Page 64 of The Lost Lord
“The only person who exists in your greedy, selfish mind is Elizabeth Van Buren.” Miriam turned her back on her enemy and faced the rest of the women. Strangers. Potential friends. True friends, if she had the courage to reach for what she wanted. Miriam could have wept with longing for the kind of friendship she’d once believed Lizzie offered.
They regarded her warily, intrigued but unsure which side to take.
“You went along with it willingly. You were never meant to know,” Lizzie drawled.
“What are you thinking, Lizzie? That Arthur will divorce you, and you’ll marry Richard? He hates you for what you have done to us. To me. Because despite his many flaws, Richard…loves me.” Miriam choked on the words as their truth crashed through her.
Miriam watched the expressions flicker over the ladies’ faces. She didn’t know these women, but she needed them badly. Disbelief bloomed over the other women’s faces. Adeline’s brows furrowed over the bridge of her nose in an uncanny similarity to Beatrice’s. Viola’s mouth pulled as if she’d tasted rancid food. Only Harper’s expression remained impassive, although she took in the scene with keen interest.
“Richard adoresme, Miri. Just as Arthur does,” Lizzie declared smugly.
None of it made sense. Miriam was beginning to believe it never would. But at least by being so open with the truth about Lizzie’s history today she had spared the other women present from the mistake of thinking Lizzie could be trusted.
Suddenly the tension made a nearly imperceptible shift.
“Well, this has been a lovely visit, Mrs. Van Buren,” Adeline said briskly. “I believe it’s time for you to be going.”
Lizzie’s face crumpled into a frown. “Please, call me Lady Northcote. Once he comes to his senses, Richard will come back to me. It’s only a matter of time before I become a Viscountess.”
Miriam’s entire body shook with suppressed anger. Harper exchanged a speaking look with her sister. When they were alone with Beatrice on the patio, the women burst into a cacophony of overlapping questions.
Adeline propelled her unwanted guest in the direction of the front door.
“What is wrong with her?” demanded Beatrice.
“Delusional,” muttered Mrs. Kent darkly.
“Have you seen anything like it, Harper?” asked Viola with a questioning glance at her sister. “From your time in the asylum?”
“You were confined?” asked Beatrice with astonishment.
“I worked in one as a doctor’s assistant, not as a patient,” Harper clarified. “Without knowing more specifics about her case, my best guess is that Mrs. Van Buren suffers from delusions of grandiosity and narcissism.”
“You’ll have to explain to us what that means,” said Viola. From inside the house they heard a crash and a cry. Adeline returned, without her unwanted guest, her face pale but determined.
“Mrs. Van Buren is gone at the expense of a porcelain umbrella stand,” Adeline declared. “Now, help me understand what just transpired during my quiet afternoon garden party, for this is far more excitement than an afternoon garden party ought to entail.”
“The doctor I worked for believed a narcissist was incapable of empathy and often exploits the people around them,” Harper explained. “It isn’t a medically recognized condition, but we had a man at the asylum who exhibited similar traits. He was unbelievably difficult to manage for he believed nothing he did was wrong. Not even after he ruined his family’s business by cheating every supplier and customer while claiming to build an empire. It was very sad.”
“How is Lizzie’s behavior different from Richard’s?” Miriam blurted. Her heart pounded. What if she was simply a magnet for narcissists?
“Richard knows when his actions are wrong,” Harper said reassuringly. “There have been times when he didn’t care, but he always knew.” The countess patted the chair next to her. “No wonder you’ve been so quiet about your relationship with Richard. It sounds terribly complicated. Sit. Tell us everything.”
And for the next hour, Miriam did.
* * *
The scrapeof metal in the lock was Richard’s only warning before Miriam’s slim white-clad form appeared in his room like a ghost. He stilled in his chair. The book he had been reading fell to open in his lap.
“Miri,” he whispered, his heart pounding.
“I saw Lizzie today,” she said.
“I am sorry. I have wondered what she’s been up to.”
“Something about her is not right. Harper called her a narcissist.” Miriam smiled tightly. “I think that if I had had better friends—real friends—I would’ve known sooner that Lizzy never valued me for myself. The other girls at school figured it out. I was an easy mark. As was Arthur, her husband. He wanted to be in love so badly.”
“I, too, was an easy target for her,” Richard observed. “I felt so ashamed, Miriam, after causing the fire. I was friendless but for Howard. I knew courting you was wrong. I simply didn’t care. But then you looked up at me with your wide, innocent moon goddess eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you.”
