Page 56 of Murder at the Seven Dials
“Are you certain about that?” Genie said. “Lady Wimbly is no fool. Surely, she’s wise to her husband’s…indelicacies. Who is to know—she might possess knowledge that Wimbly does not.”
Audrey doubted much more could be gained by going, and to a benefit luncheon, no less. “I can’t just drop in,” she sighed. “Genie, I’m a social pariah.”
She probably would be for a very long time, even if Philip was released and cleared of all charges.
Genie pushed on an encouraging smile. “I sent word to Lady Wimbly that I was bringing a friend. You’re a duchess, Audrey. She won’t dare turn you away at the door.”
“Michael would have a fit,” she said, shaking her head. “He didn’t even want you to take a turn with me in the park. He certainly won’t support bringing me to Wimbly Manor.”
Genie shrugged innocently. “Let me handle my husband’s displeasure.” She stood up. “Now, you are dressed to go out, I see. If we leave now, we’ll arrive fashionably late.”
Audrey had selected a midnight blue day dress topped with a dark brown spencer for her trip to Bow Street. With limited lace frills and decorative stitching, the conservative gown would have looked suitable for a visit to Philip’s guarded room. However, it was a bit plain for a luncheon. She considered a change of dress, but then dismissed it. Showing up uninvited was going to be scandal enough; better to at least appear solemn.
She could always visit Bow Street after. Grudgingly, she acknowledged that the potential for running into Mr. Marsden outside the magistrate’s offices was also a lure. He hadn’t sent word about who he’d gone to question, and Audrey couldn’t quell her curiosity of what he’d learned, and whether he’d use it to help Philip or hinder him.
A prickle of guilt followed that thought. Mr. Marsden might have been belligerent, arrogant, and infuriating, but she didn’t believe he would manipulate the truth or evidence, not really.
Audrey donned her bonnet and kid gloves, and left Violet House. They took Genie’s town coach the short distance to Wimbly Manor, Audrey’s agitation steadily rising. This was a bold move. Foolhardy, perhaps. Truly, what was there to be learned? She’d wrung all she could out of Lord Wimbly and had walked away with little more than a vague mention of the Continent—and a thoroughly vexed Bow Street officer berating her for her risky behavior.
At least Mr. Marsden couldn’t complain about the risk of attending a luncheon.
The marquess’s London seat was a neoclassical limestone beauty. Audrey had been invited to a number of Lady Wimbly’s benefits in the past—each one devoted to the marchioness’s philanthropic passiondu jour. Children’s hospices, foundling homes, and support for the Poor Law were a few she could recall. Along the way, Genie explained that this luncheon was to benefit a reskilling program at one of the largest workhouses in London, which housed poor men, women, and families.
“St. Emmanuel’s has implemented a program to give new skills to the prisoners,” she said.
“Prisoners?” Audrey echoed. “That makes it sound as if they’re criminals. Being poor and unable to pay their debts is a burden, not a sin.”
That she had not received an invitation to the luncheon smarted a little. The invitations would have gone out the previous week, well before Philip’s arrest, so the marchioness had not cut her from the guest list for that reason. Audrey wondered what had prevented Lady Wimbly from including her.
“Be that as it may, they are still imprisoned in the workhouse and have little opportunity to better themselves,” Genie replied.
“A reskilling program. I’m surprised at Lady Wimbly’s choice,” Audrey said as the manor came into view. Her stomach cinched. “Sick children and orphans tug at heartstrings. Poverty-stricken men and women don’t necessarily have the same effect.”
“You sound as if those heartstrings of yours have been snipped,” Genie said with a surprised glance.
“Just stretched thin.” Her palms grew cool and damp in her gloves. “I’m sure my apprehension isn’t helping.”
The carriage stopped, and Genie reached for Audrey’s hand. Again, Genie’s touch passed along no vision, and Audrey was reminded of another reason to envy her sister-in-law: her peaceful mind, empty of any haunting thoughts.
“Hold your head high. Don’t give them anything to gloat about.”
Genie’s advice was unexpectedly poignant. Audrey allowed the driver to help her down, and within moments, they were being led into Wimbly Manor. As expected, the receiving room was teeming with a collection of the ton’s finest ladies. The Countess of Shoreham and the Dowager Viscountess Dutton were two of the first faces Audrey recognized. Their pedigree was far too refined to cause them to lose their poise, but the excitement at seeing her lit in their eyes, and Audrey imagined they were salivating to gather information with which to gossip later.
A few others could not prevent their jaws from going slack, their eyes from bulging. Lady Wimbly herself appeared a few seconds after Audrey and Genie were left standing, ungreeted, in the entranceway. Like the countess and dowager viscountess, the marchioness’s unflappable demeanor did her credit.
“Your Grace, Lady Herrick,” she intoned, addressing Audrey first, as was due her rank. As Genie had said, she was not going to be turned away. It didn’t ease Audrey’s trepidation, though.
“I hope you received my note this morning, saying that I would be bringing my dearest friend,” Genie said brightly. She hooked Audrey’s arm in a show of affection. “And there is no one dearer to me and like a sister than the duchess.”
Audrey pinned the inside of her cheek with her teeth. She wouldnotlaugh at Genie’s obvious cut.
Lady Wimbly smiled widely, easily pretending as though all was well. “I am so honored you could be here, Your Grace. It is a credit to you for showing a keen interest in St. Emmanuel’s program especially with the trying events unfolding with His Grace.”
Of course, she knew the luncheon would never have concluded without a single utterance of the scandal, but the mention of it so soon after her arrival knocked her off center.
Behind Lady Wimbly, every lady had quit from their conversations to look on and listen in. Audrey caught two ladies exchanging a wide-eyed glance and quickly sipping from their teacups to hide their amusement.
“Thank you, it sounds like a very important endeavor,” was all Audrey replied. Bland. Uninspiring. Exactly how she should be if she did not want to draw too much attention to herself.Good luck with that, she thought with a stab of regret. She should not have come. Being here was not going to help Philip’s case in the least.
