Her last words sounded almost like a threat. Ed Travers nodded and, replacing his bowler hat on his head, returned to the wagon.
Lauren followed Olivia into the house.
The impressions she drew from what brief glances of Ben’s home she was allowed were delightful ones. A wide foyer with rooms leading off either side of it ran the length of the house. The staircase was directly opposite the front door and, at the top, hallways extended in three directions.
Lauren and Olivia ascended the stairs, turned right, and passed down a long, well-lit hall with doors, probably opening into bedrooms, on either side. At the end of the hall, Olivia opened a door. Like all of the woodwork in the house, it was painted a pristine white. Lauren followed Olivia into the room and looked around the chamber in which she would be sequestered for the next few days.
Well, if I have to be imprisoned, this is a pleasant cell, she thought. The small room was one of the round ones she had seen from the front of the house. It was beautifully furnished. The floors were stained oak, relieved now and then by small throw rugs. An intricate ecru lace spread covered the full-sized, four-poster bed. The walls were papered with a pale yellow flower print that was subtle and tasteful. There were a dresser and washstand, a bookcase, a rocking chair, a round table next to the chair, and a smaller table at the bedside. Fresh flowers filled several vases scattered around the room and, though the windows were curtained now, Lauren knew the morning sun would flood the room with even more cheerfulness. Someone had planned on receiving her graciously.
“It’s lovely, Mrs. Lockett. Thank you.”
“Then you won’t mind staying in here for a few days until the funeral is over.”
; Lauren wanted to attend the funeral. But something in the woman’s manner clearly indicated that she would strenuously object to an appearance by Lauren.
“The bathroom is through there.” She indicated a door. “There’s a door on the other side of it, but it remains locked. You needn’t worry about anyone disturbing you.”
Or me disturbing anyone, Lauren thought.
“Elena will be here soon with your supper. If you need anything, ask her. She is solely responsible to you.” She was about to leave the room when Lauren halted her.
“Mrs. Lockett, I’m sorry about your husband. He was—”
“Yes,” Olivia broke in. “Goodnight, Miss Holbrook.”
* * *
Lauren sat down in the rocking chair and tried to absorb the events that had taken place since her arrival.
Ben Lockett dead? It wasn’t possible. For weeks, she had envisioned his kind face and heard his voice compelling her to come here. Now, he was dead, and her future was, at best, uncertain.
Having sat down, she realized how tired she was. The endless days and cramped nights on the trains, the rough, dusty drive from Austin, that horrible man sprawled in a drunken stupor even as his own father lay dead, and then the confrontation with Olivia. It was all too much. Lauren rested her head on the small pillow attached to the back of the rocking chair and fell into a deep sleep.
She was awakened by a persistent voice and someone shaking her arm. Go away, she thought. I don’t want to wake up, because something terrible has happened. I don’t want to remember.
The pest wouldn’t go away. Lauren awakened to meet the blackest, most liquid eyes she had ever seen. She took in the rest of the face. It was dark, smooth, unblemished, and beautiful. The smile was gentle and warm. The voice was soothing and sympathetic.
“Poor señorita. You are so tired that you fall asleep in the chair. With your hat on! No supper? No bath? Elena will help you, sí?”
“Elena? I’m Lauren. How do you do?” Lauren grasped the girl’s friendliness like a lifeline.
“You’re so beautiful, señorita. I think you be prettier and feel better after a bath. I run the water for you. You get undressed, sí?”
Elena stood back from the chair, and Lauren saw her protruding stomach, announcing the late stages of pregnancy. Was Olivia hiding Elena by “assigning” the maid to her? Her condition would no doubt be an embarrassment to the family and their expected callers.
Elena couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, and seemed unaffected by being seen when her confinement was so near. Her breasts, the dark nipples readily apparent, were almost as large as her stomach, and hung unrestrained under an embroidered white blouse.
She waddled into the bathroom, keeping up lively chatter in a mixture of English and Spanish. The topics of conversation she chose switched as quickly as her languages. When she returned to the bedroom and saw that Lauren had not moved, she scolded her.
“Señorita, your water will get cold, not to mention your supper. Come, let Elena help you.”
Lauren was shocked when Elena turned her around and began undoing her buttons with deft fingers. She wanted to object but was too tired to force the words through her lips. Swiftly Elena divested her of her clothes.
When all that remained were Lauren’s pantalets, corset, and camisole, Elena shook her head from side to side and made a tsking sound.
“A corset! And you are so slim. You can’t even breathe.” She loosened the laces, and soon the offending garment was lying in the heap of soiled clothes at Lauren’s feet.