“Um, I don’t think so. Then again, I’ve been awfully forgetful lately.”
“Matthew offered to set Billy up with his own band,” Blanche explained. “He said it was his mother’s idea, that she was completely charmed by Billy when we spent that weekend up here. He is charming, isn’t he? Matthew told Billy there’s always work for a good bandleader, and they set up some kind of partnership. Billy got a nice payment up front, and it was enough to change Elinor’s mind—that’s his awful wife. I had a feeling all along that she cared more about money than she did about Billy . . .”
She went on as I fit the pieces together. Matthew gave Billy money. Money that allowed Billy to pay off his wife and marry Blanche. And it had all been Hannah’s idea. She had no love for jazz or nightclubs, and she’d never shown any particular affection for Blanche. So why did she do it?
I looked at Blanche. Smiling, giggling, happier than I’d ever seen her. I thought of my mother’s last letter, in which she’d proudly described her new house. It was the first thing of value Ma had ever owned, and it had been paid for with Hannah’s money. I remembered the open invitation to the Lakecrest beach that Hannah had offered to Eva and her family. Just the sort of kindness a mother with three children and a landlocked property would always remember.
One by one, Hannah had sought out the people most loyal to me and given them what they wanted. If Hannah wanted to break up my marriage to Matthew, would Ma risk losing her house to help me? Would Blanche give up her future with Billy for my sake? I could think of no logical reason Hannah would want to get rid of me; I had dedicated myself to her son’s well-being, and I was soon to present her with her first grandchild. But I couldn’t rid myself of the troubling suspicion that Hannah was biding her time. I pictured the words above Lakecrest’s entrance and nearly shivered, despite the heat. If Hannah cast me out, no one would come to my rescue. Factum est.
I forced a smile as Blanche described the latest scandal at the Pharaoh’s Club.
“It’s no wonder we both want to get out of there. Just think, I’ll get to be a singer at last. Wouldn’t it be great if we toured around the country? What I wouldn’t give to see New York!”
Me too, I thought. Self-pity had become an all-too-familiar condition. The baby, I told myself. The baby, the house, then I’ll be able to leave.
“Maybe you’ll be off to England yourself sometime,” Blanche said. “To visit Marjorie? Everyone’s been talking about her elopement. I can only imagine what her mother said!”
“She’s putting on a brave face for her friends, but she’s furious.”
“As it so happens, I’ve got some news from her.”
Blanche reached into the pocketbook she’d dropped on the floor and pulled out a thick ivory envelope. I saw Marjorie’s swooped handwriting across the front.
“She mailed this to me at the club,” Blanche said. “Here, look at the note.”
Dear Blanche,
Could you see Kate gets this letter? I’d rather no one else reads it, and I can’t be sure if I send it to Lakecrest. Prying eyes and all that—I’m sure you understand.
With my very best wishes,
Marjorie Lemont Macfarlane
Wrapped inside was a sealed envelope, marked simply Kate.
“Do the maids really snoop through your mail?” Blanche asked. “I’ve always thought it would be strange, having people around all the time like that. Now, if Billy’s band does well, I’d hire a maid in an instant and send out all the laundry. That would be heaven. You probably haven’t had to wash out a pair of knickers in ages.”
There was a quick knock at the door, and Edna walked in with a tray of food. I pushed Marjorie’s letter under my pillow, saving it for later, though I could tell Blanche was aching to know what it said. My stomach growled, and I told Blanche, “You’re in for a treat. Edna’s a wonderful cook.”
Edna accepted the compliment with a curt nod and placed the tray across my lap. Sandwiches, potato salad, slices of raspberry pie. Lemonade for Blanche and the usual milk for me. Before I could say anything, Blanche reached for the milk and took a sip.
“I love fresh milk! Don’t tell me you have cows wandering the grounds?”
Edna stopped fussing with my napkin. She stood perfectly still as Blanche gulped down half the glass. Was it the flicker of concern in her eyes that made me suspicious or the way her lips tightened? My thoughts leapt from one to another, making connections. And then I knew.
It wasn’t hard to pretend I’d lost hold of my dessert plate. Chunks of raspberry filling and mangled piecrust smeared across the bed.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed.
I waved Blanche off when she leaned over to help clean up the mess. “It’s all right. Edna, would you have Alice bring fresh sheets?”
Edna scowled and stomped away. Now I just had to get rid of Blanche for a few minutes.
“Darling,” I told her, “why don’t you go into my dressing room and have a look in my jewelry box while we get this sorted out? I’ve got all sorts of pieces I never wear, and I’d love to give you one as an engagement present. It’s on top of a bureau in the corner.”
Blanche made the expected protests, but it didn’t take much to convince her. When Alice arrived, I hovered at the bedside as she went about her work, whispering so we wouldn’t be overheard.
“What has Edna been putting in my milk?”
Sometimes it’s best to ask a question as if you already know the answer.
“I’m not sure,” Alice said slowly. “Some kind of medicine.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know the name. She told me not to touch the bottle.”
“What does the bottle look like?”
“Brown? The syrup’s pink when she pours it.”
I’d seen Edna pour pink syrup from a brown bottle before. She’d given it to Marjorie when she was chained to a bed in the basement.
It all made sense. It wasn’t the pregnancy that had me so out of sorts. Twice a day, for weeks, I’d been taking something that left me tired and muddled. Easy to control. What was it Matthew had told me? We’re testing out a formula. A treatment for nervous hysteria. It’s made one woman’s mania vanish almost entirely.
“Kate?” Blanche stood in the doorway to the dressing room, holding up a few strands of pearls. “I can’t decide.”
I dismissed Alice with a jerk of my head.
“Come here and let me have a look,” I told Blanche.
She modeled different lengths and took so long deciding that I insisted she take all three. Blanche didn’t even bother to politely decline. Sitting with her shoulders hunched over, stifling a yawn, she looked exhausted. All from drinking one glass of my milk.
“Guess the heat is catching up with me,” she said.