death?”
“It might have something to do with it. I’m just trying to think of everything I can.”
“Well, none of it seems worth anyone dying over.” Caroline stood up. “I think it is time we took luncheon. I asked for it to be ready at quarter to one, and it is past that now.”
Charlotte followed her obediently and they repaired to the breakfast room where the small table was set and the parlormaid ready to serve.
After the maid had gone, Charlotte began her soup, at the same time trying to recall some of the conversation that had taken place when she had met Mina a week ago. Mina had made a number of remarks about Ottilie Charrington and her death, possibly even implying that there was something mysterious about it. It was an ugly idea, but once it was in Charlotte’s mind it had to be explored.
“Mama, Mina had lived here for some time, had she not?”
“Yes, several years.” Caroline was surprised. “Why?”
“Then she probably knew everyone fairly well. Quite well enough that if she were the thief, and took something important, she might well understand its meaning, don’t you think?”
“Such as what?”
“I don’t know. Ottilie Charrington’s death? She said a lot about it when she was here—almost as if she suspected there could be a secret, something the family would rather were not known.”
Caroline put her soup spoon back in the bowl. “You mean that it was not natural?”
Charlotte frowned uncertainly. “Not anything quite so awful as that. But perhaps she was not as respectable as Mr. Charrington, at least, would have liked. Mina said she was very high-spirited, and definitely implied she was also indiscreet. Maybe there would have been some sort of scandal if she had not died when she did?”
Caroline started to eat again, breaking a piece of bread.
“What an unpleasant thought, but I suppose you are right,” she said. “Mina did drop several hints that there was a lot more to know about Ottilie than most people realized. I never asked her, because I am so fond of Ambrosine I did not wish to encourage talk. But Mina did make me a little curious about Theodora as well, now that I come to remember.”
Charlotte was puzzled. “Who is Theodora?”
“Theodora von Schenck, Amaryllis Denbigh’s sister. She’s a widow with two children. I don’t know her very well, but I confess to liking her considerably.”
Charlotte found it hard to imagine liking anyone related to Amaryllis. “Indeed,” she said, unaware how skeptical she sounded.
Caroline smiled dryly. “They are not at all alike. For a start, Theodora does not appear to have any desire to marry again, even though she has very little means, as far as anyone knows. And, of course, people do know! In fact, when she came here a few years ago, she had nothing but the house, which she inherited from her parents. Now she has a new coat with a collar and trim right down to the ground I would swear is sable! I remember when she got it that Mina remarked about it. I am ashamed of myself, but I cannot help wondering how she came by it!”
“A lover?” Charlotte suggested the obvious.
“Then she is incredibly discreet!”
“It doesn’t seem very discreet to wear a sable collar out of the blue, with no explanation!” Charlotte protested. “She can hardly be naïve enough to imagine it would pass unnoticed! I would wager every woman in Rutland Place could price the garments of every other woman to within a guinea! And probably name the dressmaker who made them and the month in which they were cut!”
“Oh, Charlotte! That’s unfair! We are not so—so ill-disposed or so trivial-minded as you seem to think!”
“Not ill-disposed, Mama, but practical, and with an excellent eye to value.”
“I suppose so.” Caroline finished the last of her soup, and the maid reappeared to serve the next dish. The two women began to eat slowly. It was a delicate fish, and extremely well cooked; at any other occasion Charlotte
“It might have something to do with it. I’m just trying to think of everything I can.”
“Well, none of it seems worth anyone dying over.” Caroline stood up. “I think it is time we took luncheon. I asked for it to be ready at quarter to one, and it is past that now.”
Charlotte followed her obediently and they repaired to the breakfast room where the small table was set and the parlormaid ready to serve.
After the maid had gone, Charlotte began her soup, at the same time trying to recall some of the conversation that had taken place when she had met Mina a week ago. Mina had made a number of remarks about Ottilie Charrington and her death, possibly even implying that there was something mysterious about it. It was an ugly idea, but once it was in Charlotte’s mind it had to be explored.
“Mama, Mina had lived here for some time, had she not?”
“Yes, several years.” Caroline was surprised. “Why?”
“Then she probably knew everyone fairly well. Quite well enough that if she were the thief, and took something important, she might well understand its meaning, don’t you think?”
“Such as what?”
“I don’t know. Ottilie Charrington’s death? She said a lot about it when she was here—almost as if she suspected there could be a secret, something the family would rather were not known.”
Caroline put her soup spoon back in the bowl. “You mean that it was not natural?”
Charlotte frowned uncertainly. “Not anything quite so awful as that. But perhaps she was not as respectable as Mr. Charrington, at least, would have liked. Mina said she was very high-spirited, and definitely implied she was also indiscreet. Maybe there would have been some sort of scandal if she had not died when she did?”
Caroline started to eat again, breaking a piece of bread.
“What an unpleasant thought, but I suppose you are right,” she said. “Mina did drop several hints that there was a lot more to know about Ottilie than most people realized. I never asked her, because I am so fond of Ambrosine I did not wish to encourage talk. But Mina did make me a little curious about Theodora as well, now that I come to remember.”
Charlotte was puzzled. “Who is Theodora?”
“Theodora von Schenck, Amaryllis Denbigh’s sister. She’s a widow with two children. I don’t know her very well, but I confess to liking her considerably.”
Charlotte found it hard to imagine liking anyone related to Amaryllis. “Indeed,” she said, unaware how skeptical she sounded.
Caroline smiled dryly. “They are not at all alike. For a start, Theodora does not appear to have any desire to marry again, even though she has very little means, as far as anyone knows. And, of course, people do know! In fact, when she came here a few years ago, she had nothing but the house, which she inherited from her parents. Now she has a new coat with a collar and trim right down to the ground I would swear is sable! I remember when she got it that Mina remarked about it. I am ashamed of myself, but I cannot help wondering how she came by it!”
“A lover?” Charlotte suggested the obvious.
“Then she is incredibly discreet!”
“It doesn’t seem very discreet to wear a sable collar out of the blue, with no explanation!” Charlotte protested. “She can hardly be naïve enough to imagine it would pass unnoticed! I would wager every woman in Rutland Place could price the garments of every other woman to within a guinea! And probably name the dressmaker who made them and the month in which they were cut!”
“Oh, Charlotte! That’s unfair! We are not so—so ill-disposed or so trivial-minded as you seem to think!”
“Not ill-disposed, Mama, but practical, and with an excellent eye to value.”
“I suppose so.” Caroline finished the last of her soup, and the maid reappeared to serve the next dish. The two women began to eat slowly. It was a delicate fish, and extremely well cooked; at any other occasion Charlotte
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