Love's Labyrinth Read Free Page B

there was a very interesting portrait back there by the ladies’ room—did you see it?”
    “Hmm.” Mary frowned. “No, I can’t say that I did.”
    “It looked just like Olivia.”
    “Olivia!” Mary beamed at them both. “You don’t say!”
    “Oh, the resemblance was remarkable,” Alison was saying as Mary turned the full force of her focus on Olivia.
    “Fancy that! We must be sure to ask when we get there if they have any idea who it could be. They may know at the house. They’ve done tremendous research into the whole family history. And you girls do understand how important it will be to wear your glasses?” Mary looked as earnest as a kindergarten teacher. “After all, we don’t want any injuries!”
    “You do remember, don’t you, Mrs. Higgins, that I won’t be part of the regular tour?” Olivia peered around Alison. “I’ll join you for the revel after I’ve had a chance to look into the Talcott records.”
    “Ah, yes, that’s right. I remember. You’re the one who’s doing the research into the Dark Lady, aren’t you?” Mary leaned across the aisle and patted Olivia’s arm. She favored both of them with another radiant smile, pulled her clipboard onto her lap, and adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose. “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll just make a little note of that right here so I won’t worry if you aren’t anywhere to be seen until dinner. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some items to check off.”
    Olivia winked at Alison, who rolled her eyes toward the ceiling once more, settled back into her seat, and closed her eyes. What a good idea, thought Olivia. A nap was just what Alison needed.
    The bus rolled along the winding country lane, where the hedgerows grew so high that the fields on either side were nearly totally obscured. Here and there, the roof of a house was visible behind the high green rows, and several times Olivia glimpsed wide meadows where cattle and sheep grazed contentedly. This was the England she remembered best, the England of winding lanes and drooping Queen Anne’s lace, of yellow cowslips that peeked out from unexpected places, and bridges of ancient stone arching over slow-moving rivers that flowed as steadily as the ages. She and her father had visited what felt like nearly every country churchyard, dovecote, and ruined abbey in all of Britain.
    She thought of her father with an unexpected pang. Although their relationship had often been complicated by his unyielding interests and his inability to understand his daughter’s own passions, she knew he’d loved her in his own detached way. This trip had shown her just how much of his knowledge she’d absorbed. Ever since they landed, Alison had been saying over and over again how lucky Olivia had been. And when Olivia had responded that as a teenager, she’d also been lonely and bored in New Jersey, Olivia smiled to herself. The fact that they were both only children was one thing that had brought her and Alison so close.
    Even though Alison herself had been an only child, the O’Neills were a loud and boisterous clan who’d welcomed the stray chick with open arms. When Olivia was younger, she’d thought her father had only allowed her to stay with Alison’s family to keep her out of his way. Now she was beginning to realize that perhaps he had not only been bewildered by her very presence in his life, but wholly incapable of understanding that his only child had not shared the passion that consumed his life.
    Consumed it literally, she thought, her face turned to the glass. He’d died suddenly right after Thanksgiving, slipping and falling on a patch of ice as he’d hurried into the university library, eager to retrieve a book that had come in for him. His death had come just when he had nearly finished his research. With a little sigh, she laid her head against the high back of the seat and shut her eyes. The stuffy air and rhythmic jouncing of the bus were making her sleepy. Beside