The Gilded Curse: Will the young heiress be the next victim of her family's curse? (10 page)

“I wanted to ask you something privately.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Are you planning to sell Destiny or keep it?”

His directness caught her off-guard. “I plan to sell it.”

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

Yes, she did mind, but she’d try to be polite. “As you know, I’m the only one left in my family, and I have no use for it.”

“What if you marry and want your family to have a place to go for vacation?”

He was getting far too personal for her comfort. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his own business.

“I don’t see that as a prospect in the foreseeable future.”

“I see.” He rubbed his pointed chin.

“When do you think you’ll sell it?”

“Floyd, why are you so interested in what I do with Destiny?”

“Hmmm. It’s crossed our … I mean, my mind that the cottage might be a good investment.”

“So you’re interested in purchasing it?” Why didn’t he just come out and say so? “I’ll inform my accountant, and he can contact you directly.”

Floyd held up both hands to signal stop. “No, no.” A sheepish grin crept onto his face. “I was thinking of another arrangement actually. We are both single, after all.”

Lexie’s stomach flipped, and her mouth gaped. He was actually talking about marrying her! If the idea weren’t so repulsive, it’d be hilarious.

“Floyd Appleton!” She gave him a playful jab. “You’re kidding me! You had me going there for a minute!”

“But … but, actually, Alexandra, I wasn’t, I mean…”

“Ha-ha!” Lexie acted as if he’d just told a great joke. “Well, I’ll think about it, Floyd! See you later!” Lexie hurried away, leaving poor Floyd still trying to explain himself. His mother had surely put him up to the task. She wouldn’t be too happy with the response.

Lexie glanced out the window as she turned to go up the stairs. At the edge of the drive, she noticed a man and woman who appeared to be having a disagreement, based on the flailing of arms. She squinted to make out their faces, sensing something familiar about the couple. Recognition hit her as she realized it was the boat captain and the maid, the one Russell called Stella. While she watched, they parted company and the man stormed off toward the boathouse. It appeared that their marriage wasn’t a happy one.

After a leisurely morning of reading, Lexie descended the stairs to meet Russell. She couldn’t wait to tell him about her conversation with Floyd that morning. He’d get a good laugh out of that story. As she passed the front desk, the clerk called out to her.

“Miss Smithfield! I have a message for you.”

Lexie paused, turned back to the desk, and took the envelope the clerk handed out to her. Surely it wasn’t another invitation from Floyd. She couldn’t tolerate spending more time with him or his mother. She opened the sealed envelope and pulled out a note.

Lexie, I have a meeting this afternoon I must attend. Sorry, I won’t be able to go with you to the cottage. I’ve asked the maids to leave the house open for you though. Movie tonight? Russell
.

Her heart sagged at the news. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Oh well. She didn’t need his company anyway. Plus, now that the house had been cleaned, it would look much better. She started to the dining room for some lunch but changed her mind. If Floyd and his mother were in there, how would she avoid them? She wasn’t that hungry anyway. She might as well go to the cottage now instead.

“Looks like we’re going to have some rain.”

Startled by the clerk’s voice, Lexie glanced up to look out the window. The overcast sky appeared to grow darker by the minute.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Ma’am, if you’re going out, you better get your coat and umbrella. I ’spect it’ll be getting colder too.”

She nodded. “Thank you, I believe I will.” So much for her plans—a nice, sunny afternoon stroll chatting with Russell … No. Much as she enjoyed his company, well, most of the time, soon she’d leave and head back to New York. No need to get more familiar. She had to admit, though, he was a nice distraction with his incorrigible sense of humor. Plus, it would be nice to have him along when she went back to the cottage. Regardless, he wasn’t available and she was just procrastinating.

By the time she returned to the lobby wearing her coat, the rain blew in sheets across the lawn. Maybe she wouldn’t walk after all. Outside under the portico, she approached the concierge. The gentleman nodded a greeting.

“Do you need a ride somewhere, ma’am?”

“Yes, please. I’d like to go to Destiny Cottage.”

The man raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down. “Destiny, ma’am? I didn’t know anyone was there.”

“No one is, at least, no one is staying there. I’m Alexandra Smithfield. The cottage belonged to my family.” Why didn’t she just say it belonged to her? For some reason, it sounded more believable that it belonged to her family.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss Smithfield. I didn’t recognize you.”

Lexie gave a polite smile. “That makes us even. I don’t recognize you, either.”

The man’s face turned scarlet. “William Sutton, ma’am. At your service.” He gave a slight bow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sutton.” She glanced over at a black sedan parked nearby. “Is that car available?”

“Oh, yes ma’am! I’ll drive you myself.” He hurried to grab his umbrella before heading to the car and opening the back door for her. Then he ran around to the other side and got into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, he shot her a glance in the rearview mirror. “Have you been here long, ma’am? I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Not long. Got in the night before last.”

“I was off yesterday, so that explains it. You’re staying at the clubhouse, ma’am?”

“Yes, I am.”

He faced the road staring through the rain pelting the windshield, stealing an occasional glance at the mirror.

“Will you be staying with us all season?”

“No. My business here is brief.” She had no desire to share her plans with this man.

As he pulled into the driveway of the house, Lexie peered out.
Hello Destiny. I’m back
. Would the house welcome her back?

Mr. Sullivan drove under the porte cochere and stopped in front of the steps, got out, and opened her door.

“Good thing you have this cover so you won’t get wet.” He extended his hand and helped her out. “Would you like me to wait for you, ma’am?”

“No, thank you. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

A low rumble shook the ground.

Mr. Sullivan gazed out at the rain. “Thunder. Most winter storms don’t have thunder.”

Lexie climbed the steps to the front door then looked back at the
man. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Should I come back later, say an hour or so?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I can walk back when I’m finished here.” She lifted her umbrella to show him. “Perhaps the storm will stop before long.”

Mr. Sullivan glanced back at the rain. “Doubt it. Those black clouds are coming this way. You be careful, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and climbed back into the car.

As she watched the car leave, the sky lit up briefly, enough to show the man’s face looking back at her. Seconds later, a loud boom followed, shaking the porch and rattling the windows. The gusty wind blew the rain sideways, invading the porch. A shiver raced down her spine. She needed to get out of the weather. She turned the doorknob, found it unlocked as Russell said in his note, and stepped inside.

Chapter 11

T
he smell of pine cleaner hit her first, masking the mustiness to some degree. A swift scan of the room assured her the maids had tried to restore some semblance of life to the vacant house. The covers had been removed from the furniture, revealing the familiar, but faded upholstery. The desk had been cleaned as well, with the damaged pieces stacked beside it. She shook her head, her stomach tightening with anger. What a shame that someone would damage such a lovely piece of furniture and her family’s heirloom.

She moved past the sitting room to the dining room. Nothing amiss here. Nothing besides the aging wallpaper. Lightning flashed and rain blew against the house. Mr. Sullivan’s prediction appeared to be correct about the storm. It might not end for some time. At least she was dry. Somewhere she heard dripping. There must be a leak upstairs. She entered the back wing off the dining room into the kitchen and pantry area.

Once a bustling hub of activity when the cook prepared breakfast for the whole family—empty and silent now. She could see the staff running around to get things ready. Breakfast was the one meal the family always ate in the cottage. Grandfather insisted they start their day together before they joined in any club activities. The only other time they used the kitchen was tea time. Often, Mother and Grandmother had guests for tea. Other times they took tea at the clubhouse as they did their other meals.

Lexie felt an occasional rush of cold air when a strong gust of wind whooshed against the house. A tapping noise accompanied each drafty breeze. What was that? She froze, scanning the room. Her gaze landed on the partially-open back door of the kitchen, which slapped the door frame in time with the wind. As she crossed the room to pull it closed, she stepped over puddles of water that had accumulated from the windblown rain. The maids should have been more careful.

After she closed the door tight, she turned around and walked
back toward the dining room, passing the pantry door on one side and the door to the dumbwaiter on the other. So many memories that dumbwaiter held. She couldn’t resist pulling up the sliding door to reveal the metal cage that had been used to transport the family luggage to the second floor. Plus a few playful children on occasion. The metal door creaked as she struggled to push it open, as if complaining of being disturbed after years of disuse. Lexie leaned in and looked around, tempted to climb in again. But it wouldn’t be fun anymore.

Sighing, she forced the screeching door to close, turned, and passed back through the living areas, this time turning right into the hallway. She stood in front of the stairs, willing herself to go up. Somewhere in the house, the floor creaked. A shiver tingled her skin with the sense of being watched. Was someone else in the house? She stood motionless, waiting for another sound, but all she heard was the storm outside and the drip of water. She glanced up the stairs and gripped the bannister, convincing herself to take a step. It was her house and her responsibility to take care of it. She must find the leak and try to keep any more water from getting in. Perhaps the maids left a window open.

The boards groaned with each step as she climbed the stairs. A rueful smile worked its way across her face, remembering when those steps got her in trouble. Sounding like an alarm in her parents’ room, the creaky steps made it impossible for her to sneak downstairs at night when she was supposed to be asleep. She’d resorted to climbing out her window instead, and could have been killed the day she fell. Thankfully, she’d fallen in a bed of pine needles that kept her from getting hurt. Grandmother said the angels stayed busy watching out for her. Were they still around, or was their protection limited to childhood?

She reached the landing at the top of the stairs and looked around. Lightning flashed, brightening the house for a few seconds. But the afternoon storm enveloped the house in premature darkness, making it difficult for her to see. Lexie groped the wall for a light switch hoping, by some chance, the electricity was on. But, of course, the light didn’t come on. Too bad the house didn’t still have the original gaslights. Sometimes progress wasn’t an advantage.

Shadows danced along the walls like a ghostly ballet. The wind moaned in tune to the dancers’ movements while tree limbs scraped the side of the house in rhythm. Lexie yelped when the house shuddered with the next crash of thunder. And to think, she used to like thunderstorms. But she’d never been alone in this empty, lifeless
house during one before now.

Lexie fumbled her way through the dim light as she moved from room to room along the hall. The bedroom at the end of the hall facing the front yard had been her grandparents’. The largest bedroom, it now seemed the most empty, despite the furniture still present. Next to that room was her parents’ room, then Robert’s, then hers. The rest of the rooms in that wing were guest rooms. The servants’ rooms were in the
L
across the other end of the hall over the kitchen. She eyed each of the family’s rooms, reluctant to enter them lest she desecrate the memories of her loved ones.