Page 37 of Unmasking the Silver Heiress
"No. No, of course not. I simply remember that your parents kept several barrels of fine quality French vintage there, and was wondering if any yet survives. It would be wonderful to have a taste of home."
"I will send you a full barrel if we have any," he promised, keeping his expression pleasant but neutral as he led her into the dining room. "This is where we've made the most progress," he said, spreading his arms. "It seemed worthwhile to start with a single bedroom and a place to eat and then we will work outward. It is not finished, of course, but I have passed a round dozen meals here by now, and it is sufficient."
"Oh, these chairs." She sighed, brushing the coiling bevels carved into the wood. "It is funny how little things can spark the memory so. I can almost hear the ghosts of music in the walls."
"Speaking of music," Nate said, drawing her attention back to the present. "I have found some instruments in the ballroom, most notably a harp. They all require a fair deal of repair to be functional again. Might you have a recommendation? Mrs. Atlas is fond of playing the harp, and I would like to have that particular piece restored soon."
"Oh, certainly, certainly," she said with a nod. "I hope she will play for us someday. Oh, I hope our families will be dear friends again, Nathaniel, like they were in days past. I am just so happy to see you."
"I am certain we will become good friends," Nathaniel assured her. "Evidently, my wife and your daughter began that work quite on their own."
"Yes, I could scarcely believe it," she replied, though her eyes were fixed on the wall and she appeared far away.
"Perhaps once Meridian is back to rights, I could impose upon you to assist us in introductions around the county. I have spent much of my time in London and am at a loss of where to begin to build a social rapport." He tapped on his chin, as though deep in thought. "Perhaps as Yuletide draws near, there will be opportunities to fete nearby families? What do you think?"
"Oh, yes, yes." She nodded. "Winter can be most magical here on the coast. There are banquets and soirees abound, so long as you can make it through the snow to attend. Why not come to dinner at La Falaise? I am hosting a small gathering in a week's time and it would be no bother at all to include the Atlases. Indeed not, it would never be."
"That would be delightful. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you stopped by. Are there any other rooms you'd like to see?"
"Oh, I could keep you all day and night exploring every nostalgic corner of this old house," she said with an apologetic laugh. "I shouldn't have imposed upon you. I was simply overwhelmed with news of your return, and knowing you are back here feels like all of the Atlases are at home again, in spirit."
Nate did not respond. He felt a niggle of guilt in his chest, digging at his intention to stay here for as little time as possible and abandon it yet again. He had been afraid that returning here would dredge up too many painful memories, and that around every corner he would find hurtful reminders of what he'd lost. Instead, everything here had been just as alien to him as Lady Dempierre, who evidently had known him from the day of his birth.
"Do you intend to restore the ceiling in here?" she asked, startling him out of his reverie.
"The ceiling?" he asked, glancing up at the mottled plaster above. "Was it painted?"
"Not painted. It was layered in silver leaf and created the most spectacular reflections of candlelight at dinner." She smiled, clearly caught up in another memory. "One winter, shortly after your parents married, your mother invited her dearest friends to pass a frigid February here. We came to keep her company while your father was away on business and she was still learning to be the lady of a grand estate. The five of us would sit in here every night and light as many candles as possible while we drank our tea and talked for hours and hours under the glow."
"That sounds like a beautiful memory," Nathaniel said, feeling the warmth of the memory as though it were a flame between them. He could barely recall his mother's face anymore, and here sat a woman who had known her intimately, who might be able to answer a great deal of questions. "I can only hope to create such warm memories here."
"It would be appropriate." She sighed, glancing up at the ceiling once more with the past shining in her eyes. "It would honor her."
"Are these other ladies still in Kent?" he asked, wondering if perhaps a neutral party was preferable for questions about his mother, rather than the target of a secret assignation. "Perhaps I might make their acquaintance."
"I'm the only one in Kent, sadly," she said. "Though if you ever invited them, I would wager good coin that they would all return, just to have a night of memories in this room. It was silly, I know, five young girls huddled together under a sparkling ceiling, giggling ourselves silly in our cups, but it meant something to us. Do you know what those memories mean once you're old and the time is gone?"
"It's never really gone, if you remember it so clearly," he said, unable to suppress a flash of envy at her memories. He could not picture his parents in this room. He could not hear the echo of his mother's laugh. Still, hearing it recounted was a sort of proxy to memory, and she felt more real in this moment than she had when he sat in this room by himself.
When he glanced at the ceiling again, he noted a few flecks of silver that still clung to the plaster. Uncle Archie must have scraped it off and sold it to pay off one of his debts, he guessed. It explained a great many missing trinkets and smaller pieces that the house was missing since the last time he had been here.
Lady Dempierre continued talking, her voice wistful and far away. "For years after that winter, we kept a rotation of letters between us, the five girls who formed a sisterhood in a room with a sparkling ceiling. It is silly, of course, but we always meant to return here again, to repeat our ritual and recreate the magic. It never happened, of course. Marriage and life takes women on a merry ride of unpredictability that never slows or stops."
"Marriage is unpredictable for us all," he agreed. "Though it sounds like enduring bonds of friendship were forged here."
"Yes. We came up with a secret name for ourselves, convinced it would become a yearly tradition. It is sad, but the truth is that we were never all together again, not as a complete group."
"It is important, I suppose, to cherish special moments as they happen."
"Indeed, young man, indeed," she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "If we had known then that it would be the only time, perhaps we wouldn't have enjoyed ourselves so much and it would not have been as special. In the end, that February was the one and only convention of our little club, but all of us were forever changed that winter. I daresay even now, all these years later, each of us still considers herself a staunch member of our Silver Leaf Society."
Chapter 18
By the time the Dempierres had been sent on their way, Nate felt like he'd run a marathon on an empty stomach. His wife, evidently, was feeling much the same. She maintained a bright smile as she waved them off, but as soon as they were out of view, she returned to the drawing room, tossed her spectacles onto the nearest surface, and slumped face-down onto one of the sofas like a sack of soiled linens.
"Have you ever met someone who is so energetic, it is as though the sheer force of their presence pulls all the energy you've got for yourself into their orbit, leaving you completely depleted?" she mumbled into the cushion.
"That bad, was it?" Nathaniel said, plopping down next to her and running a reassuring hand over her back. "And here I thought the two of you would be fast friends."
