The familiar gesture made Beret’s heart flutter, and she almost held her arms out to him as she once did when he arrived home in the midst of a storm. Instead, she kept her arms at her sides. She would not let Teddy see how he had affected her. “This is an odd time for a call, Edward. What is the hour?” she asked.
“Early yet, but I wanted to catch you alone.” When Beret sent him a scornful look, he continued, “Oh yes, I know that this is the servants’ day off, that the Stantons are at church and they rarely come home before mid-afternoon.”
“This is when you came to visit my sister, then.” She realized her robe was loose, and she clutched it to her throat.
Teddy didn’t respond to Beret’s remark, but instead, he looked at the folds of her garment and said, “You needn’t act so modest. I’ve seen you with your robe open, seen you with no robe at all, you know. Would that I could see you so now.”
“That is an offensive remark.” The words tormented her.
“Oh, you wouldn’t have thought so at one time. We did enjoy ourselves, didn’t we?”
Beret did not reply, for she couldn’t deny it. Teddy was right. She gave him a flinty look, however, hoping he did not see that her emotions were in conflict.
“I remember that stare. It would turn a man to stone, but not me. I was always flesh and blood around you. And you, ah, Beret, what a woman you were—you are.”
Beret softened as she remembered their times together, how early in their marriage, she could not wait for his embrace. For a tiny moment she wished the past could be forgotten. Then she wondered at herself, that she could be moved by him when she hated him so.
“I have missed you,” he said softly. He glanced up the darkened staircase and reached for her hand.
But Beret would not take it. She did not trust herself. “Why have you come here, Edward?”
“To talk to you, of course. To talk to you alone, without your aunt and uncle. Will you invite me into the parlor?”
“No.”
“You have turned hard.”
“You have turned me hard.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you. I wish things could be the way they were.” He took a step toward her and held out his arms. “I wish you would forgive me and we could go back to what we had.”
Beret’s good sense reasserted itself, and she pushed temptation away. “In time, perhaps I shall forgive you, but go back, to live as your wife again? No! The divorce is final, Edward. I have no intention of taking you back. I could never trust you. How little you know me to think I could do such a thing. If this is the reason you’ve come here, you must leave now.”
“You are afraid people would laugh at you.”
“You should know I care little about peoples’ opinions.”
“Ah, but you do.”
Beret looked at him curiously, aware now that Teddy was playing with her, that his talk of reconciliation had been only a ploy.
Teddy cocked his head and slowly lowered his gaze, taking in her body. “A pity. I think we could make a go of it again, but I can see you are not game.”
“Game!” Beret shot back at him. “Game to take back a philandering husband, who caused my sister’s death? I do not consider Lillie’s murder a game.”
“I did not cause it. I told you I had nothing to do with it.”
“But you seduced her. Because of you, she came to Denver.”
“Surely you have learned enough in your investigation to know that Lillie was as responsible as I for what happened.”
Beret had, indeed. Still she said, “You were a father to her. Your action was heinous.”
Teddy wiped his face with his coat sleeve, then ran his hand through his hair, which had curled from the dampness. Beret found the familiar gesture too intimate and turned away. “I do not want this conversation again. Please leave, Edward.”
“Not before I present you with a proposition.”
Beret raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I believe you are good at propositions now.”
“Still the acid tongue, Beret? How it must wither the malcontents at the mission, but I can withstand your scorn. Who knows better than I what a shrew you can be?” He smiled, not a flirtatious smile as before but a hard one. “Yes, a proposition, because you really do care what people think.”
They stood in the wide entrance hall, beside a table, and Beret glanced down to see a note with her name on it. She picked it up, thinking it might have been left by Mick. But the note, written in a garbled hand, was signed by her uncle and told that he and her aunt had gone to church and would lunch afterward with friends. Beret glanced up the staircase, which was dark. In fact, the entire house was dark, and she shivered as she thought of herself alone in that gloomy place with Teddy. “Nothing you can say is of interest to me.”
“Perhaps not. But do me the courtesy of hearing me out, and I believe you will not be so sanguine.” When Beret did not reply, he continued. “You may not care what society thinks of
you,
but you do care what it thinks of your mission?”
“And what is that to you?”
“Not much. I never cared about the mission, except that it got you away from the house.”
Beret gave him a look of disdain.
“The proposition,” he said.
“Ah yes. State it, Edward, and then leave.”
“You say you don’t care what society thinks of you, but you do care what they think of the Marta Osmundsen Mission. New York society, if you must know, believes you are odd, well intended, of course, but strange and a bit of a bore on the subject of raising money for the poor and downtrodden.”
“And what is that to you?”
“Oh, I never cared. I rather liked the fact you were a little different. It made you interesting. I didn’t even mind that you asked my friends for money to support your little project.”
“How gratifying.”
“But I wonder now how many of them would be willing to open their doors to you, to underwrite your charity if they knew about Lillie?”
Beret frowned. She didn’t understand what Teddy was getting at. “I suppose some people know. I do not believe that would stop them from donating to the mission.”
“Ah, but do they know the whole ugly story?”
“About how you seduced Lillie?” Beret was angry and steadied herself by grabbing the table, clutching her uncle’s note.
“That part is of no consequence. I’m talking about how Lillie was pregnant, a prostitute, murdered in a brothel. She was a girl from one of New York’s wealthiest families, and she ended up dead in a whorehouse.”
“I suppose some of that might make the rounds of the gossips. There is nothing I can do about it.”
“It’s not just the gossips. I’m talking about all of New York. They would read about the scandal in one of the newspapers, in the dirtiest and most sensational of them all, the one the servants prefer behind stairs, the
American.
I’m surprised they haven’t found out who the dead whore is. But I could tell them. You see, Beret, all I have to do is approach a reporter friend of mine and tell him about Lillie, how she ran away from a brutal sister who forced her to work in a mission where she learned the ways of a prostitute, how she fled to Denver where she was caught up in society, then abandoned it for life in a bagnio. The public loves stories about a wayward girl caught in the clutches of a mad killer, and this one involves not one but three prostitutes, one of them a New York society girl. And let’s not forget that Lillie was pregnant. Oh, what a story it will make. It will be on the front page for a week, and the
Sun
and the
Tribune
and even the
Times
will be forced to pick it up. Everybody will be talking about it. What a delicious scandal. And you know what scandal does to a charity. Why, even your best donors will have their servants close the door in your face.” He smiled at her, a smug, vicious smile. “You know what I say is true.”
“My donors are loyal.”
“All of them?”
Beret dropped the note on the table and turned away. “How could you think such a thing, Teddy? You were my husband. You were my sister’s lover. Can you not give her dignity in death? Are you so depraved that you would use her death to destroy what I have worked for all my life?”
“Not so depraved, Beret, only in need of funds.”
“And how much would you get for this story?”
“Probably nothing.”
Beret looked at him sharply, confused.
“The money would come from
not
selling the story.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding now, “blackmail.”
“Such an ugly word. I think of it as a business proposition.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand. I should ask for twenty, but I am not so greedy. You would be investing in my future. You see, I’ve turned out to be a pretty good gambler, but I need a stake.”
“Ten thousand must be considerably more than what Lillie paid you.” Beret stared at him. “Oh yes, I know all about how she gave you money. You were her mac, her pimp, if you like.”
“That is disgraceful. I never brought men to her.”
“But you took her money. And you placed her at Miss Hettie’s House of Dreams.”
“The money, I admit, although it was not so much, but I never took Lillie to that place. I was as surprised as you when I learned she was there.”
Beret gave him a disbelieving look. “I see your true colors now, Edward, not that I haven’t known for a long time what they were.”
As the two of them stared at each other, the front door was suddenly flung open, banging against the wall, and the cold air rushed in. Startled, Beret clutched her robe with one hand and reached out the other to Teddy, who took it. When she realized she had only failed to latch the door securely and the wind had blown it open, she sighed and started to put down her hand. But Teddy would not release it. She watched as he raised it to his lips. Then suddenly, he grabbed her in his arms and kissed her. Beret put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away, but he would not let her go, and at last she yielded to him, for what else could she do? He put his cheek against hers and whispered, “Oh, my dearest, couldn’t we try again? Don’t reduce me to begging for money.”
Beret felt the warmth of his arms and closed her eyes for a moment. But it was impossible, and she pushed him away. She took a step backward and placed her hand on the hall table to steady herself. “No, Teddy, not that.”
Teddy sighed, and Beret thought that for a moment, he was disappointed. He glanced down at his walking stick, still clutched in one hand, and absently polished its gold knob on his coat. “Then I must go back to my proposition—ten thousand dollars, Beret, and I will be mum as a moth.”
Beret could not believe that after kissing her, Teddy still demanded money. She stared at him and did not reply.
“Think of it as coming from Lillie’s share of the inheritance. She has done you a favor in dying, Beret. Now her share of the fortune is yours.”
“How dare you!” Tears came into Beret’s eyes, tears of rage and uncertainty at the way her emotions had bounced back and forth in only seconds. “I never thought you were this depraved, Teddy, but now I know you are no better than the brutes I’ve encountered who beat their wives nearly to a pulp. You are every vile thing. Get out.”
“Don’t speak to me like that. I won’t have it.” Teddy’s face was red with anger, and he spat out the words. “You were my wife, Beret. You have no right.”
“Thank God, I am no longer your wife, and yes, I have every right. I’m not afraid of you, Teddy. Your words won’t hurt me.”
“Then this will.” Teddy took a step forward and raised his walking stick, while Beret stared at him in surprise as much as horror as she wondered what she had unleashed. But she would not be silent, and with no regard for the consequences, she blurted out, “Is this how it was with Lillie? Were you so angry that she wouldn’t give you money that you grabbed the scissors and stabbed her?”
Teddy froze, then slowly turned to look at the uplifted stick and lowered it. “I did not kill Lillie. I have told you over and over,” he said softly. “You have no proof of it.” He straightened the lapels of his coat and turned, but before he took a step toward the door, he said, “Think about my proposition. Don’t cross me, Beret.” He went out then, leaving his former wife staring out the open door into the storm.
Chapter 20
Beret returned to her room and dressed, then went downstairs, roaming from one room to another, at last going into the kitchen where she fixed bread and butter and a little fruit for herself. She would have liked to eat in the morning room, but the cold came through the window glass. So instead, she went into the dining room and pulled out a chair. She set down her plate and napkin and silverware and seated herself along the side of the table. Even eating by herself with no one else in the house, she would not be so presumptuous as to take her aunt or uncle’s place.
The day was gray and forbidding and she was glad she had the afternoon outing with Mick to look forward to, although she wasn’t sure after the confrontation with Teddy that she would be good company. Perhaps she should tell Mick what had transpired. But he would want her to refuse to pay Teddy, and Beret wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. After all, Teddy had been right when he’d said her patrons, some of them anyway, might disappear if the scandal were made public.
Beret was restless and as the cook stove had been cold and she had not wanted to build a fire, she had no coffee to linger over. She returned to the kitchen, and not wanting to make the servants clean up after her, she washed the plate and silver and put them away. Then she wandered around the house. The drawing room was dark and uninviting, and the library with its dead fire was cold. So she went back to her room, intending to read a book. She did not want to think about her sister’s murder. She had done too much of that already.
As she picked up a book from her dresser, Beret spotted the pearl earrings she’d borrowed for the Deckers’ dinner party and decided to return them to her aunt’s room. She walked down the corridor, knocking on the door in case her aunt had stayed behind. There was no answer, so she entered the bedroom, thinking to leave the jewelry on the bedside table. But the top of the table was cluttered with scarves and gloves, a book, a magnifying glass, and various odds and ends, and Beret was afraid the earrings would get lost. She started to return to her own room but then remembered that her aunt kept her jewelry in a casket in the dressing room. Varina had told Beret that she ought to have a safe built into the wall for her diamonds, but she trusted the servants and had not done so.