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He opens the unlocked drawer below and retrieves a package wrapped in red paper with a sprig of holly nestled into the ribbon."It was in the drawer the entire time."
I take it to the sofa and tear away the paper. It's a copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese.
"Oh," I say, hoping I don't sound as disappointed as I feel. "A book."
"It was your mother's. They were her favorites. She used to read them to me in the evenings." He breaks off, unable to continue.
"Father?"
He pulls me to him, holding me close. "I'm glad you're home, Gemma."
I feel I should say something, but I don't know what. "Thank you for the book, Father." He lets go. "Yes. Enjoy. And would you take the keys back, please?"
Mrs. Jones enters."Excuse me, sir. This just arrived for Miss Gemma by messenger."
"Yes, yes," Father says a bit irritably.
Mrs. Jones hands the package and note to me. "Thank you," I say. The note is a formal invitation to dinner addressed to my grandmother. Viscount and Lady Denby request the pleasure of the company of Mr. John Doyle, Mrs, William Doyle, Mr. Thomas Doyle, and Miss Gemma Doyle to dinner on Tuesday, the 17th, at 8 o'clock. The favor of a reply is requested. I've no doubt Grandmama will give an enthusiastic yes.
Now to the package. Ripping open the paper, I find Simon Middleton's beautiful velvet box with a note that reads A place to keep all your secrets.
Curiously, Father doesn't even ask me about the gift.
"Gemma, pet," he says, sounding distracted."Take the keys back now. There's my good girl, hmmm?"
"Yes, Father,"I say, kissing his forehead. I step merrily up to Grandmama's room and replace the keys, then run to my own room, where I lie upon the bed, gazing at my beautiful gift. I stare at the note again and again, examining his handwriting, admiring the strong, fine way he makes his letters. Simon Middleton. Yesterday, I did not even know he existed. Now, he is all I can think of. Strange how life can turn like that.
I must have drifted off, for I'm awakened by a loud knock at my door. The clock shows half-past twelve. Tom bursts into my room. He's very cross.
"Did you give him this?"
"Wha--what?" I ask, wiping sleep from my eyes.
"Did you give Father this?" He's clutching a brown bottle in his hand. Laudanum.
"No, of course not!" I say, coming to my senses. "How, pray, did he get it, then?"
He's no right to barge into my room and badger me so. "I don't know, but I didn't give it to him," I answer in a hard tone.
"I'd locked it in the curio cabinet. Only Grandmama and I had the keys."
I sink onto the bed, sick and numb."Oh, no. He asked me to open it so that he could give me an early Christmas gift."
"I told you he's clever, didn't I?"
"Yes, so you did," I say. I simply didn't believe it. "I'm sorry, Tom."
My brother rakes his fingers through his hair."He was doing so well."
"I'm sorry," I say again, though it seems little comfort. "Shall I throw it in the rubbish?"
"No,"he says."We can't throw it out completely. Not just yet." He hands me the bottle."Take this and hide it--somewhere he can't find it."
"Yes, of course." The bottle feels hot in my hand. Such a small thing. So powerful.
Once Tom is gone, I open Simon's gift and pull up the false bottom.
A place to keep all your secrets . . .
