Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Smooth and compose them;

And her eyes, close them,

Staring so blindly!

Ainsley would never admit it to Margaret but he was more than a little fearful heading to the manor house for a social call. He hardly knew what to expect from a hostess that could be killing her children one by one. Whether from jealousy, shame or revenge, the Lloyd family was now paying the price for one man's misdeeds and disloyalty.

"Do not eat anything," he cautioned Margaret. "Pretend you are, for their sake, but do not allow the tea to touch your lips."

"I wish you had told me that before we left the inn. I would have requested a petit dejeuner."

"You heard what Mary said, she bid her to give Bennett the funeral cake. It is either Mrs. Lloyd or Elizabeth." He saw Margaret nod in agreement. "I wish Walter hadn't interrupted us then."

"Who do you think it is?" Margaret asked, keeping her voice low, knowing they were drawing near.

"Elizabeth," Ainsley said. "She strikes me as the jealous sort but there is something in the way Mrs. Lloyd has been hampering my attempts to find the truth. Neither one of them can be trusted."

Margaret took in a deep breath while her fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm as they climbed the slight hill to the manor. Ainsley willed himself to remain calm, not allowing himself one ounce of fear to betray his calm exterior. He patted her hand in a feeble attempt to reassure her.

"Suppose that poisoned funeral cake had been meant for you," Margaret suggested, careful to keep her tone low as the house came into view.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Ainsley offered.

"What's to say she won't try again?"

"Nothing." Ainsley pressed his lips together and continued to walk, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

As they drew nearer to the front door, the unmistakable sound of a piano could be heard wafting from the walls. The melody was hypnotic with soothing highs and lows lulling any audience into serenity. The skill was unlike any Ainsley had heard before. The sound was crisp, direct and exact. It was certainly a far cry from the incessant stops and starts that Margaret produced whenever she sat down to play.

The current song was spectacular, the mark of a true genius at the ivory. All apprehension at their arrival soon disappeared as the pair became entranced by the sound. Ainsley thought he saw a smile on Margaret's face as he leaned in to hit the door knocker. How could one not enjoy such a treat?

The butler arrived instantly and showed the pair into the foyer where Ainsley relinquished his overcoat and Margaret allowed him to take her wrap. Margaret and Ainsley were shown into the parlour and were greeted with a scene much different than the one they both expected. The room was now completely set to rights. There were even fresh flowers, none of them funeral lilies, arranged in vases throughout the room, a decorating choice that brought colour to the muted decor.

But the atmosphere shift was due to more than just the flowers. The piano played on as Ainsley took in the room. He was delighted to see it was Lillian who was playing it. She was fully dressed in a tightly fitted fanned bodice and a flowing, layered skirt that billowed around her on the piano bench. She looked far better than when he had left her the day before. Her hair had been curled and pinned half way up with copious blond curls streaming down her neck and shoulders.

She did not notice Ainsley at first, or at least she made no move to stop playing to greet him. Like any real artist she performed her craft with true dedication. She closed her eyes slightly and Ainsley could see her chest rising and falling ever so slightly beneath her low cut bodice, timed perfectly with the movement of her hands.