Clara

5

After the girls and their nanny had gone to sleep and Miss Feely was safely out the door, I walked the town house’s dark hallways by myself. It was indeed a moment of triumph. I had imagined doing this so many times before, and had even fallen into the slightly shameful habit of passing by the house on my trips to the city, just to stand outside and look at it, somewhat disguised by large sunglasses and a hat. I would imagine what it was like inside, what riches were to be found. I had often fantasized about what would happen if my brother and all of his family were to perish on one of his “daring adventures,” and wondered if those riches would maybe land in my lap. There was no one closer to inherit, after all—not by blood, anyway.

Now that Miss Feely had shattered my delusion by letting me know that all the money would have gone to charity, I felt somewhat stupid for having dreamt of it at all. But back in those days, I had been hopeful—wistful—and kept my fingers crossed for swift and sudden deaths.

Only half of my prayers had been answered.

Sometimes, on those little excursions of mine, I would even sneak up behind the house and enter the long, narrow garden through the latched gate, just so I could get closer to the windows and steal a peek inside. I always went during daylight hours, since I knew that Amanda and the girls would likely not be at home. It was harder to gauge my brother, though, who often spent his days just lounging about the house. I was very careful, however, and was never observed, to my knowledge. On one particularly memorable occasion, I found the large garden shed unlocked and made my way inside. Ben kept many of his toys in there: water skis, parachutes, kayaks, and climbing gear. I took my time going through it all, making slight adjustments: cutting a rope, scratching a side, removing tiny safety pins. Nothing much, really, and it would probably be discovered during rigid safety checks—although I did have a faint hope, at the time, that perhaps my brother, so full of himself, would think sabotage so unlikely that he maybe wouldn’t go through it all with a fine-tooth comb, but opted to jump or ski or climb without ever noticing my small adjustments.

A woman is allowed her dreams.

So, all of that considered, it brought me immense satisfaction to walk the town house’s rooms at last, even if the access came with the price of child-rearing and bothersome lawyers and paperwork. I wasn’t there just for the novelty, though, but had brought a notebook with me to copy out the signature on any piece of hanging art I could find, in order to have their value appraised later. I also made crude drawings of the china and folk art littering the spacious downstairs, in case they were worth something. I felt as giddy as a girl in a candy store as I walked around, eyes peeled. It was a treasure trove of valuables just sitting there, waiting for someone to sweep it up.

And why shouldn’t that someone be me? I certainly deserved it—and more.

Finally, I penetrated the inner sanctum—the heart of it all—the master bedroom. It looked as if someone had poured a jar of honey out in there. Everything was shimmering, golden and soft yellow: the bedspread, the curtains, the abundance of silk pillows. The woodwork, too, held a dark honey shade, gleaming and polished to perfection. Amanda clearly had a preference. The air in there still kept a memory of the pair: rose and oolong tea for her, and sweet mint for him. He had worn that same scent since he was fifteen.

There was art in the bedroom as well, and I quickly added the pieces to my list, but that was not the main reason why I was there. I had to look for a while before I found it, digging through closets full of shimmering silk and soft velvet, bespoke suits and ironed shirts. But I finally came upon it, just lying there in a vanity drawer: Amanda’s jewelry box.

It was a modest thing made of carved wood. The lid displayed an abundance of plums and leaves, skillfully teased from the grain. The box didn’t even have a lock on it, so sure were they that their wealth was safe, and that nothing—and no one—could touch it.

Clearly, they had been wrong.

I opened it with awe—and no small sense of victory—to behold the glory within: rings, brooches, pendants, and bracelets; faceted stones in an array of colors, some of them worth a fortune. I turned on a small brass lamp with a golden glass shade standing on the vanity’s shiny surface, just so I could hold the pieces up to the light and admire their sparkle and shine. Some of it was old, I realized, when I recognized a strand of pearls as the ones my mother wore around the house when the day wasn’t special enough for diamonds. I had always imagined that those would go to me, but no—here they were, deep in Amanda’s jewelry box. I found said diamonds, too, when I had dug deep enough. Clearly all my mother’s finery had ended up with Amanda, while I hadn’t seen a dime.

And there it was, too—the apple of discord—the one thing that had sent me running from my brother, never to look back: Amanda’s engagement ring, formerly my mother’s wedding ring, precious enough that my sister-in-law had not dared to bring it along to K2. It was an exquisite pink diamond the size of a pinky nail, surrounded by paler siblings. I had always loved that ring, its blushing ice-cold beauty, and my mother had known that well. That was why it had been such a betrayal when Iris gave the ring to Ben instead—he who had inherited his father’s fortune by then and could have bought as many rings as he liked. That one ring, though, it could have been mine, if only Iris had chosen differently.

Their engagement party was the very last time I had seen Ben and his bride before they died.

I quickly pocketed the ring and the rest of my mother’s diamonds before making my way back to the guest room. Maybe there was a list somewhere detailing all the pieces that Amanda had owned, but surely no one would notice—at least not for a while—that some of it was missing. Miss Feely had said they would deposit the jewels and crate the art, but maybe they wouldn’t look too hard. And even if they did discover the theft, no one would suspect me, the girls’ selfless and loving aunt.

I was determined to bleed my brother’s corpse dry—starting with my mother’s diamonds.

Needless to say, I was jubilant the next day when I brought my new charges with me to the airport. Not only because of what I had accomplished the night before, but also in anticipation of what was to come. I felt as if I was transporting a cache of gold—albeit a chattering one.

“What is your house like?” Violet asked while the taxi slid through the quiet neighborhood of town houses and neatly pruned trees.

“Oh, it is big,” I answered, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. Compared to the house I first grew up in, Crescent Hill was a castle, and I clearly remembered admiring its size the first time I set foot in there. “It’s not as modern as the house you’re used to, but that’s the charm of old places.”

“Grandma Fiona lived in an old house,” Lily noted from the other end of the back seat. “It was a big farmhouse, and the floorboards creaked when you walked on them.”

“Well, isn’t that novel.” I had to fight not to roll my eyes. “I suppose it had mice as well?”

“Yes, it did, in winter,” Lily replied. Her voice was muffled by the pink scarf she had insisted on wrapping several times around her neck, fearing she would catch a cold. Both of the girls were bundled up like small bears in woolen coats and knitted mittens, even though it was April and spring was in the air. Lily clearly took her responsibility as the eldest very seriously, which I supposed was a good thing. They had to be awfully warm, though. I myself had folded up my fur coat and kept it in my lap.

“Well, there are no mice at my house,” I assured them. “I won’t tolerate vermin and have traps set out all year round.”

“Do you ever catch any?” Violet asked.

“All the time. Sometimes they are still alive when I get to them, and Dina has to drown them in a water bucket.”

Lily was appalled. “Couldn’t you just let them loose outside?”

Violet didn’t seem to mind dead mice but peered at me with curious eyes.

“They would just come back again,” I answered. “It’s the way of vermin.”

We then drove in blissful silence for a while before Lily asked, “How far is it from your house to the school?”

“Not far, although I have to take you in the car. Unless you would prefer bicycles?”

“Isn’t there a school bus?”

My finely painted eyebrows arched upward.

“No, not where I live. It’s a little bit outside of town, but I’m sure we will find a solution.” Anything for my little nuggets of gold. “It’s nothing you have to worry about right now anyhow. With your situation being what it is, you won’t have to enroll until fall.” We had all agreed on that—me, Miss Feely, and Mr. Skye. I, for one, was utterly relieved not to have to face that particular institution just yet, and all the bad memories that swirled around the place.

“Is it a good school?” Lily persisted. “Because if it’s not, boarding school—”

“Oh, the local school is fine,” I interrupted. “Everybody says so,” and boarding school was expensive. If I could manage to get my hands on their whole fortune, I would rather it be as intact as possible. “You should at least give it a try.” I leaned over and gave Lily my very best smile.

“Of course.” Appropriately chastised, Lily leaned back in the seat again. Her restless fingers were toying with a pair of fluffy earmuffs in her lap, as white as her woolen coat.

“I have to continue to play, though. Do you think that’s possible there?” She had made a great fuss about her violin before we left, worrying that air travel would somehow damage the instrument. “Do they have good music teachers in Ivory Springs?”

“I’m sure we can scramble one up,” I muttered.

“I’m really serious about my playing.” Her cool gaze had gained some fire. “Mama says—said—I could become good enough to maybe give concerts one day, or play in a big orchestra.” Her voice took on a soft timbre when she painted her glorious future in words, and Miss Feely had mentioned a wish expressed in the will about the girl continuing her music education. Ben and Amanda had clearly held some aspirations for her. Not that it mattered, of course.

“We’ll see what we can do, but you have to understand that things are different now, and adjustments have to be made.” I couldn’t conjure a skilled teacher out of thin air, and Ivory Springs wasn’t known for its flourishing cultural scene.

The girl looked a little stung by my words and leaned back in the seat. I honestly wished that she would give up the music altogether—not because I didn’t have an ear for it, but because I did, and nothing in this world aggrieved me more than an amateur butchering the masters.

“Are there any children where you live?” Now it was Violet who had questions.

“Oh, I don’t have many neighbors, and those who live closest to me are elderly. I’m sure you’ll befriend several of the young boys and girls in town, though, once you start school.”

“Will we have our own rooms in your house?” The girl was relentless.

“Of course you will—one each!” Did she think I was going to place them on the floor?

“Do you have any pets?” Lily asked; her cold gaze held a tiny spark of fire. She was clearly hoping for a feline companion or some such.

“No, but there are quite a few animals around.”

“The mice?” She looked at me with horror and the little spark died in her eyes.

I smiled, thinking of my home décor. “Other animals, too.”

“We had a dog before,” Violet volunteered. “Her name was Goldie and she was really old. When she passed away, Lily cried and cried—”

“She was my best friend.” Lily sounded stung. “Wouldn’t you be crying if your best friend died?”

“Yes,” Violet agreed. “But I told you she was all right.”

Lily snorted. “How would you even know?”

“Why are you wearing all those diamond rings?” Violet had let her gaze be snagged by the stacks of jewels on my fingers.

“Because they are beautiful. Don’t you agree?” I eyed the girl, who nodded slowly, still staring at my hands.

“Mama and Papa had a plan for our education.” Lily returned to what seemed to be her favorite subject. “I really think boarding school—”

I cut her off. “Well, your parents are no longer around to make those decisions.”

Another stricken expression appeared on the young girl’s face, just as I had hoped. It was better if she learned right away that I wouldn’t spoil them like their parents had.

I didn’t owe my nieces anything—but they surely owed me a great deal.

“This is a difficult situation for all of us,” I continued, adding a little warmth to my voice. “We all have to do our best, and at least you two are together.”

“It’s what our parents wanted,” Lily said in a hollow voice. She blinked her eyes rapidly again, just as she had done the night before. At first, I thought she was fighting back tears, but that seemed not to be the case, as she was fine again the next moment. Maybe it was just her nerves.

“Yes, it was,” I replied, though I did have my doubts. Benjamin really should have updated his will after his mother-in-law’s passing. It was only just, though, that things had turned out this way. Finally, it was my time to blossom, and I could certainly endure a few questions to make it happen.

“Lucia will probably miss us,” said Violet.

“Lucia will be paid to care for other children now,” I replied. It was nothing but the truth, and these girls clearly knew nothing of the world.

“She said she would never forget us,” Violet insisted, which was probably not a lie on the young nanny’s part. Who could ever forget the spectacle of their parents’ demise?

“Do you have a job, Aunt Clara?” The next question came from Lily, who had obviously recovered from our little tiff.

“I have independent means,” I replied, though that was barely true anymore. Years of indulging my passion had seen my fortune dwindling, and it didn’t much matter if they had been sound investments. “I have training as a nurse,” I continued. “Your grandpapa paid for my education.” To get me out of the house, but I didn’t mention that part. “It was very generous of him.” I felt a little sick as I said it.

“We never met him.” Violet sounded sad, though that regret was most certainly misplaced.

“He was old already by the time he married Iris,” I noted. Benjamin had been about Lily’s age when his father died. Iris had still been vital, though, for many years after, monitoring her golden boy closely.

“Do you miss being a nurse?” Lily asked next, and I felt the first pangs of a headache coming on.

“Not particularly, no. I have other interests now.”

“Like what?” Violet looked up at me again, her eyes too close for comfort. I noted how the knot of her red scarf had come entirely undone, and one of her shoelaces, too.

“Oh, I dabble in this and that.” I didn’t want to share my plan just yet. It was bold enough that it could make the older girl suspicious of my motivations.

It was better for now if they saw me as just their kind and selfless aunt, who had taken them into her home out of nothing but the goodness of her heart.