“I say, what about you?” Adelia said, standing up and brushing the crumbs from her hands. “I do have contacts. In fact my daughter is always looking for reliable staff.”
Beatrice giggled happily. “I’m going to try a different line of work. I think being a servant for Digby Nettles has made me unsuitable for any other household.” The bell rang again, and she cocked her head. “As you can see, I am not inclined to leap at the chance to serve.”
“What line of work do you mean? The factories are no better, you know.”
“I suspect I know the reality in the factories better than you do. But no, I have a friend called Sally Spencer and she’s going to see me right.”
The name tugged at Adelia’s memory. Had she heard it before? She had a dim recollection of a party; perhaps they had been introduced. “What does Miss Spencer do?”
“Oh, she is the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see. She works with all the best artists. She’s their muse, their model, their inspiration. And she says she can get me into it, too. Imagine! All I have to do is sit around and they will paint me.”
“My dear girl. You’re not innocent, I am sure, but you must know that they will expect many things from you and ... it could be a little more active than merely sitting around. And if you do only sit around, you may not be ... um, fully clothed.”
“Oh, they shan’t let me get cold, I am sure.”
“I am sure they won’t but you may not like how they keep you warm.”
Beatrice laughed. “I cannot believe you are speaking so frankly! I love it, my lady; if I were to work for anyone again, I would work for you. And you need have no fear on my account. As you say, I am hardly an innocent and I have no problems with this. For the fact is, my lady, it is my choice.”
“But is it?”
“Yes. I could go into service again. I could go into a factory. Instead, Sally Spencer will look after me and set me up in this line of work. You are a detective, my lady – and that is more shocking than anything I am planning to do, don’t you think?”
Adelia chose to ignore that last remark. “Very well; Sally Spencer will look after you. But who will look after Sally Spencer?”
Beatrice smiled at her with something like pity in her eyes. The bell rang again, furiously now. “Oh, my lady, we are all quite safe. There’s quite a chain of us, you know, and we are not alone and friendless no matter what the pamphlets say. I suppose I had better go now. Thank you for the company, and good luck with your investigation. You’ll see yourself out – you saw yourself in, after all.” And off she went, laughing to herself, and Adelia was left quite alone, trying to replay all the conversation in her head.
A chain of them? It implied layers of protection. Courtesans, perhaps, whose presence would not be uncommon. Many a model or actress had risen like that, if you could consider such a career a “rise.”
Adelia’s mind strayed to the more distasteful aspects of that lifestyle. But distasteful to who? If Beatrice felt protected, then Adelia could hardly judge her. But it was all so alien to her, and there were so many things that she wanted to ask, that she didn’t even have the right words for.
She knew that she was the innocent one here, and that innocence was dangerous, and she suddenly wanted very much to be with her husband once more. She left.
Thirteen
Adelia developed a slight headache that evening. Theodore ministered to her, bringing cooling drinks and light food while she rested in a darkened room. She was pleased to have an excuse not to attend dinner as her last conversation with Charlotte had been slightly tense. Instead she lay back on the bed and thought about the things they had learned.
Did any of it help the investigation? Theodore had not discovered much that was useful. According to the executors of the will, Digby Nettles’ estate was to be sold and the proceeds to be entirely made over to help fund a revolutionary newspaper based in Paris. It was strange, bizarre, shocking and entirely in keeping with Nettles’ character and beliefs. Not a single individual profited, and therefore not a single person could be considered as having a motive to kill him simply to inherit.
The conversation she had had with Beatrice only confirmed what they already knew about Nettles’ working methods. Eventually she sighed and gave up trying to puzzle it out.
“You know,” she said, “I confess I really am torn. One moment I decide that the murderer must have been some shadowy figure from Nettles’ dodgy underworld dealings, and that we shall never discover them, and that we ought to give it all up. And just as soon as I decide that, another thought comes to me – well, not a thought, but a feeling. A feeling that we are so very close to an answer. Do you see?”
Theodore nodded “I feel the same, and it is infuriating. Let us continue to look for clues, then, but we might have to prepare for defeat.”
“And yet, there is the connection to our Charlotte and Robert. Could they still be in danger?”
“It is impossible to say.”
“And that is why, on balance, we must continue to investigate. Ignorance is not bliss,” she said, echoing the earlier conversation. “Ignorance is dangerous.”
WHEN ADELIA WOKE THE next morning, she felt a little better, and she decided she needed to head out to complete her last-minute shopping. She did
