Diamonds & Deceit (19 page)

Georgiana came in from her early morning ride with color in her cheeks and a spring in her step. The day was perfect for riding, glorious sunshine, and she hardly felt tired at all. The country air was doing her good. Even better, Mrs. McRory seemed to have a very strong whip hand over the staff, and the servants were all scurrying around like mice who had met the cat. As she crossed the hall she spotted a letter on the table, addressed to her. She picked it up and saw that the return address was Eton School.

“Michael!” she exclaimed. With a little skip of happiness she went into the breakfast room, and seated herself to read. The footman brought tea and she read the letter as she waited for it to brew. She had been a little nervous to hear from him, but the first lines reassured her at once. He was having a “ripping time,” cricket was “top hole,” and even the “beaks” were “pukka.” She couldn’t stop a smile bubbling up, even under the solemn eye of the butler. Michael was all extremes.

But then her face clouded.

Please look after Priya for me. I often feel that she is not telling me everything in her letters. I suspect she wants to protect me from knowing how badly Edith treats her. I’m concerned about her—do ask after her, please, Georgie. And tell her I love her.

Georgiana remembered with a guilty start that it had been a while since she had last seen Priya, walking across the lawn as she usually did for afternoon walks with Augustus in tow. She rang the bell and waited until Cooper came up.

“Oh, Cooper,” she began. “I just wondered if you had heard anything about Priya. The nursemaid, you know. I feel a little anxious about her since she is a foreigner here, and of course quite isolated from the rest of the staff.” She hesitated. Cooper was looking uncomfortable. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, no, my lady. Not at all. Only that I am afraid to say that Priya is indisposed at the present time.”

“Oh dear! A summer cold, I expect?”

“Yes, I expect so.” Cooper sounded ever more wretched. Georgiana sat forward.

“Are you quite sure nothing is the matter?”

“Quite—it has been a little difficult to accustom ourselves to Mrs. McRory’s ways, that is all, my lady.”

Alarm bells rang at once in Georgiana’s mind. “I see. Is there any special trouble?”

“No, no. That is, the third housemaid has given notice.”

“Oh dear,” Georgiana exclaimed.

“It is regrettable, but I hope we will be able to fill her position.”

“I’m sure you will.” Georgiana was worried, though. It would put more of a burden on the remaining staff. “Is there anything you would like me to do? To say to Mrs. McRory?” she offered valiantly, though the thought made her a little nervous.

“Thank you, but no, my lady.” Cooper sounded firm, if embarrassed. “Please do not trouble yourself.”

Georgiana nodded and allowed him to leave. She was not as confident as he was—but she knew that it was never wise to meddle too much in the affairs of the downstairs world. Cooper and Mrs. McRory would have to settle their differences as best they could. She turned to her writing desk; a reply to Michael was a pleasure she would indulge at once. He would be glad to know that Priya merely had a cold.

“Breathe in, my lady.” Céline’s soft French accent soothed Ada’s nerves. She obediently held her breath while Céline laced the corset tight. She wrung her hands as she stood before the glass, hardly aware of her own reflection, slim and white as a candle.

“You’ve heard nothing from Lady Rose.”

“No, my lady.”

“I’m frightened, Céline. I can’t imagine she has gone willingly. I can’t think her so foolish. The duke has such a dreadful reputation. Do you think he could have harmed her, forced her.…” Her voice trailed off. She hardly knew what she was suggesting, only that the thought of it filled her with terror. She sat down suddenly on the bed, as her head spun. “Oh, I can’t go to this ball. Not with Rose missing.”

“My lady, you must.” Céline crouched by her side, her face full of anxiety. “I’m sure she is in no danger.”

“How can I keep lying to my father, the countess, to everyone?” Tears ran down Ada’s face. “How can I lie to
Laurence
? He’ll see I am agitated, he will know, and he will ask me—and what can I say?” The thought of Laurence’s penetrating gaze terrified her most of all. How could she admit that her sister had gone away with a such a man as the Duke of Huntleigh? He would despise Rose, and she couldn’t bear that.

“Please, my lady. You’ve got to be strong. We have to keep this secret. If we hear nothing from Lady Rose or from the duke by tomorrow morning, then we must tell someone. But Lady Rose’s reputation is at stake. You know what that means as well as I.”

Ada nodded silently. Rose, a former housemaid with nothing but her beauty and title to recommend her, needed her reputation as a gambler needed an ace. “You’re right, Céline.”

She stood and allowed Céline to slide the dress over her head. Céline knelt at her feet and stitched the last few pearls to the hem of the dress. As Ada looked at herself in the mirror, gleaming in the gathering shadows, she remembered another evening, when Rose had dressed her—the way her heart had pounded then, at the thought that she would soon be meeting Ravi. But that dress had been pink and gold like the sunset. This one was pure white. So much had changed, not merely the dress. She would marry Laurence, and she had to make herself forget Ravi entirely.

Ada pulled on her long kid gloves sprinkled with pearls like dewdrops, and slipped on her dancing shoes.

I look like a bride, she thought.… Or a virgin sacrifice.

Ada remembered that horrible concert—
The Rite of Spring
—she had gone to with Rose. That dance had haunted her dreams ever since, its cruel power, the terrified girl trapped within the circle and dancing herself to death. Sacrificed, so that the wheel of the year could turn, remorselessly, round and round, like the everlasting wheel of the seasons, the turning of dancers coupled in vast ballrooms, a world where there was no escape, no breaking of the circle ever allowed.…

She made a slight, desperate noise, her heart pounding.

“My lady?” Céline glanced up.

“Nothing,” Ada said, managing to smile.

“There, my lady.” Céline stepped back to examine her with an expert eye. “Perfect.”

Ada stood and turned around in the mirror. Her thick dark hair was simply swept up, secured with a jeweled band. The dress was light to wear, yet the pearls gave it a pleasing weight when she turned, and made the silk brush her hips so the shape of her body was momentarily revealed.

“It’s your work that is perfect, Céline,” she said in admiration. “You are an artist.”

Céline blushed and curtsied. “I love fabric, my lady. I love working with it.”

“Well, we are lucky to have you. Shall we go?”

The countess met them in the corridor, resplendent in heavy gold lace, sable bands, and deep cream silk, with strand after strand of pearls falling to her waist. A huge ostrich-feather fan in her hand fluttered and flirted with the air. She looked Ada up and down.

“Very elegant, very appropriate,” she commented. “It’s not so important now, of course, that the date has been set and the invitations sent out.”

“Invitations sent out?” Ada said, sharply. “But we only arranged it this afternoon—”

“Oh, I am always prepared.”

“And whom have you invited to my wedding, may I ask?” Ada was angry, and she was also frightened. The machinery was rolling into action sooner even than she had expected.

“Just the usual people, those who matter. The Duchess of Ellingborough, of course, a few bishops, my bridge circle…” They went down the stairs, to join the men, who waited below.

“Ada,” her father said fondly as she came down the stairs. Ada saw the affectionate expression in Laurence’s eyes as he stepped forward to take her hand, and her seething anger calmed somewhat.

“You look exquisite,” he told her. “As perfect as a marble Venus.” He glanced to the countess and added, “And no one would take you for anything other than her sister.”

The countess simpered and tapped him with her fan. “Laurence, you know exactly how to please.”

“Good evening, everyone,” came a voice from the top of the stairs. Laurence looked up, and Ada felt his hand tense in hers. She followed his gaze—and had to suppress an exclamation of mingled shock and admiration.

Charlotte’s suppressed smile showed she was well aware of the impression she had created. Her dress glittered with rubies and garnets, heavily weighted down with gold embroidery so it flowed around her, hugging her shape with shocking closeness, flowing over the navel, where a single ruby glittered. Bands of silver and gold encircled her arms, formed like serpents, and a plumed and jeweled turban that seemed stolen from a maharajah’s harem was wrapped around her golden hair.

She took her time descending the staircase. The silence was electric. Ada finally found her tongue. “You look wonderful,” she said with honesty. “It’s a triumph.”

Charlotte bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Laurence said nothing. Everyone else murmured admiringly at how well she had captured the spirit of the Firebird.

“But where is Rose?” Lord Westlake frowned.

“She’s…still unwell.” Ada flushed and couldn’t meet his eye.

“Unwell!” the countess exclaimed. “For the last ball of the season? Is she at death’s door?”

“This is the second day, is it not? Has no one telephoned a doctor?” Lord Westlake looked around in concern. “The poor girl, she must be distraught at missing this.”

“She—I—” Ada stumbled. She knew she had to lie, and the lie had to be good. “I believe she’s feeling homesick,” she said softly. “It is the first time she has been away from Somerton, and the season is such a whirl.”

Lord Westlake did not look convinced, but to Ada’s relief the countess joined in. “She
has
been looking very down in the mouth for some weeks. It’s unsurprising, really. She isn’t used to all this excitement.”

“My dear…” said Lord Westlake warningly. The countess pressed her lips together primly. Lord Westlake turned back to Ada. “Well, I’m very sorry she should miss the fun. I know how she enjoys music. But if you really think she would rather stay here…”

Ada nodded. “I think she would, Papa. Céline will bring her everything she needs.”

“Very well. You know her best.” He turned to the door, and Sanders, who had been waiting for his nod, bowed and held it open so they could pass down the steps to the waiting motorcars.

Rose tiptoed down the side passage to the kitchen door. It was late—Alexander had insisted on driving to Hatton Garden and picking a package up from a jeweler before they came here.

“It won’t take a moment,” he had reassured her, as they pulled up before the small shop. Rose, hugged in her cloak, had watched anxiously as he disappeared inside, leaving the engine running. To let Céline down would be terrible, after she had promised to help her. Luckily Alexander had been as good as his word, hurrying back with a faded red morocco case that he handed to her before driving them back west.

Through the window of Milborough House she could see a light. A maid was mending by the light of a candle. Rose peered through the glass, then turned to Alexander, who was just behind her.

“It’s Céline!” Rose whispered. “My maid. That’s lucky.”

Rose tapped with the case at the kitchen window. Céline’s head was bowed as she stitched. Rose tapped again. At last Céline looked up. She saw Rose, and her eyes widened. The next instant she was scurrying to her feet and running to the door. Bolts shot back, chains jangled open, and Rose tumbled in, followed by Alexander.

“Did anyone see you?” was Céline’s first question, as she locked the door again behind Rose. Her second, directed to the duke, was frantic with anxiety. “How could you come here with her? Don’t you know what will happen if you are seen together? You will compromise her beyond redemption!”

“Céline!” Rose, scandalized by her outburst, turned apologetically to Alexander. But the duke seemed unconcerned at being addressed so freely by a servant.

“Please calm yourself. No one saw us. It was mercifully quiet. I expect everyone is at the ball—”

Céline’s eyes glinted tears. Rose put the case down on the kitchen table and clasped Céline’s hands in her own. “Céline, I forgot, I am so sorry. I know I promised you this chance to show off your work.”

“It does not matter, my lady,” she said, looking down.

“But it does. I can’t let you down like this, it isn’t fair.” She turned to the door. “We can still go to the ball.”

“Of course!” Alexander picked up an apple from the kitchen table and bit into it casually. “I’ll drive you.”

“You will do no such thing, my lord, unless you want to compromise my lady. We will take a hansom cab.” Céline paused, her hand to her mouth. “Oh, but the jewels—the set you ordered from Garrard. I had to send them back.”

“Can’t I wear my usual pearls?”

“It will ruin the vision.” Céline’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“Jewels?” Alexander swallowed a mouthful of apple. “You’re lacking jewels?”

“They were to be amethyst and silver and rose quartz.” Céline’s eyes brimmed with tears at the memory. “They would have brought out the color of my lady’s eyes admirably.”

“Well, there’s none of that in these, but would they be any good?” Alexander pointed to the red morocco case that Rose had almost forgotten. “I just had them cleaned in Hatton Garden. They’re rather old-fashioned, I suppose, but they make a good show.”

Céline and Rose looked at each other blankly. Céline picked up the case and undid the clasp. She lifted the lid and gasped. Light seemed to fill the kitchen. There was a stunned silence as both women gazed at the Huntleigh parure glittering like sunlight on the sea: a belt of diamonds like a garland of crystal roses, earrings in the shape of looped rings of flowers, and a tiara like a crown of light.

“I mean, if you can do anything with them,” Alexander tossed his apple core into the ashes of the kitchen fire. “Of course they may not suit your vision—”

Céline snapped the case shut. “My vision,” she said firmly, “shall be tailored to suit them. Come, my lady. Upstairs, and we can still be at Mrs. Verulam’s before midnight.”