A Gilded Grave (22 page)

He heard his grandmother humming a tune under her breath.

“Shall we go?” Dee said formally, then exploded the mood by running to his grandmother and twirling in a circle. “It’s so beautiful. Much too beautiful for the beach.”

“My dear, it’s exactly what to wear at the beach. And it looks just ravishing, doesn’t it, Joseph?”

“Ravishing,” he said. He gestured toward the French doors. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall.” Dee cut him a saucy look, not flirtatious but triumphant.

As soon as she reached the lawn, Deanna took off, arms stretched in the air. For a moment all he could do was watch. He hadn’t been around for her New York season, but seeing
her now, free like the old days, made him realize how stifled she’d been and how much she deserved to be out from under her mother’s thumb.

It was all well and good for Adelaide. She was made for society. But Deanna . . . Deanna should have been born a Ballard, that would be the atmosphere in which she could thrive. The thought brought him to his senses.

He had to run to catch up to her.

She was already sitting on a boulder, her skirt hiked up to her knees, her shoes sitting neatly to one side.

She glanced up at him. “Don’t look.”

Joe shook his head and turned away, but when he felt her lean over to pull off her stockings, he looked anyway.

“You weren’t supposed to look.”

Joe shrugged.

“Well, take off your shoes, too. Or have you grown too old and decrepit over the winter?”

“I’ll show you decrepit.” Joe shucked off his jacket and untied his tie and tossed it after his jacket. Then he took off his shoes and socks, and rolled up his pant legs. When he turned back, she had tucked her skirts up and was already clambering down the wooden steps that led to the secluded beach.

“Dee, slow down. It might be slippery.” The warning only made her go faster. She didn’t slow down when she reached the sand, but ran straight to the water and didn’t stop until she was ankle-deep in the surf.

“Ah,” she said as Joe picked his way painfully across the rocky sand.

She watched him approach, shaking her head the whole time. When he got close, she kicked water at him, spraying his ankles and wetting the folds of his trousers.

“Hey.”

She kicked again.

“Stop it.”

She laughed and leaned over to use her hands.

Joe gave up. If she wanted a water fight, she would get one, and his grandmother’s maid could have the dubious pleasure of putting her together again before tea.

He, on the other hand, would take a hot, luxurious bath—one of the things he missed most about living as he did—then change into one of the many suits that still hung in his closet.

Water sprayed his face.

“Okay, that’s it.” Joe ran into the water, and a kicking war commenced and didn’t stop until they were both drenched and out of breath from laughing.

Suddenly Deanna stopped. The joy fled and she became serious again.

He stepped toward her and saw there were tears in her eyes. “What is it?”

She shrugged.

He stepped closer, gave her a little shake. “Come on, Deedle-dee, you can tell me.”

She looked up at him, tried to smile. “I miss my old life.”

When she was younger and she’d skinned a knee or her governess had scolded her, he’d sit beside her or put an arm over her shoulders and cajole her out of her unhappiness. But he didn’t think that would work now. And he knew that putting his arm around her now wouldn’t have the same effect it once had. At least not for him.

He wasn’t sure about her.

He did take her hand. “Let’s climb over the rocks and look for tide pools, and you can forget for a while that you have to
put your shoes back on and sit through another abominable tea.”

“It won’t be abominable, not here. And it might help things if Gran Gwen can observe Madeline Manchester.”

“You don’t like her.”

“I did at first. She’s very beautiful and fun-loving, but how could she be in love with Charles when she kissed her brother like that? And how could she let Charles fall in love with her, when he’s affianced to Adelaide?”

“I’m afraid that happens more than we’d like.”

“I know men continue to have affairs after they’re married.”

“Have you been talking to Grandmère again?” He tried to make light of things but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Elspeth says Mr. Woodruff is a philanderer. She said she doesn’t know whether or not Papa is, too. But if she knows about Mr. Woodruff—”

They’d been walking at the water’s edge but now Joe stopped her.

“I don’t think your father has affairs, and I think that’s to his credit.”

“Because Mama is so controlling?”

“Most men would look for relaxation elsewhere, but he loves your mother. My father said so.” Joe grinned. “And if my father said it, it must be true.”

“Does
your
father have affairs?”

“I don’t know. My mother travels a lot, as you’ve probably noticed. But . . .” How did he explain that his father and mother behaved more like a man normally did with his mistress? “They have a somewhat unusual situation among their class. Let’s just say they make each other happy.”

She gave him a quizzical look.

“Really, Dee, let’s talk about something else.”

They started walking again.

“Okay, what are we going to do tomorrow during the party?”

Joe looked toward heaven. “I haven’t worked it out, but I have to find out what is in that ledger. You’re going to stay at the party and make sure no one follows me when I leave the room.”

“That’s no fun.”

He dropped her hand, grabbed her shoulders with both hands, and turned her around. “This is not about fun. This is about finding out who killed two members of the Woodruff household. It’s about saving R and W from imminent bankruptcy. It’s about making sure no one else gets killed. It’s not an adventure.”

“You mean it’s not an entertainment. I’m not so stupid as to think it is. But I want whoever did it caught, too.”

“Then do what I ask.”

She nodded. He could tell she didn’t like her role, but he also knew Dee. She would do what was needed.

T
hanks to Gran Gwen’s maid, Minerva, Deanna was safely changed back into her visiting dress, her hair dry and repaired, and she was sitting with Gran Gwen when the door chimes rang and Carlisle showed Cassie and Madeline into the front parlor.

Tea was served, the conversation was vivacious, and Deanna heard Gran Gwen laugh several times at things Madeline said. Deanna tried to join in, but she was torn between trying to hold on to the feeling of freedom she’d had with Joe at the beach and worrying about what he planned to do tomorrow and if it would be dangerous.

Though when Gran Gwen mentioned her plans for a soiree, she thought she did a good job of showing as much enthusiasm as Cassie and Madeline. They were back in the carriage before Deanna realized she should have been listening more closely.

“What’s the matter, Dee?” Cassie said as the carriage made its way back to Seacrest. “Did you and Joe have another fight?”

Deanna shrugged and looked out at the passing vista. “We had some things to . . . talk about.” She couldn’t tell them what was really worrying her.

“Did you make up or did you give him his congé?” Madeline asked.

“I’m not sure, though I did take the liberty of inviting him to the party tomorrow night. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. Why do you even ask? Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Yes, fine. I’m just—”

Cassie trilled a laugh. “Thinking. Deanna’s always thinking, Maddie. She’s so droll.”

“I think women should think,” Madeline said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Deanna said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cassie said. “I suppose it’s okay if you have nothing else to do. But there always seems to be something to do.” She took in a deep breath. “I think about Vlady and what we almost did on the beach the other night.”

“Cassie,” Deanna said, “don’t do something stupid.”

“Not that. Just enough to keep him interested.”

Madeline laughed. “Slowly reeling him in, Cassie?”

“Well, I sure as heck hope so. He’s dreamy and rich, and doesn’t have to go to an office or business everyday.” She cast a saucy look at Deanna. “Not like Joe.”

“Joe likes to work. He’s creative.” And he was probably richer than any of them, or would be when his father died.

“Well, he must be back in your good graces.”

“Not really. Can we talk about something else?”

Conversation turned to talk about their own party the following night. Cassie and Madeline had spent the day telephoning or calling on their friends in person with invitations to the evening’s fun and games.

“There’ll be as many as thirty people coming, maybe even more. I told Vlady that he and the boys should bring their friends. It will be such a crush.” Cassie sighed and looked at Dee. “Too bad Lord David will miss all the fun.”

Deanna could tell by the look that what she was really saying was: “Too bad Lord David won’t be there to outshine Joe.”

“My brother will be sorry to miss it,” Madeline said. “He loves games, and he’s great at charades and twenty questions.” She sighed. “But business comes first.”

They were two blocks from Seacrest when the sky suddenly turned dark.

“Just an afternoon thunderstorm,” Cassie assured Madeline. “I just hope it doesn’t keep up all night. I thought it would be fun to play forfeits outside in the moonlight tomorrow.”

“Cassie, really.”

“Oh, Dee, you’re getting a bad as your mother.”

“I’m not.” Was she? She wasn’t shocked at Cassie’s behavior. She didn’t even think it was wrong necessarily. But the outcome of a passionate dalliance could have long-ranging repercussions, from gossip and innuendo to worse. It would be horrible for Cassie. Or any girl.

As soon as they arrived at Seacrest, Cassie and Madeline went to their rooms to rest and dress for dinner and the musicale they were invited to that evening. Deanna went to her room to do the same, but also to apprise Elspeth of what had transpired with Joe and of their plans for the next evening.

“What should I do?” Elspeth asked as she scooped Deanna’s dress from the floor.

“I guess just make sure none of the servants come up to light a fire in the library or anything, or try to warn Joe before they get there.”

“I doubt if they would. With Mr. Woodruff out of town, no one else will likely go in there.” Elspeth picked up the stockings and shoes Dee had discarded.

“Did you go to the beach?” Elspeth held up the stockings. “Sand.”

“Yes, at Bonheur. And Elspeth, it was so much fun. I miss having real fun. Fun without having to answer to Mama or any of the old biddies in town or my peers or to some man.”

“Did Mr. Joseph go with you?”

“Yes. But today he was Joe. The Joe he’s always been.” Deanna threw herself backward onto the high poster bed. “And I liked him so much more than I remember.”

When Elspeth didn’t leave to carry her things away, Deanna turned her head to see what was keeping her. “What?”

“You could do worse than Mr. Joseph.”

Deanna rolled to her side. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just saying what’s what.”

“Well, don’t. I think I’ll wear the peach organza and taffeta tonight.”

“Yes, miss.” Elspeth gave what Deanna called her ironic curtsey.

Deanna turned to her other side. She’d felt something different for Joe today. And she was intrigued about what he’d said, about his parents making each other happy. She had a feeling he didn’t mean over the breakfast table, but in more
intimate situations, and she found herself curious as to what those things might be.

On that thought she closed her eyes and didn’t open them until Elspeth awoke her to dress for dinner.

Deanna really wasn’t in the mood for a musicale at the home of the Latham-Joneses. She normally loved music, but she had too many things on her mind to be able to concentrate on the performers, of whom Deanna was sure there would be many.

They were already going to the Howes’ later in the week to hear a famous soprano who was appearing at the Metropolitan Opera House.

She distractedly let Elspeth dress her in her new gown, which had arrived only a week before from Paris. Her mother had insisted on it, though Deanna had complained that the sleeves were so puffed that she couldn’t see around them.

Her mother’s only comment was, “Don’t be ridiculous, Deanna.” And she’d ordered it delivered at their Newport address. It seemed like a lifetime ago. The dress was made of a light ecru paneled in a floral motif of blue, gold, and aubergine, cinched at the waist with a brocaded aubergine sash and bow with matching sleeves. Elspeth was already buttoning it before Deanna realized what she was wearing.

“Not this one,” she complained.

“Your mother will ask if you wore it. And this is as good an evening as any. And then we can pack it away.”

Deanna sighed and pulled at the neckline. Deanna’s figure was slight; she didn’t have a “handful,” like Cassie had, anywhere. But there was nothing she could do about that.

Elspeth gave her a sour look.

“I know, it’s hopeless. I’ll never have an ‘interesting’ décolleté. I hardly have any décolleté at all.”

“Nonsense. Don’t you listen to Cassie. You have just what you need. Now, turn around and let me fix that bow.”

All four of the ladies climbed into the carriage at eight o’clock. None of them looked very enthused about a musical evening. And Deanna knew it was going to be a long evening when she saw the harp being set up for Olivia Merrick.

At least they didn’t have to sit and listen as if they were in an opera house. People wandered into and out of the rooms in which entertainment flowed. There were naturally more women than men, with many of the husbands away in the city, but Mrs. Latham-Jones had supplied a few well-looking young men from Fort Adams to make themselves useful, engaging in conversation and fetching lemonade and cakes for unescorted ladies.

Deanna noticed that while most everyone welcomed Mrs. Woodruff and Cassie with sympathy and concern, there were a few who kept a wide berth. The Woodruffs had fallen off some hostesses’ necessary lists. Deanna just hoped it didn’t ruin the family entirely.

At least her mother was not privy to the happenings. She’d have made Deanna leave for certain. Sullied reputation by association.

The evening finally dragged to a close, and they drove back to Seacrest.

“I think we’ll have a quiet day tomorrow and rest before our party,” said Mrs. Woodruff.

They all agreed and went off to bed.

It seemed to Deanna that she had just closed her eyes when Cassie and Madeline woke her up the next morning. They were all excitement about the upcoming party.

But they hadn’t stayed up half the night with Elspeth as she had, discussing what had transpired at Gran Gwen’s, wondering
about Joe’s plan, and figuring out something that Elspeth could do to help. Then they read a few pages of a detective story until Deanna’s eyes became too heavy to stay awake.

The day was overcast and dreary. It looked like it would be too rainy a night for playing forfeits in the moonlight. They’d be lucky if it didn’t storm.

Somehow the day passed, even with Cassie’s numerous stops to look out the window, sigh, and predict awful rain to ruin the evening.

Madeline finally ordered her to sit down and help with the charade phrases.

Everything was ready early, but they decided against the afternoon airing. It had already started drizzling, and no one wanted to get wet while being seen by the same people who always saw them on the five o’clock drive.

Since Neville was setting up a buffet in the dining room, they had an enjoyable dinner in the breakfast room.

Deanna was just going up to change for the party when she heard the door gong. And before she reached the landing, Neville said, “A telegram from your mother, miss.”

“S
o what did you make of Madeline Manchester?” Joe asked his grandmother as they sat over a dinner of boeuf en croute and asparagus.

Gwen patted her mouth with the fine linen that she used even when she was the sole occupant of the house. His grandmother had class—inborn, and through and through. It balanced out her adventurous streak, which would have gotten many another woman ousted from society.

“Charming enough. Though I don’t recall the family. I
mean, how does one keep up with the English peerage? When their chins start to recede, I lose interest.”

Joe choked on the sip of wine he’d just taken. “Really, Grandmère, you shouldn’t say those things when the wine is red. I’m lucky I don’t have to change my clothes before I go out.”

His grandmother looked him over, as much as she could see above the tabletop and dishes. “You do look rather elegant tonight, though do you think wearing a white summer suit while rummaging through someone’s office is quite the thing?”

“I suppose you would rather I wear all black and climb up by a rope to gain access through the window?”

“No, but I imagine Deanna would be impressed.”

“Do not teach her to be reckless, please.”

Gwen, who had just cut a bite of beef, put her knife and fork on her plate. “My dear, the girl is eighteen. She knows her own mind—she lacks only the liberty to exercise it. I’m thinking about asking Jeannette to let her come to Paris with me in the fall.”

“I doubt that she’ll countenance that. You know you are not Mrs. Randolph’s favorite person.”

“I would be horrified if I were. But I do know more European aristocrats than half the people in Newport.”

“No details, please.”

She laughed. “Those were good days—alas, gone forever. But,” she said, growing serious, “I think she may be convinced of it, considering this situation with Francis Woodruff and the circulating stocks, and the possible disaffection of Charles—though once the scandal breaks, I doubt Jeannette will want to align her family to the Woodruffs. Still, having two girls jilted in successive seasons will be a blow to her ego, if not her standing in society.”

“I did not jilt Deanna.”

His grandmother waved away his denial. “That’s between you and Deanna. As for Lady Madeline—I suggest you watch yourself around that one. She may have a bluer-than-blue-blooded lineage, may have been schooled in England, may have impeccable manners, may have an engaging façade she shows to the world . . .”