A Golden Cage

by Shelley Freydont

  Was she being polite, or did she really want Deanna to stay? Deanna couldn’t trust herself to know.

  “But if it’s merely because you argued with Joseph. Well, let me say, you needn’t think that Joseph’s attitudes reflect those of this family. Young people can be headstrong. That is a good thing. He’ll either come round or he won’t; that’s his choice.”

  “But am I an embarrassment to my family and yours?”

  “He said that?” Gran Gwen laughed with such mirth that Elspeth stuck her head out of the dressing room, where Deanna knew she was listening to the conversation.

  “You’re an independent woman in training.” Gran Gwen raised her voice. “And so are you, Elspeth. Why don’t you come out here where you’ll be more comfortable?”

  Elspeth’s head reappeared, her eyes as round as the cheeses at Horn’s market. She stepped a few feet into the room.

  “Your mistress is one of the bright young women of her class who holds the future for all women. You will do your best to see that she remains safe . . . and well dressed. You may argue with her politely, but be respectful of her decisions.”

  Elspeth nodded, caught somewhere between a curtsey and a reply. Deanna could tell she thought Gran Gwen was raving mad.

  Deanna was wondering about that herself.

  “Deanna. You’re smart and curious. You must walk a fine line in society and be sure not to cross over it . . . well, not often anyway, and not until you have a developed cachet. You will not put yourself in danger if at all possible. Do you understand?”

  Deanna nodded. She knew how Elspeth felt—she couldn’t manage to get words out, either.

  “And you must have a brilliant Newport season or none of us will ever hear the end of it.”

  Deanna had gone to bed relieved, but still she tossed in her sleep. She was amazed that Gran Gwen had actually licensed her behavior . . . to a point. But that’s not why she stayed awake. She was thinking about Amabelle Deeks and poor Charlie, as he’d come to be called.

  She knew it was imperative to find Belle, if she were still alive. Deanna was lucky that she had someone she could trust, but she imagined Belle in hiding somewhere, frightened and alone. Maybe she didn’t have the good fortune of having someone she could talk to, who understood her. Her parents might change their minds and forgive her for running away.

  But she’d never know unless she was found.

  She finally fell asleep in the wee hours; at a crossroads no longer. She would help Belle if she could, and she would become her own woman, and Joe could just like it or lump it.

  * * *

  Both Laurette and Gran Gwen were in the breakfast room when Deanna came down the next morning. Deanna was dressed demurely in a visiting gown of peach and yellow muslin. Laurette and Gran Gwen were conservatively dressed as well.

  “Good morning,” Deanna said, feeling just a little more grown-up and self-assured than she had the night before.

  Gran Gwen gave her a warm smile. “Ready to face morning calls?”

  “Yes indeed,” Deanna said, filling her plate from the sideboard.

  “I confess, I’m ready for a little gossip,” Gran Gwen said. “There must have been some word about the missing child, Amabelle.”

  Laurette put down the toast she’d been buttering. “I telephoned her mother yesterday. The police had notified them of Amabelle’s disappearance. They’re very upset, as you can imagine.”

  “Are they coming to Newport?”

  Laurette, who had just picked up her piece of toast again, put it down. “No. Which I find very odd. What parent wouldn’t want to be on hand?”

  “Do you know what the rift was about?” Gwen asked.

  “No. She just said they hadn’t spoken to her in two years.”

  “Then, why did they ask you to look in on her?” Deanna asked. “Why now?”

  “I have no idea. Rosalie, her mother, just said she’d been thinking about her lately.”

  “But she must be keeping up with her life, or how would she know that she was going to be in Newport?”

  “An excellent question,” Gran Gwen said.

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t confide in me. I tried to find out. I thought it might help Will’s investigation, and you know how women are more likely to talk to other women than to men, especially one in an official capacity. But I had no luck. I guess I don’t have the knack for ferreting out secrets.”

  “Never mind, dear, you organize brilliantly.”

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  * * *

  The first stop on the round of calls was Maude Grantham. The gilded cages, the exotic birds, the fireworks, had all been removed. Only the tents and the stage stood forlorn and empty at the edge of the lawn. This morning the Grantham cottage looked more like a municipal building than a summer retreat.

  Though Deanna supposed that was fitting for a judge. The carriage stopped at the front entrance at the center of a shallow loggia that was fronted by four Corinthian columns. They were shown through to the morning parlor, where Maude Grantham sat with her daughter, Drusilla Edgerton.

  “Madame Manon, Mrs. Ballard, and Miss Deanna Randolph,” the butler announced, and stood aside for the ladies to enter.

  “Ah, Gwen, Mrs. Ballard, Miss Randolph. How kind of you to call.”

  And so it would go all morning, the insipid talk of weather and parties.

  But Deanna had never gone visiting with Gran Gwen before.

  Gwen bustled ahead of the others. “Oh, my dear, Maude, you must be bouleversée over what happened. And the Judge, for such a thing to happen on his birthday, of all days.” She tsked.

  Deanna had never heard Gran Gwen tsk ever before.

  “What were those awful people doing in your house?” Maude countered.

  Gwen leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, my dear, the girl’s mother was at school in Montreux with Laurette. The Chateau Mont Choisi. Lovely family. But these girls today. Ran away from home, leaving her mother distraught. As a friend, Laurette could only see if she could help bring mother and daughter together again.”

  Deanna glanced at Laurette, wondering how she was taking this total fabrication. And was shocked to see her looking very demure and smiling slightly, as if to say, What’s another mother to do?

  Deanna thought the actors had nothing over Gran Gwen and Laurette. And she was struck for the first time, blindingly so, as to how façade was all-important to society. She’d known this, of course. But she’d always been looking at it from the inside out; today she was watching it objectively.

  “And what do you make of this, Miss Randolph? After what we’ve been hearing of you, I would think you’d be happy to have a murder right under your nose.”

  “Mama,” Drusilla exclaimed.

  Deanna blinked, but kept her aplomb. “I could never be happy of a death, ma’am. A terrible tragedy.”

  “I wish I had never thought to bring those horrid people here,” Drusilla said. “But Papa loves the theater. Edgerton and I thought it would be the perfect gift. Only I couldn’t get Gilbert and Sullivan.”

  They all assured her that it was not her fault.

  Deanna felt a little sorry for her. It couldn’t be easy being the daughter of the Judge and his wife. She sat ramrod straight on her chair, so close to the edge that one jostle might have sent her to the floor.

  None of them really noticed when the door opened and Walter Edgerton strode in, checked, and said, “Ladies.”

  They all looked up as if caught in something clandestine.

  Gran Gwen, of course, recovered first, even more quickly than his mother-in-law or wife.

  “Dear Walter, we were just telling Drusilla how much we enjoyed the Judge’s birthday fete. Lovely, just lovely,” she gushed. “The gardens were transformed into a paradise. So clever, Maude. Where did you find all those exoti
c birds?”

  “Why I . . . well, actually, I had not much to do with the arrangements. Drusilla and Walter offered to arrange it all. I have no fondness for theater, as you must know, but the Judge does enjoy a good play.”

  “Though perhaps not the caliber we’d hoped for,” Walter said.

  Drusilla flinched and sat even straighter, if that was possible. “I was just telling our friends that I was unable to obtain the Gilbert and Sullivan troupe that is touring the States this month and next.”

  “Yes, well, you did your best on short notice. Though the subject matter left something to be desired.”

  “Papa enjoyed it greatly; he told me so.”

  “Yes, dear.” Walter Edgerton smiled indulgently at his wife, and Deanna understood what Gran Gwen had told her the night before. She would never marry someone who was as condescending and dismissive of her as Walter Edgerton was with Drusilla.

  “I don’t agree,” Gran Gwen said, jumping into the fray. “Bedouins perhaps were a bit far-fetched, but I’m sure they were Christian bedouins. After all, they could have carried those poor women off to their oasis, or whatever. But they all had a proper marriage in the end.”

  “Yes,” Drusilla said as if it had just occurred to her.

  Edgerton bowed slightly. “You’re absolutely correct, Mrs. Manon. Being a man, I’m not equipped to see the nuances of the script. Though I do believe it can be said I know my fellow man. And we all know what actors are.”

  Deanna was sure that Gran Gwen or Laurette would say something, but they both held their peace.

  Maude Grantham’s smile was growing tighter. “If only those people hadn’t wrecked everything by killing someone. Or at least they could have waited until they were back in New York. Despicable creatures.”

  Gwen nodded sympathetically. “Well, you have the consolation of knowing that it was my conservatory, not yours, that was chosen for the deed.”

  “Yes, and why was that?” Walter asked.

  “I assure you, Walter,” Laurette broke in, “none of us have the slightest idea.”

  “I’ve heard that you were acquainted with the family of the girl who killed him, this actor.”

  Deanna started to protest, but caught herself just in time. She was in the company of seasoned sparrers. She would sit back, listen, and learn.

  “As far as I’ve heard,” Gwen said, “they haven’t charged the girl with any crime. Innocent until proven guilty. I’m sure being a prosecutor, you would agree with that.”

  Edgerton smiled. He was tall and thin, with a high forehead and light brown hair. He carried himself with a certain elegance, though Deanna couldn’t imagine him as the persuasive prosecutor he was known to be.

  “Yes, quite. Though I must say, where has she gotten herself off to?”

  “I wish they would just find her and let those awful people leave town,” Maude mumbled, and reached for her smelling salts. “Their sets and costumes are being stored in our stable. We had to house our horses in town and now they are stuck there, and even though I send the grooms down every day to attend them, I know they aren’t receiving the attention they deserve, and it makes going anywhere so inconvenient.

  “And those tents and that hideous stage; I’m sure they’ve ruined the landscaping. It’s like living next to a shantytown.” She sniffed. “Not that I’ve ever seen a shantytown.”

  “I’m sure they are just as anxious to leave as you are to see them go.”

  “I wish they had never come.”

  Drusilla made a choking sound. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Nonsense,” Laurette said. “And I’m sure they’ll be gone soon. I imagine having to pay for room and board while not working is creating a strain among them. Though, of course, you’ve so graciously offered to compensate them for their loss of income. That is very generous, Maude, I must say.”

  Mrs. Grantham merely nodded, giving Laurette that cold half smile she gave everyone. Drusilla was the only one of the three who looked surprised.

  “Well,” Gwen said, “we must be going. I told Samuel I’d drop in to see how you were getting on. Please, if I can help in any way, don’t hesitate to let me know.” Gran Gwen stood. Laurette and Deanna stood, and Walter walked them to the door.

  “Thank you so much for coming. Mother-in-law has been very upset in the face of this unfortunate event. Poor Drusilla feels responsible, though I’ve tried to convince her otherwise. The Gilbert and Sullivan players were in Baltimore and couldn’t possibly arrive and set up in time for the fete. Good day, ladies.”

  Edgerton bowed, and the butler showed them out the door.

  “Well,” Gran Gwen said as soon as the carriage started down the drive. “Poor Drusilla. To give up life with Maude and Samuel to life with Walter is a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

  “Well, at least they have their own town house in Manhattan,” Laurette said. “And only have to live with the Judge and Maude while in Newport.”

  “They are very odd,” Deanna said. “He seemed like he was trying to make his wife feel better, but made her feel worse. And it’s strange, but I can’t help thinking he was doing it on purpose.”

  “Very astute,” Gwen said.

  “I’d bet it was probably more out of habit than done intentionally. Men sometimes have no idea of the damage they can do.”

  They certainly don’t, Deanna thought. Someone should tell that to Joe.

  “Why didn’t he go back to town with the Judge?” Deanna asked.

  “A good question,” Gwen said. “I’m sure Drusilla wishes he would.”

  “I don’t know, Mama. She doesn’t seem to have a mind of her own. Maybe she sees being with him as better than living at home the full year round,” said Laurette. “His attitude toward justice is absolutely medieval. And they say the Judge is grooming him to take over from him when he retires from the bench.”

  “Well, we might not agree with their opinions, but the one thing you can say about the Judge is that his opinions are his own. Walter, on the other hand, is in danger of becoming a parrot.”

  “Of Judge Grantham?” Deanna asked.

  “The Judge or anyone with the right kind of influence,” Gwen said.

  “You mean he’s dishonest?”

  “Not necessarily,” Laurette said. “There are judges quite willing to be bribed, but what Mama means is that the law, like religion, can be influenced, and not just by money.”

  “He’s already as pompous as the Judge,” Gwen said.

  “Gran Gwen, did Mrs. Grantham really give money to help pay for the actors’ extra stay?”

  “Of course not, my dear, but hopefully I can shame her into doing it.” Gran sat back against the squabs of the seat. “I feel absolutely invigorated. On whom shall we call next?”

  “Mama, if it’s all right with you . . .”

  “Yes, Laurette?”

  “I think I would like to go home.”

  “Are you not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine, but I feel I should go to Rosalie and explain to her just how dire the situation is. I don’t know why she’s so stubborn about Amabelle’s choices in life. It’s odd, but even though actresses do enjoy freedoms that most of us don’t, most of them are hardworking, honest, decent people.”

  “Yes, I was thinking that something needs to be done,” Gwen agreed. “The cottagers won’t have their lives disrupted for long. If they don’t find Amabelle soon, they’ll accuse another one of the actors of the murder.”

  When the carriage stopped at the corner, Gran Gwen said, “Jasper, there’s been a change of plan. We’ll return home now.”

  The coachman touched his cap and turned the carriage south.

  As soon as they arrived at Bonheur, Laurette went immediately upstairs to summon her maid.

  “Shall we sit in the conservatory? It’s a sunny da
y. Or is it too morbid to do so?”

  “No,” Deanna said. “At least . . . well, we’ll have to start sitting in it someday.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  It was hard not to imagine Charlie Withrop lying on the floor with his head bashed in. Gran Gwen walked right past the place and sat at the far end of the conservatory. Someone, Carlisle probably, had thought to face the chairs out to the sea rather than toward the interior of the room, and Deanna breathed more easily.

  “I wonder if we’ll see Joseph today,” Gwen said.

  Deanna didn’t care if she ever saw him again.

  “I wonder if he’s talked to Will about any progress they’ve made on the case.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Deanna said tightly.

  Gran Gwen smiled. “I surmise that Joe has a very deep hole he must climb out of before he’s forgiven.”

  Deanna bit her lip. “Very deep.”

  Gran Gwen sighed.

  Deanna heard movement behind them, and she turned to see Laurette hurrying toward them.

  “My diamond pendant earrings are gone.”

  “Oh Lord. Are you sure you didn’t misplace them?”

  Laurette pursed her lips at Gwen. “I remember putting them on the top of my jewelry box the night of the Judge’s birthday fete. I was going to wear them, but worried about losing them on the lawn. They’re the ones Lionel gave me on our first trip to Brazil. And my favorites.

  “I crawled on hands and knees, thinking they might have been knocked onto the floor by the chambermaid, but they’re gone.

  “That little minx, Amabelle, must have taken them. That’s why she disappeared so suddenly. Not because a man lay dead in our conservatory but because she had lifted my diamonds. Well, let her just try to hock those around here.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Really, Laurette, sometimes I’m shocked at your knowledge of slang.”

  “It’s from consorting with the other half, Mama,” she said in an exaggeratedly prim voice.

  “Cuss like a sailor, is more like it.”