Page 53 of Solving Sophronia

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The Belcourt Assembly Hall was completely the reverse of the empty building Jonathan had visited three days earlier. The globe chandelier shone unbelievably brightly, music spilled from the ballroom, delicious aromas filled the air, and all around were the sounds of voices and laughter. The large entry was crowded with opulently attired guests. Men in dark jackets mixed with women in colorful gowns and glittering jewelry, top hats and feathered headdresses bobbing among them.

Lady Sophronia led him to the coat closet they’d inspected a few days earlier, and they left behind his furry hat and her wrap. He’d have liked to leave the sword since the thing banging into his leg was quite bothersome, but apparently presentation was more important than comfort.

Three couples stood near the ballroom’s entrance, welcoming the guests: two older and one younger. The engaged couple and their parents, he assumed.

As they waited in line to be greeted, Lady Sophronia introduced him to the couple in front of them, Lord and Lady Hampton.

The elderly pair appeared to be nearing their eightieth year. Perhaps Lord Hampton was even older. The man was slender with a shock of white hair and thick white eyebrows. He wore thick spectacles and held an ear trumpet up with one hand and leaned on a cane with the other. Lady Hampton’s hair was silver, and she was rounder than her husband. She wore a gown of deep purple and a necklace with so many diamonds it resembled a chandelier. Even with her wrinkles, she was a striking woman.

“Count Brankovic.” Lady Hampton touched her fingertips to her breastbone as Jonathan bowed and kissed her hand. “How wonderful to meet you. You are quite like your grandfather.”

“Dank you,” Jonathan said, clipping the syllables like Miss Thornton had taught him. “Dis is indeed a compleement.”

“Doesn’t he look like his grandfather, my dear?” Lady Hampton spoke with a loud voice into her husband’s ear trumpet.

“Eh?” Lord Hampton leaned closer to his wife.

“Count Brankovic.” Lady Hampton spoke even louder and slower. “You remember, he was a friend of Lady Mather’s.”

“Oh yes, Lady Mather,” Lord Hampton said, his face lighting up. “Splendid woman. Bit peculiar, I’d say, but never dull, that one.” He tipped his head, looking closer at Jonathan. He squinted. “Had a paramour, you know. A count, I think he was. Looked a bit like this one.” He nodded at Jonathan.

“Yes, my dear.” Lady Hampton gave her husband an affectionate pat on the arm. She turned back to them. “Lady Sophronia, you were so missed at our ball. I do hope your headache is improved.”

“It is,” she said. “Thank you. I was sorry it prevented me from attending. Your ball is one of my favorite events of the year.”

“Yes, well, you must take care of yourself. I know how taxing the Season can be, every day filled with visits and concerts and assemblies, and last Tuesday was no exception. My poor husband was very disappointed to have missed the hunting lecture. So many gentlemen going on and on all evening about this elephant tusk or the height of that giraffe. He was quite put out.” She leaned closer, winking. “But, of course, he’d not have been able to hear a word of it.”

Lady Sophronia smiled. “I believe he’d have appreciated it all the same.”

“Your hasband—he is hunter?” Jonathan asked.

Lady Hampton glanced at her husband, then at Jonathan. She nodded. “He is not as active as he once was, but in his day, he was quite the outdoorsman. If he were thirty years younger, he’d have loved to accompany William Charles Baldwin on his African safari adventure.”

“Africa?” Lord Hampton leaned his ear trumpet closer to his wife. “Did you say Africa?” He shook his head and leaned forward, whispering to Jonathan in a loud voice. “You know, I had to miss William Charles Baldwin’s lecture.” He pointed toward his wife, then leaned even closer to Jonathan, cupping his hand around his mouth. “She said it wouldn’t do to be late to my own ball.”

Jonathan hoped his mustache hid his smile.

“As for myself, I think it wouldn’t do for a wife to order her husband about.” The old man frowned like a child who’d been sent early to bed. “Do you know Mr. Baldwin was attacked by a lion? Killed his horse and a hunting dog, but the man kept his wits, loaded his musket, and shot the beast.” Lord Hampton demonstrated with his cane exactly how one would dispatch a lion. He wobbled, and Jonathan caught his arm to keep him from falling.

Once the elderly man had his balance again, he continued. “I hear Mr. Baldwin began his lecture with a shocking drawing of the incident, made by an artist who read his memoir. Caught the crowd’s attention right away, I imagine.” He scowled toward his wife again. “Not that I’d know for myself.”

One of the host couples greeted the Hamptons, taking their attention.

Jonathan and Lady Sophronia shared a glance, the side of her mouth bouncing in just a hint of a smile. She’d enjoyed the interaction as well.

Jonathan would have liked to ask Lord Hampton further about the guests who arrived late to his ball, but he wasn’t entirely certain he could trust the man’s memory to be accurate. At least they could scratch Lord Hampton’s name off the list of suspects.

Jonathan was introduced to Lord and Lady Dorrington, the Marquess and Marchioness of Molyneaux, and the happy couple: Lord Ruben and Lady Lorene.

He greeted them briefly and gave nervous replies that were hopefully attributed to the language barrier. He began to relax once he realized that while people were interested and inquisitive, none appeared to know enough about the conflict in Serbia to ask anything he couldn’t answer. The ladies had been right in that.

He and Lady Sophronia entered the ballroom, and more introductions were made. Jonathan attempted to keep track of all the names and titles but found himself distracted, fascinated at watching Lady Sophronia move among high Society. She knew instinctively whom to flatter, which questions to ask about which family members, and which conversations to keep short. Jonathan was surprised at how effortlessly she moved from one topic to the next, always saying the right thing—but he realized quickly enough that she didn’t offer any opinions of her own or ask prying questions. She was nothing like the nosy journalist he knew. She kept the conversations moving smoothly, but the subject matter never strayed from polite small talk.

As he watched, Jonathan noticed she even carried herself differently. She spoke more softly, her smile lacked brightness, and her movements were controlled, as if she were merely a shadow of herself, hollow.

Aside from the Hamptons, Jonathan sensed no affection in her interactions with the other guests. Lady Sophronia was playing a part—one she performed with skill, but it was still disconcerting to see so much of what made herhermissing.

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