“Mother despaired of my ever carrying on a polite conversation.”
“Speaking of Mother, I’m amazed she’s not here with you. How did that come about?”
Hetty got to her feet and extended a hand to Rose. “While you two discuss your mother, perhaps Lady Rosebud will show me where she keeps her toys.”
Rose jumped to her feet and placed her hand in Hetty’s. “Have you any toy soldiers?” Hetty asked as they left the room.
Rose’s giggles rang out as they climbed the stairs to the nursery.
I looked at Lily. “We can’t discuss Mother in front of Rose?”
“Aunt Hetty and I talked about this, and we decided we shouldn’t discuss the family finances in front of Rose. One never knows what children will repeat.”
“I take it Father’s suffered a loss?”
Lily nodded. “A rather impressive one, I’m afraid. Both he and Alonzo consider it a temporary concern, but Father still didn’t want to set Mother loose among the shops of London or Paris. And besides, Father did want Aunt Hetty to learn as much as possible about this underground transit business.”
“Is that why he doesn’t have the capital to invest in this project right now?”
Lily drew in a sharp breath and boggled her eyes. “Don’t say that to Aunt Hetty or she’ll say you know nothing about money.”
“I’m afraid she’d be correct,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’m only just learning.”
“Well, it seems a project of this magnitude always requires a consortium of investors. That’s what Father is trying to put together, but even with partners, he’ll be hard-pressed to come up with his share.”
“Then I don’t understand why Mother didn’t put off your Season until next year. You are only eighteen. One more year would make no difference.”
Lily bristled. “Maybe not to you, but I could not possibly tolerate another year of Mother’s How to be a Lady Academy.”
I was beginning to see the true reason Mother bowed out of Lily’s Season. She didn’t have as malleable a student in Lily. My sister had some fight in her.
“I assume, regardless of the financial setback, Father still plans to provide you with a sizable dowry?”
She nodded as she took a bite of her scone.
“Then you should realize there will be men who are courting you for your fortune, so you must be careful. Don’t be so eager for a match that you marry the wrong man.” Lily twisted her lips into an exaggerated frown, but with a mouthful of scone, she couldn’t speak. I took full advantage and became more insistent. “You’re very young. You should take your time. If you don’t make a match this year, so be it.”
“But I can’t go back home to Mother.”
“Then stay with me. If Mother is as exasperated with you as you say, then she is unlikely to object.” As soon as I’d said the words, I realized that might be a problem if I couldn’t get access to my bank account. I wouldn’t be able to support another person, especially if I couldn’t ask my father for financial help.
Lily let out a whoop and threw her arms around my neck. Too late to take it back now. “You are the best sister, Frances. I do want to find a husband, but it’s lovely to know I can stay here with you if I don’t.”
I laughed at her enthusiasm and pushed aside my concerns. “I’d be very surprised if you don’t find several eligible candidates. I just want you to choose the right one.”
* * *
Fiona joined us for breakfast the next morning. Mrs. Thompson led her in to the dining room, as she brought in the morning post. Lily, Hetty, and I had just filled our plates and were seated around one end of the large dining table, Hetty at the end and Lily and I on either side of her. Fiona declined anything but coffee. I made the introductions, and poured her a cup as she seated herself next to me. She was buzzing with excitement. I suspected she was filled to the brim with unspent gossip.
“You have news, Fiona. What is it?”
Her face took on a glow that put me in awe. This woman truly lived for gossip. Thank goodness she was loyal to me. “I do indeed have news.” Her smile was pure glee. “There’s been another theft.”
“No! Who?”
“Mary Chesterton. You know she hosted a musicale two evenings ago?”
I shuddered involuntarily. “Yes. I received an invitation, but unfortunately I had to decline.”
“As did we. She has two daughters out this year, and as they were the main performers, I’m sure it was a long evening, if you know what I mean. However, I do like to show support, so I visited Mary yesterday, and she confided that a necklace was missing.”
“That’s terrible,” Hetty said. “They believe it was stolen?”
Fiona nodded. “It seems Mary couldn’t decide between two necklaces.” She threw me a sidelong look. “You know she can never make up her mind. Well, once she finally settled on one, guests had begun to arrive. Mary rushed down to greet them, and her maid ran off to help get the girls ready. The other necklace was left on the dressing table, but it wasn’t there later when Mary retired for the night. By the time I visited today, they’d made a thorough search of the house, and the necklace is not to be found.” Fiona signaled the end of her story with a flourish of her hand.
Lily, across from me, had set down her fork and was gazing at Fiona with wide eyes. “Was it very valuable?”
“Oh, yes. And quite lovely, too. Mary is beside herself at its loss.”
“Have they contacted the police?” I asked, buttering a slice of toast.
Fiona shook her head. “They seem reluctant to do so. The police may attempt to question their guests.”
“Well if the jewelry is insured, and they want to make a claim, they will have to get over their reluctance,” Aunt Hetty put in. “The insurer will either want the police to investigate, or they will conduct their own investigation.”
“Really?” Fiona and I spoke in unison, causing Aunt Hetty to roll her eyes and pick up the newspaper. I suppose that made sense. An insurer wouldn’t make a payment on a missing item unless they made certain it was indeed missing. Hetty must think us complete fools.
“Regardless of any insurance issues,” I said, topping off my coffee, “I think they should alert the police to the fact that there’s been another theft. They need to put an end to this.”
“I agree.” Fiona, having delivered her news, was now fatigued with the topic. She eyed the stack of letters beside my plate. “What invitations have you received?”
I shuffled through the envelopes, pulled out three that were obviously invitations, and handed them to her. “We received two yesterday, but the events are not for another week, so Lily and I still have time to outfit ourselves.” I glanced at the remaining letters. Nothing from the doctor yet, but one was from my solicitor.
“Oh, dear.”
“Bad news, Frances?” Hetty asked.
Three pairs of eyes watched me break the seal on the envelope. “I’m not sure yet.” I scanned the letter from Mr. Stone. “Oh, dear,” I sighed again, handing the letter off to Hetty.
“The two of you may as well know.” I massaged a spot above my left eye where a headache was beginning to throb. “Father isn’t the only one dealing with a financial difficulty.” I explained the situation to them as succinctly as possible, ending with Fiona’s involvement. “If not for her, I’m not sure I would have been able to cash the draft from Mother. I’d hoped this would all be resolved quickly, but Mr. Stone says in his letter he was unable to have the case dismissed. Now I might find myself without funds for months, possibly a year, or even longer.”
Lily placed a hand over mine. “But you do have the money from Mother.”
“I could see using a small amount for my expenses, but she sent that for your wardrobe.”
She stared at me as if I were dim. “Don’t be ridiculous! I know how much she sent you. She expected you to take me to Paris, to see Worth, and I find no reason for such extravagance. I should think we could update both our wardr
obes for half that amount. It’s not as if I didn’t bring clothing with me.” She leaned forward over the table. “And by the way, she is asking you to do her an enormous service. Shouldn’t you receive some compensation for that?”
“She’s right,” Fiona chimed in. “If you only spend half on clothing, the rest could be used to run your household, and cover your expenses, for four months or so.”
I wondered how she knew that, then remembered her husband had cashed the bank draft for me. I suppressed a groan. My personal life was becoming an open book.
“Don’t think twice about it,” Hetty agreed. “After all, Lily and I are living here too, so you are not the only one to benefit.”
While I felt warmed by my family’s support, I could not shake my concern over having no income, and a finite amount of money in my possession.
“I do have one concern,” Hetty said. “Do you trust this Mr. Stone? He’s not the Wynn family solicitor, is he?”
“Actually, Father hired him. He’s the one who set up the account for me, and I trust him to fight for my rights.”
“All the same, I don’t like the idea of putting all your eggs in one basket. You should at least have someone else look at the case and the earl’s claims. Perhaps Mr. Hazelton?”
“I’m sure George would be delighted to help,” Fiona added.
“Oh, no. I’d rather just keep this between ourselves. I don’t want to cause even a whisper of scandal around Lily’s Season.”
Fiona looked affronted. “George is the soul of discretion.”
“And he’s studied law,” Hetty added. “Even if he only confirms Stone is handling this properly, I’d be more comfortable with the whole matter. I could take it up with him today while you ladies are shopping.”
“Aren’t you going with us?”
“I stopped in Paris last fall, my dear. I suspect my wardrobe will be at the height of fashion.”
“All right then,” I agreed. It rankled, but I had no way of explaining to Hetty why I didn’t want to involve George in any of my affairs. After all, I knew firsthand he was indeed the soul of discretion.
“Now that’s settled, you two had better eat up,” Fiona said. “We have an appointment with Madame Celeste, and we still need to go through your wardrobes first.”
* * *
If anything was going to take my mind off my problems, it was a shopping trip, which, when I thought about it, was a bit daft, since I’d be spending money I ought to be hoarding. I couldn’t remember a time when I was ever worried about money, or had even concerned myself with how much something cost. I don’t believe I’ve ever been a spendthrift, but to be honest, how would I know? I’ve never gone without anything I wanted, and up until a year ago, Reggie paid all the bills. When I came to London on my house hunting trip, I bought five new gowns, and though they were rather simple, the bill, when I saw it, was quite a shock. I’d need at least a dozen more gowns to get through the Season, and at least some would have to be elaborate ball gowns.
So much for not worrying about my problems.
After several hours spent in Madame’s shop, we set out in search of hats. Fiona told us of a clever milliner just down the street, and since the day had finally warmed a bit, we decided to walk. Our progress was slow, as the rare sight of the sun seemed to have enticed everyone out of their homes. Carriages rolled by slowly, as factions of the milling crowd crossed the shop-lined street, heedless of the traffic. Everyone nodded or stopped to speak to friends they hadn’t seen all winter. For me it had been over a year since I’d been out in company, and it was lovely to find I hadn’t been completely forgotten by my acquaintances. We had almost reached the milliner, when a gentleman backed out of a shop door, blocking our passage.
“Sir!” Fiona exclaimed, as we all pulled up short. The gentleman spun around in surprise, and I recognized him as one of Reggie’s friends.
“Lord Kirkland,” I said with a nod. By this time he was joined by another man exiting the shop. I’d never been much impressed by Oliver Kirkland, but he was one of Reggie’s friends, so I must admit to some prejudging. He’d never done anything to offend me except to act like a young, single man on the town. Only he was forty, married, and a father.
The man standing with him was another story altogether. Younger, about thirty, I’d say. Fine form; tall with broad shoulders, dark hair that waved away from his forehead, dark eyes, skin a little more sun-kissed than the typical London bon vivant, and a rather dazzling smile, which he was exhibiting at this moment.
“Lady Harleigh.” Kirkland’s voice pulled my attention back to him in time to see him tip his hat. I nodded in return.
“You remember Lady Nash, I’m sure.” The two exchanged polite greetings. “And allow me to present my sister, Lily Price, here from New York to enjoy the London Season.”
Kirkland made some flowery comment as he bowed over Lily’s hand, and I almost choked when I saw her eyes roll. Oh, dear! I must take her in hand. One should never show impatience or derision in such a way.
“Allow me to introduce my companion,” he said. “Viscount Ainsworthy, another recent arrival to London.”
So this is the new viscount I’d been hearing about. No wonder the young ladies were all agog. Young, titled, and handsome. I wondered if he was also wealthy, but knew it wouldn’t matter in the least. He was sure to be the catch of the Season. He bowed over each of our hands and expressed his pleasure in making our acquaintance. All very correct. I noticed Lily didn’t roll her eyes this time. In fact, she was smiling rather brightly.
As we were blocking the walkway, other shoppers were required to step into the street to pass us, so we decided to move on, the gentlemen joining us. Lily and the viscount in front, Fiona, Kirkland, and I, a few steps behind. We had such a short walk to the milliner’s shop, we moved at a snail’s pace. “Have you been acquainted with Viscount Ainsworthy long, my lord? I understand he’s lived in South Africa for many years.”
“Not long at all. I met him at our club just a few days ago. He inquired about a decent tailor, so I’ve just introduced him to mine. As you say, he’s only recently arrived in the country, so I doubt anyone can claim a long acquaintance with him.”
I had no time to consider this as we’d reached the milliner’s. “This is our stop, gentlemen. Thank you for escorting us.” I walked up the steps, with Fiona and Lily following.
“I hope we will meet again soon,” the viscount said. “Will you be attending the Stoke-Whitney ball, by any chance?”
When hell freezes over, I thought. I gave him a smile. “We’ve been in town such a short time, I’m afraid we haven’t received an invitation to that affair.”
“Ah, but that is only because I didn’t know you were in town. Now that I do, I shall send an invitation immediately.”
The words came from the shop door behind me. I recognized that voice. I turned, dreading the moment when I would actually look into her eyes. Yes, there she was, Alicia Stoke-Whitney. I believe I mentioned her earlier. She was my late husband’s mistress.
Chapter 6
My reaction to meeting Alicia was intense, to say the least. Had I been alone I’d have given her the cut, but with an audience I hesitated to show my contempt. For the first time in my social life, I completely lost my composure. I hadn’t seen the woman since Reggie’s death, and every emotion from that horrible night flooded my mind. I was at a loss.
Fiona saved me. Taking my arm to steady me, she guided the conversation and performed the introductions. For her part, Alicia ignored my reaction, and acted as if we were any two ladies meeting on the street. I let the conversation flow around me for several minutes, until Fiona mercifully recalled some imagined appointment she must keep, and the three of us climbed into her carriage, which had followed us down the street.
I dropped into the far side of the forward facing seat and let my head loll back against the cushioned upholstery. After giving her driver our destination, Fiona seated herself next to me and patted my
leg in a “buck up” gesture. Lily climbed in and took the opposite seat. Once the carriage began moving, her eyes darted between Fiona and myself, with an expression of bewilderment. “What just happened back there?”
Fiona looked to me for an answer. Coward that I am, I chose to ignore the question for the moment. “Did I really agree to attend the Stoke-Whitney ball? Have I lost my mind?”
“Yes, you did, and no, you haven’t,” Fiona said, with a firm nod. “You must attend. If for no other reason than to confuse the gossips.”
“I know I’m confused.” Lily’s brow furrowed. “Is there something wrong with Mrs. Stoke-Whitney? You went so pale when you saw her, Frances.”
There was a pause while I wondered how quickly I could invent a story she would believe. Fiona filled the silence. “You might as well tell her before someone else does.”
I rolled my head to the side, locking my gaze with hers. “Tell her what? What do you know?” My heart pounded. Fiona couldn’t possibly know what had happened between Alicia, George, and I at Reggie’s death. Then, one beat after the panic had struck, I felt a wave of relief, as I realized she was referring to Reggie’s infidelity. I’d never spoken to her about it, yet looking at the sympathy in her eyes, I had the sense she could tell me a few things about my late husband.
“Somebody tell me something. I’m ready to burst over here.”
I released a sigh as I straightened to an upright position, my hands demurely folded in my lap. Lily was so young, and I didn’t want to disillusion her, but perhaps a small dose of reality would keep her from being as foolish as I had been.
“Reggie and Alicia had a close relationship,” I ventured.
Lily’s face remained blank. Lovely. I’d have to say it right out. “They were lovers.” I glanced at Fiona. “And apparently, everyone knew about it.”
“No,” Lily gasped. “How could he do that to you? Why, you are ten times prettier than she is. And years younger, too. What was he thinking?”
“Here, here!” Fiona said, giving my hand a squeeze. The small gesture, and Lily’s outrage on my behalf, had me blinking back tears. Their attempt to comfort me touched my heart, but in truth, now that the words were out, I was surprised I felt no bitterness or pain.
A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder Page 6