Page 22 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)
Libby arrived at the manor in time to help Stella prepare for the garden party and retrieve a change of clothes, having heard about Chester and Katherine’s party.
“Do you mind letting Maggie help you this evening?” Libby put the last clip in Stella’s hair, then selected a thin lace wrap for her.
“That’s fine. I want to wear one of my simplest gowns. I’ll just need help getting out of this one since I don’t know when Beckworth will be back.”
“You know you don’t have to dress down for the East End.”
Stella chuckled. “I’d decided to do that the first time Beckworth took me there. I wanted to fit in.” She gave Libby a conspiratorial smile. “Now, it’s for my comfort and a reprieve from the ball gowns.”
Libby shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re a bad influence on Maggie.”
“But not on you?”
Laughter bubbled up as Libby dropped into a chair while Stella put on her shoes. “What’s that phrase you use?” She snapped her fingers. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”
Stella grinned. “I won’t argue with that.”
“What do you hope to discover at the garden party?”
“What makes you think I’m going just to uncover something?”
“You’re going with Flora and not Elizabeth, Agatha, or Mary. From what the staff tells me, Eloise is a horrible busybody who looks down on anyone not born into wealth. I’m surprised Beckworth even got an invitation. And it sounds like you’re only going to be there for as long as necessary.”
Stella picked up the wrap and pulled it around her shoulders. “You’re too smart for service. In my time, you’d probably be running your own business.”
“Sounds like too much work to me.”
“I forgot. You weren’t here when I found out that Elizabeth’s necklace was a one-of-a-kind piece made by a jeweler who only made a small number of items each year.”
“That’s why she’s so upset?”
“Her husband had it commissioned shortly before his death.”
Libby clucked her tongue. “I suppose that would upset me as well.”
“And here’s the other thing. The jeweler was French.”
Libby’s eyes widened, but then they narrowed. “What does his being French have to do with it?”
“I’m not sure that it does. But no one in my circle of friends knows what the first stolen item was.” She shrugged her shoulders and stuffed her dagger in a pocket. “I’m just curious.”
“Well, now I want to be here when you return.”
“I’ll leave that up to you.” She took one last look in the mirror and grabbed her fan, which barely fit in her tiny purse. Libby would put everything away before she left. “We leave at four for the East End if you decide to stay and need a ride.”
She strode out the door, through the house, and down the stairs to the waiting coach that belonged to the Melvilles. Flora was inside, staring out the window at the manors across the street. The woman turned and smiled at Stella as she positioned herself on the bench across from her.
“Are we ready?” Stella asked, tugging at her gloves.
“Promise me we won’t stay long. Edgar made a last-minute decision to have dinner with some friends.” Flora glanced outside again. “I really don’t want to have to talk to that woman.”
“We’ll find a table far away from her. Maybe we’ll get the information we need from the other party goers. Certainly, some of them must have been at the party when the theft happened.”
“True. I can ask around while you visit with Eloise.” Flora visibly shivered.
Stella found the whole matter of who likes whom and who can be at whose party both amusing and irritating.
She didn’t mind not being invited somewhere, and she also didn’t mind showing up to support someone she considered a friend.
But the aristocrats took it too far. And while she enjoyed attending one or two balls to have something to share with AJ and Maire when she returned to Baywood, she couldn’t see herself doing this for months.
They’d only been in London a handful of days, and she was already exhausted by it all.
Hard to believe she didn’t have the stamina for a few parties.
Eloise’s manor home was beautiful, but nothing special compared to the others she’d seen.
She preferred Mary’s homes most of all. After joining the group of women on the back lawn, it was immediately apparent by the hushed whispers behind fans and the obvious stares that Beckworth had received an invitation merely so they could get a close-up look at the American he’d become infatuated with.
Stella heard two women discussing him when she hid behind a thick conifer to rest from the constant smiling.
“Well, I have to say this for Beckworth, he certainly does find the gorgeous women,” Lady A said. Stella couldn’t remember who was who, so she gave them code names.
“But how long can it possibly last? I mean, she’s American.
An American shouldn’t be allowed to be a viscountess.
Weren’t we just at war with them?” Lady B hiccupped, and Stella wondered if it had anything to do with the amount of punch the ladies had drunk.
Stella had stayed away from it because she hated the taste of gin, regardless of what it was added to.
“And to think Lady Melville is willing to be seen with her,” Lady A mused.
Stella had only been at the party for an hour.
Most of the women were still eating, though a few had gotten up to walk around, which had been her cue for a bit of solitude.
She would have stayed with Flora, but the woman seemed to have found one of her friends and thought it would be easier to ask questions without Stella with her.
Stella understood and readily agreed. That gave her time to speak with a few women she’d singled out during her brief introductions. All she needed was a quick five minutes of solitude, but listening to the women talk about her made her angry and then sad.
Was she a liability for Beckworth? Was this the reason he never brought up marriage?
Not that she was in a hurry to get married.
Their relationship was new. It was hot, it was heavy, and they hated being apart for too long.
For the most part, their thoughts were one.
But was English propriety holding him back? Was his title not worthy of her?
She wallowed for another five minutes after the two women had wandered off before she shook herself.
She would have kicked her own backside if she could have reached it.
Why was she letting these women dictate and question her relationship with Beckworth?
Yes, most Englishmen would have perhaps brought up marriage, but Beckworth wasn’t most Englishmen.
His relationship with her didn’t cause any grief with Hensley and Mary.
Nor with Elizabeth, who was above reproach in most circles.
The hell with these women, and now that her dander was up, she rubbed her hands together as she peeked out from her hiding spot, deciding which group to seek out first.
She was formulating how to steer a conversation to the first theft, but, as it turned out, she needn’t have worried. She’d barely reached the first group of women before they peppered her with questions. She took a step back as they moved closer, each vying for her attention.
“Ladies. Ladies.” A loud voice rose above the others.
“Decorum, please. Let the young woman have some air.” A surprisingly short and robust woman parted the women as she stepped close and looked up at Stella, who had at least five or six inches on her.
“Lady Caldway, it’s so good to finally meet you. ”
One of the women toward the back snorted before covering her face with a fan. She whispered, “She’s no lady. Just an American trollop looking for easy money.”
The woman next to her twittered and covered her own mouth. The others, who had moved their heads slightly to hear the remark, managed to keep most of their focus on said trollop. Stella wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or laugh out loud.
“I’m Lady Howard. It’s not often we have a guest visiting from America.” If the woman had heard the snide comment, she didn’t give any sign of it. But Stella guessed the woman was well-versed in the art of diplomacy.
“It’s nice to meet you. You’ve all been so wonderfully attentive to a stranger in your midst.” She glanced at the woman in the back, who at least had enough decency to blush.
“Yes. Yes.” Lady Howard took Stella’s arm and walked with her toward the far side of the tables. The bevy of women followed.
Stella was directed to one of the chairs. They all gathered around her as if she were going to read them a bedtime story. Oh, the tales she could share.
Once everyone was seated, Lady Howard wasted no time. “We hate to gossip, but we heard you were at the duke’s ball and saw the thief take a necklace straight from Dowager Ellingsworth’s neck.”
“Then, when the duke’s men almost had the thief red-handed,” another voice spoke out, “you got in the way, and the thief ran off.”
“I heard the necklace was stolen in the ballroom,” a third voice rang out. “When Lady Caldway chased the thief, she knocked one of the duke’s friends to the floor.”
“That’s not what I heard,” yet one more raised her voice to be heard over the others. “Several people had already seen her in the solarium, and she hadn’t been anywhere near the dowager. She happened to see a man walking quickly and raced after him and attacked him without provocation.”
Stella studied the women, and though she kept a smile plastered on her face, she was too angry to care what they said.
Those who declared they hated gossip were usually at the center of it.
The question was, would the information Stella got from these women be the truth or just more gossip?
She wasn’t sure if it was worth telling them the truth, but it was up to them whether to believe it or not.
If it helped get her the answers she was seeking, it would save her from having wasted a perfectly good afternoon she could have spent with Beckworth.