‘I suppose she is rather unfortunate in a way,’ Rose said. ‘And I daresay she’s often felt miserable and wretched, though I think a great deal of it has been of her own making.’
‘Well, I think it’s a great pity that she chose to marry a man who cared more for her artefacts than he did for her,’ said Lavinia.
‘Her wealth certainly did not bring her happiness,’ Rose observed, following her words with a sigh. ‘Iris Franklin definitely proved to be very calculating and cunning, to say nothing of selfish and ruthless. That is what made her so very dangerous, of course.’
‘Well, now that you mention it,’ said Lavinia, reflecting, ‘Iris has always seemed to me a little unhinged, which I suppose she must have been. I mean, fancy trying to send your husband to the gallows for a crime you yourself committed! Still, one must admire her a bit. I mean it must have taken a great deal of nerve.’
‘Which is more than can be said of that business with the bruises.’
‘Yes, that was in rather poor taste.’
‘Particularly when one thinks of the poor women who really are suffering at the hands of their violent husbands,’ Rose said, gathering up a couple of books. ‘Not that Mrs Franklin ever mentioned her bruises to me; she was too clever for that. She left that task to poor Miss Crabbe who acted in good faith. The poor woman didn’t realise that what she was telling me was a lie concocted by her mistress.’
‘I suppose Iris played Hallam in a similar fashion?’ said Lavinia. ‘Convincing him that she was frightened of her husband, I mean. Poor boy. I feel rather sorry for him. He’s such a lamb and he was rather sweet on her, you know.’
‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘He’s frightfully upset about the whole business. He’s been discussing the matter with Cedric. I rather gather he feels he was made a fool of, but he’ll get over it in time.’
‘Do you know what will happen to Raymond Franklin?’ asked Lavinia. ‘I must admit I never really took to the man. But I do feel rather rotten about suspecting him of being the murderer.’
‘I should imagine he will continue cataloguing the Smithingham Collection. It is rather an onerous task, which I am sure the new custodian will be more than delighted to assign to him.’
There was a brief pause as each was lost in their own thoughts.
‘I’d like to talk to you about something else,’ Lavinia said suddenly, a note of excitement entering her voice. ‘It’s much more interesting than talking about Raymond Franklin.’
‘Oh?’ said Rose, though she knew full well the subject Lavinia had in mind.
‘Yes, and you needn’t pretend you don’t know to what I’m referring,’ Lavinia said, clapping her hands together. ‘I should like you to tell me all about the man in the gold cravat and the scarlet waistcoat, whom I encountered out on the terrace. You’ve met him. You must have done, to secure the return of those ghastly papers that the commander has been making such a song and dance about. He wouldn’t have been in disguise when you saw him. Tell me, what is he like? Is he devilishly good looking?’
Rose gave her friend a sideways glance, sorely tempted to tease her and inform her that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
‘At least I can talk to you about him,’ mused Lavinia, not waiting for an answer. ‘Every time I mention him to Priscilla, she is frightfully tiresome and tries to change the subject. I suppose,’ she said reflectively, ‘she’s a little jealous and wishes she had met him herself.’
Thinking it was likely to be a few months before Lavinia tired of the subject, Rose decided to take pity on Priscilla, though really she thought it was no more than the girl deserved.
‘I wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about him, if I were you,’ Rose said, a little brusquely. ‘His hands were covered in warts, which I suppose is why he wore those leather gloves of his, and he is definitely on the wrong side of sixty, though frightfully sprightly for his age.’
‘Ugh!’ exclaimed Lavinia, retrieving from her pocket the thief’s glove that she had so lovingly retained as a keepsake. Holding it gingerly between finger and thumb, she threw it across the room, as far away from her as possible. ‘Priscilla was quite right,’ she said. ‘She told me he was bound to be old or ugly, and that I should forget all about him. I should have listened to her. That’s the trouble with masks and disguises, people can pretend to be whoever they want to be.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Rose, managing to keep a straight face.
‘Speaking of Priscilla, have I told you about that brother of hers? He sounds absolutely frightful. You’ve met him, of course, and I daresay he came across as rather charming. But he runs poor Priscilla absolutely ragged.’ Somewhat surprisingly, given what she was saying, Lavinia giggled. ‘He reminds me a little of that disreputable ancestor of ours. You know, the one who divided Kingsley House into four and sold off three of the lots to satisfy his debts. Apparently Daniel Belling got himself into a similar position. Priscilla has been simply tearing her hair out about it. Anyway, much to Priscilla’s relief, he’s suddenly settled all his debts, or rather, his father has. Priscilla says her brother’s not usually the sort of chap to go cap in hand to anyone, least of all their parent, whom he hates like poison, but apparently Daniel swallowed his pride and is quite determined to lead a useful and meaningful life, whatever than means,’ Lavinia paused to make a face. ‘Those were his exact words, which I thought sounded frightfully pompous and odd, though of course I didn’t tell Priscilla that. She says he’s quite adamant that he is turning over a new leaf and I suppose the poor girl believes him, though goodness knows how long it will last.’
‘You may be surprised,’ said Rose, more to herself than to her companion. ‘He’s had something of a terrible shock,’ she said, remembering the look of horror on his face when he realised what his sister had done on his behalf.
‘Oh, do you mean about Miss Casters?’ Lavinia asked. ‘According to Priscilla he was awfully fond of her, though it wasn’t reciprocated, which is rather a shame.’ She lowered her voice before continuing. ‘I did wonder, you know, if he might have been the jewel thief, the proper one. He’s invited to all the debutante balls and, what with being so frightfully hard up, it occurred to me he might be. Of course I haven’t said anything to anyone, because I thought it would be awfully hard on Priscilla if he was. She is so terribly fond of him. But it does rather make one wonder, doesn’t it?’
Rose murmured something in response, though in truth she was listening with only half an ear. Unperturbed, Lavinia continued giving voice to her various theories.
‘Of course, it’s rather tempting,’ she said, ‘to believe the jewel thief was Miss Casters in light of her behaviour at our ball, but she wouldn’t have had an opportunity to attend any of the other balls and parties. Still, I suppose she might have been Daniel Belling’s accomplice. You know, in charge of getting rid of all the spoils.’
‘I think you have a remarkably vivid imagination,’ said Rose, looking up. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that if Daniel Belling really was the jewel thief, he wouldn’t have been hard up? He’d certainly have been in a position to settle his own debts without having to rely on his father. I’m only glad that the thief, whoever he is, didn’t decide to strike at our ball. That would have been all we needed on top of everything else!’
‘I wonder why he didn’t?’ said Lavinia, sounding a little put out. ‘Some of our guests were wearing some jolly fine jewels, you know.’
‘I think it may have had something to do with Cedric being very particular about the servants admitting only those guests who handed up their invitations,’ said Rose, with a smile. ‘If you remember, you were threatening to wear your diamond necklace? You said you could hardly be expected to wear your paste copy dressed as the Queen of France. He believed you were tempting fate and took steps to thwart the thief.’
‘Well, I suppose since I shall be staying in London for the rest of the season I will have an opportunity to see the jewel thief if he strikes again,’ said Lavinia
mischievously, a gleam in her eye.
‘If you have any sense, you’ll wear your replicas until the fellow’s been caught.’
‘I’ll still be keeping a very close eye on Mr Daniel Belling, I can tell you.’
‘I pity the poor fellow,’ Rose said laughing. ‘Now, I really think I have everything. Are you sure you’ll be all right in this house by yourself? Won’t you find it dreadfully empty and dull?’
‘Well, one or two of the servants are staying behind, including Eliza, and you forget, darling, that I shall hardly be here. I’ll be having a whale of a time going to all the balls and parties and luncheons. Why, I’ll hardly know whether I’m coming or going.’
She followed Rose as they made their way down the staircase, chattering merrily. They stood for a moment on the wide landing and glanced in at the grand reception room, which had doubled as the ballroom on the night of the masquerade ball. In appearance, it bore little resemblance to how it had looked on that occasion. There were no elaborate floral displays in the alcoves and the great Turkish rug had been unrolled and now covered the floor. The original furniture, which had been removed temporarily to facilitate the dancing, had now been returned and the gilt-framed oil paintings had been restored to the walls. Yet neither girl was conscious of these superficial changes, for each stared at the room with the memories and images of men and women dressed in eighteenth century costumes and ornate masks whirling around the floor, while the music struck up by the band filled the air.
In something of a melancholy mood they were about to take the stairs down to the ground floor when Rose suddenly stopped and put a hand to her stomach.
‘Good heavens, is anything wrong?’ exclaimed Lavinia, looking at her aghast.
‘I think it quite possible that we won’t be returning to Sedgwick Court today after all,’ said Rose between gasps, clinging to her friend’s hand. ‘Do be a dear and bring me over that chair that’s in front of the window. Now,’ she said firmly, looking at Lavinia’s anxious face, ‘I don’t want you to shriek and lose your head when you hear what I have to say, but I rather think the baby may be on its way.’
Lavinia, of course, completely ignored these instructions and set about raising the whole house with her screams. Meanwhile, Rose sat on the chair, her back aching, conscious of a stabbing pain. She stared with vague amusement at her friend as Lavinia tore up and down the stairs in a dither.
While Rose rested on her chair waiting for more effective assistance to arrive, she found herself reflecting with a growing sense of excitement on how her life was about to change with the arrival of a child.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Pat Dargan, Georgian London: The West End (Amberley Publishing, 2012)
Pat Dargan, The Georgian Town House (Amberley Publishing, 2013)
Angela Lambert, 1939 The Last Season of Peace (Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1989)
Fiona MacCarthy, Last Curtsey: The End of the Debutantes (Faber and Faber Limited, 2007)
Lady Troubridge, The Book of Etiquette (The Kingswood Press,1987)
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The inspiration for Kingsley House was No.1 Royal Crescent in Bath, a museum decorated and furnished as the townhouse might have been during the period 1776-1796.
Murder at the Masquerade Ball Page 31