Chương 4
“How long?” he asked.
Mara looked toward the floor.
“How long has Vanessa treated Clara this way?”
“I never saw anything like the bowl before tonight.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Mara folded the uniform more tightly.
Julian waited.
“She began correcting Miss Clara’s meals in September,” Mara said. “No dessert if she did not finish vegetables. No snacks before dinner. At first it seemed strict, but not…” She searched for the word. “Not cruel.”
“It became cruel.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I cannot give you one day.”
“Try.”
Mara sat on the edge of the upholstered chair. She looked older without the uniform, not because the clothes aged her but because the uniform had given her somewhere to hide.
“Miss Crowe began making comments about Mrs. Ashford.”
Julian’s face changed.
“What comments?”
“She said the house could not remain a shrine. She removed photographs from the breakfast room and the small sitting room.”
“I agreed to move those.”
“Yes, sir.”
The answer irritated him.
Mara saw it and did not retreat. “Miss Clara did not.”
He walked to the window. A line of red taillights moved beyond the gates as the last guests left the property.
“What else?”
“She told Miss Clara the navy ribbon was childish.”
“It belonged to Amelia.”
“I know.”
“Did Vanessa know?”
“Yes.”
Julian turned.
Mara placed the folded uniform beside her. “Miss Clara wore it more often after Miss Crowe asked her not to. That caused arguments.”
“Arguments?”
“Miss Crowe would call them conversations.”
“What would Clara call them?”
Mara’s eyes filled but did not spill. “She stopped calling them anything.”
The anger returned, but it could not find one clean direction.
“You were here.”
“Yes.”
“You saw this.”
“Some of it.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Three times.”
Julian said nothing.
“The first time was after Miss Crowe sent Clara away from breakfast for hiding toast in her pocket. I told you she seemed frightened.”
“You said she was having difficulty adjusting.”
“Yes.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
Mara held his gaze. “Because you were in the car for the airport, and Miss Crowe was standing beside you.”
Julian remembered the morning. He had been late for a flight to Chicago. Vanessa had handed him coffee while Mara spoke from the front steps. Julian had kissed Clara’s head through the open car door. Clara had not looked at him.
“The second time?” he asked.
“After the school called.”
“What school call?”
Mara’s expression answered before she did.
Julian took one step toward her. “What school call?”
“The counselor asked to speak with you. Miss Crowe said she would handle it.”
“No one told me.”
“I put the message on your desk.”
“When?”
“October seventeenth.”
He knew where he had been on October seventeenth: in Toronto, negotiating the purchase of three hotels from a family-owned group. Vanessa had joined him for two days. They had eaten room-service salmon and discussed invitation paper.
“What was the call about?”
“Miss Clara was not eating lunch.”
Julian felt the room narrow.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The counselor did not tell me. She asked for you.”
“And the third time?”
“Last month. I told you Miss Crowe was taking the locks off Clara’s bedroom door.”
Julian remembered that too.
He had laughed.
Vanessa had said Clara slammed doors when frustrated, and he had replied that removing the lock sounded safer than removing the door. He had made the comment while signing year-end reports. Mara had stood in the library with a stack of dry cleaning and waited for him to look up.
He had not.
“You should have insisted,” he said.
Mara accepted the accusation without defending herself. That made it worse.
“Yes.”
“You should have told Robert. Or Nora. Or the school.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Her hands tightened around each other.
“Because Miss Crowe told me you believed I was resistant to change.”
Julian stared at her.
“She said you thought I was too attached to the old household. That I might be replaced after the wedding.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
“You believed her?”
“I believed she could dismiss me.”
“You’ve worked here sixteen years.”
“She was going to be your wife.”
The sentence settled between them with the weight of an obvious thing Julian had failed to see. Vanessa had possessed no formal authority over Mara’s employment, but authority rarely remained formal inside a home. Julian had given Vanessa the confidence to speak for him, then spent enough time away that no one could easily check whether she was telling the truth.
Mara stood.
“I should have done more,” she said. “Whatever you decide about my position, I understand.”
Julian turned back toward the window.
A black SUV waited near the service entrance for Mara. The driver had left the engine running.
“Do you have messages from Vanessa?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“About Clara?”
“Some.”
“Do not delete anything.”
“I would not.”
“Send copies to Robert.”
Mara nodded.
“And come back tomorrow.”
She looked surprised.
“Clara asked for you,” Julian said. “That is the only reason I’m making any decision tonight.”
Mara picked up her uniform.
At the door, she stopped. “The bowl is still locked downstairs.”
Julian closed his eyes briefly.
“Leave it there.”
After Mara left, Robert returned with Julian’s phone and a written list of actions already taken. Vanessa’s access code had been disabled. The gatehouse had instructions not to admit her without notice. The school had received an email removing her as an authorized contact, though the administrator would not process it until morning. Wedding vendors had been told the event was postponed because cancellation language could wait until contracts were reviewed.
“Postponed?” Julian asked.
“It prevents a planner from calling the bride at twelve-thirty in the morning.”
“She is not the bride.”
May you like
“No. She is also not asleep.”
Julian looked at the phone. Thirty-one messages waited. Eleven were from Vanessa. Four were from her brother. Three were from guests asking whether Clara was all right. His sister Nora had called twice from California after receiving a message from someone at the dinner. The company’s communications director had written only: Call me before you speak to anyone.
