Rogers entered the drawing room and bowed. “Rogers, we are looking for Mother’s pearl and diamond necklace. I assume that it’s in the safe?” Diane said.
“Yes, madam. Mrs. Evans always returned the necklace to the safe when she was finished wearing it for the day.”
“Excellent. Please be so good as to open the safe.”
Rogers turned to Harriet for her approval. “Miss Walters?” he asked. Diane frowned and looked at Harriet.
“Certainly. Yes please, Rogers,” Harriet stammered.
The butler bowed and proceeded across the room with Diane and Harriet trailing behind him. He paused before the picture and swung it aside, revealing a small safe set into the wall. Standing directly before the safe to block their view, Rogers rotated the dial back and forth until the door clicked open. Reaching inside, he removed a green velvet pouch, closed and locked the safe, and presented the bag to Harriet.
“The necklace, Miss Walters,” he said with a short bow.
“Thank you, Rogers,” she replied. The butler nodded and left the room. Harriet handed the pouch to Diane, who opened the drawstring and allowed the contents to spill into her hand. Out tumbled Mrs. Evans’ pearl and diamond necklace, two strands of flawless pearls with a diamond set after each tenth pearl. Diane practically purred when she saw it, her eyes brightening.
“Thank you, Harriet. It’s just as I remembered the last time Mother wore it.” She put the necklace back into the pouch and drew the drawstrings together. “Now, it is late and we have so much to do over the next two days. Shall I have Rogers call the carriage for you?”
“Thank you. I am rather tired.”
“Of course you are, Harriet. All this excitement must be wearing you out. I don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight, thinking of the adventures we shall have together in London.”
On the short ride home in Mrs. Evans’ carriage – “My carriage now, I suppose,” Harriet said aloud – she spared a moment to think about the necklace. It had all happened so quickly that she hoped that she had done the right thing. Perhaps she should have consulted with Mr. Burton and had the necklace transferred to Diane legally? Then another thought occurred to her. What if Diane had found the necklace among Mrs. Evans’ things? Would she have taken it without mentioning it to her? Dismissing the thought as unworthy, Harriet turned her attention to all the preparations she still had to make for the journey, and let the matter of the pearl and diamond necklace drop from her mind.
Chapter Eighteen
The trip from Rexton to London took three days with hired horses, and Harriet was both weary and excited when the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Diane’s Brook Street home. After the coachman had helped her down, Harriet craned her neck to admire the three-storey, brown brick house with its three-part, Palladian-style windows. A black wreath hung upon the front door, a reminder of the family’s recent loss. The front door opened and a footman emerged to assist the driver with the pile of luggage, most of it Diane’s, while the butler waited for the two women to mount the front stairs.
“Welcome back, madam,” the corpulent, silver-haired servant said with a bow. “Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your mother.”
“Thank you, Symonds. This is our guest, Miss Harriet Walters.”
Symonds made a second bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Walters.”
“Is Mr. Fitzwilliam at home, Symonds?”
“The master left instructions that he will be home at five o’clock, madam.”
“Very well. I will conduct Miss Walters to her room myself. Please instruct Cook to send up tea and sandwiches. We are both famished.”
“Very good, madam.” The butler stood aside to allow Diane and Harriet to pass into the black-and-white tiled foyer. Diane led Harriet down the tiled hallway and up the curving staircase to the second floor.
“You’ll be just down the hall from my room, Harriet,” Diane said, ushering Harriet into her bed chamber. The blue walls were accented with gold and white trim, and delicate plaster moldings embellished the lofty ceiling. The slender wooden furniture was in the latest style, with a black and white marble fireplace and a floral screen adding to the room’s elegance.
“What a lovely room, Diane,” Harriet said, impressed. “I shall be very comfortable here. Thank you.”
Diane smiled. “I’m glad you like your room. One of the maids will be up shortly to unpack and to help you dress.” She embraced Harriet and then drew back to gaze into her eyes. “I’m so happy to have you with me during my time of sorrow.”
“Certainly. I’m glad to help, Diane.”
Diane released her. “I’ll let you rest for now, but I’ll be back in half an hour to bring you down for refreshments. We shall have a quiet evening in with Fitzwilliam tonight, just the three of us. I’m so tired that I’m sure I shall retire directly after dinner.”
“As shall I.”
“Until then . . . ,” Diane said, exiting the room.
Diane and Harriet were sipping their second cup of tea when Edward Fitzwilliam strode into the drawing room. He was a bantam rooster of a man, the same height as his wife. The second thing Harriet noticed about him was his elaborately coiffed hair with its stiff curls. His clothing was understated, but of the finest quality, and he wore a black cravat to mark his mother-in-law’s passing. He kissed his wife on the cheek.
“My dear, I am so sorry. I was greatly distressed that I could not get away for your mother’s funeral. The journey back must have been most trying. How did you fare?”
“The roads were muddy, Edward, but that is the danger one faces when travelling in the spring. As you can see, I have brought home my dear friend, Miss Harriet Walters.”
Edward bowed to Harriet. “Miss Walters, how kind of you to accompany my wife home. I am sure that your presence will be a great consolation to Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”
“Thank you,” Harriet said
“Will you have a cup of tea and a beef sandwich, dear?” Diane asked. “Do sit down and I’ll pour for you.”
“Thank you. I have not had anything since breakfast.” Edward perched on a chair across from his wife and consumed his refreshments.
“My husband works too hard while the House is in session and neglects himself, Harriet. I’m delighted that he has come home early this evening and is not dining out. The food at his club is not always consistent.”
“My constituency does not care if I dine on pheasant, or on bread and cheese, Diane.”
“No, but they will care if you become ill and cannot attend to their needs. Adequate food and rest is essential to your health.”
Edward nodded and sipped his tea. “My wife and I have this discussion quite frequently, Miss Walters. Fortunately, I have her to oversee my personal needs while I labour at more important matters.”
“Fitzwilliam champions the modernization of our great city,” Diane said.
“By ‘modernization,’ Miss Walters, my wife means the improvement of basic living standards to a level where commerce can flourish. ‘Sanitation, transportation, and employment’ are the three planks of my platform. We cannot continue as we have. The Dark Ages have been banished and great changes are coming. Machinery will soon do the work of ten men, resulting in dramatic increases in production. Business will thrive, and London is the seat of England’s economy. People will come flooding to us, from the lowly dock worker to the bank owner. Where will we house these people, Miss Walters? What will they eat? How will they be transported?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
Edward nodded, rising to his feet and pacing the floor. “Neither do most of my colleagues in the Commons or in the House of Lords, unfortunately. First, we must abolish the plague breeding-grounds where the poor and unemployed dwell to ensure a healthy and plentiful workforce. Second, we must improve the roads and waterways to expand transportation, resulting in a reduction in the cost of food and fuel.”
Diane beamed at her husband. “Fitzwilliam
is a great planner, Harriet. I’m sure that one day you will be honoured to say that you knew Edward Fitzwilliam.”
Edward waved one hand modestly and sank back into his chair. “Not at all, my dear. Understand, Miss Walters, that I do not seek greatness. I am merely a servant of this glorious city we are proud to call our home. I understand that this is your first visit to London?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I envy you seeing it for the first time. What will you visit first?”
“I am taking her to St. Paul’s tomorrow, dear.”
“An excellent choice. A triumphant example of British architecture.”
“Yes. I’m also planning a dinner party to introduce her to some of our closest friends on Saturday evening. Nothing too extravagant, of course. It’s too soon after Mother’s passing.”
“Of course not, my dear. You must not overtax yourself. I am sure that our friends will not expect too much of you.”
“No, they are kind. But we must stir ourselves and not be too dull for dear Harriet’s sake.”
Harriet sat forward in her chair to interrupt. “Please, Diane, do not concern yourself with dinner parties and introductions on my account. Such things matter little to me. I should be glad to meet some of your friends, to be sure, but only when you are ready.”
Diane smiled at her husband. “Didn’t I tell you that she is a dear, Edward?” She patted Harriet’s hand. “No, Harriet, we will proceed with my dinner for Saturday night. I cannot wallow in grief – Mother would not have approved. Just a few of our closest friends. Ten or twelve, at most. I was thinking of inviting Colonel York, by the way. Mother was speaking of him so close to the end, and we have not seen much of him this year. She particularly wanted you to meet him, so I will be carrying out her wishes.”
“Yes, I remember that your mother spoke very highly of the colonel.”
Edward said, “He is a fine old gentleman, Miss Walters, although rather backward in his thinking, I fear. So many of our elders choose to live in the past.”
Diane said, “Good, it is settled. I will issue the invitations tomorrow morning before we go out. It will give us all something to look forward to.” Little did Diane realize how far from the truth that sentiment was for her guest.
Chapter Nineteen
Harriet came down to the salon to join Diane on Saturday evening before the first guests had arrived. She wore her best gown, a fine white muslin with a pleated skirt trimmed in petite blue and pink floral embroidery. Diane’s maid had dressed Harriet’s hair in an intricate style of braids and curls which made her conscious of every turn of her head. Diane wore a flat black silk that emphasized the whiteness of her skin. Coupled with long black gloves and black plumes in her fair hair, her appearance was arresting.
“How nice you look, Harriet. Is that a new gown?” Diane remarked.
“Yes, one of the dresses Aunt Edna had made for me,” she said, checking the clasp on her necklace.
“Your pearls are very sweet,” Diane added.
Harriet glanced down at the strand of seed pearls. “Thank you. They were a gift from Father.”
“Simple jewellery can be the most elegant, but more colourful stones would set off your hair.”
“I’m afraid that they are all I have, other than a mourning ring and a garnet brooch of my grandmother’s.”
“Well, you look very nice, dear, but I shall take you to my dressmaker to have some additional gowns made. One must wear the latest fashions when one is in the city. I can also recommend one or two jewellers to you whose merchandise is superior.
Harriet looked doubtful. “I’ve never really bothered with jewellery.”
“Nonsense, Harriet, it is the details that finish a lady’s appearance. You will want to look your best now that you are in society. You never know who might be watching ‒ it could be someone interesting.” Diane gave her a knowing smile.
“Who is interesting, my dear?” Edward asked, strolling into the room.
“Who’s to say, Fitzwilliam? It could be a military or a naval officer, or a gentleman with a country estate. Perhaps even a bank owner, like Father. Harriet is a woman of consequence now. Many people will want to be introduced to her.”
“Hmm, I see. Miss Walters is on the lookout for a husband this spring?”
Harriet blushed. “I fear that Diane is teasing me, sir.”
Symonds entered the salon with a bow. “Mr. and Mrs. Warner, and Colonel York, sir.” He stood aside, and the lady and two gentlemen appeared. Diane swept forward to greet her guests while Fitzwilliam waited to shake hands with the gentlemen.
“Mrs. Warner, it is so good to see you again,” Diane said. “Mr. Warner, Edward has been telling me of your latest zoning bill. It’s high time something was done about that neighbourhood. Colonel York, it’s been too long. You look very well, sir.”
Fitzwilliam drew Mr. Warner aside to discuss a point of parliamentary business, leaving Diane to entertain Mrs. Warner and the colonel. The lady gazed pointedly at Harriet lingering a few steps behind her hostess. Diane noticed the look and extended a hand to her friend.
“Mrs. Warner, Colonel York, let me introduce Miss Harriet Walters of Rexton to you. She was a dear friend of my poor mother’s, and has granted me the consolation of a visit. This is her first trip to London, and she is very excited about seeing some of our famous landmarks. Harriet, Mrs. Warner’s husband is in the House with Fitzwilliam, and you have heard Mother speak of Colonel York.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Warner and Colonel York,” Harriet said with a curtsy. Mrs. Warner smiled and the colonel bowed.
“How wonderful, Miss Walters – your first trip to London,” the lady said. “My, it’s been years since my first visit. That was my first season ‒ what mischief we girls got up to.” She giggled girlishly, which was disconcerting in a woman so firmly ensconced in middle age.
The colonel remained a step behind the knot of ladies. Harriet felt his glance and looked up to meet his eyes. He was a tall, spare gentleman with white hair combed back from a craggy face, and warm, brown eyes. Harriet noticed his black arm band and guessed that he wore it for Mrs. Evans. As Diane and Mrs. Warren reminisced about their first London seasons, Harriet detached herself and stepped toward the colonel.
“We had a friend in common, Miss Walters,” he said in way of a greeting.
“Yes ‒ Mrs. Evans. She spoke very highly of you and Mrs. York.”
“My wife was a remarkable woman, Miss Walters. She taught music at a young ladies’ academy in Paris before we were married. I am convinced that she could have had a career as a soloist if her parents had not opposed it.”
“Indeed? Was your wife a Parisian? Mrs. Evans didn’t mention it.”
“No, she was born right here in London. Mabel introduced us, in fact.”
Symonds entered the room to announce the arrival of four more ladies and gentlemen.
“I fear that our hostess will be claiming you soon, Miss Walters. I would like to speak to you later about Mabel, if I may. She was a dear lady.”
“Yes, she was, Colonel. I would enjoy talking to you about her.”
He made a short bow and stepped aside as Diane approached with the other guests. Harriet stood quietly by and smiled at appropriate points of conversation until it was time to enter the dining room. At dinner, she was seated next to a young dandy named Augustus Bell, a handsome, broad-shouldered man with raven-black curls and devilish, dark eyes. He chatted about horse racing during the soup course, a sport about which Harriet knew nothing. Happily, Colonel York sat on her other side, and when Bell began arguing the merits of two popular jockeys with a gentleman across the table, the colonel drew her into conversation.
“I am curious to know how you met Mabel,” he said. Harriet told him how she had come to live in Rexton with her aunt, and of her friendship with Mrs. Evans. The colonel reciprocated by telling her that he had met Mrs. Evan through her younger brother, Jack, while they were at school together. Later, he had visit
ed Mrs. Evans at her house in London, where she had introduced him to his future wife.
“Mabel was always so lively and so curious about people. It was her great ambition to travel, so her husband took her on a tour of the continent the year after they were married. He was a partner at his bank by then, and a busy and important man, but he took six months away from work to travel with Mabel. He was happy to indulge her whenever he could.”
Harriet smiled. “It sounds as if their union was a happy one.”
“It was, although they had a few difficult years when they were trying to start a family. She and Richard gave up trying for more children after Diane was born – the failures were too heart-breaking. But Mabel was always an optimist, always ready to try something new. I greatly admired that lady, and I’m going to miss her.”
Harriet nodded. “I wouldn’t be visiting London if it weren’t for Mrs. Evans. The trip was her idea.”
“Is that so? Was Mabel planning on coming with you?”
“Yes, indeed. She was particularly excited about introducing me to the theatre and to opera. I’ve never been to either one.”
“You haven’t? Well, what will you do about that now? Diane can’t take you – she’s just begun mourning.” Harriet shrugged. “You can’t come to London without attending a few performances ‒ that would be disgraceful. Miss Walters, I have a suggestion. If you would permit it, I would be happy to escort you to any production that you would care to see. My wife and I used to visit the opera regularly when she was still alive, although I haven’t felt much like going since her death two years ago. I haven’t wanted to go alone, but I would be delighted to escort you. Would you do me the honour?”
“Colonel York, you are very kind. I would be very happy to attend either one with you.”
“But Miss Walters, we must see both. Let me think – what is on offer this season?” They bent their heads together to discuss which performances they should see, Harriet deferring to the colonel’s superior knowledge since she was only familiar with the work of Mr. Shakespeare. Colonel York decided that she must see both a Shakespearean play and a modern farce, and then had to spend some time convincing Harriet that she was not imposing upon his generosity. They continued their conversation until Diane rose, and the ladies returned to the salon.
The Affairs of Harriet Walters, Spinster Page 13