Death Among Rubies by R. J. Koreto Page B

offensive,” he said, “but I have heard that in London society you are now referred to as ‘Mad Lady Frances.’”
    “Your information is correct,” said Frances. She kept her tone even. “I earned it by being unconventional.”
    “Does that mean you don’t believe everything you hear?” he asked.
    “Absolutely, Mr. Mehmet. And I ask many, many questions before I decide what I believe.”
    “Many questions?”
    “How else will I find out who killed Sir Calleford?” And , she thought, who is threatening Tommie .
    “Would you mind some advice, Lady Frances?”
    “I hope I’m not closed-minded.”
    “Think of your own life. Which I’m sure is blameless.” Frances laughed. “But aren’t there . . . aspects of your life you would rather not be widely known? People may resent your questions, not because they are guilty of a crime, but because . . .” and he just waved his hand.
    “Very good advice, Mr. Mehmet. There is much talk of the wisdom of the East, and I see it is well deserved.”
    Now Mr. Mehmet laughed.
    “Nevertheless, sir, I may have questions for you in the future. Good night, Mr. Mehmet.” And she headed up to her room, happy that she had had the last word.

C HAPTER 8
    F rances didn’t expect to accomplish much the next day. Life would be held in suspension until after the funeral. But she could still observe and give instructions to Mallow. The police would be speaking to everyone, no doubt—even those who had arrived after the murder, and Frances would see that she and her maid were prepared.
    Almost everyone made it down for breakfast, and Mrs. Blake was presiding over the table. “Miss Calvin said Gwen hardly slept—I think the horror of it all finally reached her. Miss Calvin was up with her much of the night, I found out, when I called on Gwen this morning. I ordered Gwen a tray in her room and I offered Miss Calvin a tray as well, but she firmly declined.” Of course. Tommie wouldn’t give in to that kind of coddling just because she hadn’t slept. “And Mr. Mehmet rose early and took an early walk, as is his custom.”
    Tommie was at one end of the table talking to Miss Hardiman, while at the other end, Mr. Blake and Mr. Hardiman were in deep conversation. Mr. Blake had apparently stayed the night, perhaps to help his mother and cousin, even though his own house wasn’t far away. After greeting Frances, Mrs. Blake rejoined her son and Mr. Hardiman.
    Frances helped herself to breakfast from the platters on the sideboard and then sat with Effie Hardiman and Tommie.
    “Franny,” Tommie began, “Miss Hardiman was anxious that she and her father not be seen in a poor light having to continue to accept hospitality here because of the police request. They’d be willing to relocate to a hotel in Morchester.”
    “Not at all,” said Frances. “Nothing in Morchester will be very comfortable—there will be nothing like Claridge’s here. I am sure Mrs. Blake is not at all put out having you continue to stay here.”
    “I am very glad to hear you say this, Lady Frances.” Miss Hardiman placed a hand on Frances’s arm. Americans touched a lot. “I hear you come from a very important noble family, and your brother is a marquess, which is very high up, they say, so this means a lot to me.”
    Frances couldn’t help but smile.
    “I am glad I could reassure you. But do tell me, Miss Hardiman, what brings you to England?”
    “It was Dad’s idea. Why? I don’t know. Maybe he was restless. My brothers do most of the business work now. I didn’t question it. I was just glad to get out of Buffalo.”
    “Did he say anything about meetings here? People he wanted to see? My brother and I know a lot of people, and we can help.”
    “Well that is very kind of you. I’ll let Dad know. But so far, he’s just taking it as it comes, no real plans.”
    “But how did he know Sir Calleford?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t really know, although I’m glad to see this