your opinion?”
Gerrard bowed. “I’d be delighted to oblige, ma’am.” Jacqueline cast him a sharp glance, but he didn’t meet her eyes.
“We’ll need to set the stage with minor appearances before the ball,” Millicent went on. “Maria Fritham’s regular at-home is tomorrow morning-that’s an excellent venue for young and old. And in the afternoon, I believe we should call on my old friend Lady Tannahay. She’s closely acquainted with the Entwhistles-I think we should ensure that they hear our facts. Aside from all else, they deserve a clear accounting of all we know, and Elsie will deliver that for us.”
Gerrard raised a brow at Barnaby, who met it with a resigned look. Gerrard turned to Millicent. “We’ll be honored to escort you and Miss Tregonning, ma’am.”
Manipulating society’s views necessarily meant being socially active. Although he saw painting Jacqueline’s portrait as his primary and most important contribution to rescuing her from the situation, Gerrard believed in the arguments they’d expounded. They had to stem the social tide first, before it swept Jacqueline away.
Thus it was that the next morning, he and Barnaby found themselves engaged in precisely the activity they’d fled London to avoid-doing the pretty by various young misses in some lady’s drawing room.
Lady Fritham’s at-home was well attended. From the sudden hiatus in the conversations and the round-eyed looks cast their way as they entered, the principal topic of interest wasn’t hard to guess.
Millicent led them in, sweeping in confidently, a transparently relaxed smile on her lips.
Rising from the chaise to greet her, Lady Fritham wasn’t quite sure what to make of that smile. “Millicent, dear.” Her ladyship touched cheeks. “I’m delighted to see you.” Lady Fritham drew back, eyeing Millicent searchingly. “And in such good spirits.”
Her ladyship’s gaze deflected to Jacqueline, following Millicent, a similar open and easy expression on her face. Lightly frowning, Lady Fritham looked back at Millicent. “I had wondered if this latest dreadful news would…well,
Millicent raised her brows. “Well, dear, while having a dead body discovered moldering in the far-flung reaches of our gardens was certainly a shock, especially when we learned it was that poor boy Thomas, we
Lady Fritham blinked. “They aren’t-no, well, of course they aren’t…”
Millicent patted her hand. “I did explain it yesterday-you must not have heard-but it’s patently clear poor Thomas was struck down by some man while up on the northern ridge. It seems it could have been anyone-any man, that is-that Thomas knew. That’s all we know.”
Millicent turned to Gerrard and Barnaby, who had followed Jacqueline. “Mr. Adair and Mr. Debbington know much more of the details than I-I’m sure they’ll be happy to elucidate.”
As they’d arranged during the drive to Tresdale Manor, Barnaby stepped in to appease the curiosity of the matrons congregated about Lady Fritham while Millicent circulated to spread their news. After exchanging greetings, Gerrard escorted Jacqueline to join the knots of younger callers scattered about the room.
Her hand on his sleeve, she kept her head high and her easy smile in place, yet despite her outward composure, he sensed her tension. This was her first public appearance since Thomas’s body had been found; it was important she strike the right note.
They’d briefly discussed how she should behave, that when addressing Thomas’s or her mother’s death, she had to stop herself from retreating, from withdrawing behind her inner shields. To all who’d known her previously as an openhearted, extroverted soul, the change in her could too easily be-indeed, had so easily been-misperceived as evidence of a guilty conscience.
Three long double windows stood open to the garden; the younger crew had gathered in fluid groups before them. Guiding her to the first group, he murmured, “Just be yourself-that will be enough.”
She shot him a swift glance, then looked ahead, smiled and greeted Mary Hancock.
Wide-eyed, Mary returned her greeting. “It must have been a horrible shock to learn the body was Thomas’s.”
Jacqueline appeared to consult her feelings, then evenly replied, “I think I was more sad than shocked. We’d always suspected he’d met with foul play, but I had hoped there might be some other explanation.” She drew in a breath and released it in a sigh. “However, that wasn’t the case, and we must now hope that it’ll be possible to find the man who murdered him and bring the miscreant to justice.”
Sincerity rang in her tone. Mary nodded, clearly struck, as was Roger Myles beside her.
Others were not so perceptive; across the circle, Cecily Hancock’s lips thinned, then curled. Gerrard saw a nasty, dismissive comment form on her tongue; she opened her mouth-he caught her eye.
After a moment, she swallowed her comment whole and merely, very quietly, humphed.
Satisfied, he turned his attention to responding to any of the detailed questions they’d agreed Jacqueline should, with proper maidenly reserve, refrain from answering.
Between them, they succeeded in casting doubt on what had been the prevailing if unvoiced suspicion over Thomas’s death.
After that first encounter, Jacqueline relaxed a trifle. By the time they’d spoken with and weathered the group before the second set of windows, she’d settled more comfortably into being herself. Her inner barriers, while still present, were less rigid, less formidable. Less apparent.
He’d thought he’d kept his satisfaction in that last to himself, but as they strolled to the third group, she pinched his arm. “What is it?”
He glanced at her, realized she’d sensed his response; keeping his expression impassive, he looked ahead. “Nothing.”
Eradicating her inner shields, wiping away the fear and distrust that had fashioned them so that she could once again openly be the woman he knew she was, so that not only her innocence, but her generous heart, her courage, her steadfastness of character could shine…that was now a personal goal, one of serious importance to him.
Jordan and Eleanor were in the last group, as was Giles Trewarren. Eleanor and Giles made room for them. They greeted the others, then Jordan smiled at Jacqueline, his attitude supercilious and arrogant as ever, yet he clearly intended to be conciliating. “My dear, don’t let the rumors of the ill-formed distress you-none of us who know you believe anything of the sort.”
The comment fell into a sudden silence. Some of the others colored, while Clara Myles and Cedric Trewarren, who had chatted earlier with Barnaby, looked confused; they were the only ones in the group who had caught up with recent developments. Gerrard debated stepping in and, as an outsider able to claim complete ignorance, baldly asking what the devil Jordan meant-Jacqueline beat him to it.
She frowned, openly puzzled. “Whatever do you mean, Jordan? What rumors?”
Jordan blinked. He studied her face; his leached of all expression. He glanced around the circle. “I-ah…that is…”
Eleanor, beside Jacqueline, leaned closer and laid a hand on her arm. “What Jordan means”-she lowered her voice-“is that, what with the discovery of Thomas’s body in your gardens, the ill-informed have been indulging in speculation. We just wanted you to know we don’t believe a word of it.”
Jacqueline met Eleanor’s eyes; she held to her puzzled frown for a moment longer, then let it dissolve into an understanding smile. “Dear Eleanor.” She patted Eleanor’s hand. “You’re such a good friend, but truly, now Thomas’s body has been found, the only question in the minds of those who know the details is who the man who killed him was.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. She searched Jacqueline’s face. “Man?”
Jacqueline nodded; she was starting to enjoy this-enjoy tackling the rumors directly. “It seems Thomas went with some man up to the point on the northern ridge, then the man hit him with a rock and killed him. The body rolled down into the garden and the killer covered it with cypress needles.”
Clara shivered. “It’s horrible even to think of.”
“It must have been a shock to realize it was Thomas’s body.” Giles looked politely inquisitive, but there was also understanding in his gaze. “Mama said it was you who identified Thomas’s watch.”
