The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“That would’ve been really deep down,” Sonya said. “And I’m not thrilled about walking through the house in my sleep, or watching the brides die. But if that leads to that eviction, I’ll take it.”

“You’re exactly what Collin would have wanted,” Deuce murmured.

“Tell me about his grandmother. Tell us about Patricia Poole.”

“She was a force,” Deuce began. “A strong-willed woman. Well-respected, if not well-liked. My own parents have said Michael Poole Jr., her husband, had a great deal of charm, and little interest in the business. He had no problem turning the reins there over to her so he could travel and—let’s use a word that fits their time frame.Cavort.”

“Good word,” Cleo decided.

“Their marriage—and here we turn to gossip—was, by and large, one of convenience. Each did as they chose. I remember her as a hard woman who ruled both the business and her family with an iron fist.”

Once again Cleo held hers up. “Exactly my phrase.”

“Then you already have some understanding of her. Collin’s childhood under that rule was very restricted. He escaped whenever he could—and he was good at it,” Deuce added with a smile. “It seemed she deemed me an acceptable companion, and I was also very good at being polite, well-spoken, and well-behaved in her presence. It helped that she was busy with Poole Shipbuilders, with her various clubs, social engagements and had little interest in young boys.”

He sipped his coffee, smiled. “I was fortunate to have two grandmothers. They both disliked Patricia Poole, and were both very good at putting on a pleasing face when necessary. But children hear more than adults tend to think, and I’d catch snatches when her name came up.Bullyis a term I’ll use in polite company.”

“She bullied her daughter into pretending to be Collin’s mother.”

Deuce nodded at Sonya. “I agree with that speculation. I knew Gretta Poole better than Patricia, and always found her easily cowed. A nervous sort of woman. I would call her a dutiful mother, but not particularly affectionate. I wouldn’t know the reason behind all of that until I did the Poole genealogy for Collin.”

“It’s clear my father got the better end of that deal. But to go back, and I understand it was before you were born, it feels like the manor should have been a showplace for Patricia Poole. Instead, she refused to live here, and closed it.”

“I agree. From all my research and from the snippets overheard and remembered, Patricia embraced all things Poole. Except the manor. I thought of a comment—my grandmother Doyle at Collin and Johanna’s wedding. She said Collin’s grandmother hadn’t stepped foot in the manor since Patricia and Michael’s engagement party.”

“So she had her engagement party here. She did visit the manor often before she married Michael Poole?”

“As the Youngsboros and Pooles were on equal steps on the social ladder, and according to my research, Michael and Patricia’s engagement was expected, I’d say yes. And.”

He opened his trim briefcase. “When I worked on Collin’s book, I made copies of some clippings, some photos. Society pages, you see. Gossiping about Patricia and Michael stepping out, him escorting her to parties, galas.”

When he offered the folder, Sonya began to look through.

“Handsome couple, they’d say,” she muttered. “And this one’s a shot of them at a holiday event. ‘Will Christmas Bells Lead to Wedding Bells?’”

“So you see, their engagement was anticipated.”

Cleo studied the photo. “They’re striking together. So formal, but striking. She looks… formidable, even at this age.”

“Look here, this was taken out back.” Sonya pulled out the copy. “‘Summer Soirée: Garden Party at Poole Manor.’ You can see her here, with her hand on Michael’s arm. And it’s dated the summer before they were married. Before the Christmas article. So she certainly came to the manor prior.”

“Here’s another, announcing the engagement. A picture of them, at the foot of the staircase, Son. ‘Valentine’s Day Engagement Announced.’ I have to give her props for knowing how to dress. In all these pictures.”

“Something she was known for,” Deuce put in. “Always perfectly presented.”

“Something put her off the manor,” Cleo said. “I bet we can guess who—or what.”

Clover played “Black Magic Woman.”

“I tend to agree.” Deuce reached for a cookie. “I wouldn’t have said Patricia Poole was an easily frightened or intimidated woman, but I tend to agree. I had assumed she simply wanted a more modern house, a bit more manageable, closer to the village and the business. But knowing all we know now?”

He shook his head.

“She never used it, not for parties, fundraisers. She couldn’t sell it. It comes down through the Pooles, and I can speculate that however much Michael Poole accommodated her, he drew a line there.”

“So it came down to Charles.”

“The son she couldn’t control. The one who stepped out of her orbit as soon as he could. He came into money at eighteen, took it, and lived as he wanted. From what I can put together, he dropped out of college and traveled awhile.”