Death and the Cyprian Society (27 page)

1.
Almond, Idina—
A small, pointed chin, unruly curls, and enormous eyes. A regular kitten.

2.
Beaumont, Arabella—
You already know her, of course, but what you don’t know is that, since there are so many members by that name,
our
Arabella is going to elect, for club purposes, to be known as “Thetis.”

3.
Beaumont, Belinda
—When she hears that her sister will be taking a more exotic name, Belinda will decide to have one, too. Because two siblings named Thetis and Belinda seems ridiculous. Belinda’s club name will be “Semele.”

4.
Birdwood, Cecily—
Her miniature portraits would never have brought in much income on their own. But people found it thrilling to have their portraits painted, and be able to say, “It was done by a courtesan,” which resulted in a windfall for the artist.

5.
Carnac, Kitty—
Plump, sweet, and delectable. A kind of blond version of Belinda.

6.
Chandler, Rosabel—
A redhead, famous for her eccentric habit of fashioning jewelry out of food.

7.
Cobb, Victorine—
Possessed of such a lovely face that she might have married a sovereign, had she had a fortune to go with it. As it was, her face earned the fortune for her.

8.
Denbigh, Louisa—
She had a most fetching gap between her front teeth. And you know what they say about gap-toothed women.

9.
Desta, Feben—
Style. My God, she had style! This woman not only knew how to dress, but how to set a table, throw a party, drive through town, behave in public when encountering an enemy. Arabella was quite envious of her.

10.
Entwistle, Isabella—
A terrifying, icy blonde, known in some circles as the Viking Princess, Isabella was born without emotions. But this stood her in good stead when it came to negotiating, passing judgments, or dealing with the suddenly dead.

11.
Farrell, Olympia—
A voice like an angel’s, speaking and singing. An accomplished musician, too. She was one of those people who could pick up any instrument and play as though she’d been practicing for years.

12.
Fortescue, Amber—
First cousin to Arabella and Belinda Beaumont.

13.
Fortescue, Claire—
Amber’s sister.

14.
Fortescue, Ivy—
Amber’s other sister.

15. Fox, Arabella—
Like her name, red-haired and sly. Also a fabulous storyteller—could keep a roomful of people enthralled for hours.

16. Golder-Green, Amy—
Dressed, acted, rode, shot, fenced, climbed, threw, and ran like a man, but looked, smelt, and tasted exactly like a woman.

17. Grant, Frances—
Wonderfully observant. Wrote for the newspapers under the initials “F.G.”

18. Hearn, Philomela—
Six feet tall, and fond of fancy dress. But like Thetis, she was always recognized, no matter what disguise she attempted.

19. Imbrey, Arabella—
Unbelievable stamina. When not working, she loved best to walk, and was rumored to have trudged the length of Britain four times.

20. Laithwaite, Dido (aka the Clap Trap)—
Her nickname was undeserved. The man who gave it to her—both the nickname, and the reason for it—had also enjoyed the favors of his wife on the same evening. It was actually
she
who had given him the pox. Dido, fortunately, escaped infection. Nevertheless, the nickname followed her everywhere. Eventually, she got used to it.

21. Le Marchand, Marguerite—
A handsome Jewess. Sharp-tongued, shrewd at business, and extremely amusing company.

22. L’Etoille, Alouette—
From Bigasse, France. And the reader can well imagine the jests that were made of
that.
Her Frenchness was suspect. She frequently forgot to have an accent, and didn’t know the meaning of many French words and phrases. She looked French, though.

23. Moon, Fanny—
Sweet-faced, kindhearted, self-effacing, and loyal. If one didn’t know better, one would have taken her for an upstanding, decent young woman.

24. Savory, Pearl—
Tiny—only four feet, eleven inches! Her hair was so long she could sit upon it, although Marguerite observed that if Philomela had Pearl’s hair, it would barely reach her shoulders.

25. Snow, Polonia—
She had the whitest of white skin, with the blackest of black hair, and red lips. Like the fairy-tale princess, without the dwarf entourage.

26. Terhune, Arabella—
A keen legal mind. Had she been a man, she would have given legendary barrister Henry Brougham a run for his money. As things stood, she gave him something quite different.

27. Tilden, May—
A buxom brunette whose large, cowlike eyes had a bovine expression, even when closed. Men obsessed with their own mothers found her fatally attractive.

28. Twist, Calypso
—This was not her real name. It
couldn’t
have been!

29. Worthington, Constance—
Should be familiar enough to readers by now to require no introduction. Besides, were I to give her one, it could not help but be uncomplimentary.

This was not the traditional type of registry in which thoroughbred bloodlines are documented, but a catalogue of London’s most attractive men, complete with measurements and other personal details. Such directories pertaining to the city’s
women
had long been available, but, so far as Arabella knew, there had never before been any kind of book for women about the men by whom they were surrounded. Her compendium, nearly finished now, was all-inclusive, and the making of it had afforded the author great personal satisfaction. She had enjoyed the research, particularly.

Whenever this young woman spoke more than a single sentence, her words tended to come tumbling out like storm water from a sewer pipe, heedless of punctuation other than full stops, exclamations, and the occasional question mark. It was a style of speaking that found favor in certain masculine circles, where it was fondly and condescendingly referred to as “women’s chatter.”

Both Beaumont sisters disliked indecorous language and, after a few early experiments, had dispensed with it nearly altogether, except when “exceeding vexed,” as Arabella now was. But being broad-minded, they were not offended when to coarse invective others had recourse, of course.

The pergola did not have walls, of course, but its two benches were elegantly backed with wooden slats, in Japanese patterns. The bench facing away from the stream had a large, round opening cut into its back, so that persons seated opposite might have a frame from which to view the water.

Which, in addition to referring to a family of birds of the order Passeriformes, is another term for courtesans.

The silver rhino head had been a gift from Mungo Park, sent to Arabella from the Gambia, during the great explorer’s tragic final trip there. She had owned it for some years, but had just lately had the idea to fashion it into a knocker.

“Why a rhinoceros?” the duke had asked her. “Why not a lion?”

“Because I like rhinos,” Arabella had replied. “Besides, their heads make better door knockers. They are heavy, massive, fairly indestructible, and the longer of the horns is a convenient handle.”

It wasn’t until later that the duke remembered “rhino’s”
other
meaning, and his noble heart had recoiled from the commercial sentiment implicit in such a device. But he was also wise enough to see that Arabella was entitled to have her little joke.

One of Aesop’s fables tells of a mouse who cleverly talks a lion out of eating her by appealing to his honor, and hinting that she might one day be able to return the favor. The amused lion takes his paw off her tail and sets her free. Some time later, he finds himself ensnared in a net of ropes so cunningly woven that he is unable to move. The mouse gnaws through the ropes to free her lordly friend, proving, once again, that you should never eat any creature with both the ability to speak your language, and the wit to beg for its life.

Her decadent style of living had so corrupted Arabella, that she had fallen into the disreputable habit of occasionally sharing meals with her servants. Forgive her, reader, for she was accustomed to living on her own, and had grown a stranger to propriety.

Namely, Sippet and Miss Ferguson. The former had been named after a kind of crouton of roughly the same color as its hide; the latter for a horse-faced governess the sisters had shared as children.