“How are you enjoying London, Mrs. Monthalf?” I could tell by the appraising look and fake smile that Lady Bennett had looked me over and decided she could afford to dismiss me even as she returned the curtsy.
“It makes quite a change from life aboard ship or living in the Far East. This room is lovely.”
“Thank you. I made all the decorating decisions myself.”
“How fortunate you are to have such an agreeable husband,” I said, wanting to learn as much as I could about this woman.
“I’m a widow, too. I was fortunate that my husband left me this house and the wherewithal to enjoy life.” She looked me over again. “Few women are so lucky.” Her expression said she didn’t include me in that number.
The pink sleeves of her dress were large enough from shoulder to elbow for her waist to fit through. Mauve material peeked between the pink in every pleat set into her sleeves and skirt. Her dress had elaborate dark blue and mauve trim on the wrists, waist, and hem. No doubt next year the style would be different, and she’d have new dresses made.
While I liked my yellow linen shirtwaist dress, with its pretty tucks and wide sleeves, I’d remake mine as I had time. My dress was plain, due in part to a lack of time for Madame Leclerc to work her magic and in part to my sensible tastes.
I really didn’t like Lady Bennett’s overdone gown and didn’t want to lie and say I admired her taste. Falling back on convention, I said, “I’m very sorry for your loss. Was this a recent event?”
She withdrew slightly, showing her contempt for an ignorant provincial. “Over two years ago. Otherwise, I’d be forced to wear black.”
“Imagine. Being forced to abandon colors for two years. That would be so dreary. And they say the colonials are backward.” Before, we’d just been mildly catty. Now I’d let my claws out a little.
Phyllida gave me a sharp look while Lady Bennett was faced away and said, “I can’t wait for this ghastly weather to end. I like sunny days, but not ones where I feel as if I’ll melt into my shoes.”
Lady Bennett turned to gaze at her. “Yes, hasn’t it been frightful.” Motioning us to sit down, she took a wing chair and continued, “Lady Phyllida, I don’t remember seeing you out in society in London in recent years. Where have you been?”
“Oh . . .” Phyllida blushed and stammered, “Abroad for a while. In the country for a while.” Then she took a breath, raised her chin to look down on Lady Bennett, and said with complete assurance, “I felt a need to be away from the bustle of London after the horror my brother inflicted on us all.”
Lady Bennett mustn’t have expected Phyllida to be so forthright, because she blushed and quickly said to me, “Are you planning on remaining in London?”
“I hope to. I was a child the last time I had a chance to explore all London has to offer. If that’s all right with Lady Phyllida.”
“But will it be cosmopolitan enough for you, having lived in the—Far East, you said?”
Either she didn’t believe me or she was testing me for something. I wondered which it was. “Yes, a very hot and humid Singapore, so I don’t find this weather so shocking. And I believe London is cosmopolitan enough for anyone.”
“Singapore? How lovely. My sister and her husband will be arriving very soon from Singapore. Perhaps you know them? The Viscount and Viscountess Chattelsfield.”
My mind froze for an instant. I hadn’t planned on this at all. “I didn’t know anyone titled. My social contacts were among the businessmen and traders of the city and their families.”
“What a pity. I thought everyone knew them.”
Into the uncomfortable silence that fell, I said, “Tell me, did you redo your entire house after your husband died? I ask because we’ve taken rented quarters while we try to decide what to do.”
She smiled as if I made very easy prey. “I’d lived here with my husband for several years before his death. I’d redecorated most of the house before his passing, so there was little left for me to do to put my imprint on all the rooms.”
“This room is very light and feminine. And the wallpaper is quite striking.” The oversized blue flowers in the wallpaper were the same color as Lady Bennett’s eyes. I’d have disliked it less in any other house, where it didn’t proclaim Compliment my mistress.
She must have missed my dislike because she gave me a genuine smile and said, “When I saw it, I just knew I had to have it.”
I’ll bet she did. Phyllida frowned at me before I could say what I was thinking, so I changed the subject. “How do you keep cool in this weather? We went to a higher elevation in the East, but that’s impossible in London.”
“Anyone who is anyone is leaving London for country house parties. Parliament has adjourned until the weather improves. The queen and the court left for the seaside at Osborne House.”
“So the government just shuts down in midsummer?”
“This frightful heat wave has been of surprisingly long duration. And while not at a higher elevation, country estates are far from London’s traffic and the heat isn’t trapped between street after street of houses.”
I gave her a vacuous smile. “I feel cooler just thinking about it. Country houses. The seaside. It all sounds wonderful.”
She gave me a pitying look. “Oh, but you have to have friends with country houses to invite you. Otherwise, every year London becomes so stuffy and dreary at the end of the season. That’s not until mid-August,” she added as if to the socially deficient.
I really didn’t like this woman.
There was one more subject I needed to cover before Phyllida and I finished our standard quarter-hour visit with Lady Bennett. I needed to mention the real reason I was there that day. “I believe you knew my husband’s cousin, Mrs. Kenneth Gattenger. Clara Gattenger.”
Lady Bennett paled. She tapped her lips with one well-manicured finger. “Mrs. Gattenger. I know we were introduced, but we were barely acquaintances. I don’t think I’ve seen her in six months.”
Clara’s maid had said this woman had called on Clara only the week before. “When Mrs. Gattenger knew I was coming to London, she mentioned she would introduce us, as you and she were friendly.”
“We had been, but since her marriage, she only seemed to have time for her husband.”
“Well, we widows don’t have that problem, do we?” I said and smiled.
“Yes. How lovely,” Lady Bennett said, but whether she meant the freedom widows have, or the arrival of more visitors, which effectively blocked my questions about Clara, was hard to tell.
As we went through curtsies and introductions, I wondered why Lady Bennett wouldn’t admit she’d visited with Clara the day of her death.
Her guests were introduced as the Dowager Duchess of Bad Ramshed and her youngest daughter, Lady Magda. Magda was a quiet blonde who stayed out of reach of her mother. The duchess heard my name as Mrs. Monthalf and asked, “What does your husband do?” as if I’d announced I carried bubonic plague.
“Nothing now. He died. He was a businessman in the Far East.”
“He was a shopkeeper?” Her tone rose as if I’d stepped into the parlor in my shift.
I smiled and said, “A little wealthier than that.”
Lady Bennett maneuvered us toward the door and quietly said in our ears, “My condolences on the loss of your cousin.”
“What has happened?” the dowager duchess demanded. She had excellent hearing and dreadful manners.
We all turned and stared at her in silence. Lady Bennett blushed and looked down. “She was murdered. Her husband is in prison for the murder.”
“Not the ship designer, Gattenger?” the dowager grumbled, her accent thickening with harsh syllables.
“Yes,” Lady Bennett said, looking more uncomfortable by the moment.