“Is that what is going to happen? They don’t think Amabelle did it?”
“Amabelle, yes, and if they can’t find her expeditiously, they’ll find someone else.” Gwen looked away and quickly transformed her mouth into a smile.
A trio of ladies slowed as they walked past. Then came to a stop.
“Dear Gwen, we’re just devastated for you,” said the woman Deanna recognized as Gertrude Palmer. “Has anyone figured out what he was doing there?” She cut Deanna a quick sideways look.
A look that made Deanna blush. Surely she didn’t think . . .
“Not what you’re assuming, dear Gertie.” Gwen’s eyes glinted with amused malice. “And he wasn’t trysting with me, either.”
“Oh really, Gwendolyn,” said the second lady, and tried to draw the other two away.
“Is that not what you were asking? Which one of the ladies of the house he was rendezvousing with?”
“Certainly not. We came to commiserate, but obviously you are in no need of succor. Come, ladies.” They huffed away.
Gwen turned to Deanna. “I know. My behavior was uncalled for. But really I could just shake these people sometimes. Let’s get home and warn Lionel that the Judge will be looking for him tonight. And then hope Cook has something wonderful for luncheon.”
They returned to the carriage. The coachman opened the door and let down the step. “On second thought,” Gran Gwen said as she arranged her skirts on the seat, “I think it behooves us to make a morning call on Maude Grantham as Samuel asked. Not that she’ll be glad to see us.” She smiled. “We’ll get Laurette to accompany us.”
As they drove away, Deanna caught sight of the two actresses she’d met the day before, Noreen and Talia. They were dressed for church and were intently watching the Ballard carriage as it drove away. They must have been at the service, and Deanna hadn’t even noticed them. Some detective she was. She wondered if Elspeth would have better luck on her outing at the beach.
* * *
Sundays at Bonheur were leisurely, orchestrated for the enjoyment of the family and anyone who wished to call whom the family wished to see. Sunday dinners at the Randolphs’ house, no matter whether in New York or Newport, were just as stuffy as all the other meals they shared.
Deanna wondered briefly if her father missed her mother or if he, too, was feeling a bit of freedom. He certainly hadn’t raced back to Newport for the weekend like he normally would during the summer season. He had sent a very nice telegram, though.
Deanna changed into her new tea gown for the afternoon. It was made of green lawn and lace and was designed so that she could manage it herself. It floated around her like a deliciously sinful pleasure as she wafted down the stairs to the parlor.
Her mama would never approve, and Deanna had to admit it did look like a nightgown and just a tiny bit like a costume. But Gran Gwen and Laurette always wore them, and Gran Gwen had ordered it from Worth.
Deanna wished she could wear it all the time.
She swept into the parlor and came to an abrupt halt. Gran Gwen and the Ballards were already there. And so was Joe.
He didn’t look any happier than when she’d seen him last. Surely he couldn’t still be mad at her just because she had the idea of looking for Amabelle at the yacht on the way home from her—detour from her cycling club.
She gave him a tentative smile, but he didn’t smile back.
“Lovely, my dear,” Mr. Ballard said as she went to sit on the sofa next to Gran Gwen.
Gran Gwen looked over her head, and Deanna knew she was giving her grandson the evil eye for his bad manners, and good for her. She patted Deanna’s hand. “I was just telling Lionel to expect the Judge to accost him on the ferry into the city this evening.”
“For my sins,” Lionel countered, then waggled his eyebrows at the room like a stage villain.
Laurette slipped her hand in his. “Don’t mistake his overtures as friendship. You know he’s in the pocket—”
“Yes, my dear. I know, and I don’t want that name unleashed in the air in my own home.” He sighed. “How did I ever survive without you taking care of me all those long years?”
“I’m more worried about you now,” Laurette said. “Knowing his ilk, if the Judge thinks this death can in any way cast aspersions on his family, he’ll deflect it to ours.”
“And if he doesn’t,” Gwen said, “there are those who will. That ghastly Gertrude Palmer was fishing and insinuating that poor Charlie, as we know him, must have been to see one of the ladies of the house. I believe I set her straight on that subject.” She gave her son-in-law an arch look.
“It isn’t funny,” Joe exclaimed from behind them.
“Oh, Joseph, what is ailing you these days?”
“Nothing. I beg your pardon.”
“I think you and Deanna should take a nice walk down to the beach. It’ll do you both a world of good. I think this murder of poor Charlie has upset us all.”
A walk with Joe was the last thing Deanna wanted at the moment. A talk with Will would be of more use. But she didn’t really have anything to report. And she didn’t want to throw suspicion on the theater troupe without real evidence. Though she couldn’t imagine why anyone else in Newport would want to kill “poor Charlie.”
“Joseph,” Laurette said.
Joe stood and bowed slightly to his mother. “Shall we . . . Deanna?”
They walked without speaking until they were almost across the lawn. Deanna wondered if the others were watching them from the window. Was she supposed to find out what was bothering Joe? Is that why Gran Gwen sent them away? Or were they talking about the murder and didn’t want her to hear?
“Are you enjoying your walk, or would you rather be relaxing in a linen closet?”
The toe of Deanna’s slipper hit a stone and she nearly tumbled forward. Joe grabbed her elbow, put her back on her feet, and dropped his arm.
“Whatever do you mean?”
He turned on her and grabbed her shoulders, shook her until her teeth rattled. “You stupid little ninny. What did you think you were doing? Lying to Grandmère about going cycling, accosting actresses in the street. Poking your nose into things that don’t concern you. Do you know how dangerous that could be?”
Deanna shrugged out of his grip and walked away toward the cliffs. But when she got to the steps down to the beach she stopped. There was no way she was going to ruin her new tea gown because Joe was being so unreasonable. “Did you follow me yesterday?”
Joe hesitated. “No.”
“You did. How dare you?”
“Will and I were cycling the same way. I saw you join your group, and we rode on. Obviously, I should have followed you, because you didn’t stay with the club. Does Grandmère know?”
Deanna shrugged. “Not yet. I was going to tell her, but we had that dinner last night, then she went straight to bed, and then there was church this morning.”
He cocked his head like he used to do when he thought she’d done something idiotic.
“Well, I ran into two of the actresses and went back to their boardinghouse with them. I thought they might know something.”
“You can’t do those kinds of things.”
“The same two were at church this morning, but I didn’t see them until we were already in the carriage coming home. Don’t you think it was strange that they went to our same church?”
“Dee, enough. They don’t want you bothering them anymore.”
“Oh? How do you know?”
“None of your business.”
“But—”
“Stay out of it.”
“You think you can boss me around like you and Bob always did. Well, guess what, I’m not a child anymore, and you can’t.”
“You think not? If you can’t be trusted, Grandmère will send you to stay with your father in M
anhattan and he’ll have to tell your mother.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“She’ll have no choice. I hope you enjoy living with Aunt Harriett until your mother and Adelaide return to the States.”
Sheer panic drove the breath from Deanna’s lungs.
“If something were to happen to you, everyone will blame Grandmère and the Ballards. Is that what you want? Is it?”
She could only shake her head, and to her horror, tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“Stop it. Don’t think you can get your way because of a few tears.”
She was trying to stop them. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t get the words out.
“Deanna,” he said. “Come on, Dee. Cut it out.” He stretched out his hand but she slapped it away.
“Why do you hate me so much?” She turned and ran back to the house, not to the family rooms, or her bedroom, but to the spring house at the far side of the kitchen, where she stood against the cold stone in the dark and sobbed.
Chapter
9
It was a long time before Deanna had mastery of her emotions. Shaking with cold and hurt, she slipped out of the spring house and crept into the servants’ entrance. She managed to get the attention of a footman and asked him to say that she was fine but that she wouldn’t be down to dinner.
If he wondered why her face was blotched, her eyes were swollen, and her hair was mussed, he managed not to show it. She crept up the servants’ stairs to her own room and locked the door.
She didn’t know which made her feel worse: that for some reason Joe hated her; that she was in real danger of being sent to Aunt Harriett; or that her behavior would reflect badly on Gran Gwen and Mr. and Mrs. Ballard—maybe even bring them disgrace.
Though she didn’t really understand why. They did much more outrageous things than Deanna ever did. She just read novels and got locked in a closet.
She was perfectly behaved in public, well, most of the time. And she was useful. Maybe she would just take the ferry to New York and live with her father while she decided what to do with her life. Of course, he would wire her mother in Geneva and then Deanna would be trapped again.
And maybe it was just Joe who was scandalized by her behavior, though she didn’t see why. He was the one who had shocked society by going to live with working-class people and doing work where he got his hands dirty.
To the devil with him. She’d just ask Laurette and Gran Gwen right out if they would like her to leave. And then what? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
There was a tap at the door.
Deanna’s courage failed. She wasn’t ready to put it to the test. Coward, she told herself. She reluctantly went to the door and opened it.
A maid carrying a dinner tray stepped inside. Deanna’s knees nearly gave way in relief. Not Gran Gwen, but cold chicken and pickled peaches.
The maid curtseyed and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
The food looked delicious, but when Dee sat down she found she couldn’t eat it.
Her stomach was tight, her emotions were in turmoil. She felt like things were closing in on her, society’s expectations, her mother’s plans for her future, the need to not embarrass the Ballards or bring complete ruin to herself, her ambivalence about what she wanted in life. What choices did she have? Would the choice even be up to her?
She tried to picture herself packing a few things and running away. She couldn’t do it. How could she be so cruel to leave like that after all everyone had done for her? And what would happen to Elspeth? She couldn’t take her along. How could Deanna support them both? How could she even support herself?
Is that the way Amabelle had run away? Left without a word, or after a fight? Her parents knew where she was, because they’d asked Laurette to look her up. Did they follow her career? Did they ever try to see her? Did they even want her back?
Where was she? Was anyone besides the police even looking for her?
Deanna sat down in front of the dinner tray, cut off a piece of chicken, and chewed slowly.
If she were Amabelle, where would she go? Back to the city? Belle must have an apartment or a room there—did she share it with someone? Had the police looked there? And if she hadn’t left Newport, where was she? She had to be staying somewhere.
Deanna cut another piece of chicken. Noreen and Talia might be hiding her somewhere in the boardinghouse. That seemed unlikely, with all the people coming and going. But they might have seen her since Charlie died and were giving her money or food to survive.
It was good to have friends like that. A family, she’d almost thought. The actors were like a family. Everyone concerned for one another and comforting one another over Charlie’s death.
The star performers were staying at a hotel in town, but Deanna didn’t think Amabelle would have gone to them. From what Belle had said, chorus girls didn’t mix with the main players.
Deanna put down her fork. If Deanna had run away, was lost or scared and hiding from the world, she’d want a friend. And she bet Belle could use a friend about now.
So, unladylike behavior or not, an embarrassment to the Ballards or not, she had to find out if Amabelle was still alive. If she was, Deanna would try to help her. And if doing that sent her to Aunt Harriett’s, so be it.
* * *
Joe thought dinner would never be over. He should have done exactly what Dee had done. Run away and locked himself in his warehouse. That way he might have half a chance of getting some work done. Not that he had much hope for that now.
All winter he’d been working systematically toward two goals: reconfiguring the company’s current centrifuge for higher efficiency with accompanying safety features, and completing a prototype bagging machine. He planned to install the prototype in one of R and W’s refineries. It would be the first test. Joe would have to spend time in New York. That was fine by him. It’s where his work would ultimately be used.
During the winter, there had been the odd setback or two, an occasional instance of vandalism, but nothing like the last few weeks. Since the summer had returned, vandalism increased and the work had slowed to a crawl. It seemed like he was needed everywhere except the warehouse.
His father insisted he accompany his grandmother and Dee to one party after another. His workshop had been attacked no fewer than five times: two window breakings, two arsons, and an attempted break-in. Fortunately, Hiram and his men had been able to thwart all of the attacks.
And to that was added Dee’s propensity of landing herself in trouble. When she’d been a child, he’d applauded it. It fascinated him. But he’d expected her to grow out of it. She hadn’t. God knows, her mother had done everything she could to argue, upbraid, lambaste, and possibly even beat it out of her, to no avail.
“Well . . .” His grandmother’s voice broke into the silence above the pea soup. “Since you’ve deprived us of one dinner guest, you may at least entertain us with some fascinating banter.”
Joe gritted his teeth. Put down his spoon. “I beg your pardon, Grandmère, but Dee deprived us of her charming personality of her own accord. And if I might point out, she is behaving in a way that is the product of your and mama’s handiwork.”
“You may leave me out of your spats with Deanna,” his mother said.
“Mother, it wasn’t a spat. I realize you probably don’t know what she was doing yesterday afternoon instead of joining her cycling group.”
His grandmother patted her lips with her napkin and gave him her full attention.
“Accosting actresses on the street, following them back to their boardinghouse, where she attempted to interrogate them, except for the entrance of the police, when the actors locked her in a linen closet until the police had gone.”
Neither his mother nor grandmother even blinked. Joe glanced to hi
s father, who lowered his head, in fear, shame, or amusement, Joe couldn’t begin to guess. Though he imagined the hint of a spasm that rippled across his shoulders was an attempt to stifle laughter.
His father was probably used to behavior like that. It sounded just like something his mother would do. But his mother was happily married for many years to a rich and powerful man. She could withstand a few slurs against her character. Deanna could not. And she seemed to have no idea of what was at stake.
She had stubbornly refused to understand why men could manage their lives one way, that going off to work for them could be a good thing, an exciting thing. But for women, working for a living for most was a drudgery at best, and little more than slavery at worst.
The world was changing; there were a few female doctors, lawyers, even stockbrokers. But for the most part women were given menial jobs while men rose to the higher offices.
If Dee married the right man, with the right amount of social clout, she might, in a few years, get away with the odd suffragette or temperance rally without bringing the wrath of society—and her mother—on her head.
But not now. Staying viably social was not just an amusing pastime for young women. It was a fact of life.
He realized no one was talking; they were all looking at him.
“Will and I were down at a pub last night. He was keeping an eye on the actors. The manager is complaining because they can’t work while they’re stuck here. He demanded Will find them a place to rehearse.”
He saw the glint of interest in his grandmother’s eye. “Not here,” he added. “After Will left, one of the actresses told me about Dee and warned me that she would be in danger if she continued to investigate.”
“What kind of danger?” his mother asked.
“Was it a threat?” Grandmère asked.
Even his father looked up, expectant of an answer.
“Neither. More like she was frightened for Dee and for herself. When I pressed her to explain, she said that I wouldn’t understand. And to leave it alone.”
“True,” said his grandmother. “It is a different world, the theater. But do you think it’s more than a lover’s quarrel taken to the extreme?”
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