Page 68 of Miss Dramatic
“Don’t order my wife about, DeWitt,” Drysdale drawled. “The exercise is pointless in the first place and insulting to me in the second.”
Rose emerged from the shadows. “Mrs. Drysdale will stay. She has been present for the whole drama, and she deserves to see the final act. Shall we be seated?”
If the marchioness objected to Rose taking on the authority of the hostess, she hid it behind a slight smile. Not only did Lady Tavistock take a chair herself, she patted the place beside her on the love seat, and like a loyal hound, the marquess was immediately settled next to her.
Lord and Lady Phillip occupied a sofa, Lady Iris sat alone, and the Drysdales took wing chairs at opposite ends of the parlor hearth.
Gavin indicated that Rose might be comfortable on the piano bench, a front-row seat as it were.
“Let the play begin,” Rose said.
Gavin remained on his feet. “A prologue is in order. Early last year, I met Mrs. Roberts at a house party in Derbyshire. I was present as one of Drysdale’s Players, hired to entertain, make up numbers, and improve the scenery. I became enamored of Mrs. Roberts, and on an occasion of parting from her, I found a heap of coins—a small fortune—among my effects. I put the coins in her jewelry box and said nothing about it to anybody.”
“Must you?” Drysdale shot his cuffs. “Every fellow has youthful indiscretions, DeWitt, but there are ladies present, at least one of whom might appreciate some delicacy.”
“I would appreciate the truth more,” Rose said. “Carry on, Mr. DeWitt.”
“The discovery caused a misunderstanding between Mrs. Roberts and myself, one we’ve sorted out, though we are left with questions. Who intruded on a very private moment to put the money where it should not have been, and why?”
“A prank, perhaps?” Gemma Drysdale suggested. “The Players are no respecters of privacy or decorum. You hadn’t been with us that long, and practical jokes were to be expected.”
“Pranks involving enough money to keep the Players in hot meals for an entire winter?” Gavin asked.
Mrs. Drysdale sent a curious look across the room to her husband, who was absorbed with fiddling with the lace at his cuffs.
“Interesting,” Lady Tavistock said. “But how does this ancient business have any relevance now?”
Her ladyship knew exactly how, but she, too, had a role to play.
“Drysdale accosted me shortly after his arrival at Miller’s Lament,” Gavin said. “He accused me of stealing both money and a ruby necklace. I’d never seen such a necklace, but Mrs. Roberts reminded me that our hostess in Derbyshire had had a portrait done, and in that portrait—which graces her formal parlor—she’s wearing rubies.”
“The Versailles Rubies,” Lady Iris said. “A gift to her great-grandmother from the Sun King, passed down from mother to daughter, and one of few treasures your hostess was able to take with her from France. She promised her mother she would never sell or break up the necklace, but somebody took it while the house party was in progress.”
“That somebody was not Mr. DeWitt,” Rose said. “He had ample means of his own, little opportunity, and no motive. Was that somebody you, Lady Iris?”
Her ladyship looked, for once, less than beautiful. Her mouth was grim, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. The fashionable original so relentlessly preoccupied with her herbal was a role, apparently. No surprise there.
“I believe Lady Iris blames herself for the necklace’s disappearance,” Gavin said. “She was placed among the maids and footmen to help keep the valuables safe.”
“And I failed,” Lady Iris spat. “I failed, and I promised I would rectify my error. The necklace hasn’t surfaced in any of the usual underworld locations. No new creations of spectacular rubies have come on the market. The Ludgate jewelers haven’t heard a whisper in all the time since the necklace went missing, and Paris, Amsterdam, Milan, Saint Petersburg, Rome, even Prague haven’t either.”
“Which leaves investigating the guests?” Drysdale asked. “You suspect DeWitt just as I do.”
“Which leaves,” Gavin said, “investigating everybody. Going back over the notes, again and again. Lady Iris and her friends have doubtless been snooping about all up and down the Derbyshire guest list in the months since I came south. Am I the last possibility?”
Lady Iris opened her mouth, then shut it, then appeared to reconsider. “You were.”
“Though, of course,” Gavin said, “if you, yourself, had taken the gems, then this diligent investigation would provide the perfect ruse for hiding your larceny.”
Her ladyship crossed her arms and tried for imperial disdain, to no avail.
“Nosing about while maundering on about failure would be the perfect distraction,” Drysdale said, slapping his knee. “By God, DeWitt, you do have a brain.”
“But I still don’t have an answer,” Gavin said. “If her ladyship was the thief, why did she bother following you into the library, Drysdale? Why wereyoutrying to open the map cabinet when Tavistock joined you there?”
Tavistock crossed his legs at the knee, Continental-fashion. “I switched the keys,” he said, sounding perilously sober. “DeWitt explained to me how the sleight of hand works. Drysdale was trying to use the desk key to open the map cabinet, while Lady Iris lurked in the darkest corner, half concealed by curtains. If Drysdale merely wanted to admire the gems again, why not light even a single sconce?”
A silence stretched, while Gavin took up the place beside Rose on the piano bench.
