Butterfly Palace (2 page)

Andy grabbed her hand, and they ran toward her front door. She stopped and stared at the fire. Which direction? Her mother
was in the house. Their fathers were in the livery. Lily’s chest was tight as flames consumed the livery.

Her fingers closed around the doorknob. “I’ll get my mother. You get the men.” The metal was already hot to the touch. How could the fire have grown so quickly?

She yanked open the door and plunged inside. Thick, roiling smoke choked Lily’s nose and throat as soon as she reached the top of the stairs. She threw open the bedroom door and rushed to the bed. The smoke was thick in the bedroom too. Her mother slept, unaware of the danger.

Lily shook her. “Mama, wake up! You have to get out of here.” Shouts and screams echoed from outside. What was happening to her father?

Her mother lifted her head and her eyes went wide, then cleared of confusion. She threw back the covers, then stumbled to the door with Lily. One hand around her mother’s waist, Lily led her down the steps. Her chest burned both with the hot smoke and the need to escape.

“Almost there,” she told her mother. She reached blindly for the door, and her fingers grasped the knob. She threw open the door.

The first brush of fresh air on her skin made her gasp and draw in the thick smoke. She coughed at the searing pain in her chest, then stumbled onto the porch with her mother. Lily led her mother a safe distance away before turning to see bright flames shooting into the night. A fire alarm clanged behind them, and the horses pulling the fire engine raced around the corner. As soon as it came to a stop, the firemen leaped into the yard and ran for the livery.

Her mother coughed and stared at the furiously burning structure. “Where’s your father?”

But Lily didn’t see her father’s bald head. Dread congealed in her belly, and she shook her head. “I don’t see them, but Andy went
to get them out.” She stared at the throng around the building. Was that Andy?

His soot-blackened face came into view by the light of the flames. He struggled with the two men holding him. “Let go of me! I have to find them.”

“It’s too dangerous,” one of the men said. “The place is fully engulfed.”

“Stay here, Mama.” Lily hurried to Andy’s side. “You didn’t find them?” Her throat closed at the hopeless expression on his face.

She turned to stare at the inferno that had overrun both the livery and the attached house. The fire’s heat scorched her face. The breeze blew stinging cinders against her skin. Andy renewed his efforts to free himself, but the firemen propelled him back to a safer distance.

The fire’s roar was like a dragon from a fairy tale, monstrous and all-consuming. Flames licked out of the upper windows, straining toward the roof. More glass shattered, and the stink of burning bedding rolled over the lawn. With a groan, the building began to sag. The firemen shoved them back even more, and they all turned to watch it give a final shudder before the weakened timbers collapsed. Sparks and flames shot higher as the fire fed on the night air and began to consume the last of the building.

Lily sank to her knees, and Andy fell with her. They held one another as the fire took their fathers.

Andy stiffened, then pulled away. “It’s my fault. I should have been there. I would have smelled it and gotten them out.”

“It went too fast, Andy. There was nothing any of us could do.” She tried to cup his face in her hands, but he flinched away, then jumped to his feet.

“Don’t look at me. I can’t even stand myself.” He stalked off, and the dark swallowed him up.

ONE

Austin, Texas, 1904

T
he train’s whistle sounded as mournful as she felt as it pulled away from the station, leaving her on the siding with her valise at her feet. Lily brushed ineffectively at the soot on her serviceable gray skirt and squinted in the October sunshine. What if her new employer had sent no one to meet her? She didn’t know how to get to her destination.

A dray pulled by two fine horses went past, and the driver stared too boldly for her taste, so she directed her gaze to her dusty black boots.

“Miss?”

She jerked her gaze back up to see a man dressed in a brown suit. A lock of reddish hair dipped below his stylish bowler. He appeared to be in his late thirties and was quite handsome.

He tipped his hat and nodded toward her luggage. “Is that all you have? You
are
Lily Donaldson?”

“Yes, yes, I am. You are from the Butterfly Palace?”

He picked up her valise and gave a vague nod her way. “This way.”

People flowed around her as she followed his broad back to a
fine automobile at the street. She hung back when he opened the door. “You didn’t mention your name.”

Amusement lit his pale blue eyes. “I’m not the killer attacking women here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She glanced around at the men loitering nearby. No one seemed to pay her any notice. “There’s a killer?”

He shrugged. “A city is never as safe as it looks. Are you coming or not? I don’t care either way. Mother asked me to fetch you when I objected to being forced to attend another of her boring balls, and I obliged. It’s on your own head if you’re late.”

When he started for the driver’s seat, she hoisted herself onto the plush seat. “I’m coming.”

He grinned, and heat flared in her cheeks at his bold stare. His expensive suit proclaimed him to be much more than a driver sent to collect her. He’d mentioned his mother, so she assumed he was a Marshall.

The jerk of the automobile threw her against the leather seat and ended her speculation. It felt good to be away from the curious stares she’d endured on the train. Women didn’t travel alone. She took off her bonnet and swiped some loose strands back into place, then replaced her hat.

She stared eagerly out the window at Austin. The state capital. It was much grander than she’d imagined. Electric trolley cars zipped by so fast they made her woozy. Houses larger than four or five homes back in Larson turned stately faces toward the wide street. Mercantile shops, printers, meat markets, and dress shops passed in a dizzying blur. Where did one start to find needed items? There were too many shops to choose from.

The scent of lilacs blew away the stench of the train’s coal dust that lingered on her clothing. Her pulse beat hard and fast in her neck. Her new life was about to begin, and she had no idea what to
expect. While she hoped to find a new life here, the recent death of her mother left her expecting only more heartache. Still, she had to support herself even if life seemed hard and dreary.

Didn’t God care? She’d never expected him to let such terrible things happen. Ever since the fire, life had spiraled down in a disheartening whirlpool of pain.

The automobile stopped in front of a grand stone mansion illuminated by electric lights. The cobblestone drive was smooth under her shoes when the man assisted her out of the back. Lily stood, absorbing the huge edifice that would have been more at home on a French mountainside. Seeing it here on Texas soil felt wrong somehow, and something about the structure was off-putting in spite of its grandeur. Maybe it was the way the windows in the mansard roof seemed to leer down at her, or perhaps it was the dark brick that made it look stern and unwelcoming. A chill shuddered down her spine, but she picked up her valise. It would surely be more attractive in the daylight.

The man shut the automobile door behind her. “Welcome to Butterfly Palace, Lily.”

His forwardness in addressing her by her Christian name made her straighten. “Why is it called that?” She craned her neck again and willed herself to admire the four-story mansion.

“My stepfather is a great collector of exotic butterflies. He employs a man to bring him the finest in the world. The sunroom is filled with them, and frescoes can be found everywhere.” He pointed. “You’ll want to go around back to the staff entrance, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of one another. The name’s Lambreth. I suppose I’ll inherit this monstrosity someday.” He winked at her.

The instructions and his wink took her aback. There was little distinction between servant and master in Larson, but then, no one in her hometown put on airs or flashed their wealth around. She
took a step toward the side of the house, but Mr. Lambreth touched her arm and motioned her in the other direction.

“I’ll have Rollo bring in your trunk. Mrs. O’Reilly will tell you where you’re sleeping. See you around.”

“Thank you.” Gathering her courage, Lily followed a cobblestone path around the west side of the house.

Light spilled into a rose garden from large windows along the side of the house. Lily stopped and gaped. Women in shimmering silk dresses mingled with men in formal attire under a spectacular gas chandelier. The opulent scene was like something from
Godey’s
. Houseboys and maids carrying trays offered food and drink to the guests, and piano music tinkled out the open windows.

She reined in her impulse to run back to the automobile and ask to be returned to the train. This life was far outside her experience, and she’d never fit in here. Would she be expected to wear a black dress and white apron and cap?

Tightening her grip on her small valise, she forced herself forward to the back door. The aroma of roast beef mingled with fish and cake as she knocked on the door.

The door opened, and a slim woman about Lily’s age peered out. Her hazel eyes sparkled with life above flushed cheeks. “You must be Lily. I expected you an hour ago. We need you.” She reached out and yanked the valise from Lily’s hand. “We’re shorthanded. Your dress will do for now, but take off your hat and put on an apron.”

She left the door standing open and stepped back into a hall that opened into a large kitchen. Lily followed the young woman into the kitchen where the cooking odors grew stronger. The aromas of beef and fish vied with that of cinnamon and apples. Food covered a scarred wooden table, and several servants bustled around the room.

A tiny woman dressed in black orchestrated the chaos. The red hair under her cap was coiled in a bun tight enough to give her a
headache. Her brown eyes assessed Lily, and she nodded. “So you’re Lily?” Her brogue told of her Irish heritage. “I’m Glenda O’Reilly, the housekeeper. You may call me Mrs. O’Reilly.”

“What would you have me do tonight?”

Mrs. O’Reilly pointed to a shelf and pegs. “Hang up your hat there. Emily, get her an apron.”

The young woman who had opened the door nodded and reached into a cupboard. She handed a white apron to Lily. “You can take around the cider.”

Lily pulled the pins from her hat and placed it on the shelf, then tied the apron around her waist. “You’re Emily?”

The young woman nodded. “Sorry, love, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? We’ll be roommates, and there will be time to get acquainted later.
After
the party.”

Lily’s chest felt tight, and she wished she’d hidden out in the rose garden until the party was over. “When am I to meet Mrs. Marshall?”

“Tomorrow.” Mrs. O’Reilly’s brow lifted in challenge as if daring Lily to object.

“Yes, ma’am. I am just to offer the guests cider? I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” The housekeeper pointed to a large tray filled with fine blue-and-white china cups. “Smile and let the guests take their own cup of mulled cider. Try not to spill it. When your tray is empty, come back here and get more.”

Like Joan of Arc going to the stake, Lily squared her shoulders and picked up the tray.

Women in shimmering silks of every imaginable color danced by on the arms of men in sleek black suits. A mural over the fireplace
depicted a butterfly in beautiful hues of blue and yellow. Drew Hawkes hung back in the corner and idly listened to the conversations around him, mostly about the recent murder of a servant girl. The unfortunate young woman had been discovered a few blocks from here, and the entire city was in a state. This was the third murder in two months.

Everett Marshall motioned to Drew, and he left the sanctuary of his corner to join him. Everett clapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “This is the young man I was telling you about. Drew is quite gifted with investments, and you would do well to employ him. Drew, this is Stuart Vesters. He owns the stockyard on the west side of town.”

Drew shook the man’s hand, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Stuart’s grip. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vesters. I’m not currently taking on more clients though, sir. I’d be happy to put you on a waiting list.” Dangling the carrot just out of reach tended to be much more effective than a hard sell.

Sure enough, the older man squared his shoulders and lifted a brow. “When could we discuss it, Mr. Hawkes? I might be persuaded to change investment companies. Everett here has been singing your praises for more than a month.”

“I’m booked through the next three weeks, but I’d be happy to make an appointment after Thanksgiving.” Drew had been trying to get close to Vesters for nearly six months. It wouldn’t do to appear too eager. His supervisor wouldn’t be happy if he ruined things now.

“That’s much too far. I have some time on Thursday. We can meet in town.”