Quickly, Nadine turned away, but not before Sara saw the color drain from her face.
Nadine opened her big suitcase. It was a Hartmann, the kind people used twenty years ago: no wheels, no carry strap, no telescoping handle.
Sara watched Nadine pull out a jacket that could only have been made by Chanel and hang it in the big walnut wardrobe. Since she had commandeered the room, Sara guessed it was the one her father had refurbished for her. While the rest of the house rotted. Wonder if that’s the wardrobe where Puck hid? Sara thought.
* * *
“Mystery?” Nadine said, her back to Sara. “There was no mystery. Not even a disappearance, at least not in the true meaning of the word.”
“Then what did happen?”
Nadine turned around and the color was back in her face. “I thought Byon was going to be here.”
“He’s coming. You’re the first. They’re all coming.”
“What does that mean?”
“Clive, Willa, Byon and you. Mrs. Aiken and Puck are already here.”
Nadine was looking at her in disbelief. “And this is for...for...?”
“A reunion,” Sara said. “But also to talk about what happened that night when the people disappeared.”
“For your little books?” Nadine’s lip curled.
Sara stood up. “I think this was a mistake. I’ll talk to the others. Perhaps you’d like to leave. I can arrange—”
“No!” Nadine said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. It’s just that it wasn’t a mystery.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was the end of...” She pulled a dress from the suitcase. “The end of something wonderful, and as we knew we must, we separated. We went our own ways. It’s just that Diana didn’t tell us where she was going.”
“Wasn’t she engaged to Nicky? And there was another engagement, wasn’t there?”
Nadine shrugged. “Broken engagements are something that happen.” She glanced at the bed and her mind filled with memory.
It was in this bed that Willa was screaming and threatening to kill herself.
Nadine looked back at Sara. “Isn’t a broken engagement something called a ‘plot device’? My guess is that a year later Willa married. She probably has three children by now.”
“I don’t know what’s happened in her life,” Sara said. “But she’ll be here soon and we’ll ask her.”
“Yes, let’s do.”
Sara was trying to dampen her dislike of the woman, but it wasn’t easy. Maybe she should go in a different direction. “All of you seemed to be good friends. Parting must have hurt.”
“It did. Those were the best years of my life.” Nadine sat down, a blouse on her lap. “This house was so shabby then. My father worried that the roof would cave in on us. But we didn’t mind. Thanks to Willa, we had wonderful food. Byon entertained us endlessly and Nicky charmed us.” She closed her eyes for a moment.
One of Byon’s little “entertainments” was mocking them all. He portrayed Nicky as a useless fob; Willa was begging for anyone to love her; Clive was an inferno of hatred; Nadine was a low-class slut with money. Byon was madly talented, but too often he was despicably cruel.
“What about Diana?”
Nadine opened her eyes and smiled. “She was the sensible one. We were all dreamers. If we had food and drink, we were happy. Diana kept the roof patched. Before she came, we just put down buckets to catch the rainwater. I used to wash my hair in it.”
She could hear Diana shouting at them for their laziness and self-centeredness.
“What about Clive?”
With a groan, Nadine got up and put the blouse in the wardrobe. “Clive wasn’t really one of us. He wanted to be, but...”
“But what?”
“All Clive thought about was money. I wonder what he does now?”
“He’s a banker.”
“Of course he is. Locked away from clients, I hope. He could never get along with anyone.”
Clive rarely spoke to them—which was worse than Diana’s shouting and Bertram’s cursing. Clive just sneered at them in contempt.
“Did you say Puck is here?”
“Yes.”
“That poor thing. Her mother was a beast to her. We tried to protect her, but Mrs. Aiken was stronger than all of us. What does Puck do now?”
“She owns the house by the cemetery. She—”
“That house? It was derelict. But it had the most enormous bathtub in it. Is it still there?” Memories came to her.
Naked in that tub. A bucket of hot water being poured over her head. She could feel the slickness of the soap, feel the hands on her skin.
“I have no idea,” Sara said.
“I’ll have to go exploring. I guess Puck works for the estate.”
“She makes herbal wreaths and sells them in London.”
“How lovely.” Nadine had finished unpacking.
“And what about Sean?” Sara asked.
Nadine looked confused. “Who?”
“Worked in the stables? You took riding lessons from him? He left the night of your party and was never seen again.”
“Oh yes. Him. I didn’t last long on those lessons. Horses terrify me—unless there are hundreds of them under the bonnet of a car. Do you have any more questions? If not, I’d like to change.”
“Of course,” Sara said.
Nadine had already opened the door and she closed it firmly behind Sara. The lock clicked loudly.
* * *
Sara hurried down the hall to the narrow stairs that led up. As she’d hoped, Kate was in the attic, seated on an old chair, her lap full of papers. Sara plopped down on an ancient sofa across from her.
“There’s enough info here for a thousand books,” Kate said. “Diaries from the Victorians, finances from the Georgians. I found some things from Queen Anne’s time. Someone really should look at all this and value it.” She looked at her aunt. “What did you find out from Lady Nadine?”
“Absolutely nothing. Everyone and everything was great and wonderful and good. No one had a bad thought—except about poor Clive. He was a monster.”
“If there was so much love, why did they break apart and not speak to each other for twenty years?”