“Do not let someone else take away your joy,” advised Mirabella. “Even your mama. Do what you love, Lady Jacqueline. Why are we doing all this if it doesn’t bring us happiness?”
“You are an artist very accomplished, Lady Jacqueline,” Princess Elena stated softly. “Why do you not draw some dress designs for us? It would save us from much boredom.”
Jacqueline’s face lit up at this. “I might even paint the gowns with the water colors.”
“Whatever you may say about the joys of personal ambition,” Bethany shook her head in disapproval, “marriage and children is yet a worthy goal—and can yield much happiness.”
“You have found the activity which you love to do and which ignites your passion, Bethany,” Mirabella stated softly. “You should encourage the other girls to find theirs as well.”
“Ignites her passion?” Jacqueline giggled. “I know my mama would not care for that!”
Bethany continued the sonata, her expression resolute. “With the possible exception of music, I do not think anything can be more satisfying than love—and having a family of one’s own.”
In point of fact, nothing could have displayed a prettier picture of that which was both heavenly and meaningful in life than the blonde Bethany at the piano in a cornflower blue silk and lace gown, Mirabella reflected. Possibly the addition of a miniature Bethany beside the older version. Miss de Beauvais’ oil painting behind Bethany’s head was somewhat frightening, but, to her credit, Bethany was able to make even that busy splash of color look as if it were a backdrop to her pure simplicity.
“I agree, children are so enriching to one’s life,” Jacqueline stated. She sighed, adding, “And having a home of one’s own.”
Mirabella poured tea from the ceramic teapot painted with purple and yellow pansies. She paused for a moment, staring at the teapot as an idea came to her. “Very true! In fact, we should invite the girls from the orphanage to Miss de Beauvais’ for a tea party!”
“Orphan girls come here,” exclaimed Alexandra. “Are they quite clean?”
“Quite,” replied Mirabella indignantly, fingering the gold cross around her neck. She had initially conceived the idea as a way to take the ladies’ minds off the attack; it was absolutely essential that the fear not be allowed to fester and control them, or she had no doubt there would be dire consequences.
Particularly from Alexandra, who liked to stir up trouble—and was bored. Combining boredom with fear and insecurity did not show Lady Alexandra to her best advantage.
Sigh. An attack by maniacal killers had a way of disrupting one’s peace of mind.
Mirabella was all too aware that she was not without her nightmares, but the violence seemed to have taken its toll to the greatest degree on Alexandra—which had elevated Mirabella’s opinion of Lady Alexandra’s intelligence, who seemed to be the only one of the girls to perceive the danger. Certainly Princess Elena understood, but the princess was so supremely fearless that her level of fear could not be used as an indicator of her perceptivity.
Unfortunately, Lady Alexandra’s awareness had created an internal battle, and which was the last thing Alexandra needed! The Duke of Glazebury’s daughter was too afraid to stay at the finishing school—and too afraid to leave.
Or too afraid of her parents.
“Don’t stare at me so, Miss Carnegie!” Alexandra exclaimed. “I have heard of lice and other nasty things which you certainly would not wish to have!”
“The girls are merely without parents,” Mirabella retorted, moving forward in her seat as her arm brushed the white lace of Princess Elena’s gown. “They are not living in filthy conditions!”
“We must do what we can to help them,” agreed Bethany, now softly playing a Beethoven lullaby. “We have so much. My father says to those who have been given much, much is expected.”
“Oh, je ne sais pas. I don’t know.” Jacqueline sighed heavily, even as her eyes caught Alexandra’s. “C’est good to make ze beautiful things for the little girls—but to come ici? Est-ce wise?”
Elena looked up over her teacup. “I will protect you, Lady Jacqueline. Do not fear.”
“Miss de Beauvais will never agree to it,” stated Alexandra.
“And why should Miss de Beauvais have any objection?” Mirabella asked, smoothing her blue and beige striped wrapper.
“Miss de Beauvais has us under lock and key,” Bethany considered. “Especially now. I am surprised that she lets us take our morning walks.”
“Only when we are accompanied by a full calvary!” exclaimed Bethany, giggling.
“Exactly so,” stated Mirabella. “She can have no objection to a charity event within the walls of the finishing school.”
“Miss de Beauvais is not heartless,” Bethany added.
I wouldn’t be so sure.
“Bon. Miss de Beauvais she is exceedingly kind,” Jacqueline stated, her beautiful wide eyes filled with admiration.
More likely Miss de Beauvais perceived that the girls were safer out amongst society than they were where the criminals know them to be, Mirabella reflected to herself.
“We are allowed short morning walks,” agreed Alexandra, her attention suddenly on Mirabella, “with the exception of Miss Carnegie who appears to be able to come and go as she chooses.”
“Would you like to come and go, Lady Alexandra?” Princess Elena asked. “I had not observed it. You are mostly in your room now.”
“Not necessarily,” Alexandra replied with her chin raised. “I simply cannot for the life of me understand why Miss Carnegie has more freedom than the rest of us. Maybe she knows something.”
“If you wish to accompany Miss Mirabella to the orphanage, Lady Alexandra, I’ve no doubt it would be allowed,” proposed Princess Elena, adding with a warm smile, “I will help to arrange it.”
“I will do no such thing! And a party for the orphans would be a terrible amount of work. Most unnecessary,” protested Alexandra while setting her teacup nonchalantly on the table beside her.
“Work for whom?” asked Mirabella picking up her favorite book of poetry by Alfred Lord Tennyson, being in the habit of reading to the ladies in the evening. “Certainly not for us—we never lift a finger around here!”
“Never lift a finger? You have us working ‘round the clock, Mirabella Carnegie,” admonished Alexandra, adding under her breath, “When we aren’t hiding under the beds for our lives.”
“That is not fair,” Bethany interjected. “Miss Mirabella and Princess Elena saved us. You can’t put that at either of their doors, Alexi.”
“Thank you, Bethany,” Mirabella acknowledged. “As for the tea party, someone else will do all the cooking and setting up. We already have all the tablecloths and decorations. In fact, it is the perfect opportunity for us to practice the social skills we have been striving to develop.”
“I would much prefer to practice with young men than with orphan girls,” stated Alexandra.
“I agree!” Bethany exclaimed, giggling without taking her eyes off the piano keyboard as she changed the tune to a Strauss waltz.
Alexandra and Jacqueline both giggled.
“I can assure you it would give these girls the greatest joy to be treated so kindly,” pleaded Mirabella. “They receive astonishingly little attention in that place—and no love except what they give each other.”
“What musical instruments do they play?” asked Bethany, looking up from her keys.
“None,” replied Mirabella. “Susan has a beautiful voice—but they have no instruments and certainly no encouragement or musical training.”
“A world without music would be a world without magic,” murmured Bethany, shaking her head.
“We might donate some musical instruments, a used piano, or books to begin their library,” suggested Mirabella.
“They don’t have a piano?” repeated Bethany, the lovely waltz coming to an abrupt halt.
“No,” replied Mirabella.
“And no books?” asked
Princess Elena. “How do they learn?”
“They have a very few arithmetic and grammar books.”
The excitement level was rising and Mirabella was much encouraged. Not only was the plan good for the children, but the project was infusing passion and purpose into this single-minded group.
A group she was coming to like more: She could not discount Bethany’s kind heart, who was revealing more of her true feelings very day, and Jacqueline had simply been overly sheltered, she was a lovely girl as well. Alexandra—well, she was bitter but intelligent. Her ladyship used unpleasantness to cover up a wound of some type.
Mirabella had a sudden awareness that these ladies beside her were even less free than she was. Although their worries were not financial, they were far more limited in how they could present themselves to the world. There was a price for their fine dresses and jewels.
Mirabella knew in her heart she wished to set her own course—it might be terribly difficult, and society might fight her every step of the way, but she was determined to try.
“But doesn’t the organization’s trust provide for these gifts and things you are proposing?” asked Alexandra, sighing heavily.
“Apparently not,” Mirabella shrugged. “There must not be much money in the trust, and it is very expensive to run such an establishment. Though I sometimes wonder if it is more a condition of those in charge of the orphanage: their hearts do not appear to be in it.”
“It must be a place très triste,” considered Jacqueline, her eyes suddenly sad.
“I still do not see how we will have time,” argued Alexandra. “We are so busy with your project that we have no time to devote to the reason we are here. If I do not find a husband, Mirabella Carnegie, I lay that entirely at your feet!”
“Of course you will obtain a husband, Lady Alexandra, if that is what you wish!” stated Mirabella truthfully, making an expression which she hoped was one of complete boredom. “Your father is a duke, you are rich, and you are quite beautiful.”
“It might do well to speak less, Lady Alexandra,” Elena offered helpfully.
All the young ladies turned and stared at the Princess even as Bethany placed her hand over her mouth in mirth.
“Why do you look at me?” asked Princess Elena. “I am not the first to say this.”
“We must finish these gifts and start preparing for the Christmas Ball!” added Alexandra, nonplussed, waving her handkerchief. “Our first ball!”
“In what way do we need to prepare?” asked Mirabella pointedly. “We already have our gowns. We take dance classes every day. We walk across the room with books on our heads. We are taught how to hold our silverware and what we can say and what we cannot. What else must we do?”
“It has nothing to do with us, and I am tired of your acting as if you are in charge here, Mirabella Carnegie,” proclaimed Alexandra, her lips tightening.
“We will have a tea party for the orphans,” Princess Elena pronounced, lowering her head and speaking in a whisper.
“Well, I simply won’t agree to it! And I will go to Miss de Beauvais and tell her how much I dislike the idea!” huffed Alexandra.
“You dislike every idea, Alexi,” Bethany stated. Mirabella actually pitied Lady Alexandra, she was very cross, and so afraid. Afraid of not marrying well, afraid of another attack, afraid of her parents’ disapproval.
Just afraid.
Princess Elena shook her head in disapproval, her black eyes intent upon Alexandra. “I fear you have learned nothing in this school, Lady Alexandra. I am not sure why you came if you did not wish to learn to become a lady. For me, I had to learn to speak my heart. For you, it is the heart you need.”
All eyes turned to Princess Elena, with more than a few dropped jaws.
The Princess of Montenegro had found her tongue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
24
“Miss Carnegie,” began Miss de Beauvais gently but without an air of compromise. Sherlock recognized that air very well. “It is all very well to wish to do charity work, but these girls are here for a single purpose—and unfortunately, you are interfering with that purpose.”
“It is Alexandra, isn’t it?” Mirabella asked.
“No, it is the Duke of Glazebury. He is not pleased.”
“As I said, it is Alexandra.” Mirabella tapped her fingers on the desk. “If Lady Alexandra does not wish to participate, why is she simply indisposed on the day? I’m sure she does precisely what she likes at every other second of every other day. Is there any reason for her to ruin it for the rest of us—and the orphans, who so badly need the mere crumbs from our table?”
Sherlock felt the corner of his lip fighting a smile. He was rarely amused—and never so entertained as when in the company of Miss Mirabella Hudson.
“Very inappropriate to gossip about the other young ladies who are not present,” Miss de Beauvais stated with indignity.
“Not nearly as inappropriate as attempting to expel the young ladies one does not personally like,” Sherlock drawled. “Without which we would not be here gossiping. My dear niece would never dream of acting with so little Christian charity. I am surprised that you cater to such self-serving ill will, Miss de Beauvais.”
His amusement was by now entirely dissipated, even more so because Miss Belle had suddenly assumed a strange behavior.
Sherlock stared at her with consternation. Strange even for her.
He raised his eyebrow in disapproval at his ward, who was fidgeting with the contents of her reticule. Why did she pick this inopportune moment to reorganize her belongings?
Uhm-hmmm. He cleared his throat. His eyes pierced hers and he knew his meaning was clear: the entire case is on the line at this very moment.
Miss Hudson grew more and more agitated, items slipping from her fingers.
Both Sherlock and Miss de Beauvais turned towards her in perplexity, the older woman frowning with even more force than she had previously displayed. “Miss Carnegie?”
Suddenly a pound note flew out of Miss Belle’s purse, landing on Miss de Beauvais desk.
“Miss de Beauvais, would you mind to hand me my note back?” Mirabella asked sweetly.
The older woman snatched the note with a bit more force than was necessary in the emotion of the moment, an emotion which Mirabella had quite purposely escalated, Sherlock was certain. An expression of annoyance crossed the proprietress’ face for an instant before it was contained as she stared down the younger woman.
Sherlock could not help but chuckle, appreciating Miss Belle’s commentary. Even without the ruse, the clever Miss Belle knew the one thing Miss de Beauvais would be unable to resist touching: currency.
“What is this?” Miss de Beauvais demanded. “There is some type of ink on this!” She threw the note on the table, which Mirabella promptly picked up by the edges even as Miss de Beauvais searched for her handkerchief. His instructions had been to obtain the proprietress’ fingerprint upon his suspicions—and Miss Hudson’s timing was impeccable.
“I’m afraid Miss Carnegie is just not working out here,” purred Miss de Beauvais consolingly, turning towards Sherlock as she wiped her hand with her handkerchief. “She is exceedingly strongwilled.”
“Exceedingly. In the Carnegie family we don’t consider that a failing.” Sherlock Holmes tapped his fingers on the desk. Taking out his pipe he began to fill it with tobacco. “So the other girls don’t like my niece?”
“Oh, they quite look up to her, Mr. Carnegie. Otherwise, how could she have any influence one way or the other?”
“So you’re saying Miss Carnegie is a bad influence?”
“Precisely.”
“Because she wishes to aid orphans?” Sherlock took a slow leisurely puff on his pipe. He had not been so calm with Miss Hudson, accusing her of botching the mission—and rightly so. She was reckless, following her conscience above all things without thought of the consequences.
He might give the girl a hard time for her own good—but let
this high flying biddy do so, he would not.
“In a manner of speaking,” Miss de Beauvais added after a long pause.
“What type of finishing school teaches girls to be selfish? I thought the purpose of such training was to produce worthy young ladies.”
“No,” she replied definitively. “The purpose is to produce marriageable young ladies.”
“And what type of young man does a selfish, conniving young woman attract? Here I have brought you a jewel and you have attempted to taint her finish.”
“Miss Carnegie has an excellent character without question. She is simply not a good fit. I think it would be best for all concerned if you found other accommodations for her.” As greedy as she was, Miss de Beauvais did have to care about her reputation; apparently a duke pushing his weight around trumped a wealthy merchant.
“One would have thought that the proprietress would have felt an enormous gratitude toward one who had saved the life of her prize pupil. And a good thing it is that Miss Carnegie exercised her ‘strong will’ as you put it,” Sherlock stated. Why would Miss de Beauvais wish such an asset removed from her midst?
“Oh, you know about that, do you, Mr. Carnegie?” Miss de Beauvais blushed, something Sherlock would have never thought to see.
“Did you think that by removing Miss Carnegie, all this unpleasant business would simply go away? It is quite the opposite, in fact.”
“I did think Miss Carnegie to be the only one of the girls brave enough to spill the beans, so to speak. And it appears I was right.” Miss de Beauvais attempted to hide her dislike of Mirabella, but the eyes never lied.
“Or is it that you don’t wish Princess Elena to be safe?” Sherlock pressed.
“How can you say such a thing, Mr. Carnegie!” she exclaimed, having lost all composure.
“You need to repay your friends, not kick them out the door,” Sherlock mused, taking a puff on his pipe. “What am I to think?”
Miss de Beauvais cleared her throat in an agitated fashion. “I did not wish to bring it up—quite inappropriate—but there is the matter of the . . . the . . . unmentionables.”
Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess Page 18