I plucked a fallen leaf from the brim of my hat. “Times are changing.”
“They’ve always been changing, and I’ve seen festering resentments before, but somehow this is different. Sometimes I’m afraid Newport doesn’t belong to us anymore—to those of us who were born here and live every day of our lives here. This city’s become the property of . . .” He stopped short with a sheepish look.
“Of people like my relatives.”
He nodded. “People like the Vanderbilts do a lot of good. Progress, charities, universities. But those are general things. They seem blind when it comes to the daily lives of ordinary people. They came sweeping into Newport twenty years ago and began reshaping it to suit their desires, and I don’t see that we’re any the better for it.”
I touched his forearm. “I don’t think we can blame my relatives and their friends for today’s events. Can they be faulted for wanting what is new and innovative?”
“The best money can buy,” Jesse said with a touch of bitterness. It wasn’t like him, this blanket condemnation of an entire group of people. He knew as well as I that money or no, there were good people and bad people and every type of character in between. He was tired, I reasoned. Tired and still worried about his physical recovery.
I could not help him with that, but I could prevent him from worrying about me; that much I could and would do for him. “I’ll go home. You’re right. I could use some of Nanny’s strong tea. Would you like to join me?”
“I have work to do.” He gestured to where the uniformed policemen were gathering up those protesters who had resorted to violence. I nodded, having already known he wouldn’t be sipping tea with me at Gull Manor. Keeping busy at his profession would be the best medicine for him. “We’ll be letting most of them go,” he assured me. “But a few hours at the station house might persuade them to mind their manners next time.”
* * *
When Mrs. Hendricks telephoned, I considered alerting Jesse at the police station and letting him handle this new matter. I even told Nanny that that was my intention. She chuckled, and coaxed me to finish my tea before I returned to Ochre Court.
“I just said I’d let Jesse see to the matter,” I pointed out with an indignant huff.
“I know you all too well, Emma. When a call comes, you answer it.”
I pushed my teacup aside on the kitchen table, where we often had tea in the afternoons, rather than bring our light repast to the front rooms of the house. It was easier, and in our informal household, there was no one to raise an eyebrow at our lack of decorum. “You’re right, Nanny. Mrs. Hendricks said Camille has left the house and the necklace is gone. I need to go.”
She pushed my cup and saucer back toward me. “But not before you drink up and finish your sandwich.” Nanny had made her delicious chicken salad with the leftovers from last night’s roast.
“Perhaps I should go with you, Miss Emma.” Katie drained her own cup and stood to bring her dishes to the kitchen sink. Patch, lying on the mat by the garden door, stirred and lifted his head, no doubt hoping for a falling crumb or two.
“You know, Emma, that might not be a bad idea.” Nanny refilled her cup from the old earthenware teapot—the one guests never saw. “Maybe what this Camille won’t admit to you, she’ll say to Katie.”
Katie turned around from the sink, a dripping washrag suspended in one hand. “Or do you suppose a lady’s maid would turn up her nose at a maid-of-all-work?”
“Camille might balk at talking to me, but I can guarantee you Mrs. Hendricks will know the truth before too long. Camille left the house, and the necklace she stashed under her mattress is gone—the necklace that matches the broken section Grace and I found in Cleo’s bedroom. There can only be so many explanations for this, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to figure out which of them is the truth.”
“Poor Camille.” Katie sighed and took the cup and saucer I handed her.
Nanny scoffed. “Poor Camille? That’s not what you said the other day. You said someone should remind her of her place.”
“And so they should.” Katie added more washing soda to the dishwater. “Still, I can’t help feeling sorry for her. Stealin’ from her employer like that? She’ll likely go to jail, won’t she?” Katie shuddered. “It’ll be awful for her, and maybe she did it for her family. Maybe someone’s sick like, and they’re needin’ the money.”
I hadn’t the heart to contradict my kindhearted maid. Camille might indeed need money, but it was to facilitate her marriage to Dorian Norris, and not out of any desire to help anyone else. Perhaps she would go to prison for her crime. I only hoped that crime didn’t include murder.
A short time later, I drove up Ochre Court’s service drive and was discreetly admitted by the housekeeper. She hadn’t told me much on the telephone, and I didn’t quite know what to expect. What if Camille had taken the diamond necklace and left the island? Had it been a foolish decision on my part not to confront her immediately?
Mrs. Hendricks’s satisfied expression piqued my curiosity further as she led me to her private parlor and closed the door. In a high-backed, uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, Camille sat stiffly upright, her eyes glittering shards of anger. A young footman stood at attention a few feet from her.
“The moment I realized she’d left the premises, I sent Edgar after her. He followed her into town and intercepted her outside Herrmann’s Jewelers on Thames Street.”
“I know the place.” I regarded Camille’s defiant expression. “What can you have been thinking?”
“I can tell you that.” Mrs. Hendricks spoke with the brisk efficiency of someone who was no one’s fool. “She intended selling the piece and boarding the first ship, skiff, or wherry to the mainland.”
“That’s not true,” Camille snapped.
“Didn’t you realize the jeweler would question where you got the necklace?” My incredulity quelled any outrage I might have expressed. Her actions left me truly baffled. “You wouldn’t have made it to Jamestown before he sent the police after you.”
“I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” the young woman insisted. Her obstinacy also puzzled me. I would have thought she’d show an ounce of contrition to win our sympathies.
Mrs. Hendricks addressed Edgar. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
He took a step forward, almost like a child’s tin soldier put into play. “It didn’t take me long to catch up to her, although I stayed far enough back that she never noticed me. She went straight to Herrmann’s. No detours. Walked like she had a purpose.”
“Of course I had a purpose,” Camille interrupted, nearly spitting the last word.
Mrs. Hendricks made a slashing gesture at the air. “Go on, Edgar.”
“When she reached the shop she just stood staring through the window, not like she was admiring the trinkets on display, but like she was steeling herself to do something. Then she nodded, like she made a decision, and went inside. I went in right after her. I told Mr. Herrmann what she was up to and what my errand was, and I told Miss Tate if she didn’t come back to Ochre Court with me she’d be having a visit to the police station instead. Mr. Herrmann offered to telephone the station, but I told him no, we would handle it here.”
“Thank you, Edgar.” Mrs. Hendricks lifted her eyebrows as if all questions had been answered and Camille found guilty as charged. Yet, I wondered . . . “That will be all, Edgar. You may go.”
The young man frowned, clearly wishing to remain and see how matters progressed. I suspected theft at Ochre Court rarely if ever happened, especially under the sharp watch of Mrs. Hendricks. Other than the horrendous occurrence the night of the ball, this incident had probably constituted the single most exciting day of Edgar’s career. With no choice but to resume his regular duties, he dragged his feet as he crossed the room.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Camille leaped up from her chair and rushed to where I stood. “This is all a misunderstanding. I would never steal from Miss Ilsa. I
was only trying to make things right before she found out . . .”
“Be silent, girl, and sit back down. No one told you to get up.” The housekeeper said more calmly to me, “I had her brought back here only because of your request, Miss Cross. But I believe it’s time we called in the police.”
I thought Camille might speak up against that idea, but she merely dragged herself back to her chair, plunked herself down into it, crossed her arms, and assumed an insolent slouch. I had no argument for the housekeeper’s suggestion either. Despite Camille’s protests, she had been caught in the act, both of having stolen merchandise hidden beneath her bed, and of attempting to dispose of it. If the theft also connected Camille to Cleo’s murder, the police needed to know. But would a few more minutes make a difference?
“May I ask her a few questions first, Mrs. Hendricks?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. She’s certainly not going anywhere now.”
“Where is the necklace?” I asked. The housekeeper retrieved the familiar velvet bag from her desk and handed it to me. I opened the drawstrings and poured the strand of diamonds into my palm. They glittered innocently in the glare of the room’s electric lamps, as though I held a handful of stars.
Perhaps it had not been fair of me to forgo questioning Camille when we first discovered the necklace in her possession. My thinking had been to watch her, to find out what her next move would be, and whether she would somehow implicate herself in Cleo’s death. But assuming she had nothing to do with the murder, had I allowed her to further incriminate herself by falling prey to temptation?
I had known desperate women before, aplenty. They had performed desperate, and some would say immoral acts, but through understanding their plight I had declined to judge them and had found ways to help them. Instead of approaching Camille’s situation with understanding, however, I had assumed the worst of her from the start. Perhaps I had done so because of the aggrieved way she had spoken of being in service, or had it been because of her secret courtship with Dorian Norris? Had I judged her because of it?
Perhaps I had allowed society’s unfairness to color my own thinking, so that I had, without quite realizing it, found fault with the notion of a maid marrying a member of the Four Hundred. I cringed to consider it and became determined to help her if I could. I didn’t know if I could protect Camille from the law, but perhaps I could help her explain her actions to the police, and thereby help her face the coming ordeal.
I brought a side chair closer to her and sat. She pulled away as though trying to distance herself from me. Pretending not to notice, I spoke kindly but firmly. “Camille, tell us why you took the necklace. Was it an act of revenge against what you perceived to be unfair treatment by Miss Cleo? Or did you steal it as a means of being able to marry Dorian Norris? You must tell us exactly what happened if we are to help you.”
In any other circumstances I would have expected a humble, beseeching reply. Not from Camille. Instead, she once more vacated her seat and swept by me, going to the far wall to peer up through the high-set window. She stood there for several seconds, her chest heaving, her breath as audible as if she had just finished an arduous race. The housekeeper and I traded mystified looks. When Camille whirled to face us, it was not with meekness or shame, but with brazen hostility.
“I did no such thing, but at least someone has finally asked me what happened. I’ll thank you for that, Miss Cross, if not for your suspicions. I never stole that necklace. It was given to me.”
“By whom?” Mrs. Hendricks demanded.
“By Miss Cleo. She’s the one who stole it, from Miss Ilsa.”
Chapter 14
Camille took in our astonished expressions. “That’s right,” she said, “Miss Cleo stole it from Miss Ilsa’s room the day before the ball. It had belonged to their mother, the most valuable thing she had owned, passed down to her from her grandmother. Being the elder sister, Miss Ilsa inherited it when their mother died.”
The moment she paused for a breath I stole my chance to question her claim. “Assuming Miss Cleo did steal this from her sister, why would she then give it to you? That makes no sense.”
“Oh, it does. You see, Miss Cleo broke the necklace. I don’t know how, I wasn’t there at the time. But that morning, she called me into her room to help her dress, and she brought out the necklace. She said she was going to wear it later at the ball, and told me to put it on her so she could see how it looked. When I did, it simply fell apart in my hands.” Camille’s hands fisted and went to her hips in a show of outrage. “She tried to blame me, said I pulled the setting apart. I never did, it was a lie, and I knew she had already broken it but wanted someone to blame.”
“You argued with her that morning,” I said, remembering what the housemaid, Nora, had told me.
Camille was nodding. “You’re right, we argued. I didn’t like being accused of something I didn’t do. It wasn’t fair. But Miss Cleo said it would be my word against hers, and her father would send me packing. She made me take the necklace and ordered me to take it to town and have it fixed on the sly. It couldn’t have been ready in time for the ball, but as soon as it was ready, I suppose Miss Cleo would have slipped it back into Miss Ilsa’s room.”
“Didn’t she worry that Miss Ilsa would wish to wear the necklace to the ball?” I asked.
Camille shook her head. “Miss Ilsa never wore the necklace. She said it brought too much attention to her, and she didn’t like that. She treasures it, though, because it was her mother’s. She said she planned to give it to her sister’s daughter someday, if she ever had one. You know, because she can’t have children of her own.”
“And you were taking the necklace to be repaired when Edgar found you at Herrmann’s.”
“That’s right, Miss Cross. Just trying to right a wrong without Miss Ilsa finding out. I . . .” She glanced down at her feet, then back up at me with fierce expression. “I didn’t like to hurt Miss Ilsa with the knowledge her sister stole from her. She didn’t have to ever know that, did she? She deserves to properly mourn Miss Cleo without bad feelings.”
“If any of this is true, you were taking an awful chance,” Mrs. Hendricks said sternly. “It certainly looks as though you stole this necklace.”
“Then why on earth would I bring it to a jewelry store here in Newport? Why wouldn’t I hide it until we all left the island and try to sell it somewhere in New York? Then if Miss Ilsa discovered the piece missing, I could have denied everything. She might have thought it was lost during her travels.”
“Except that we found the necklace beneath your mattress.”
Camille started, her gaze locking with Mrs. Hendrick’s imperious one. I watched as a realization dawned on her. “You went through my room?”
“That’s right.” The housekeeper’s chin lifted higher. “There is no privacy in this house for anyone suspected of stealing.”
“But . . . why?” She was genuinely taken aback. “How could you have known about the necklace at all?”
I opened my handbag and drew out the small strand of diamonds I’d found in Cleo’s bedroom. “Because of this. I found it in Miss Cleo’s bedroom the day after she died. And then when I was told about an argument coming from Miss Cleo’s room the morning of the ball, I deduced this broken necklace could have had something to do with it.”
“I don’t understand.” Camille assumed a puzzled frown. “Why wouldn’t Miss Cleo have given me all the pieces to have fixed?”
That was a very good question. I stared down at the gems in my palm, and an unsavory truth dawned. I thought of Cleo’s fine dresses but lack of jewelry and accessories. “I wonder if Cleo never meant to wear this necklace at the ball, and purposely broke it in order to keep a fistful of diamonds for herself.”
Camille’s mouth dropped open. The housekeeper nodded sagely. “You may be right about that, Miss Cross.” She turned to address Camille. “Would Miss Cleo have needed money?”
When Camille hesitated, I raised my su
spicions concerning the family’s finances. “I noticed the fine gowns among Cleo’s possessions, but an utter lack of anything else of value. That’s unusual for a young woman coming out. I’m going to guess that this necklace is the only piece of costly jewelry the family owns these days.”
“There was more jewelry,” Camille admitted, and then hastily added, “I don’t know what happened to the rest.” Her chin came up defensively. “But little by little the sisters stopped wearing the other jewelry they inherited from their mother. None of it was as fine as that necklace, but nothing to sneer at either.”
Perhaps Cleo hoped to obtain enough money from the diamonds she kept to allow her to put off marriage for a while. To escape Silas Griggson. Perhaps she planned to steal off somewhere and live quietly until a more favorable option presented itself. We would never know for sure, but it seemed the most likely answer. For now, I wanted to believe Camille’s story. Despite her haughtiness, or perhaps because of it, she had gained my sympathy. “I’m afraid there is little choice but to see if Miss Ilsa will corroborate any of Camille’s story.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, Miss Cross.” Mrs. Hendricks released a regretful sigh. “And it’s going to be a sad moment either for Miss Ilsa, realizing her sister stole from her . . .” Her gaze shifted to Camille and narrowed. “Or for this one here, if we find out she’s lying and call the police and have her hauled away.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” I said to the housekeeper, “I’m going to take Camille upstairs.”
The woman frowned. “Without me?”
“Mrs. Hendricks, this matter is now between Miss Ilsa, Camille, and I, and I am acting on behalf of Detective Whyte.” That was almost true, and I hoped the housekeeper didn’t challenge me on it. I firmly believed this next round of questioning would be easier on Ilsa with fewer people in the room, not to mention the woman’s stern expressions wouldn’t help either. “Since Camille doesn’t work for you and Ilsa isn’t a permanent member of this household, I simply don’t see any reason for you to accompany us, although I do thank you for your assistance in the matter thus far.”
Murder at Ochre Court Page 20
