Murder in the Mansion Read Online Free PDF Page B

was away.
She had improved the house as a means of consoling herself during the times she
had learned his trips were not all business and he had been visiting women in
each city. The house had kept her loneliness and insecurities at bay in the
early stages of their marriage. It was only when it was no longer enough that
she had begun to look elsewhere for revenge and reassurance.
    She
paused at the base of the grand staircase as it wound its way to the second
floor. Sometimes if she was a little drunk and mentally drained, like she was
then, she could squint into the darkness and see her life the way it used to
be. She could see her children as they grew, she could see events as they had
happened. But sometimes she didn't want to see. Sometimes it was best to leave
it alone, lock it away, not relive it a thousand times as she had already done.
Imagining them would not bring them back. It was the champagne that brought
them to the front of her consciousness. It was always the alcohol that made it
seem like it had happened yesterday.
    The
doors to the study were open and she wandered inside. The faded rugs stretched
across a worn, wide-planked wooden floor. Bookshelves lined the walls as high
as the ceiling and were stuffed with books. William had always loved to read,
for business or pleasure, and he had collected volumes whenever he traveled. On
the wall opposite the entrance two French doors led out onto a stone patio to
the side of the house. As the party was around the back, in the garden, Vivien
could scarcely hear them.
    She
slid into one of the leather armchairs that faced the trees through the glass
doors. William's mahogany desk cast shadows on the floor in front of her. She
knew she would have to return to the party in a few minutes. It was ungracious
of her to disappear for too long. But she closed her eyes, just for now, and
enjoyed the peace. For just a moment she let herself enjoy the quiet.
    When
she had been young and newly married she had jumped at any opportunity to help
William. So blinded by her love for him, she had wanted to do anything that she
could to ensure his success. It was as if the more she contributed, the more he
would appreciate her, thereby ensuring their happiness. Love and marriage,
career and money were all entangled together. Later, even after she'd
discovered his affairs, she had continued to help him, to make herself an asset
to him.
    Their
marriage, her life, had not been what she had thought it would be. Vivien
supposed no ones ever was and those who claimed otherwise were lying, to her or
to themselves. People rarely showed you who they really were. People were
image-conscious. They could justify the worst of situations. Vivien was no
different. She had truly loved William and used the same justifications.
    Her
marriage had been far from perfect, but she still loved him. Everything she had
said in her speech was the truth. She had made one fatal error in her life and
that had been the turning point. That had begun the downward spiral. No amount
of money or penance could fix that. No amount of regret or remorse would change
any of it now.
    She
opened her eyes at the sound behind her but didn't turn around. The feeling of
dread that washed over her was indication enough. The shadow changed on the
floor as he came into the room and snapped the light on. The room was filled
with harsh, artificial light.
    She
ignored the man partly for pride and partly because she despised him. She would
not rush to acknowledge his presence and often went out of her way to avoid
acknowledging him at all. Avoidance had gotten her through the last two decades
of her marriage when she'd been forced to deal with him. Staring forward,
careful not to move her head, she gazed out the French doors. Minutes passed
and still he stood there waiting to be acknowledged.
    “What?”
Her voice was quiet and uninterested.
    “I
need to talk to you,” he replied. He had always been arrogant and self-assured.
It showed