“What?”
Cassie laughed. “Aunt Tillie’s such an old biddy and always says a dress is too daring just because it has an interesting décolleté. Well, I certainly don’t care.” Cassie was wearing an apricot visiting dress with a more than “interesting” décolleté, which she must have picked knowing that her aunt would be chaperoning.
“I don’t think I—”
“Oh, no thinking today. We’re just going to have fun.”
Easy for Cassie to say; she hardly ever worried about things. But Deanna did. There was so much to worry about. Maybe “worry” was the wrong term—it was more like “wonder”—about things she didn’t understand. Like how scientists could estimate how many stars there were in the sky, or how Thomas Edison figured out how to make a telephone. Or why Joe had given up everything to go invent machines. Or why Madeline let her brother kiss her like that. She was always thinking about something. Except now, she was just thinking about a cup of coffee.
“. . . so we won’t have a lot of time to shop.”
“Wait, wait,” Deanna said, realizing that Cassie was still chattering on about their plans for the day. “Start over.”
The maid came in with another tray. Cassie poured a cup for Deanna and another for herself.
Deanna breathed in the steaming aroma and took a sip. “Bridget, please send Elspeth to me.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Invitations are pouring in,” Cassie said. “Lord David and Madeline are the talk of the town.”
Along with the murder at the Woodruff ball, Deanna thought wryly. Newport loved a good scandal. And even though the death of a maid wasn’t at all titillating, the fact that her body had lain in full view of the Woodruffs’ guests would be fodder for malicious tongues.
“So, do hurry up and dress. There’s so much to do before the beach tonight. I must have a new frock to wow Vlady.”
Deanna didn’t mention that in the dark on the sand was hardly the ideal circumstance for a display of fashion. Not that those conditions would stop any of the ladies from dressing extravagantly.
“Now, what are you going to wear today?” Cassie headed for the dressing room. Deanna thought of Daisy’s bundle, which Elspeth had left there. She didn’t want Cassie seeing it and asking questions.
“Cassie, come back here.”
Cassie stuck her head out of the door.
“Go sit in that chair over by the window. Elspeth will give you such a scold if you’ve messed anything up.”
Cassie threw up her hands in mock fear but came back into the room. “Fine, but please do get up.”
Deanna pointed to the princess chair by the far window.
Cassie sighed, flounced over to it, and plopped down. “You’re worse than Maddie.”
“Where is Madeline today?”
Cassie groaned. “Still sleeping.”
“Which is what I’d like to be doing.”
“Dee-ee.”
Deanna gave it up and rolled out of bed. When Elspeth came in a few minutes later, Deanna’s face was washed, her teeth were brushed, and she was sitting at her dressing table pulling out her braid, while Cassie finished off Deanna’s breakfast.
Elspeth took one look at the breakfast tray and moved the plate away from Cassie. She poured Deanna another cup of coffee, then finished unbraiding her hair.
“So, anyway,” Cassie said through a mouthful of toast and marmalade, “have you heard from your mama about when she’s returning?”
Deanna shook her head. “No, but she’s only been gone for two days.”
“Well, I hope Adelaide is better, but I hope they stay away for another week. Because the Fishes are having a dress ball next weekend. And we know how your mama feels about the Fishes.”
Deanna knew. It was the same way her mama felt about a lot of families whom she considered “fast” or “ill bred.”
“Though I must say, Adelaide should get back here and claim her territory.”
“Charles?”
Cassie nodded and took another bite of Deanna’s toast.
“He’s paying particular attention to Maddie, isn’t he?” It seemed to Deanna that all the gentlemen were paying undo attention to Lady Madeline. Deanna squelched the thought. She didn’t want to become like her mother, passing judgment on every little thing.
Cassie shrugged. “Well, you have to admit, she’s very beautiful and charming, and with Adelaide always having the headache, it can’t be much fun for him.”
Or for Adelaide, Deanna thought.
“I wouldn’t mind having Maddie for a sister-in-law but I’d rather have you. Besides Charles isn’t a jilt.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Dee, I’m sorry.”
Elspeth had been twisting Deanna’s hair into a chignon, but she stopped.
“It’s all right, Cassie,” Deanna said. “Joe didn’t actually jilt me, since he never got around to asking me.”
“But the expectations. It must be so mortifying.”
“Not really,” Deanna lied. Though it did seem less important since Daisy’s death. A lot of things seemed less important, and some things meant more.
“Miss Cassie, will you please be quiet so Miss Deanna will hold still?”
“Sorry, you grumpy old thing.”
“Hmmph,” Elspeth said. “She’d be ready sooner if you’d stop distracting her.”
“Okay. I’ll go pester Maddie. But hurry up or we won’t have enough time to shop before luncheon.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Elspeth held on to Deanna’s hair. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had a proper breakfast, since yours seems to have disappeared. And some people have had two.”
Cassie grinned. “Do you think I’m too plump?” She jumped up and twirled around. “Vlady Howe said he likes a handful.”
“Miss Cassie!” Elspeth said.
“Well, he does.”
“Shoo.”
“He does,” Cassie backed toward the door.
Elspeth raised her brush.
Cassie trilled a laugh and was gone.
“That girl will get herself in trouble if she’s not careful.” Elspeth sniffed.
They were both silent as she finished Deanna’s hair, both thinking of Daisy and wondering if that kind of trouble was why she had plunged off the cliff.
Chapter
14
It was an hour before Maddie appeared. She tripped down the stairs like she’d been awake for hours, so carefree that Deanna had a hard time believing she’d seen what she knew she’d seen.
Cassie and Maddie chatted away while Deanna tried to block the image of Madeline and Lord David locked in a passionate embrace. That kiss. The way his hand had roved down her back then around to her—she blushed even thinking about it. Or about how watching it or even thinking about it now made her feel.
“Come along, Miss Thinker,” Madeline said.
“What? Oh.” Deanna said and followed them into the parlor.
A few minutes later, Aunt Tillie’s carriage stopped at the front door. Mrs. Woodruff waved at her sister from the doorway and told the girls to have a good time. The three young women descended the steps to where Tillie’s coachman, a somber older servant dressed in dark blue livery, opened the carriage door.
“Chip chop,” Tillie called from inside the closed carriage.
Cassie rolled her eyes and climbed first into the carriage. She took the seat next to her aunt, and Deanna and Madeline sat across. Deanna tried not to stare at the older woman, but since she was directly across from Deanna, it was nearly impossible not to notice her sunken cheeks and how the face powder caked into the lines around her nose and mouth.
It was hard to believe that Mrs. Woodruff and Tillie were sisters. Deanna wondered if people said the same thing about her and Adelaide.
&nbs
p; It was stuffy in the carriage, which, like Aunt Tillie, was not in its first youth. There was the faint odor of mold and camphor, and Deanna imagined the carriage stored away with the rest of Tillie’s off-season possessions, brought out only a handful of times, then forgotten.
Outside, the sun was shining, but it was not too warm or windy. It would be a perfect evening for their bonfire.
The carriage let them off outside the Casino, where a row of exclusive shops lined the first floor and opened onto the sidewalk.
Bellevue Avenue was reserved for the elite cottagers. It was delightful to stroll from shop to shop without being afraid a wagon would splash dirty water on your hem or some urchin would try to snatch your purse. Shopping in Newport was a relaxed affair, unlike in Manhattan, where dust carts and merchant wagons jostled fine carriages and fine ladies. Not that she was allowed to shop for herself. Most of her and Adelaide’s clothes came from Paris.
Deanna didn’t really need to buy anything. She’d had two completely new wardrobes in the last year. One for the New York season and one for the Newport season.
Most of her winter frocks and gowns had already been sent out to the Sisters of Mercy charity, though what the sisters or their charges could do with them was a mystery. Hopefully, sell them to some down-on-their-luck society ladies—Deanna made an effort not to glance at Aunt Tillie when she thought that. The sisters could use the proceeds to support their work.
Madeline was especially gay and bought several bangle bracelets and a scarf of French silk.
They sat while Cassie tried on dress after dress until she finally chose a light yellow gauze confection that she thought would be perfect for the bonfire that night. Aunt Tillie thought it was scandalous, but Cassie merely pouted and told Madame to put it on her account.
“Yes, miss, do you wish it to be delivered?”
“Yes, please, but it must be there by three o’clock without fail.”
“Very good.” Madame saw them to the door.
They walked side by side down the sidewalk, Aunt Tillie content to follow a few feet behind, and stopped to luncheon at the Casino, where Vlady Howe, Herbert Stanhope, and Cokey Featheringham just happened to also be dining. They were nearly finished, but they pulled up their chairs to chat, much to the dismay of Aunt Tillie.
Vlady was outrageous in his compliments to her while he pressed Cassie’s knee under the table. Deanna didn’t know how Cassie’s aunt didn’t notice. Cassie had once told her that the chance of getting caught added to the thrill of her flirtations and misdemeanors, though to Deanna’s knowledge Cassie hadn’t yet gone beyond the line.
Though, what did Deanna know? It seemed she never got excited about the same things other ladies were interested in. Which brought her right back to the same quandary. She wanted to do something special with her life, if she only knew what and whether she had the means to do it.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Herbert said.
“Just thinking. I can’t help it.”
“Oh, I don’t know that it’s a bad thing. People should think, shouldn’t they?”
“Bert,” Cokey burst out laughing. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?” He gave Madeline a meaningful smile, though Deanna was glad to see Madeline return only a demur one.
“I think Herbert has impeccable manners and is an interesting conversationalist,” Deanna said.
Cokey rolled his eyes and Vlady joined in the merriment. Even Cassie giggled.
Aunt Tillie cleared her throat.
“Sorry, we beg your pardon,” Vlady said. “Cokey, you must follow Herbert’s lead in good manners.”
Herbert had turned bright red, which clashed awfully with his carrot orange hair.
Cokey shrugged, yawned, and went back to flirting with Madeline.
Deanna didn’t know how he could say things like he had about Joe and then sit here talking to her like nothing had happened. She’d like to pour her lemonade over his head.
She couldn’t wait for lunch to be over. How could they all sit there acting so frivolous when someone had died practically in front of them, when Cokey had practically accused Joe of murdering Daisy, and when Vlady had actually found Daisy’s body? How would they feel if they were suspected of murder?
That gave her pause. Vlady had found the body, practically led them to where Daisy lay. Could he have led them there already knowing what they’d find?
It sounded like something from Beadle’s Monthly. Or even the Police Gazette, which her mother had forbidden her to read.
And Cokey. She’d never really liked him. She frowned, looked at him in a suddenly new light. Hadn’t he bragged about liking a bit of skirt? Even Deanna knew what that meant. And he’d been close by when Daisy had tried to leave Seacrest.
Maybe Daisy had been going to meet him! And had run into Joe instead. But that would mean that Daisy . . .
She almost wished Cokey was the murderer. It would serve him right for being a cad.
Cokey laughed, breaking into her thoughts and bringing her back to the present. The annoying present. If she spent another second with Cokey, she might do something unladylike.
Fortunately, luncheon was soon over. But when the gentleman accompanied them out to the street, Deanna began to think of excuses to go home.
Cassie shooed them away. “Now, go away. Gentlemen are no good at shopping.”
They left with much good-natured bowing and adieu-ing and created a bit of a spectacle on the sidewalk, which would have had Deanna’s mother in a tizzy. Fortunately, she wasn’t in Newport. Though, in her absence, Deanna was beginning to appreciate her attention to good behavior.
The young women stopped to try on hats, and Cassie and Madeline insisted Dee buy a new straw boater with a red band and gloves—of which Madeline and Cassie bought several pair. Deanna bought the hat but eschewed the gloves. They were on their way to a ribbon shop when they passed the bookshop. Deanna would have stopped in, but Cassie and Maddie had already continued down the street. Deanna did manage to glance in the window as they passed by. The new issue of The Old Sleuth was in the very front.
“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” she called. And before Aunt Tillie could object, she ducked into the bookshop and into the comforting smell of paper, ink, and old wood.
The proprietor came out from behind the counter to greet her. “Good morning, Miss Deanna. I expect you’ll want the new issue of The Old Sleuth.”
“Yes, please.” Deanna reached into her purse and realized she had given all her money to the Woodruffs’ coachman.
“I’ll be glad to put it on your father’s account.”
She hesitated. She liked to pay for her books herself, especially knowing that her mother disapproved, but today she’d make an exception. It had just occurred to her that he might also have a copy of the coverless dime novel that they’d found in Daisy’s room. It probably meant nothing, but neither Kate Goelet nor Deanna’s other favorite lady detective, Loveday Brooke, would leave a single stone unturned until she had followed the clues to a solution.
She asked him about it.
“I do have a copy of that issue left, but didn’t you already buy that one?”
“Yes, but I misplaced it and hadn’t finished the stories yet.”
He flipped through a box of old dime novels, pulled out a copy, and wrapped both in brown paper.
There was a tap on the shop window. Outside, Cassie motioned Deanna to hurry.
The proprietor handed Deanna the parcel, then opened the door for her.
She hadn’t managed to see the cover before he’d wrapped it up, and she was itching to peak inside. But it would have to wait.
“Aunt Tillie wouldn’t let us go on without you,” Cassie explained. “I hope you plan to come home with more than a hat and some old book.”
At the next store, Deanna bought a pair of stockings and looke
d in the undergarment catalogue at the new knickers.
An hour later they were on their way to Seacrest for tea. Deanna hoped she’d also get a few hours alone in her room before the bonfire.
It seemed to take forever before she could get through tea and make her way upstairs. Cassie wanted her to come to her room while she tried on her new dress for her mother, but Deanna excused herself.
As soon as she was safely in her room with her package of books, she rang for Elspeth, then waited impatiently for her to make her way from the servants’ hall to the north wing.
“Did you have a good time shopping?” Elspeth asked when she appeared from the dressing room.
“Yes. Come here.” Deanna held up the parcel.
“New books?”
“And an old one.” Deanna untied the string and pulled off the paper. The old issue lay on top. “This is the issue that Daisy had, the one with the missing cover.”
“Oh,” Elspeth breathed, and leaned closer to peruse the cover.
“Oh my,” Deanna added.
They were staring at the red and black cover of Pritchard the Poisoner.
The infamous doctor had poisoned his wife decades before and had been the subject of lurid stories ever since. But this time it wasn’t the story that caught Deanna and Elspeth’s attention. The cover depicted the interior of an invalid’s bed chamber. The doctor stood over the bed, pouring something into a vial—most likely the poison. Behind him, the door had been left ajar. A maid stood in the doorway, her face etched in horror.
“Oh, miss. Do you think Daisy saw something she shouldn’t?”
“I think maybe she did.”
“But why not tell someone? The doctor was here to see Mr. Woodruff—but he wouldn’t have tried to poison him, would he?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But someone might have,” Elspeth said.
“Yes, they might. He has been sickly since his return.”
“I knew it. That voodoo man put a curse on him!”
“Really, Elspeth. If he put a curse on him, he wouldn’t need to poison him, would he?”
Elspeth crossed her arms and rested her chin on her fist.
A Gilded Grave Page 17
