Chapter Eleven #2
“The Reaper,” Drusilla said. “Don’t you read the papers? He cuts them open and leaves flowers inside. This is the sixth woman. It’s horrible.”
“So horrible,” Hyacinth said, nodding enthusiastically. “I can see why Cassia’s mother keeps her at home. But I’m sorry all this has gotten in the way of your party, Venus.”
“It’s no matter,” Venus said, although she sounded irritated. “I was planning on introducing her to Captain Burr. Oh well. More for the rest of you.”
Hyacinth smiled hopefully. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Why don’t you introduce Miss Elderwood to Captain Burr instead?”
“And why would I do that?” Venus asked. Elswyth noted a certain sharpness in her voice.
“Since he liked Persephone so much, perhaps he’ll like her sister,” Hyacinth said, grinning. “He was always trying to talk to her. I even saw them alone in the garden together at Begonia Pritchett’s birthday party, and—”
“Don’t spread nasty rumors, Hyacinth,” Venus snapped. “Persephone would not have stooped to the likes of a ship captain, and neither will Elswyth.”
Hyacinth flinched. She looked nervously between Venus and Elswyth. “Sorry. Of course. Just a rumor.”
Drusilla only sipped her drink, looking wryly amused.
Venus leaned in to whisper in Elswyth’s ear. “Come away now. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Before Elswyth could protest, Venus took her by the arm and dragged her to the center of the room, directly through the crowd.
Elswyth kept her eyes up, as much as she wanted to look away—an embarrassing habit, Mrs. Rose called it, but a difficult one to unlearn.
She had been avoiding the eyes of others since the day she got her scar.
Now, in London, it seemed that she must do the opposite.
“What was that about? Who is Captain Burr?” Elswyth whispered to Venus.
Venus sighed. “Another of Persephone’s admirers. But don’t listen to Hyacinth. She’s a horrible gossip. And Persephone detested Captain Burr. She told me herself.”
Venus continued to march her through the room.
As she surveyed the crowd of staring people, her eyes settled on a tall shape lingering by the fireplace: sharp-jawed, broad-shouldered, with locks of silky hair falling perfectly around amber eyes.
Silas Blackthorn swirled absinthe in a crystal glass, one arm draped over the mantel, and cast her a sidelong glance.
She’d seen him around the Royal Gardens while working for Gall, but had so far successfully avoided speaking to him.
Tonight, it seemed, she might not have a choice.
Venus stopped behind a man wearing an evergreen suit and tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned around, and Elswyth saw that he was handsome, with a round face and a jaw darkened with a slight stubble, blue eyes hidden behind moonish spectacles.
Red-brown hair curled atop his head, and he wore a friendly smile.
His suit was fine-spun wool, embroidered with acorns around the cuffs and collar, with a white ruffled shirt and green bow tie.
A gold chain dangled from his vest to his coat pocket, and playful floristry traced the lines of his suit.
Small, sun-gold scotch brooms sprouted from the stitching of his lapel and traced swirling patterns on his arms.
“Florian, darling,” Venus said. “I’d like you to meet that woman I was telling you about. This is Miss Elswyth Elderwood. Elswyth, this is Florian—or I suppose Lord Forrester, now.”
The man smiled. “The title still doesn’t seem to fit, does it?” He turned to Elswyth and bowed. “I’ve heard so much about you. A scholar, is that so?”
Before Elswyth could reply, Venus said: “Lord Forrester is an Oxford man. Always with his nose in a book. What did you study, Florian? Some absurdly obscure word. Enterology?”
Lord Forrester smiled. “Entomology.”
“Insects! How fascinating,” Elswyth said.
Lord Forrester looked surprised. Then he smiled again, his mustache twitching. “Rightly so. What do you make a study of, Miss Elderwood?”
“I was admitted to study botany,” Elswyth said. “The Imperial Botanical Institute.”
“Well, you are far more fascinating than insects, I should think. You’re the first woman I’ve met who’s been admitted. You must be truly exceptional.”
Venus sighed dramatically. “I’m sure you two will have endless boring conversations,” she said, “so I will leave you to it.” She turned to Florian and playfully batted his arm.
“Don’t hog her overly, darling. I have more friends I’d like her to meet.
And Elswyth, please don’t let my very rich, very available friend bore you to tears. Ta-ta!”
With that, Venus floated across the room, leaving her to speak with Lord Forrester alone.
The man smiled at her, and Elswyth felt a flutter within her chest. He was certainly very agreeable-looking.
But he seemed kind, modest, and bookish—not at all the type of man her sister fancied.
But this was the man whose proposal Persephone had refused.
He did not seem like a cruel or violent person at first blush. And yet Elswyth could not be sure.
“Apologies for Venus,” Lord Forrester said. “She can be a touch forward. Especially when the marriage mart is afoot. But she means well. At least, I think she does.”
Elswyth looked over her shoulder to Venus, who had found a group of bachelors and was in the process of charming them thoroughly. “No need to apologize. She reminds me of my sister, I think.”
Lord Forrester paled. “Persephone. Of course.”
“I understand that you knew her,” Elswyth said.
The man picked at his necktie, looking around the room. “Yes, well, we all did, here. It was a tragedy what happened.”
“Yes. I wonder, though, what really did happen. I heard that you fancied her.”
Lord Forrester swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Well, yes, I suppose. I think every man she met did. But she wanted nothing to do with me. In truth, I hardly knew her. She was—and I apologize to speak ill of the dead—rather aloof.”
Elswyth examined the man. Was he nervous?
“It’s funny—it seems all Persephone did was socialize, and yet no one seems to remember a thing about her, when pressed.”
Lord Forrester looked over her shoulder at the rest of the party.
Elswyth followed his gaze. Venus laughed nearby, and a servant handed out aperitifs in crystal flutes, lined with edible flowers.
“Yes, well, it’s awfully hard to really know someone, isn’t it?
Especially during the season, when everyone pretends to be somebody else.
And me, I’m not the social type at all. I only do it because it’s expected of me.
I would rather be at home, with a book, wouldn’t you?
So, tell me of your studies. Will you attend Oxford in the autumn? ”
Elswyth noted the subtle change of topic. Perhaps she would need to be more subtle as well. “I’m afraid my plans may be postponed. I am to seek a husband this year.”
Lord Forrester’s face dropped for a moment. His eyes briefly flickered to her scar. “Oh, well—”
Elswyth resisted the urge to turn her cheek. Instead she said, “But I would love to winter in Oxford. Tell me, Lord Forrester, where do you winter?”
His smile returned, and a pang of longing hit her belly at the sight of it.
She suppressed the feeling. His handsomeness was starting to distract her, and she needed to remain focused.
She was lucky that nobility did love talking about their country homes—Elswyth had quickly learned she could use this to her advantage.
“In Devon, on the coast—crumbling old house, of course, but there’s nothing like the seaside for the health, don’t you think? Have you been?”
“Never. When do you depart?”
“August, perhaps September. Tell me, where do you winter?”
Elswyth smiled through his question. “And did you leave the same time last year?”
Lord Forrester looked confused. “Oh, well, I suppose yes. We always go in September.”
“So you missed Miss Forscythe’s ball last November? What a pity.”
Lord Forrester’s frown deepened. “Well, no, actually I was here.”
“Oh? I thought you’d left.”
Elswyth could see the confusion moving across the man’s face like wind over still water. “Well, we usually do, but last year I stayed for the ball. Say, would you like one of those flowery drinks?”
“But did you speak with Persephone last autumn? I saw a letter you’d sent, and I wanted to ask if she’d replied—”
The sound of a fork clinking on glass interrupted her, followed by a high, chirping voice.
“Everybody! Everybody!” Venus said, smiling widely.
The partygoers ceased their conversations and turned to look at her.
Lord Forrester quickly turned to face her, cutting off conversation with Elswyth.
So he was in London when Persephone went missing, at least, she thought, and not so forthcoming with his whereabouts. Forgetful, or deceitful?
“Thank you all so very much for coming,” Venus said, “and a special thanks to my mother and father for allowing me to host my little soirée.”
Venus gestured across the room to where her parents stood among the sparse older peers.
They smiled genially and raised their glasses.
Percival was still standing next to them and had taken to the hors d’oeuvres, and the crowd had turned to him as he put a second deviled egg into his mouth. Elswyth grimaced.
“Now, as is tradition, I thought we’d enjoy a little entertainment. I believe that my good friend Miss Drusilla Wilton has prepared a musical number for us.”
“Oh drat. Venus, I forgot to tell you, my cello broke a string this morning,” Drusilla said. “I’m afraid I have nothing to share.”
To her credit, Venus didn’t seem annoyed. “Bother. I would sing, but I’m sure everyone here is rather bored of my repertoire by now.”
A gentle laugh rose from the crowd. Venus appeared to think for a moment.
“I know! We have someone new here. Miss Elderwood, you wouldn’t happen to have any entertainment prepared, would you?”