Sick of Shadows - M. C. Beaton [72]
Miss Friendly and Daisy followed behind, equally corseted and hatted.
One of the earl’s carriages took them to Rules in Covent Garden. They were ushered upstairs to the private dining-room booked by Harry.
“I think you know everyone,” said Harry. He pulled up a seat for Rose and whispered, “I have never seen you look more beautiful.”
Rose, who had dressed to impress him, was irrationally annoyed. Typical man, she thought. He only thinks I am beautiful when I am dressed like a doll.
Rose was sitting next to Harry at a round table. Daisy was placed next to Becket, Miss Friendly next to Phil, who had secretary Ailsa on his other side.
“I ordered a round table because this is an informal party,” Harry began. “I am sure you are all anxious to hear what happened at Scotland Yard. But I think I should wait until the end of the meal when the waiters are dismissed.”
Rose envied the ease of Daisy, chattering animatedly to Becket, and Miss Friendly seemed to be getting along famously with Phil. Ailsa drank steadily, smiling all around but not contributing much to the conversation.
The meal was lavish. Consommé was followed by trout fillets. Then quail cutlets followed by ham. After that roast ortolans, followed by asparagus. For the still hungry there was a desert of Gâteau Punch au Champagne, followed by anchovies on toast.
The food was delicious, but Rose was constricted, literally and metaphorically, from eating very much. Each mouthful seemed to tighten her stays even more and the close presence of Harry was taking away her appetite. He did not seem to notice her silences but kept up a flow of conversation about the weather, about the government and the fear of strikes. Only when he asked her about her charity work did Rose forget about her animosity towards him and become animated.
She told him again about her desire to set up a charity as soon as she reached her majority. She described how her work in the soup kitchen made her feel less useless and described some of the down-and-outs.
When the meal was finished and the waiters had been dismissed, Harry rapped a knife on his wineglass and said, “I can now tell you what happened.”
They listened with rapt attention while he told them of Jeremy’s confession. “The whole family was driven mad with ambition and snobbery,” said Harry finally. “And yet, if it had not been for Lady Rose, I might not have had enough for a cast-iron case.”
“What about Lord Berrow?” asked Daisy. “I’m amazed he had nothing to do with it.”
“He did send someone to try to kill Miss Bridge,” said Harry. “But he and Banks were killed in a motoring accident in Scotland, so they will not be troubling anyone again. I will never forget the bravery of our excellent Miss Bridge. Miss Bridge?” He realized he was looking at an empty seat.
“She’s under the table, guv,” said Phil, bending down.
“It’s all my fault,” said Harry contritely. “Please help her up. She is a missionaries’ daughter and I don’t think she is used to anything stronger than water.”
Becket and Phil hoisted Ailsa up. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. “Whash goin’ on?” she asked and slumped again.
“Becket, you had better take her down to the motor and take her home. Do you know the address?”
“Been there once,” said Becket. “I’d better take Miss Levine with me. Need a lady along.”
“Very well. I think we should all go. You have your carriage, Lady Rose?”
“Yes, a waiter will tell the coachman to come round.”
“Then I will escort you and Miss Friendly to your home. Phil, you go with Becket and he can drive you to Chelsea after you leave Miss Bridge at her lodgings.”
Harry helped Rose down from the carriage outside the town house. “Go indoors, Miss Friendly. I wish to have a word in private with my fiancée.”
He turned to Rose and smiled into her eyes. “Are we friends again?”
“I think so.”
He shielded their faces with his silk hat and bent to kiss her. At that very moment, a steel in Rose’s corset which had gradually been working its way loose, stabbed her viciously and,