Five past eight. He was late. I had put on a nice dress for him, and he was late. I was used to him being early. He was always early. He said he would rather wait than being waited for. On the couch in the drawing room, Thomas was reading today's paper while I stood smoking by the mantelpiece.
"You look pleasant," he said without lifting his eyes.
"Thank you."
"Is it silk?" He asked offhandedly.
"Yes."
I continued to smoke, and he carried on reading. Then I heard papers being folded, so I looked up from staring at the carpeted floor.
"I reckon you'd be delighted to see him," he stated. "You didn't answer when I asked if you missed him earlier today."
"Why did you even ask?" I put out my cigarette by pressing it against the bottom of the glass ashtray I took from the table.
He curled his lips. Slowly, he stood up, flatted the invisible creases on his tailored shirt, and walked up to me. I sighed and opened the cigarette case for another when he suddenly snatched it from my grasp.
"I warn you," his face was close to mine. Coldly and impassively, he emphasized every word, "if you're any smart, you won't cross the line."
"Why do you care so much about Wesley?" I sneered. "For God's sake, Thomas, you don't even care when…."
"It's different." He interrupted me rudely with annoyance. "This is business. Nothing comes in the way of business."
"Then why do you want him in?" I tried to reclaim what was mine, but he had already thrown the case across the room. "Because you think you've invested in him, and now, he has to pay you back?"
"I do," he smiled on the lips while nothing was in his eyes, "and he does."
-----
He told me he intended to marry me on a sunny day after church. He caught me in the foyer and watched me hang my coat with a smile I couldn't comprehend. Ecstatic and energetic, he was in a state I couldn't associate him with. I stood facing him, anxious about the uncertainty he had presented to me without the need of saying a single word. He then asked whether I'd like him to find me a decent apartment far from Angelino Heights so I could have a chance in living a life away from him.
"I guess you don't want me here anymore," I said.
While holding an art deco glass half filled with cognac, he lit a cigarette but didn't puff on it: "I thought it wouldn't be fair for you to stick around here, to stick around me at all times."
"Do I have a choice?" I asked. He handed his drink to me, and I accepted it. "If you want me gone, then I'm gone."
"You do have a choice," he shrugged. With the unsmoked cigarette between his index and middle fingers, he pointed at me and said nonchalantly: "You can also choose to be my second wife."
Asking me was nothing but for show. It was a reminder of a decision that was made long ago. Now he had found what he deemed the most suitable time to carry it out.
He knew it. I knew it. Laurie knew it. But only one of us acted heedlessly after hearing the old news.
-----
When I pushed open the doors, I found Wesley staring mindlessly at the painting outside the drawing room. I wasn't too fond of that painting. Though the painter had exceeded expectations, seeing my wedding day eternalized this way had provoked utter bitterness in me. Thomas liked this painting. He said I looked happy in it.
Hearing the ruffle, he turned to face me. His straight upper lip was stiff, and he looked drained. I couldn't determine whether it came from mental or physical exhaustion. Or both. He had aged and grown more solitary. Time had left its markers on his face. The fine lines around the corners of his eyes had deepened.
"Good evening," I stepped aside.
He said nothing. And with a nod, he walked past me.
Thomas remained seated when Wesley stepped inside. He leaned back on the couch, legs crossed and gestured to the guest to sit on the opposite side. I picked up the abandoned cigarette case, took a cigarette, and extended my hand to Wesley.
"No, thank you." He shook his head politely as he narrowed his eyes. His voice was as deep as I remembered. "I thought you quit."
"Old habits die hard." I shrugged and lit it up for myself.
His gaze stayed on me for a short moment before he turned to his host.
"Well," he cleared his throat, "will you start?"
"It's been a while," Thomas said tauntingly. "How long has it been? A little over two years, isn't it? How do you do?"
Behind Wesley was the fireplace, and his face was buried in the shadow. It was nearly summer, yet Thomas ordered the maids to light the fireplace every night. I wasn't fond of the heat, though I had no complaints since I liked listening to the logs crackle in the fire.
I wanted to speak up. But speaking up had been proven pointless. Time and time again.
"I'm not the type for small talk," Wesley said, "I'd appreciate it if you are straight with me."
I took a drag. The glass ashtray was out of reach, and I didn't feel like getting it any closer.
"I can't say I like your tone." Thomas uncrossed his legs. "I'd expect a man to be more cordial when speaking with the one who spared his life."
"I never meant to offend you." Wesley was poised. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced. "But you should know I won't bow my head at you just because you think I owe you."
"I'm sure you're thankful to me, for no one has gotten to you yet." Thomas smacked his lips. He didn't bother waiting for a response. "Nevertheless, I'm glad you're finally joining the family."
"That's good to hear," Wesley said politely. "It's only natural to follow through with my promise."
An uneasiness rose within me. He spoke nonchalantly and casually as if that promise had no serious consequence. But he knew – better than I did when he told me he'd stay – what it would cost him.
"May I ask why you chose to stay?" Thomas tilted his head. "You could've left, and I daresay, it might have even been a better choice for you."
"It's not a secret that Anne and I have known each other for a very long time. She's family to me," Wesley answered without hesitation. "And family stays together. I'm sure that's what Anne thinks as well."
Staring at the side of his face, I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I looked over to Thomas from Wesley. Behind his unkind, contemptuous words, I was surprised to find the faint admiration and approval hidden in his cold brown eyes.
"If you say so." Thomas threw his hands.
"You didn't ask me here to talk about the choices I've made in my life," Wesley said calmly. "I'd like you to get to the point if you don't mind."
"My father died two weeks ago." Thomas seemed to be unbothered by his guest's directness. I thought it was rather strange since he'd usually make sure he was dictating the direction of the conversation. He poured two glasses of bourbon and pushed one across the table. "The papers said he hanged himself."
Wesley didn't touch the glass.
"You see," Thomas swirled his drink, "as unforgiving as the truth was, he was poisoned and had a rope tied around his neck. He was hung off the ceiling joist like a hog."
I blew the smoke as the guest picked up the drink.
"Here, this was found in a maid's room." Thomas took out a tiny glass vial from his suit pocket and placed it in the center of the table. "I believe it's called Aqua Tofana on the streets."
He emphasized on the streets, so he could make it clear that this whole thing was beneath him.
Wesley frowned. For a second, he glanced over me before swiftly looking away.
Thomas extended his hand to me so I knew it was a cue for me to talk. I spoke softly as I stared at the cigarette between my fingers: "Edmund didn't like her involvement with Clarence."
Slowly I dared to lift my eyes to meet Wesley's. He was straight-faced and deep in thought.
"It's fair to presume she had something to do with it now that she's disappeared," I continued, "although she couldn't be the only one in it. Aqua Tofana is only sold to women with marital troubles. I heard they are quite strict about that."
Wesley finished his drink.
"Now," Thomas cleared his throat and poured his guest another, "I want you to investigate this matter."
Wesley didn't reach for the second glass. He was quiet for a brief moment before he frowned: "Forgive me for saying it sounds rather staged and absurd. I've heard about Edmund Murphy's reputation and troubled family relationship. I must confess that I'm not convinced you want me to investigate his death out of grief."
Thomas laughed while I grew more concerned. Something was off, yet I struggled to point out what it was. I was accustomed to following orders but not doubting and questioning them.
"It's a good place to start," Thomas said as he pushed the glass closer to the guest. "Prove your worth, Wesley."
Staring directly into Thomas' eyes, Wesley picked up the glass and took a sip.
"You'll work with her." He pointed at me and leaned marginally forward. "This is the least I can do since she was the reason you agreed to join the family."
I hated the silence that ensued. This kind of silence rang in my ears. I dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it while lighting another—the thought of reaching for the glass ashtray that far away alone was reckless. I could say nothing to his mockery, even though I deeply resented his sardonic remarks.
"Anne," hearing my name being called, I snapped out of my daze, "will you be kind and let me speak to Mr. Leealone? You've done your part for today."
I was unwilling to leave, though I had no choice. Nodding, I took another drag before heading to the doors. As I left, I heard Wesley clearing his throat.
"Can I have a cigarette?" He raised his voice a little so that I could hear him properly.
Abruptly stopped in my tracks, I slowly turned around.
"Yes, sure," I said, forcing a smile. My hands quivered when I pulled a cigarette out of the new case I bought just a few days back. It was made of silver and gold. Costed more than what it was worth, that little thing.
"Thank you," he said. Instead of letting me light up his cigarette, he carefully took the matchbox from me, struck a match, and lit it up himself, all while looking at me with great concern in his black eyes. "Good to see you again, Anne. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said meekly as I anxiously rotated the ring on my finger.
Thomas watched everything unfold in amusement. I showed myself the way out, grabbed my coat, and opened the front door. Summer was afoot; I could smell it in the gentle night breeze. When the fresh air hit my face, I took a deep breath. I wished for the rain and the night to end on a happier note as I got inside the car and asked the elderly driver to take me to The Charmont.