Dark Masquerade by Jennifer Blake

hard to put on paper even after Ellen had told her exactly what she wanted to say. Ellen had wanted to ask that her husband’s people include Elizabeth in the invitation, but she would not allow it. She had wanted to be independent, to make her own way in the world, rather than to be a poor relation by marriage at the mansion called Oak Shade.
    Eventually the requested record, written in pure Castilian Spanish, scrolled and dangling with ribbons and seals, had arrived. The young priest who had brought it had smiled at the maternal picture Elizabeth had made standing with the baby in her arms in the doorway of their homestead. It was a natural mistake. Before he left them he baptized the baby and led them in a rosary for the girl in the grave near the house. The name he carried back with him for the death record was Elizabeth’s own. Ellen would have understood, Elizabeth was sure. Her last wish had been for Elizabeth to carry her child to her husband’s family and see that he received his proper heritage.
    The minutes passed and there was no sign of the records, nor a message from Callie. Elizabeth had not had time to grow really worried, however, when Bernard, frowning at a letter in his hand, got to his feet.
    “Forgive me, but I must leave you for a moment to speak to my overseer. A matter of business.” Without waiting for her acquiescence he crossed the room in a few strides and was gone, the letter fluttering in his hand.
    She sat alone, listening to the seconds ticking slowly by on the ormolu clock on the mantel, staring at her reflection in the crepe-draped mirror beside it. With the palm of her hand, she smoothed the arm of her chair, growing increasingly nervous and perplexed. Bernard did not return, nor did the things she had sent for arrive. At last she heard quick footsteps approaching, and she got to her feet and turned toward the door.
    There was a light knock, and without waiting for an invitation Celestine swept into the room.
    “I thought Bernard was here,” she exclaimed, staring at Elizabeth with a wide, inquisitive glance, her fun skirts swaying as she stopped.
    “He was. He stepped out for a minute.”
    “How odd, and most inhospitable of him.”
    That was precisely what Elizabeth had been thinking, but she did not say so.
    “I wonder what he is about. No telling. He is a very busy man. I’m sure he did not mean to desert you.” Celestine’s voice was smooth, but Elizabeth heard the malice, as she was sure she was supposed to.
    “I expect you are right,” she answered quietly.
    A shadow of annoyance touched Celestine’s small features. “I don’t imagine it is necessary to wait. Bernard will not expect it if he has been delayed.”
    That seemed likely. “I was thinking of returning to my room,” Elizabeth said.
    “Just what I would do,” Celestine agreed. “I will tell Bernard that he has been most rude and he must not treat you so. It will be a lesson to him.”
    That was not at all what she had intended. “Oh, no. Tell him, please, that I have gone to see about the documents he wanted.”
    “Oh, I was not going to wait for him now,” Celestine objected, her voice expressing an obvious reluctance to serve as Elizabeth’s messenger. She drew back to allow Elizabeth to go through the door ahead of her.
    Why then had Celestine come to the library if she did not want particularly to see Bernard, Elizabeth wondered as she went through the door and down the hall toward the stairs. The only reason she could think of was curiosity, pure feminine curiosity about what was keeping Elizabeth in the library so long.”
    She had put her foot on the bottom stair when a sound near the top made her glance up. She stopped, frozen into immobility, afraid to make the slightest sound.
    At the top of the stairs, his blanket trailing over the edge of the top step as he kicked and waved his arms, lay Joseph.

3

    Footsteps echoed in the hall. Elizabeth hardly heard them.
    “My apologies,” Bernard