Elspeth sniffed and fumbled in her apron pocket for a handkerchief. “I didn’t mean you.”
But she did. Deanna knew that in most ways she was no different than the others out there, taking their entitled lives for granted, everything around them extravagant and expensive. No wonder Mark Twain had called this the Gilded Age . . . but only for a select few.
Elspeth’s and Daisy’s families and others like theirs struggled every day to make ends meet. Although she was sure Joe was as generous with Orrin as possible, Deanna had no idea what Elspeth was paid.
Deanna sighed. “If Will Hennessey doesn’t get to the bottom of this soon, you and I will. Now put Daisy’s belongings away and come out so we can think.”
Deanna sat at the Sheraton writing desk and opened her sketchpad. It wouldn’t hurt to write some things down. But she stopped at the picture of Daisy lying on the rocks. She had died only two days ago, and already Deanna was forgetting details. Was the drawing missing something? The envelope. Vlady had found it in Daisy’s hand. He hadn’t said which hand or if it were crumpled or sealed. Did it matter? She’d have to ask Vlad when she saw him next.
She heard Elspeth come back into the room, and she quickly turned to a blank page.
“Come sit by me,” Deanna said. “Let’s get our thoughts organized.”
Elspeth sat and stared at the paper while Deanna wrote Woodruff Ball. She left out her speculation about the discovery of Daisy’s body. She’d go back and put that in when Elspeth wasn’t around.
“Do you know if Will questioned everyone in the servants’ hall?”
Elspeth shrugged. “He just asked everyone’s whereabouts and when was the last time anyone saw Daisy.”
“Who was the last to see her?”
“It was me, I guess,” Elspeth said. “But I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t want to get Daisy in trouble for showing me the oriel window.”
“But Daisy is past worrying about,” Deanna told her gently.
“Still, I didn’t want to put a mark against her.”
Deanna wondered how many of the other servants were holding out on the police for similar reasons. And if no one spoke, how was Will to ever find the murderer?
“I think it’s important to tell Will. If you were the last person to see her alive and if we can figure out that time—and what time Vlady found her—we’ll have a better idea of when she died.” Deanna tapped her pencil to her cheek. “And if you weren’t the last to see her, we need to know who was.”
“And what if the murderer turns out to be one of the rich folks? They’ll never arrest him, and they’ll keep Orrin in jail forever.”
“No, they won’t. Father says the new mayor is an Irishman, and I’m sure he won’t put up with favoritism.” She said this with more assurance than she actually felt. She wasn’t sure the new mayor would even care.
“So you and Daisy were watching the dance . . .” she coaxed.
“Yes. And you looked so beautiful. And Daisy said it ought be Mr. Joseph down there dancing with you, but we didn’t see him anywhere.”
Was Joe gone by then?
“And then what happened?”
“Like I told you. Daisy looked over the edge and then suddenly got up and said she had to go.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t say, but she’d seemed fine, then all of a sudden she got upset. She sounded real urgent—but not like she was going to kill herself. At first I was afraid she’d been seen, she was leaning out so far.”
Deanna nodded. Or she had seen something. “Can you remember what time it was when you went to watch?”
“Well, it was soon after we arrived, because Daisy said that would be our best chance. You know, before we’d be needed to redo hair and adjust dresses and things.”
Deanna closed her eyes. They’d arrived at the ball around ten. They hadn’t gone outside until after supper and more dancing, which would put the time at two o’clock or later.
She counted on her fingers. “Four hours. Approximately.”
“What is?”
“The time between when you last saw Daisy and when we . . . found her. Except . . .”
“What, miss?”
“It doesn’t help much, but Lady Madeline tore her hem and was looking for Daisy right after supper.”
“So?”
“She couldn’t find her. You fixed her hem, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Elspeth said indignantly. “You think Daisy was already dead then?”
Deanna sighed. “I have no idea. But it gives us another piece to the conundrum. We need to find out if anyone else saw her during those times. Then we’ll have a better idea of when she—when it happened.”
“Oh.”
“That way, if we can find out where everyone was during that time, we’ll narrow down the possible killers.”
“But what if it was a stranger who killed her, then ran away? It’ll be hopeless.”
Deanna shut her sketchbook. “Then we can just sit here and wring our hands and do nothing.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that.” Elspeth reached over and opened the sketchbook. “Ask me something else.”
Deanna picked up her pencil. She wasn’t quite sure what to ask, but she thought it would help lift Elspeth’s spirits to think they were doing something to help. “Would Daisy have been enlisted to work in the kitchen for such a large affair?”
“No, miss. The Woodruffs hired out for extra waiters. She would’ve been upstairs straightening up the withdrawing rooms while everyone was at dinner, then readying the bedchambers for the night. I know Miss Cassie’s maid was to go fetch her if Lady Madeline needed her. But I never saw her come down after the one time. Never saw her again at all.” Elspeth sighed.
“Hmm.” If Daisy had been needed for Lady Madeline in addition to following her usual routine, she should have been upstairs for most of the time in question. Except that she wasn’t; she’d been on the cliff walk, about to die. Deanna shuddered. Why had Daisy gone there? Who had she been meeting?
Will Hennessey would never have access to the information he needed to make an informed inquiry. The cottagers put up with him, but they wouldn’t help him. He was polished and educated, but he wasn’t—and would never be—one of them. Not even their servants would cooperate.
Deanna and Elspeth could learn things he couldn’t.
“Elspeth, do you think you could ask around—innocently, just conversationally—and find out who else saw Daisy? They might not want to talk to the police, but I bet with a little persuading they wouldn’t mind gossiping with you.”
“I suppose. You don’t think it would dishonor Daisy’s memory?”
“No, I think Daisy would want whoever killed her to be caught. And punished.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
“I’ll dress for dinner now, and then write some letters so I won’t be found to be a total liar. And you can take a half day tomorrow to go visit Orrin and see if he needs anything. Find out if he has any ideas about why Daisy was out on the cliff walk.”
Daisy went to prepare Deanna’s evening clothes, and Deanna sat down to write her letter.
Dear Mama—
I hope that you and Adelaide arrived safely in Boston and that Adelaide was not too ill from the trip.
Everything here is fine . . .
Joe pulled the tie from his neck and tossed it over the back of a chair. He’d spent a trying day. Orrin was still in jail despite Joe’s efforts to convince the chief of police to let him out on bail; they were both unwilling to rock the boat. They weren’t even willing to let Joe see Orrin. He could only hope that his grandmother came through on her promise to talk with the mayor.
He’d had a nasty run-in with Officer Crum, who seemed to have appointed himself Joe’s personal nemesis. The only reason it hadn’t come to blo
ws was that Crum had been restrained by several men on the force. Joe had no doubt he’d be back to settle the altercation.
And he hadn’t managed to get Deanna out of town or even to speak to her.
He needed to keep a clear head, not to let his emotions cloud his judgment. There were underhanded dealings going on in R and W Sugar Refineries. He’d visited the plants three times over the winter. Production was steady, but there was an increase in minor breakdowns, accidents, and shipping problems that couldn’t be explained away. Nothing big enough for outright accusations of sabotage, but definitely too significant to be coincidence. There were spies and saboteurs working at both plants.
There had been several attempted break-ins at his workshop as well. He’d had to hire some local men to keep an eye on it.
He knew who was behind it: H. O. Havemeyer.
The Sugar Trust had been ruthless with its other competitors. If they couldn’t buy you out, they cheated you or burned your factory down. Though none of it had been proven so far; nothing had been done about it at all.
Havemeyer had powerful friends in Washington. His chief supporter was Nelson Aldrich, the senator from right here in Rhode Island, even though not a single sugar refinery existed here. That alone was enough to raise red flags. But no one had. At least not yet. Joe was determined to stop Havemeyer from overtaking R and W, but first he needed to find out who in R and W was selling them out. And how high up the conspiracy went.
Elspeth was sitting at Deanna’s dressing table when Deanna returned to her room later that night. She jumped up and hid something behind her back.
“Oh, it’s you, miss.” She brought out the book she’d been reading.
“Are you reading ahead in the new Kate Goelet story?”
“No, this is the one Daisy borrowed. The one without the cover.” She held it up. “It’s about that man who killed his wife. You know, the Scottish doctor.”
“The one who poisoned his wife’s medicine, then played the grieving husband? That’s an old one. I’d rather read about detectives.”
Elspeth sighed and put the magazine away.
“So, did you find out anything?” Deanna asked.
“Some, but it’s a little hard to gossip when the butler, the housekeeper, and the cook are all sitting there. After tea I managed to speak to two parlor maids Flora and Greta.” She leaned forward and spoke more softly. “Flora said Mr. Woodruff likes the ladies, and the footmen told her that he takes actresses out on his yacht and parties for days sometimes.”
“That’s an awful thing to say.”
“Even if it’s true?”
Deanna didn’t know what to answer.
“But the strangest thing . . . after Flora left, Greta told me that, the night of the ball, she’d looked out the window and seen Daisy sneaking out the delivery entrance.”
Deanna sat up. “Did she say when?”
“It was before supper, but she wasn’t sure exactly when. But the odd thing is, she said Daisy came back a few minutes later.”
Was that when she’d seen Joe? Deanna wondered. She hadn’t mentioned what she’d heard to anyone except Gran Gwen, and especially not to Elspeth. “Which means she must have gone out again later. But why?”
Elspeth shrugged. “Maybe she changed her mind, then changed it again?”
“Why?” Deanna began pacing. “Why do you come back to the house after you’ve left?”
“She decided not to go? Or she forgot something and came back for it?”
“What would she have forgotten? Where was she going?”
“Not to meet Orrin,” Elspeth said.
“No, of course not. But we have to look at all possibilities to be thorough.”
“Not Orrin.”
Deanna sighed. “Okay, not Orrin.” And not Joe, Deanna said to herself. But Daisy had gone out, then come back in and gone out again. What was so important that she’d tried to leave the house twice? Had she met Joe the first or the second time she left? Was that when Cokey had seen them? And did that mean Joe had no alibi for the time Daisy was killed?
“What, miss?”
“We have to find out why she went out that night and when.” And unfortunately, Deanna knew just who to ask.
Chapter
11
By Friday it was apparent that Madeline and Lord David had passed muster with the Newport set. Morning callers descended on the household, and the invitations poured in one after another until they filled the card tray. They may have forgotten Daisy, Deanna thought, but they were more than ready to gossip about the murder, and she was relieved when the door shut on the final visitor and the family was finally left alone.
They had just gone in to luncheon when Cassie came running into the breakfast room. “Just look what Town Topics wrote about our ball.” Cassie thrust Colonel Mann’s gossip newspaper at her mother.
Everyone turned their attention to Mrs. Woodruff.
“Friday night saw the introduction of Lord David Manchester and his sister, the lovely Lady Madeline . . .” She paused to smile at her guests and continued to read.
The ball had been a success. Colonel Mann praised the newcomers, though he was less flattering to Mrs. Woodruff’s décor and fashion, and cast all sorts of innuendos about the running of the Woodruff household and her inability to protect her staff.
Mrs. Woodruff was indignant. “That horrid old geezer,” she exclaimed. “And he can put that in his paper.” She cast the paper aside and appeared to forget all about Colonel Mann and his “dirty rag.”
“But, Mama, what if everyone reads it?”
“Oh, pooh. Everyone will. I don’t give a fig for what everybody thinks.”
“What if Mrs. Vanderbilt, Mrs. Oehlrich, and Mrs. Fish get together and decide to snub us?”
“Let them. Mamie Fish is even less tasteful than I am, and as for Tessie Oehlrich, her papa made his money in the same silver mines as mine.” She reached for a piece of toast. “Mr. Woodruff and I are very well placed, right in the middle of Mrs. Astor’s precious four hundred. I’d like to see them try.”
“Who are the four hundred?” Lord David asked. “It sounds like a cavalry regiment: ‘On rode the four hundred.’”
Mrs. Woodruff flicked the air as if she were swatting at a gnat. “It’s absurd. Her social secretary—odious man, may he rest in peace—he just died this year. The idea that only four hundred upper crust families are worthy of entering Mrs. Astor’s Fifth Avenue house ballroom. Absurd. And I’m sure more than that will fit into Mrs. Alice Vanderbilt’s new ballroom at The Breakers.”
Lord David laughed. “Stop, stop. You confuse me. Astors and Vanderbilts and Fishes? You must remember, I spend my days in Barbados. And trust me, my dear lady, we don’t come close to having four hundred society families, even if we had a ballroom that would fit them.”
Mrs. Woodruff laughed heartily, then patted his hand. “We’ll have to do something about that, now, won’t we? Charles, what are your plans for Lord David’s entertainment?”
Charles looked up from where he’d been practically forehead to forehead with Madeline. “Pardon me, Mama?”
“I said, do you and Lord David have plans for today?”
“We are supposed to take a tour of Joe Ballard’s workshop, though there’s a polo match that I don’t want to miss.” He turned to Lord David. “He’s a brilliant man, his inventions are supposedly the wave of the future. But he starts talking and it’s like Greek,” Charles laughed. “But while I’m thinking about it, we’ll have to go down to Manhattan, Mama. Sunday night for a couple of days . . . look over the business, that kind of thing.”
Mr. Woodruff, who had hardly spoken at all, motioned for the wine decanter. “I’ll come with you to New York.”
“That isn’t necessary, sir. I’m sure Mr. Randolph can deal with things to your satisfaction.”
&nb
sp; “Nonetheless, I’ll accompany you.”
“Now, dear, you must protect your health and not go traipsing around worrying about things that Charles and George Randolph can manage without you.”
Madeline, who was sitting on his left, chimed in. “Oh, you can’t be so cruel and leave us alone to while away the long days without you.” She smiled at him, practically fluttered her eyelashes.
Deanna thought Mr. Woodruff would argue. But he merely smiled back at her, and said, “We wouldn’t want to disappoint our guests,” picked up the glass Neville had just filled, and took a long draught.
It seemed Lady Madeline had snared both Woodruff men with her charms. Burning with indignation for Adelaide, Deanna stared at her plate. When she looked up, Lord David was watching her.
He smiled. “My sister is an incorrigible flirt.”
“I am not,” Madeline said, and smiled. “I just enjoy the company of handsome men.” She looked from Charles to his father.
“So do I,” Cassie said. “Am I a flirt, Lord David?”
“Absolutely, but none of you can hold a candle to the incomparable La Dame Woodruff.” He lifted his glass to Mrs. Woodruff, who laughed heartily. Though to Deanna, it sounded just a little false.
When lunch was finished, Deanna asked to borrow a carriage, as she had forgotten some things in her hasty packing and needed to return home for them.
“Why don’t you just send your maid?” Maddie asked.
Deanna sighed expressively. “She never remembers everything, poor creature,” she explained with an air of hauteur for which she hoped Elspeth would forgive her.
She went upstairs and caught Elspeth just as she was leaving to visit Orrin.
“I’ve gotten the carriage. I told them I had to fetch some things from home.”
“I could have stopped and gotten what you need on my way back from seeing Orrin,” Elspeth said.
“I know, but this way is better. It gives us both an excuse to get out of the house.”
“What are you up to, Miss Deanna?”
“I’ve decided that I’m coming with you.”
A Gilded Grave Page 13
