“And he never deserved it. He provided for me, but that was it. He never considered himself anything more to her or me. Don’t misunderstand me—I’m not bitter. I have Sarah, and she’s every bit a sis to me. But Mum, she’s pined after Lord Routledge for all these years, never really ready to move on.”
“Maybe after tonight?” I say hopefully.
Mabel nods vigorously. “Ifanyonecan convince her to move on, it’s Darcie. They’ve been friends for years, and I’ve sat in on many of her ‘events.’ She convinces people about what’s good for them far beyond what any therapist can do. Whatever ghost gobbledygook happens in her parlor, Darcie works magic. Trust me.”
As I’m pulling back the bedcovers, Henry texts me a screenshot of a paperback copy ofWuthering Heights.
Henry:Diving in!
I text back a smiley face, strangely tickled that he’s trying yoga and readingWuthering Heightsin the same week. I suppose he should inspire me.
I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to dance again.
16
A few hours before the evening Jack the Ripper tour, Mirabel calls as I’m bathing Heathcliff.
“Hi, Mirabel,” I say, drying off my hands.
“Your lawyer friend won’t stay out of my garden.”
Ms. Fernsby comes up the stairs with some towels and takes over drying Heathcliff as the water drains loudly from the tub. I take my phone into my room and shut the door.
“What are you talking about?”
“HenryLawtonsent another subpoena to my lawyer today. He wants all legal documents related to the trust and other things that don’t matter one iota. Trust me, Elizabeth, he’s chasing after family matters that are better left alone!”
“Mirabel, if this has anything to do with what upset Philip that night, it would serve you well to tell me and Henry the truth. We’ll find out one way or another. Philip was upset for a reason, and I need to protect Heathcliff’s interests.”
There’s a very long, scary silence.
“Mirabel...”
“Elizabeth, I had a consultation with my attorney today over some concerns Ted and I both have. Your behavior since Philip died has been peculiar and erratic. You wear black all the time and all that morbidjewelry. And now you’ve made this wild quick trip to London. Heathcliff mentioned something about men, and, well, I don’t know what you’re exposing our grandson to.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Language, Elizabeth. I know grief drives people to do crazy things, but it’s Heathcliff we’re concerned about. My Summerville lawyer suggested that given our concerns perhaps we should order a toxicology report on you and apply for guardianship of Heathcliff. Then the court can determine if you’re a fit parent.”
Nausea seeps through my gut.
She can’t do that.
Can she?
I haven’t done anything to warrant losing custody of Heathcliff. But this stabs at some deep fears of mine. My meltdown in front of my class. My Victorian compulsions lately. Of course, I haven’t been in my normal state of mind since Philip died. But I’m definitely not crazy.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is a woman who wears oversize sun hats and shoots groundhogs point-blank in her garden.
“You can’t do that.”
“You have your lawyer. I have mine. And mine says that depending on how our own investigation goes, we have a chance to take guardianship of Heathcliff. Perhaps we could even return him to you after your behavior is more... regulated.”
“I’m a perfectly fit mother,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I sure hope so, sweetie.”
She hangs up.
