The Spells of Paradise

Chapter 33: Throwing Stones

A knock sounded on the drawing room door and a maid popped her head in.

"Pardon me, miss, a Ms. Beatrice Thornton is asking to speak with you," she said.

Lydia and her mother exchanged looked and Lydia shrugged, looking back at the maid. "Send her in."

Lydia's mother sat up in her regal stance. Lydia saw the look on her face and was glad that she was not on the receiving end of it. If Beatrice Thornton did not come with the proper answers, Lydia feared the verbal lashing her mother would give her.

Beatrice walked in, hair windblown and cheeks flushed. Lydia offered her a smile, but she felt that it didn't reach her eyes. Her mother, on the other hand, wasted no time.

"Ms. Thornton," she gestured to a chair across from her. "Would you sit down? Mina, fetch some tea."

"That will not be necessary," Beatrice said, "and I won't be sitting."

"Oh?" Lydia's mother sat back.

"Yes, I did not come for any drawn out conversations, Mrs. Quincy."

"Why did you come, then?" Lydia asked.

"To tell you what I can, and allow you to make of it what you will."

Lydia glanced at her mother as the woman was nodding, the same cold expression on her face. "Speak, then."

Beatrice sighed and folded her hands in front of her. "When we were in Lanfore, Lucy and I attended a ball at Dawn-Bridge, I am sure you know of it. I wasn't aware of anything out of the ordinary, but when we returned Lucy did seem rather disturbed. That night, a note was delivered to my room; later on I realized that it was not meant for me. In that note," she paused, cleared her throat, and continued, "well, Mrs. Quincy," she looked to Lucy's mother, "it was a note that you wrote to the late criminal, Arthur Denning. I am sure you know of its contents."

Lydia frowned and turned to her mother, who was now paler than a sheet. "Mother, what is she talking about?"

"Keep talking," her mother said, ignoring Lydia entirely.

Beatrice shrugged. "There is nothing more to say. That is the reason why I returned and Lucy did not. I read the contents, found myself extremely disturbed, and left."

"What did the note say?" Lydia pressed.

"That is for your mother to indulge you. I, however, have said enough, and I will take my leave," Beatrice curtsied. "I gave Lucy the note. She knows everything now, and that is why she has not come home," she nodded to both the women. "Excuse me."

"No, wait!" Lydia stood. "Don't you dare walk out of that door until you've explained—"

"Let her leave, Lydia," her mother said sharply. "Let her go."

"Mother, don't—"

"That's enough," her mother held up a hand. "Ms. Thornton, give your uncle my best. You may leave."

"Wait!" Lydia turned back but it was too late, Beatrice was gone. She whirled back to her mother, furious. "Why did you do that?!"

"Lydia, sit down."

"She could have told us more, why did you make her leave?"

"Sit down," her mother pointed to the chair next to her. "Now."

Lydia huffed angrily and did as she was told crossing her arms under her breasts and furiously tapping her feet.

"When you've calmed, then we will discuss this."