Thirteen #2
If Lord Ashton seemed a bit more distant than usual at their meeting the next morning, Della could only attribute it to the worry he must feel at the prospect of having his personal affairs dragged before Parliament soon. The only good thing was that Della could speak to him freely now. True to her word, Annabelle had relinquished her role as chaperone in exchange for the successful engagement of Peter to her ruined lover.
“How are you? Has there been any news?”
“Nothing yet,” he replied. “I doubt I’ll have anything to tell you until after the court date.”
“When it is, exactly?” She’d known the date, but she hadn’t written it down before it flitted from her memory. She only recalled that it was soon. Next week or the one after.
“Next Friday,” he reminded her.
How had the time gone so quickly? They might only have one more meeting together, if he insisted on ending their connection if the story should make the papers.
Della pushed the unwelcome thought away. She wasn’t ready to say her goodbyes yet.
Ashton must be thinking the same thing, for he wore a solemn expression as he took some papers from his leather satchel. “I reviewed your chapter on the shops and wrote some notes for you in the margins. You’ll see there’s nothing too significant I would change; it’s quite good. Do you have anything else for me to look over?” He paused, then added, “We might want to work quickly.”
She had nothing, of course. Nothing at all. She’d gotten home from the play too late last night to start writing the chapter on theaters. Besides which, she hadn’t visited any place but the Lyceum recently. It was difficult to attend performances when she could only get away from Bishop’s on Sundays and Mondays, and every place was closed on Sunday so it hardly even counted. She’d already shown Ashton the only chapter she’d managed to finish, and their time together was nearly done!
Why didn’t I start on this sooner? Della lamented inwardly. She might have accomplished so much more if only she hadn’t put it off.
“I, uh…need a touch more time to finish up the next few chapters before I can share them with you. I’ll have them ready at our next meeting.”
They spent the rest of their half hour discussing how long she expected the book to be, given that she kept adding new subjects. Della assured Ashton that she still intended the volume to be shorter than his original, owing to the omission of several establishments that only admitted men (though she was less certain of this plan than she might have been if she’d only managed to locate her missing outline, which still eluded her). Sooner than she would have liked, it was time for him to go, and there was nothing left in her drawing room but a faint sense of longing.
Della wanted to start directly on her next chapter, but before that, she was determined to pay a quick call on the musicians she’d been thinking of engaging to perform at the club, a quartet Reva had recommended. As it turned out, they would be traveling for another obligation soon but they were free to attend tonight. Though she hadn’t planned on arranging the details on the spot, she didn’t want to lose the opportunity.
And so went most of her afternoon.
When she arrived in her office at Bishop’s—notebook in hand, lest she find a way to steal some time to write during a lull—she found Eli already waiting for her with a fair-haired man she’d never seen before.
“May I present Mr. Silas Corbyn?” They rose to their feet as she entered the room. “This is Miss Danby, the other co-owner of Bishop’s.”
Oh yes, she still had the new dealer to interview! So much for her writing.
“I’m so sorry, am I late?” She looked to Eli, who gave a sheepish sort of a look that indicated yes, she was. “I was held up meeting with some musicians to play here like we talked about. They’re coming tonight, so we need to decide where we should put them.”
Della wasn’t about to confess that she’d completely forgotten that their meeting with the new dealer was today, despite the fact that Eli and Jane had reminded her twice and she’d written herself a note. (No doubt it was with her missing outline.)
Why can’t I do anything right?
Della finally turned to assess him.
He was handsome enough, she supposed. Not to her personal taste, but she couldn’t complain that Eli had thwarted her plan to find a dealer the other women would stay longer to see. His hair was somewhere between honey and brass where it caught the light, and he sported sideburns that were a little smaller than the standard muttonchop. His clean-shaven jaw had a nice firm line to it, which was further improved by a small scar that wrapped over his chin, stopping just short of his lower lip.
The ladies will love that.
She inclined her head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Corbyn.”
Eli hadn’t called for any tea, she noticed, but she didn’t like to interrupt the servants in their preparations for the evening at this late hour. Better to leave it.
“Please have a seat.” She gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of her desk, while she herself took the large armchair behind it. Mr. Corbyn obeyed too quickly, without waiting for Della to sit first. Rough around the edges. Not the best trait for someone who would be surrounded by well-born ladies every evening. “Shall we begin with your telling me how your naval service ended, exactly?” Della suggested, recalling Eli’s mention of a dishonorable discharge. “I don’t wish to pry, but I need to know if you pose any risk to our reputation.”
“He doesn’t.” Eli said firmly. “It was all a misunderstanding. I can vouch for him.”
Mr. Corbyn glanced around the room, which was still silent and peaceful save for the sound of the dealers setting up their tables and counting out chips beyond the large oak door. “You’re a gaming hell. I wouldn’t think you’d need to worry too much about a scandal.”
Really?
Della shot an accusatory look at Eli, who shot an accusatory look at his friend.
“What Mr. Corbyn means to say is that he had a dispute with his commanding officer, but it wasn’t due to any fault of his.”
“What sort of dispute?”
“I broke his nose.” Corbyn muttered through gritted teeth. “But he deserved it.”
Good Lord. What did one say after an announcement like that? Should she continue interviewing him, as though breaking his superior’s face weren’t a fatal flaw?
She would be his superior soon, and she rather liked her face.
“Where is your family from?” Della tried, deciding that she didn’t want to ask any more about the fight, lest his answers prove too terrifying.
Surely Eli wouldn’t have brought him here if he posed a real danger.
Della hazarded a glance to the man’s arms, noticing how muscular they looked even through the broadcloth of his shirt. He wasn’t dressed like a gentleman, nor was his speech softened with the polish of an Eton boy. Eli had said he’d been a midshipmen, hadn’t he? They were often drawn from the lower classes. It seemed likely that was this case here.
“Don’t have any family,” Mr. Corbyn said, his voice suddenly hard.
“Oh. You’re an orphan? I’m so sorry.” She should have thought to ask Eli about his background before this meeting, to avoid exactly this sort of blunder. Maybe the man had suffered a difficult life, and that explained his cold manner and the fighting. Eli was the sort who liked to help those in need.
“Not an orphan,” Corbyn corrected. “Just no bloody family worth speaking of.”
Oh goodness. She was trying her best, and he really wouldn’t give her anything to work with.
“Do you, er, have much experience at card play?”
Mr. Corbyn shrugged, his expression bored. “When we can manage to get a few minutes of rest from our duties, we often play cards at sea. I’m sure I can handle this.”
His “this” somehow managed to carry with it an unspoken disdain for everything she’d built over the course of the past three years.
That’s quite enough.
Della could forgive him for wasting her time. After all, she wasted her own time in a multitude of ways each day. She could even forgive him for making no effort to please her. Not every employee needed to sparkle with enthusiasm. If they were competent, turned up on time, and didn’t steal from the pot, she would dole out their pay with a smile.
But to show open disdain for Bishop’s was unforgivable. She suffered enough of that attitude outside these walls; she wouldn’t tolerate it within them.
“Eli, might I have a private word?” Della was using her most polite voice. The one that she only employed when she needed to keep herself from blurting out something truly inappropriate, like, Eli, why have you brought a violent criminal into my club? Or, Eli, if you weren’t married to my best friend, I’d demote you to floor-sweep for this.
Mr. Corbyn rose to his feet and left the room without so much as a backwards glance.
“You can’t expect me to take him on,” she hissed, the moment the door had shut.
“He’s making it sound worse than it is.” Eli looked far more worried about earning Della’s approval than his friend had been. “I know for a fact that his captain took advantage of a lady, and he was only trying to defend her honor. As for his family, they cut him off after he was discharged without even hearing his side of the story. I don’t think he wants to say more because of his pride, but it hasn’t been easy for him. He’s a good man, Della.”
“It doesn’t make things any better if he was starting duels over some sort of love triangle! You see why it would be dangerous to put that kind of man into a club full of women, don’t you?”
Why did she have to be the one to convince Eli this was a terrible idea? Normally other people tried to convince her that she was the one with a terrible idea, and she quite preferred it that way! She wasn’t meant to be the voice of reason.
“If Jane were here, she would tell you Mr. Corbyn is entirely unsuitable.”
Eli winced at the accusation, but clapped back. “You and I both know that Jane can be overly cautious sometimes.” He seemed to regret the words only a second later, for he quickly amended, “And we love her for it, even if we don’t always have to make the same choice she would.”
Easy for him to say. Eli wasn’t the one trying to fill Jane’s shoes.
“Besides, it wasn’t a love triangle,” he added. “When I said ‘took advantage,’ I didn’t mean that his captain simply violated propriety. I gather he was actually trying to harm her. Corbyn was very tight-lipped about it, but I understood that much.”
“Oh.”
That took the wind from Della’s sails. If he was protecting a woman in need, he deserved her respect.
But, oh, it would be easier to bestow it if he hadn’t been so rude!
“I still don’t like him,” she muttered. “He can’t swear like that in front of the ladies. And he needs to learn to smile on occasion, or he’ll scare them off.”
She was speaking as if she was going to hire him. Why did she have such a hard time saying no to a sad story?
“Thank you.” Eli recognized his victory for what it was, but he was graceful enough not to revel in it. “You won’t regret this. I’ll talk to him about his language.”
Della heaved a sigh. “You’re responsible for him if anything goes wrong. Keep an eye on him, won’t you?”
“I’ll go start training him for the extra vingt-et-un table right now, only I can’t stay all night. I have to leave in about an hour.”
“What?” This news transformed Della’s voice into a high-pitched squeak. “You’re leaving me alone? But we have the musicians coming any minute!”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize you’d planned that for tonight. I promised my mother I’d fetch her some things from the apothecary. She’s been feeling poorly lately. I thought you wouldn’t need me since we’re slower on Tuesdays, but I can try to get back here afterward if you think it will be too much for you.”
Della didn’t like this one bit, but what was she supposed to do, beg Eli to stay? If his mother wasn’t well, she could hardly hold it against him. And though he probably hadn’t meant anything by it, she bristled at the suggestion that managing the club alone on a Tuesday might be too much for her.
“No, I can handle it,” she said with a sigh. “But promise me you’ll make sure Mr. Corbyn knows what he’s doing before you go. I won’t have time to check in on him if I’m all alone.”
“I promise. Thank you, Della!”
Eli hurried out the door, no doubt eager to impart the good news to his friend. She wondered if Mr. Corbyn would be half so excited by it.
By this point it was ten minutes to opening and Della hadn’t done anything she’d intended. She hurried to the kitchen to make sure everything was ready. Cook had fallen behind and was still scooping the filling into her lemon tarts, but there was nothing Della could do for this except urge her on and rush back out again. The musicians had arrived ages ago, and no one had told them where to set up their instruments while she’d been shut up in her office. Della would have liked to consult Eli, but there was no time. She frantically instructed the waitstaff to push the card tables in the largest room closer together to free up a patch of floor in the corner. Not very elegant, but it would have to do. Perhaps she should construct a little platform for next time. Get a carpenter in here and make an elevated area so the sound would carry better. She should ask Jane what she thought.
“I need to run,” said Eli, appearing at her shoulder without any warning. “I explained everything to Corbyn, and he promises not to swear in front of the women. Are you all set here?”
Of course I’m not! Della wanted to say. A few early arrivals had already begun streaming in, and no one was ready to greet them except their doorman. They were still rearranging the furniture. Couldn’t he see all the work to be done?
“Of course I am,” she replied through clenched teeth. “You go on.”
The moment he left, she turned to the musicians. “You can set up just that way, gentlemen. Please keep the music lively. Oh, and no polka!”
Lady Eleanor didn’t care for it, and if she complained everyone else would follow suit.
“But that’s what we’d prepared!” the clarinetist protested. It was too late. He was already speaking to her back as Della fled shamelessly from this problem.
She spent the next half hour welcoming Lady Eleanor and Mrs. Duff and several other of their loyal regulars, until a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Miss Danby?” It was Geórgios, an old friend of Eli’s whose enormous physique made him a particularly imposing doorman. They operated on a system of subscription memberships, and it was his job to make sure no one got in unless they were on the list. “You asked me to tell you if Mrs. Muller came back.” He motioned to the cluster of ladies who had just come through the cloakroom.
“Thank you, Geórgios. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Della had already warned all the dealers that she was only allowed to play at the penny table, and they had strict instructions to turn her away if she tried to place a wager anywhere else.
“And…Miss Williams is also here,” Geórgios added. “Should I let her in?” His expression betrayed some doubt.
“I’ll be right there,” she replied. Della turned to Mrs. Duff, with whom she’d been speaking before Geórgios called her. “Please tell us how you enjoy the music tonight. We’re trying something new.”
Geórgios was already busy with the next batch of ladies while Hannah stood off to one side, fiddling with her hands. Her face lit up when she saw Della approach. “Jane and Eli said that I could come and help you tonight so you wouldn’t be alone.”
Thank you, Jane!
Della was so flooded with relief, she swept Hannah into her arms and hugged her tight. “That’s wonderful. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I’m so glad Jane changed her mind!”
She must have felt badly over how many evenings she’d missed lately, and this was her way of lightening the load.
“Er, yes. Me too.” Hannah squirmed in Della’s grasp, reminding her that she was probably making a spectacle of herself. Della released the younger girl and tried to assume a cool, collected air.
“Forgive me,” Della said. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”
“What can I do?”
Mrs. Muller’s name was on the tip of Della’s tongue, but then she thought better of it. Hannah was barely twenty, and Mrs. Muller was old enough to be her mother. It wouldn’t be kind to ask her to keep watch over the woman as if she were a naughty child. Besides, she wasn’t much of a risk with all the dealers on watch for her.
Nor could Della ask Hannah to take charge of circling the crowd and making sure all the women were enjoying their evening. She lacked the confidence for it, and she hadn’t been in London long enough to know half of these ladies and learn their little quirks. It would take more time than Della had available to explain everything. What could she do?
“Have you ever been in charge of instructing your housekeeper or your butler about the service of drinks and meals at home?”
“Mama handles all of that.” Hannah seemed to shrink a bit as she admitted this. “But I could learn!”
Oh dear. They’ve sent me a greenhorn.
If only Hannah had come two hours earlier, there might have been time to explain all the workings of the club. As it was, Della was conscious that every tick of the clock took more time from her own duties. She hadn’t been able to greet all the women who streamed in while she was chatting with Hannah, and she didn’t hear any music yet, which meant she should check on the musicians and make sure nothing else was wrong. Monitoring the service of refreshments was the easiest thing Hannah could do that would still lighten Della’s load. She would just have to learn as she went.
“Keep an eye on how much the ladies are drinking and whether anyone appears to have overindulged, or whether anyone is hungry and hasn’t been offered enough food. Check on our cook and the wine cellar every so often to make sure we aren’t running low on anything and send our errand boy over to the greengrocer’s if we need it.” Was that too much for her? Della felt a bit guilty, but she would be here if Hannah needed any advice. “Oh! And your brother hired a new dealer, Mr. Cooper? No, Corbyn! That was it. He’s a bit rough around the edges. Could you keep an eye out that he doesn’t offend any of our members and fetch me straight away if there’s a problem? He’s the blond one with a scar on his chin. You can’t miss him.”
“Right.” If Hannah looked a bit intimidated by all of this, she was too stubborn to admit it. “You can count on me.”
“ Thank you .” Della clasped her friend’s hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Just fetch me if there’s any problem you don’t know how to solve. I’ll be right here the whole night.” Then she turned and hurried back to the musicians.
***
Everything seemed to happen so quickly that by the time Della next looked at the clock, hours had passed. The musicians were mostly a success, thank goodness, though they did run out of songs partway through and let a polka slip into their repertoire (which Lady Eleanor absolutely noticed). Della wasn’t sure that Hannah was keeping track of the champagne quite as well as she should, for she noticed Mrs. Duff steadying herself on the wall as she made her way to the powder room, but she did spot the girl observing Mr. Corbyn’s table, and their newest dealer didn’t seem to have made any of the ladies slap him yet, so that was a good sign. Della lost track of them when she had to separate two women who’d begun insulting each other over baccarat. One of them was Mrs. Duff, who had apparently transferred her grudge against Reva to another young lady who’d caught her husband’s attention.
I’m going to have to talk to Jane about revoking her membership if this keeps up , Della realized with a sinking feeling. But the woman was friends with Lady Eleanor, and it might cost them her patronage if they sparked a row. What were they to do?
And now she spotted Mrs. Muller at Parekh’s table (which was not the penny table)! Della hurried over, but a discreet word with Parekh reassured her that the older woman was only watching a friend and hadn’t placed any wagers. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything is fine. Della tried to calm her pattering heart. It felt as though she were juggling more balls than she could catch.
She went to check in on Hannah as soon as there was a lull in the pace of the evening. It was getting late, and a few of the less dedicated players had begun to peel off from the crowd and head home to their beds.
“How are you doing?” Della tried to catch her breath as she took in Hannah’s appearance. The girl looked flushed and the wisps of hair around her temples were stuck to her face with perspiration, indicating she might have been run off her feet nearly as much as Della, but she seemed happy. Wait, is that a glass of champagne in her hand? “Have you been drinking?”
“Only a little!” Hannah said quickly. “I got so hot when I was in the kitchen checking on Cook.”
“It’s all right.” She didn’t look drunk, so Della was hardly about to lecture her. She must get enough of that at home. “I saw you at Mr. Corbyn’s table earlier. How is he with the guests?”
“I see what you mean when you said he was rough.” Hannah wrinkled her nose. “He swears like a sailor.”
Oh goodness . Eli would be upset if they had to fire the man on his first evening.
“Were the ladies very offended?”
“Not really. I think that redhead has taken a fancy to him. The one in the green gown.”
“Miss Berry,” Della supplied, following her gaze. The lady in question was leaning forward to better expose her décolletage, though Mr. Corbyn kept his eyes on his deal. Would she have to intervene? “She’d best stay well enough away, before she ruins her prospects.”
“Why?” Hannah dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s very low-class, then?”
“Not only that. He was dishonorably discharged for fighting with his superior. Your brother could probably tell you more about it than I could, but I certainly wouldn’t be caught flirting with a man like that where everyone could see me.”
The two of them watched the exchange playing out at Mr. Corbyn’s table for another minute, but nothing untoward seemed to happen. Let Miss Berry handle herself then. Della was too exhausted to go looking for new tasks.
“By the way, how is your book coming?” Hannah asked. “Is the viscount being kind to you?”
“ Very kind,” Della agreed with a little wink, but instead of provoking a smile from Hannah, the gesture made her go completely still.
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice was suddenly cold. Sharp as a dagger.
Oh no. What on earth made me say that? She’d been talking with Hannah as though they were old friends. She hadn’t thought about the dangers before she spoke.
“Nothing. I only meant—”
“Are you and he…?” The look of pure horror on Hannah’s face made her views on the matter plain. “But he’s married , isn’t he?”
“No. No. You don’t understand. There’s nothing between us. It’s just a harmless flirtation.” Della’s words came out in a frantic whisper. Oh, what have I done? “And he’s been separated from his wife for years, and she plans to divorce him before Parliament, so she wouldn’t be hurt by it even if there were any connection between us, which there isn’t .”
Instead of calming the girl, this speech only inflamed her temper.
“Not be hurt by it? Not be hurt by it?” Hannah was red in the face and had raised her voice. People were turning to stare. “You’re carrying on with a married man , and you don’t see anything wrong with that?”
“Shhh.” Della grasped Hannah’s hand, but she jerked out of reach. “What are you saying? Hannah, calm down!”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Hannah snapped. “What a joke marriage is. Don’t you care that you’re driving a couple apart?”
“It isn’t like that. Hannah, please—”
“Get away from me!” Hannah turned on her heel and ran away, the crowd of onlookers parting before her.
How much did they hear? Della tried to draw a shaky breath, but it felt like the air had gone out of the room. Why on earth had Hannah reacted so violently? She might have been a bit emotional over her mother’s efforts to marry her off earlier, but this was far beyond anything Della had seen before. In fact, she’d been behaving oddly since she got to London—quite changed from the way she’d been in her previous seasons.
Everyone was staring. Della had to say something.
“I–I’m so sorry about that, everyone. This was all just a misunderstanding.” What would Jane think when she heard about this?
Della’s hands were shaking, but she forced a smile. She had to act as if everything were fine. After all, an honest misunderstanding wouldn’t bother her, and she’d just told her guests that’s what this was. “Miss Berry, how are you enjoying your evening? Let’s get you another glass of champagne, shall we? I—”
Oh no. Glancing over to Mr. Corbyn’s table, she saw that the empty seat Miss Berry had left behind a moment ago had been taken up by Mrs. Muller, who had a heaping pile of chips before her. No, no, no, no, no —
Before she could open her mouth to protest, Corbyn was sweeping them toward his pot. All lost.
“Excuse me just a moment.” Della was well past the point of being able to smile. She raced to the table, gripping their newest dealer by the arm. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You weren’t meant to let Mrs. Muller bet anything! She’s been cut off, remember?”
Couldn’t this idiot do anything right?
“You mean that tiny old lady?” Corbyn stared at her in unfeigned confusion. “You never said anything about that.”
“Of course I—”
Della’s voice died midsentence.
He’s right. I didn’t say anything. Her stomach threatened to eject the measly cucumber sandwich she’d managed to wolf down in lieu of supper a few hours ago. I talked to the others before he was hired. I forgot to tell Eli to warn him.
She was the idiot who couldn’t do anything right. Not Mr. Corbyn. Her.
“I…” Della looked around, but Mrs. Muller must have turned tail as soon as she’d seen her coming. The wretched sneak! And after Della had given her another chance out of the goodness of her heart. “Find her. Escort her out of here.”
“You want me to leave my table?” Corbyn jerked his scarred chin toward the three ladies who sat riveted to their exchange, each with a full hand of cards already in play.
“Yes. Wait, no.” Della could feel something like hysteria bubbling up in her chest. “I–I don’t know.”
The man was giving her the most insufferable look. She knew the one. It said: Who put this woman in charge? and You don’t know what you’re doing and What a joke all at once.
“Stop staring at me and go look for her,” she whispered. “You take the rooms toward the back and I’ll take the entrance. Just don’t make a scene.” There had been enough scandal for one night. Turning to the ladies, she said, “I’m so sorry, we need to halt play for a few minutes, but Mr. Corbyn will be happy to complete the hand once he returns.”
There were protests at this, but Della didn’t have time to deal with them. She turned her back on the table and hurried toward the entrance. Sure enough, Mrs. Muller was there, doing up the clasp on her cloak and about to escape. She squeaked in surprise when she saw Della.
“You lied to me,” Della said. “You promised you wouldn’t bet anymore, and I trusted you.”
“It was only one little wager!” Mrs. Muller protested. “I didn’t bet a thing all night, but then I thought I only needed one lucky hand and I might repay my debt and put all of this behind us. I know I can make it back.” She was crying now. A group of ladies beside them had stopped to stare, their cloaks forgotten. “You have to give me a chance, Miss Danby. I can’t tell my husband about this. My luck is bound to turn around soon. Just let me make back what I owe.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Miss Danby?” It was Geórgios calling her again from just beyond the front door.
What now?
“Just a moment,” Della hollered back. Couldn’t she have one minute to catch her breath? She lowered her tone again to finish addressing Mrs. Muller. “I’m sorry, but I have to insist you stop attending our club.”
“You can’t do this to me!” The older woman turned to the group of ladies watching her. “Do you see how they treat their members? So much for loyalty!”
“We’ll refund your subscription fees and deduct the amount from what you owe us,” Della said firmly. “Now please go.”
“Miss Danby!” Geórgios’s voice had grown more urgent.
Della walked a sobbing Mrs. Muller outside to see what the problem was. Geórgios stood barring the way while a gray-haired woman tried vainly to squeeze herself around him. It was Jane’s mother-in-law.
“Mrs. Williams, what brings you here?” Della asked, praying it was nothing bad. But one look at the woman’s face confirmed her fears.
“Where is my daughter?” she cried. “I know you’re hiding her in there somewhere. I demand to speak with her.”
Good Lord. How can this night possibly keep getting worse? Della was nearly at the point of following Mrs. Muller’s example and bursting into tears. Instead, she forced herself to draw a deep breath. I can still fix this.
“Hannah was here earlier, but she told me she had permission from Jane and Eli. Was that…er, not the case?”
“ I certainly didn’t know anything about it. I would never give her permission to set foot in a…a gambling den!” She said the words with such horror that they might have been an insult instead of a perfectly factual description.
Hannah must have been lying. Jane wouldn’t have given her permission to come without her mother-in-law’s blessing. Why must everyone try to trick me this evening?
“I’m sorry about the mix-up, but I believe Hannah left some time ago.” At least, her manner of stomping away from Della after their row had a sense of finality to it.
“I know she’s hiding here somewhere, and I’m not leaving without her.”
“Fine.” Della was far too tired to endure another emotional outburst. Two was more than enough. “If you promise not to disturb our guests, you can come inside and look through the rooms. If Hannah is still in here, you’re welcome to take her home with you.”
This seemed to appease Mrs. Williams. She was silent, if stone-faced, as Della led her inside.
The club was still busy enough that the task of finding one girl wasn’t simple, but things were starting to wind down. It took about ten minutes to confirm that Hannah was not in the three main gaming rooms, nor in the powder room. After a brief quarrel over whether it was necessary to search the kitchens (Della finally relented, and they did), they had made a full tour of the establishment and were back in the largest hall, where Mrs. Duff was complaining that Mr. Corbyn still hadn’t resumed her game of vingt-et-un and Mr. Parekh was trying his best to smooth things over by persuading her to join his table instead.
“You see, Mrs. Williams? Your daughter isn’t here.”
“What about that door?” Mrs. Williams asked, motioning to the wall behind Della.
“That just leads to our office. There’s nothing else there.”
“I want to see it.”
“Mrs. Williams, really.” Della was fighting to retain her composure. It felt as though everyone had been staring at her since her quarrel with Hannah. “I think I’ve been more than patient. This is our private property.”
“If you’re not hiding her, you have no reason to refuse me entrance.” Mrs. Williams thrust out her chin in challenge.
People were staring. Della wasn’t just imagining it. What would they think if she refused, after all that they’d seen tonight? Better to prove that there was no one there before her guests started spreading rumors that they’d abducted a virtuous young girl from her mother to corrupt her with the wicked power of card play.
“Very well,” she relented. “But you’ll see that there’s no one—”
A great many things all happened in the span of the next three seconds.
One : Della turned the knob and opened the door, fully expecting it to show nothing more interesting than the disordered papers she hadn’t found time to tidy. Oh! Maybe her missing outline was there! She would give her desk a good search as soon as they closed up.
Two : Mrs. Williams screamed as though she were being murdered, which naturally made every remaining guest in the club rush to her side to see what was the matter.
Three : Della turned her head to find the source of this reaction, only to discover Hannah and Silas Corbyn inside the office. Alone. Together. Kissing passionately in full view of the forty- or fifty-odd women who were still in the club.
Not one soul had any comment on the music that evening.