But elsewhere, the evening was only just beginning. Restaurants were opening their doors. In the theatres of the West End, the lights were going down and the curtains were going up. Pleasure boats were setting out upon the river. In the great houses of Mayfair and Belgravia, society ladies and gentlemen were dressing for dinner; champagne bottles were bursting open with giddy, delicious pops.
In Sophie’s little bedroom in the lodging house, she and Lil were making their own preparations for the evening ahead. At first they had been at a loss to think what they could wear to Veronica’s ball: after all, fancy-dress costumes were not something they could find in the mannequins’ dressing room at Sinclair’s. If Lil was still at the Fortune Theatre, she could have borrowed something from Wardrobe, but the theatre was closed. In the end, it had been Mei and Song who had unexpectedly provided them with a solution.
As promised, Sophie and Lil had returned to China Town the previous day to tell the pair about their plans. Mei and Song had at once insisted that they should play their parts.
‘It might be really dangerous,’ Sophie had said to them in a low voice. ‘What if we’re caught and found out? Are you sure you want to run that risk?’
Rather to her surprise, it was Mei who answered. ‘We know it’s a risk,’ she said earnestly. ‘We understand that better than anyone. We have to be a part of this. Please – we want to help .’
Sophie could understand their resolve. Joe had told them about the Baron’s stranglehold upon the East End, of course, but it had taken meeting the Lim family to show her what that really meant. The bright lights of the West End, and the golden glitter and glamour of Sinclair’s were a thousand worlds away from the dark, dangerous streets of the East End that they had glimpsed from the cab window. No wonder Song and Mei wanted to do whatever little they could to try and push back the dark.
They had talked for some time, and at last had agreed that Song and Mei would accompany Billy and Joe to the grounds of Beaucastle’s mansion, where they could act as lookouts. But as it happened, they were able to help much sooner than that. When Lil had mentioned the difficulties they were having finding costumes for the fancy-dress ball, Mei had simply smiled and slipped away, returning with two Chinese outfits, which she had borrowed from the nearby Magic Lantern Show.
Now, Sophie smoothed the heavy folds of the jade-green satin robe she was wearing. It was a little threadbare in places if you looked closely, but there was no doubt that it was an excellent disguise. Beside her, Lil was scrutinising her hair in the mirror. She had arranged it in a heavy knot, and adorned it with a cluster of red silk flowers. Her crimson robes were belted with a wide, gold-embroidered sash, and she carried a matching fan. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation and her dark eyes were gleaming. In the brightly coloured costume Sophie thought she looked even more glamorous than usual.
Sophie felt rather more awkward in her outfit. The green robes were a little too long for her, but there had been no time to alter them, so they trailed behind her on the ground when she walked. She had tied up her hair in a bun too, but rather than Lil’s pretty ornament of flowers, her head was entirely covered by a pointed straw hat that concealed her hair and kept her face in shadow. They had agreed it would be wisest for her to keep her face hidden – since the Baron had seen her more than once, she was the most at risk of being recognised – but the result did not make her feel exactly elegant.
Now, she reminded herself that she was not going to the ball to look elegant. She was going to find the evidence she needed to prove the Baron’s true identity, and to stop him once and for all.
She settled her hat more securely into position, feeling suddenly nervous. It had been easy to make this plan when they had been safely in the hayloft at Sinclair’s, but now the evening of the ball had arrived, the very notion of going inside the Baron’s own house seemed like madness.
She found her heart was racing faster as she glanced up at the clock and saw that it was almost time for them to leave. She tried to breathe calmly: whatever else happened, she must not lose her head. She found herself thinking of Papa, and at once felt better. After all, this was rather like one of the military campaigns he always used to tell her about, sometimes in wearying detail. In spite of everything, she suddenly smiled. She would be the captain leading a mission into enemy territory: that was the way she should think about it.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked Lil, as she picked up her fan. ‘Do you remember everything?’
‘Of course,’ said Lil. Her face was more serious than usual, and there was a most determined light in her eye. ‘It’s simple enough.’
‘Well it may not be nearly as simple as we’re hoping,’ said Sophie. ‘We have to find our way to the Baron’s study without anyone noticing us, and the place is bound to be full of servants. We’re going to have to be very careful. Just make sure that you –’
Lil grimaced. ‘I know – I know. Make sure that I don’t draw attention to myself .’ She giggled. ‘Honestly, Sophie – you really are frightfully predictable sometimes.’ She tucked her arm affectionately through her friend’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Come on, let’s go. It’s time we were on our way.’
Veronica stood as still as a doll while her maid dressed her. On went her camisole, edged with the finest lace; then the delicate silk stockings; then her stays, made of pink coutil and heavily boned to push her into the swan-like shape that was so fashionable. Her maid’s small fingers worked deftly, fastening the metal clips and adjusting the lacings. Mechanically, Veronica stepped into the rustling silk petticoat: her maid lifted it carefully, and fastened the tapes around her waist.
Normally, she would have been absorbed in the process of dressing for a ball – and this one more than any other, since it was her own coming-out. This evening though, she barely noticed what her maid was doing. She felt as though she were floating outside her own body. Ordinary things did not seem to matter very much: even when Isabel had scolded her about her unauthorised trip to Sinclair’s, the words had seemed to fade away into nothing. ‘Going off by yourself, in a cab ? Whatever would people think? Imagine if Lord Beaucastle heard about it. Goodness me, you might be seven years old instead of seventeen. And what is that stuck to your skirt? It looks like bits of grass!’
Now, she stood numb as her maid carefully helped her on with the gown itself: a lovely, frothy concoction that had been made for her with great care by the dressmaker. She was going as a shepherdess in a frock of white silk and taffeta, with bows on the bodice and at the elbows, a low square neck, and tiny buttons all up the back. With it she wore a bonnet that perfectly framed her face, and tied in a large bow just under one ear. When she and Isabel had settled on the costume, she had thought that nothing could be more charming: now she just felt silly, a little girl playing dress-up.
‘Oh, Miss Veronica! You look perfectly beautiful!’ exclaimed her maid. Veronica said nothing. Her breaths felt shallow in the gown’s tightly laced bodice. It was almost time.
Her hair had already been arranged in a careful cascade of curls falling over one shoulder; the bonnet was in place; now all that was left was to put on her jewels. She would wear pearl earrings, the pearl-and-diamond necklace that had been her coming-out gift from her father, and pinned to her shoulder, the jewelled moth.
She tried to repress a shudder as the maid fastened it on to her gown. Even as she did so, Isabel bustled into the room, dressed in what was her dressmaker’s approximation of Roman garb: a grandly draped satin gown with a low neck that perfectly showed off her ornate diamond-and-ruby necklace.
‘Well, Veronica dear, you do look a picture!’ she exclaimed, tweaking a curl of Veronica’s hair into its proper place. ‘Just make sure you behave yourself with decorum this evening,’ she added, more sharply. ‘Be attentive to Lord Beaucastle – but not too attentive. Let him see you dancing with some other eligible gentlemen. Veronica, are you listening ? This is a terribly important night.’
Her last words hung
in the air as she swept away again. Veronica gazed at herself in the looking glass: the girl in the frilly shepherdess frock looked like a stranger.
‘Will you take me with you, miss, when you’re married to Lord Beaucastle?’ asked her maid suddenly, from behind her, in a timid voice.
Veronica turned round and looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course I will,’ she said awkwardly. Then she muttered in a lower voice: ‘But I wouldn’t be too sure that I’ll be marrying Lord Beaucastle, if I were you.’
‘But of course you will, miss,’ said the maid comfortingly, as if she thought Veronica was merely nervous. ‘Everyone downstairs is saying so. He’s holding the ball just for you, isn’t he? You’ll be Lady Beaucastle before you know it, just you see.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Mei sat at the tiller of the little dinghy, watching the city vanish behind them. They were only a little way west of Chelsea, but as the river curved away from the centre of the city, the landscape was becoming gentler, greener. As they plashed slowly along, Mei realised that her stomach was fluttering with a peculiar mixture of apprehension and fear, and what might almost have been excitement. It seemed so strange to find herself here, in the rickety old sailing boat that belonged to Uncle Huan, heading up the river towards the Baron’s manor house, under cover of dusk.
They had already taken down the sails, well before their final approach to the house; now, Song turned and gave her a grin, from where he was sitting beside Joe at the oars. For a moment, she felt something of the same sense of conspiracy she remembered from their childhood adventures. Since her visit to Belgravia, and their discoveries about Granddad, everything had changed. Now, they were in this together – equals, Mei thought.
It had been together that they had convinced Mum and Dad to let them sail the boat along the river that night. Billy had come up with the idea of approaching Lord Beaucastle’s mansion from the river: they knew that the gardens ran right down to the water’s edge, and with everyone’s attention fixed on the guests arriving, it had seemed the perfect way to slip into the grounds out of sight, and without having to tackle the high walls. Mei and Song had at once offered to take them there in Uncle Huan’s little dinghy, which he had long ago taught them both to sail.
‘It’s the least we can do to help,’ Song had said. He had fought their case long and hard.
‘But you stay in the boat, mind!’ Mum had agreed at last. ‘You can take them where they need to go – and then you come straight back home!’
‘You can trust us to take care, Mum,’ said Song, managing to avoid admitting that they had no intention of coming straight back home. Billy and Joe would be going into the grounds of Lord Beaucastle’s mansion – and Mei and Song were going too. Mei felt a sudden thrill of pride to think that they were continuing the work that Granddad had started so many years ago.
Joe had stopped rowing. ‘I think this is it . . .’ he murmured. ‘We’re here.’
Mei gazed up at the house that lay before them in the twilight. Her exhilaration faded: foreboding rose up in her chest.
If she had thought that Belgrave Square was impossibly grand and elegant, the manor house was something else altogether: an enormous building of grey stone with arched Gothic windows, and a round tower at each corner. It stood in a large expanse of meticulously landscaped grounds, with trees clustering around it. The gardens were bordered on all sides by tall stone walls, but in the distance, they could see great gates opening to admit a string of carriages and motor cars. A faint trickle of music carried over to them on the still evening air: the party had already begun.
‘We have to find the East Tower!’ hissed Billy from where he was sitting in the prow of the boat. ‘That’s where Veronica said the study is.’
‘Keep your eyes peeled for somewhere to land,’ whispered Joe, as the boat moved silently onwards through the water.
As Sophie and Lil stepped over the threshold of Lord Beaucastle’s mansion, bright lights and music greeted them. They were standing in an immense and beautiful hallway: the marble floors and chandeliers made Sophie think at once of Sinclair’s, but this was no public building made for anyone to enjoy. It was absolutely a private residence: a footman scrutinised their invitation cards carefully. Lil held hers out to him, between her gloved fingertips:
The footman nodded them onwards. They began ascending a staircase, following a number of elegant ladies and gentleman wearing expensively made costumes in sumptuous silks and velvets. Sophie began to feel that she and Lil would stand out at once in their simple Chinese robes. Perhaps Lil was thinking the same thing, for she had become uncharacteristically quiet, twitching her skirts and fiddling with her fan.
‘We ought not to look too dazzled,’ whispered Sophie. ‘We’ll give the game away.’
Lil grinned, a sudden spark of mischief igniting in her eyes. She at once affected a look of languid disdain: ‘What a very small and inconvenient hall,’ she sniffed, in perfect imitation of the haughty society ladies who came into Sinclair’s.
In spite of herself, Sophie giggled, then hurriedly tried to resume a straight face. Two more footmen swept open an ornate door, and they found themselves at the top of a long, sweeping staircase, which led down into an elegant ballroom already thronged with people. Below them, like figures on an elaborate musical box, they could see dozens of couples, dancing a waltz. There was every kind of costume imaginable: Sophie glimpsed pirates and pierrots and princesses; a dashing cavalier dancing with Cleopatra; Marie Antoinette accompanied by Robin Hood.
On the brink of the staircase, a stout, grey-haired man dressed as Julius Caesar and a younger lady in a flowing Roman-style gown were welcoming each new guest as they arrived. At their side, Sophie saw Veronica, dressed all in white.
‘That’s Veronica’s stepmother!’ hissed Lil. ‘I saw her at the tea party. And that man with them must be Veronica’s father. They’re greeting everyone!’
They found themselves swept towards Veronica’s family. Sophie began to panic: they would have to greet Veronica’s father and stepmother, just like all the other party guests. They would have no idea who Sophie and Lil were – surely they would question why two strange girls were attending their daughter’s debutante ball? They might tell them to leave; they might summon one of the footmen, or worse still, Lord Beaucastle himself, she thought. He was, after all, the host – so why was he not here, greeting the arriving guests as well?
But Lil was already talking: ‘How do you do, Mr and Mrs Whiteley?’ she said, smooth as cream. ‘I’m Lilian Rose, and this is my – er – my sister, Sophie. Mrs Whiteley, it was delightful to meet you at the charming tea party at your lovely home last week. It’s so kind of you to invite us this evening.’
‘Charmed,’ said Mrs Whiteley in an uninterested voice. Sophie realised that she was not really listening to Lil: she appeared to be looking over both of their heads at the group of guests who were coming down the stairs behind them – evidently important society people. Sophie felt a wave of relief wash over her. Veronica had been right: there were so many guests here that their presence would scarcely be noticed.
‘Capital!’ exclaimed Veronica’s father, giving them both a vague smile, before turning to greet a gentleman behind them.
Veronica took advantage of their distraction to lean towards Sophie. ‘You need to go through the door in the right-hand corner of the ballroom,’ she whispered. ‘It will lead you to the East Tower. And watch out for the butler – he’s always sneaking around and spying.’
Sophie gave the smallest of nods, trying to keep her face neutral as if they were merely exchanging pleasantries. Then Veronica turned to greet the next group of guests, and Sophie and Lil passed on, down towards the ballroom.
‘Your sister ?’ she whispered to Lil, disbelievingly, as they slipped past the dancers and moved towards the side of the room where French windows led out on to a terrace. ‘No one could possibly believe that! We don’t look the tiniest bit alike!’
Lil shrug
ged. ‘I was improvising! Actually, I thought I did jolly well,’ she added serenely.
Yet another footman handed them each a dance programme – a small white card listing every dance, and a space beside each to write in a partner’s name using the tiny pencil attached to the card with a piece of ribbon. Lil examined hers with interest, looking around her at the dancers and the orchestra, but Sophie was already scanning the crowds for the Baron. She could see no sign of him, but nonetheless, she was keen that she and Lil should stay out of sight. She looked around for a corner where they could watch and wait, to be quite sure that the Baron was safely occupied in the ballroom before they went looking for his study. But before they could slip unobtrusively out of the way, a hearty voice boomed out suddenly from behind them.
‘I say, Miss Rose! How splendid to see you here!’
The two girls spun around in alarm. A young man was bounding towards them across the ballroom with the enthusiasm of a puppy. He was dressed in an exotic costume complete with a cape and a purple silk turban. Sophie guessed he was supposed to be Aladdin, or one of the characters from the Arabian Nights, though the costume looked a little odd in combination with his fair hair and well-scrubbed pink cheeks.
The Mystery of the Jewelled Moth Page 16
