Page 22 of Discovering Dahlia (The Blue Orchid Society #5)

Dahlia was roused by a knock at her door. She had put on her nightclothes and crawled beneath the bedclothes, but her thoughts would not still, and sleep had been elusive.

She turned on her lamp and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders before opening the door to find Lord Meredith there.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said. “But the diamonds have been found.”

A wave of relief nearly buckled Dahlia’s knees. She pressed a hand to the doorframe. “Oh, thank goodness. And do you know who... ?”

Meredith grimaced and looked immediately uncomfortable. “Yes.”

His reaction changed her relief to dread. “Who is it?”

He glanced down the corridor and then back at her. “Lady Ruben.”

Dahlia was dumbstruck. Surely she’d misheard him. “Lorene?”

Meredith nodded. His silence on the matter unnerved her as much as his report.

“There must be a mistake,” she said. “Lorene would not...” She shook her head. “Impossible.”

She glanced past him, but of course nobody was there. “I must speak to her. Where is she?”

He winced again. “Inspector Graham is questioning her down in the brig. I thought you would want to know.”

“The brig?” This was too much. She and Lorene had their differences, but the woman did not deserve to be locked in the little cell, no matter what she might or might not have done. “I will go to her. Wait just a moment.” She closed the door, and instead of waking her lady’s maid in the middle of the night, she put on the one dress she could fasten without help. Her hair, she did not even bother to pin up. It hung in a braid over her shoulder, tied with a ribbon. That would have to do.

Dahlia opened the door again, feeling more collected. “Are you certain she is the right person?” she asked.

Meredith turned to the side, allowing her to precede him toward the lower deck. “Yes, I’m afraid so. She was caught in the act, attempting to hide the necklace.”

Instead of walking ahead of him, Dahlia took Meredith’s hand. “What did she say?” she asked. “Did she give a reason?”

“She won’t say anything,” Meredith told her. “The inspector has been questioning her for nearly an hour.”

“Poor Lorene,” Dahlia said. Even though Lady Ruben could be proud to the point of arrogance, Dahlia just couldn’t reconcile the woman she knew with a thief. And if it was true, could Lorene be capable of poisoning someone? “Is there any news about Mr. Yeates?”

Meredith shook his head. “Half an hour ago, his condition was unchanged.”

He opened a wooden door, and they entered the brig, the small section of the ship where bars blocked off one section of the room to make a small jail cell. Inside was a bench long enough for a man to lie down on. Lorene sat on it. She glanced toward the door when they entered but turned away immediately.

Until now, Dahlia had not completely believed it could be true, but seeing the woman behind bars made everything real. A lump she was not at all prepared for rose in her throat.

Meredith squeezed her hand, giving comfort she desperately needed. She had never expected to find herself in such a situation, let alone known how to manage it.

Jonathan sat on a stool outside the bars. He stood, closing his notebook, and gave a slight shake of the head, which Dahlia took to mean that Lorene was still not answering his questions.

“If you don’t mind, Inspector,” she said, “might I speak with Lady Ruben alone?”

He consented, and the men departed, closing the door behind them.

Dahlia stepped close to the bars, wishing she knew what to say. “Lorene?” She had not spoken directly with her former friend for so long that her Christian name sounded strange spoken aloud.

Lorene remained where she was, her face turned away.

“Lorene, is it true?” Dahlia asked. “Did you take the necklace?” There was no answer, so Dahlia pressed on. “I don’t understand. Why did you do it?”

“Why?” Lorene’s words were a whisper. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t—”

“You.” Lorene pointed at Dahlia, and her voice rose as she spoke. “You were always the prettiest, the most charming, the most intelligent... and I came in second. Always. The inferior, the alternative, the secondary. And even when I thought I had won at last, that I was finally the victor, that my future as the marchioness was superior, there you were, the owner of your very own luxury cruise line. Once again, you are the best, the brightest, the one with the amazing accomplishment. And I am... nothing.”

Dahlia thought of how Ruben had spoken to his wife on the deck the first day and later in their cabin. How he had compared the two. She felt sorry for Lorene. But she was also furious at the injustice of it all. Dahlia hadn’t asked for any of this. She hadn’t built the cruise line with the goal of upstaging her former friend. She had done it out of the desperation of her circumstances.

“Your plan was to ruin the cruise?” Dahlia tried to keep her voice calm, even though she felt anything but. “To discredit me? Lorene, I do not have a title nor standing in Society. My reputation is in tatters. This company is all I have.”

Lorene shrugged, lifting her chin, but her blink and the way her eyes slid to the side told Dahlia she was ashamed.

Dahlia sat on the stool beside the brig’s bars. “I am sorry you feel resentment toward me, but, Lorene, what you’ve done is reprehensible. You would commit murder just to bring disapproval to my cruise line?”

“Murder?” Lorene twisted on the bench to face Dahlia.

“Yes, the nightshade in the tarts. Mr. Yeates is even now fighting for his life in the sick bay, and the poisoned tea has made Lady Chatsworth, Lady Mather, and Mrs. Griffin very ill as well. Not to mention the grease on the quarter-board step, which could have caused Lord Benedict or myself serious injury.”

The color drained from Lorene’s face. “I did not poison anyone. We—Priscilla, Helen, and Charlotte—switched the salt and sugar, and we hid some oysters in the saloon. They were just harmless pranks.”

Knowing her other former friends had participated in the subversion stung, but Dahlia did not allow her hurt to show. “You stole Her Grace’s necklace,” she reminded Lorene.

“Yes, but I intended for it to be found the next day. We did not hurt anyone, nor did we intend to. We wanted to make the voyage uncomfortable, cause people to complain. That is all.”

Dahlia studied Lorene’s expression and decided she was telling the truth. Lorene was not a murderer, and Dahlia was certain the other women would not have gone along with it if her pranks had taken a dangerous turn.

“What is going to happen to me?” Lorene asked. “The inspector told me I will be taken to prison in the morning.”

“Justice will be up to the duchess,” Dahlia said. “I do not know whether she intends to press charges, but at the very least, you owe her an explanation and an apology, and Mr. Barbieri. His magic act was ruined and his character called into question. You will need to repair that as well.” Dahlia stood.

“Ruben will be displeased with me,” Lorene said. “Bringing scandal on the esteemed House of Molyneaux? He will never forgive it.”

Dahlia started to the door but stopped. “Lorene, I never considered you to be a rival. You were my friend. I trusted you; I wanted every good thing for you. I—” Her voice cracked, and the thickness in her throat made her unable to finish the sentence. She left the brig to join Meredith and the inspector, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, her eyes closed as she pushed back her tears.

“Dahlia?” Meredith took her hand. “Are you all right?”

“Lorene is not the poisoner,” she said, blinking. She was so tired. “She and her friends were responsible for the salt and sugar switch as well as the oysters in the saloon. And she confessed to stealing the necklace.” A realization struck. “Hubert the Magnificent performed at a house party given by Lorene’s aunt when we were much younger. I remember my parents telling me about it. I imagine that is where Lorene learned the secret of his trick. But she claims she had nothing to do with the poison or the greased step.”

“You believe her?” Inspector Graham asked.

“I do,” Dahlia said.

“Lord Meredith would agree with you,” he said. “There is still a would-be murderer in our midst.”

“I cannot for the life of me imagine who,” Dahlia said. “Or why.” She rubbed her forehead. “And what do we do now? Must we tell all the passengers not to eat or drink anything for the remainder of the cruise?”

“I—” Jonathan began, but his words were cut off when Ruben hurried down the corridor toward them.

“Where is Lorene?” he asked. There was panic in his voice. “Is she all right? I heard people have been poisoned.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “She must be well.”

“She is not poisoned, Ruben,” Meredith said. “But things are not well.”

“What do you mean?”

Dahlia stepped away from the door. “Before you go to her, I have something to say to you.”

Ruben’s brows lifted.

“You married a woman you can have a wonderful life with. Lorene is intelligent. She is accomplished, and you should consider yourself lucky to have her for a wife. Stop punishing her. Stop punishing yourself. Lorene needs you.” She took the brig keys from Jonathan and handed them to a confused-looking Ruben. “She needs to speak with you. And she needs you to listen—really listen and understand.”

Ruben took the keys, looking at her uncertainly. But instead of asking the questions that were no doubt on his mind, he went inside the brig, closing the door behind him.

The exchange left Dahlia feeling exhausted.

Meredith squeezed her hand, and she was grateful for it.

Dahlia walked with Meredith and Jonathan through the corridor toward the stairs leading to the cabin deck. But as the men started up, she did not go up with them. She went instead to pay a visit to the sick bay.

When she arrived, she found Jim sitting beside Mr. Yeates. Hazel must be in the Pearl Suite with the other patients.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Much the same,” he said. “But at the soonest opportunity, he should be taken to a hospital. The ship’s medicine chest is well stocked for the usual maladies, but for our poisoning victims, we have had to make do. He would have a better chance at recovery in a hospital.” He glanced at the sleeping Mr. Yeates.

“And Mrs. Yeates? Have you seen her? I thought for certain she would be here with her husband.”

“She was here earlier this evening,” he said.

“That poor woman,” Dahlia said. “She must be so worried.”

Jim shrugged. “If she is, she has a strange way of showing it.” He picked up a towel and dabbed Mr. Yeates’s brow. “Half an hour after we brought him here, she stormed in, took one look at her husband, muttered something, and stormed back out.”

“I suppose we all manage our emotions differently, don’t we?” Dahlia said. Mrs. Yeates was certainly a strange woman. “I will visit her in the morning.”

“You’ll see her soon, then.” Jim motioned with his chin to the clock on the bulkhead and yawned.

Dahlia mimicked the action, putting her fingers over her mouth and realizing tiredness was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Morning was nearly here.