to make the long walk through town home.
I tried to reassure Rosa that I would be safe, though she found herself to be rather angry that she could not also leave to escort me home. Being the only Lady of her manor, Rosa had to stay to attend to the charity business, though I felt no ill will towards her for letting me go alone. In fact, I rather wanted to go alone. I didn’t want to discuss Lucius with her – or anyone, for that matter.
I bid the host farewell, and then I was stepping into the cold night air, barely illuminated by the gas lamps lining the London streets. I clutched a stray hatpin in my hand cautiously, expecting at any moment for Lucius to step out from the shadows and end my life. Perhaps it was unladylike of me, but I wouldn’t let him attack me without giving him a fight.
I was so anxious to see Lucius, that upon crossing the street, I didn’t even notice the beggar that sat by the sidewalk.
I flinched when I saw him, his pale features and bony joints barely illuminated in the dim light. I remembered briefly that I was supposed to ignore beggars as a member of the high society, but in that moment, I was simply Lorena Martin, the girl who grew up on a ranch out in the country. I was no longer Miss Martin, whom Rosa had tried so hard to create.
“I apologize, sir,” I said politely, trying to conceal the hatpin in my hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you until I had nearly toppled you over. My mind has been rather adrift lately.”
The man stared at me in alarm, his skinny face made scraggly by the beginnings of a white beard. He shuffled as if embarrassed, and it was then that I noticed that he was trying to hide the poorly-made garments he wore – a white sack, cut into a tunic that covered old trousers. “The apology is all mine, Madam,” he said, his soft voice posh and proper – too proper to have been anything but a servant in a manor. “I appear before you in such a state of undress that I imagine must be quite humiliating for someone of your status. Do forgive me – I find myself in a rather unfortunate set of circumstances as of late.”
I politely chatted with him for a moment, and when the time came for me to leave, he stopped me. “Apologies for keeping a lady out in the cold,” he said. “But you seem to be a rather personable lady who must have several friends. Tell me, have you spoken with Lady Eliza Waverly as of late?”
I froze, suddenly fearful that the man’s words were a trap, that Lucius was simply awaiting my response. I slowed, stuck between answering the poor man and simply bolting. “I - I fear Lady Waverly has been dead for some time, sir.”
Confusion flashed across the man’s face, and then he was shaking his head. “I saw her not six months ago, Madam, and she was in perfect health – if only a bit depressed. Others think me mad for saying so, but Lady Eliza is not dead. I would know – I was her butler.”
“But - why are you on the street?” I asked in dismay. “And, further, it is generally agreed upon that Eliza was killed by none other than Lucius Waverly himself!”
“It all happened at once – both my termination and the arrival of Lucius. I noticed Eliza had been acting strangely for the past several weeks, as if terribly troubled by something that I could not understand. I would find her gazing upon the strangest things as if deep in thought, and only six months ago, she had shut herself in the manor and refused to come out nor wear her finest dresses. And then she terminated my contract and left me with little more than the outfit I had been wearing. She kept everything else. I had been so distraught that I didn’t think to converse with her, though I’ll admit that I saw someone ride in late that night as I was leaving.”
The man fell silent, then, looking upon me as if gauging my reaction. My face must have given away my thoughts, because he offered me a kind smile. “Do try to not feel angry at Lady Eliza, Madam. Even though the troubles I’ve faced without employment, I know she would have never done such a thing without asking.”
“And Lucius?” I asked finally. “Did he ever speak to you?”
“He never looked at me long enough for me to try,” the man said. “I had never even seen nor heard of him until that night, when Lady Eliza briefly mentioned his arrival – stating that I had to be away before he arrived.”
“And that means she knew, then,” I stated. “She knew he was planning something vile. Tell me, sir, do you believe Lucius would kill me?”
The man shook his head quickly. “I believe he never killed Eliza, even.”
His words were all I needed to rush in the direction opposite of Rosa’s house, towards a manor I had only briefly seen in passing. I gripped the hatpin with a newfound confidence, though I still feared for what I would find in Waverly Manor. Perhaps Eliza truly was dead, or perhaps it was all an act.
I would find out soon enough.
The manor was a little more secluded than the others, and the long driveway seemed to loom ahead like a never-ending trail, a trap for those foolish enough to test Lucius.
And I was simply another mouse standing before that trap.
I started up the driveway with ease, breaking into a jog when I realized that the lights were still on – meaning that Lucius was likely awake. I thought it to be funny that he would stay awake so late at night, given his apparent heart condition. I couldn’t help but think of poor Eliza, wherever she may be. Did she know of that condition, or was it simply a lie for Lucius to escape me?
I froze upon spotting the silhouette of a woman on the top floor, eyeing the unmistakable figure of her, knowing that it certainly was not Lucius staring back at me.
I realized then that Eliza was being held captive in the manor.
I didn’t knock when I approached the large front doors – I simply threw them open, hoping Eliza would forgive me for my rude behavior. I spotted the immaculate stairs after a moment’s hesitation, briefly startled by how neat and how marvelous the manor simply was. Rosa’s manor seemed to pale in comparison, though Waverly Manor held a far more eerie air about it.
I took the stairs in leaps, though I grew worried when no servants came to stop me – I hadn’t even seen Lucius within the manor.
The top floor was simple, with only one doorway at the end of a long hallway – the master bedroom, I presumed, and precisely where I had seen Eliza. I didn’t knock. I simply threw open the doors, ready to rescue Eliza before anyone noticed.
A surprised gasp filled the room, and my face reddened when I realized that I was staring at the nearly-naked back of Eliza, though I noticed curiously that she was wearing trousers. I didn’t notice the ribbons wrapped around her chest until she turned around, and then I had to grip the doorway in my shock.
“Who is-” The voice died upon their lips when they turned, clutching their chest with a pale arm. Short black hair and permanently cold eyes stared back at me, and then Lucius – no, Eliza – was flinching, reaching for a pistol that had been lying on a dresser.
I was not mistaken. It was Eliza’s chest. Her arms. And yet, Lucius stared at me, his hand shaking as he turned to the side to cover himself, pointing the pistol at me. “You’re Eliza,” I said, my voice barely a whisper in my shock.
Lucius made a sharp, angry sound, and I realized then that tears were forming in his eyes. “I stopped being Eliza long ago. Why have you come here?”
“I thought – I thought-”
“Whatever you thought, you were wrong!” He retorted. “Eliza is dead, yes, but I did not kill her! But perhaps her memory could die with you.”
Staring at the barrel of his gun, I only said, “Do you not realize that they would know? Rosa would realize I never came home, and then they would come for you. They’ve been looking for a reason to convict you of Eliza’s murder, and you’ll be giving them the key.”
“You must understand it was easier to say that Eliza was dead – or never existed – than to try to explain this,” he said, looking away as he reddened. “I was never meant to be her.”
“Then perhaps you need a friend who only knows Lucius.” I moved closer, slowly, and then Lucius was lowering the gun.
“You don’t - You don’t think me a freak?” He asked, sniffling so pathetically that I could no longer imagine the once-terrifying Lucius.
“No,” I said. “I don’t. Eliza will die with me, but I will live. Your secret stays with me, though I do wish you would re-hire that poor old butler.”
Lucius laughed for perhaps the first time, dropping the gun on the floor, and I found myself laughing with him – Lucius, the man, and not Eliza.
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