Unseemly Ambition (37 page)

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Authors: K.B. Owen

Tags: #mystery cozy, #mystery historical, #mystery amateur female sleuth, #mystery 19th century, #mystery academic setting, #mystery hartford ct, #mystery lady professor, #mystery progressive era, #mystery victorian, #mystery womens college

BOOK: Unseemly Ambition
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Charlotte flushed. “It was a
graduation gift from Aunt Susan. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see
me in it.”


Do you have our masks?”
Concordia asked anxiously. The thought of this being a masquerade
ball was both worrisome and reassuring. She was comforted by the
thought that her eye expressions would be difficult to read, but it
would be equally difficult to establish the identities and
temperaments of the men in the room.

Charlotte nodded, fished in her
reticule, and passed her a domino mask of black silk, ornamented at
the temples with tiny pearls. She checked the mantel clock. “Aunt
Susan’s carriage will be at the gate soon.”

Concordia collected her wrap and
reticule. “Ready.”

Charlotte paused, listening. “It
sounds like everyone is settling down for the night. How strange to
be going out at this hour.”


Don’t worry. I made sure
Miss Pomeroy approved our outing,” Concordia said. She put a hand
on Charlotte’s arm. “Thank you,” she added quietly. “For all of
your help. This has been a trying time. It feels good to have an
ally.”

Charlotte smiled. “Whatever you need,
miss.”

They collected their wraps and walked
to the front gate.

 

The drive to Dean Maynard’s country
home in Cottage Grove was a pleasant one.

They passed a number of stately
houses, refurbished from modest farmhouse structures. Nearly all of
them were closed up until the summer season.

At last they pulled up to the Maynard
house. The surrounding property had retained some of its dairy farm
origins, with a silo, barn, and split-rail fencing, but the house
itself had been rebuilt in a grander style, with a deep, white
columned porch and asymmetrically-proportioned high-peaked gables
of Windsor blue.

Festive Chinese lanterns were strung
along the portico, and every window glowed. Band music drifted
faintly through the open door as they alighted from the carriage.
Concordia and Charlotte exchanged glances as they straightened
their trains and settled their wraps over their
shoulders.

Lady Dunwick caught the glance. “No
need for worry,” she said cheerfully, “I’m sure there will be no
problem.” The diminutive lady took Sir Anthony’s extended arm and
led the way.

They were among the last to arrive,
which proved fortuitous. The maid gave the Dunwick invitation
barely a glance as she greeted them and took the ladies’ wraps.
Concordia settled the mask more firmly across her eyes and
cheekbones, tying it securely behind her head. She had to avoid
Isley and Maynard. There would be no explaining her presence. Her
conspicuous red hair was covered by the silver netting of her
hairpiece so that she could better blend in with the crush of
people, but Maynard in particular had a sharp eye. But the worst
that could happen, she reminded herself, was that she would be
shown the door.

As the Dunwicks toured the room and
made polite introductions, Concordia recognized a number of men,
including a law professor from Trinity, the mayor, the state’s
prosecutor, and several friends of her mother’s.

Conversation within the groups was
kept to light topics and generalities, and it was easy to
disconnect from the talk of one group and engage in another. None
of the men had elected to attend in costume; the dinner jacket,
pleated shirt, and dress trousers seemed the standard uniform of
the evening, though each gentleman sported the same black velvet
mask across his eyes. On some, the mask looked quite dashing; on
others, absurd. One man fussed with it as it crept up his
forehead.

Concordia tried to memorize the names
and details of the men unfamiliar to her: hair, hands, figure,
build, voice. She hoped it would be enough for Capshaw and Miss
Hamilton to learn more about these men, and determine who belonged
to the Inner Circle. She had hoped there might be a conversation
she could eavesdrop upon regarding the Inner Circle, but perhaps
such a large gathering made that unlikely.

The one man she dreaded seeing was
Randolph Maynard, but there was no sign of him. Strange. The man
was hosting a party in his own house, but wasn’t in attendance? The
Isleys were instead acting as hosts, circulating among the groups
and making sure guests were well-provisioned with punch and
lemonade. She had avoided them so far, but she found such
maneuvering an exhausting exercise, on top of making endless small
talk about the weather or the rising cost of silk.

Once, across the room, Concordia
spotted Barton Isley standing beside his wife. Lily was animatedly
recounting a story that, by the looks of it, had their group in
stitches. The lady was dressed in an Arabian costume of turquoise
and tangerine, her flowing skirts affixed to a low-hipped sequined
belt, and gauze veil crowned with a simple gold circlet. She must
be Scheherazade, Concordia guessed, the Persian queen who seduced a
king with her tales. How appropriate. Concordia made sure Lady
Dunwick steered clear of that group.

As they circulated among the crowd,
Concordia wasn’t so sure that she and Charlotte were as readily
accepted as Lady Dunwick had claimed. The female attendees seemed
to take the extra guests in stride, perhaps concluding that Lady
Dunwick was trying to find a marriage prospect for Charlotte.
However, Concordia noticed a few of the men, behind their masks,
raise an eyebrow when they were introduced. All had been polite,
but she felt uneasy when she caught sight of several men beside the
terrace murmuring and glancing their way.


Excuse us,” Concordia said
to Lady Dunwick, and maneuvered Charlotte over to a quiet corner
beside a potted plant.


What’s wrong?” Charlotte
asked, fiddling with her fan.


I don’t think we’re as
welcome as your aunt assumed,” Concordia said, pointing discreetly
with her own fan toward the terrace. “We may have to leave sooner
than anticipated.”


But you haven’t seen
everyone yet,” Charlotte protested. “There are a number of men in
the billiard room. We should wait until supper, at least. Then
we’ll all be in the same place.”


You’re right, of course.
But it’s nerve-wracking, this worry about being recognized by the
Isleys,” Concordia said.


Your hair is wonderfully
obscured by your head covering,” Charlotte said. “It should be all
right. And what’s the worst that could happen, in the middle of a
crowded hall? We’d be asked to leave.”

Concordia reluctantly followed
Charlotte back to the Dunwicks, trying to shake off this feeling of
unease.

Later, she wished she had listened to
her instincts.

 

Concordia surreptitiously checked her
watch again. When would they go in to dinner? Could she risk
staying that long? It was only a matter of time before she
encountered the Isleys. She doubted if she could convince them that
she was a prospective member of the Daughters of the Black
Scroll.

At last, the supper bell
rang.
Thank goodness.
If she could get one final look at the entire assemblage to
check for anyone she had missed, then she and Charlotte could make
their excuses and leave. She was anxious to write everything down
before she forgot something.

Concordia and Charlotte were following
Sir Anthony and Lady Dunwick to the supper room when one of the
maids approached them.


Excuse me, sir?” she said.
She bobbed a small curtsy to Sir Anthony. “Mr. Isley asked you and
your party to join him in the study. Would you please step this
way?”

Concordia’s heart sank. She and
Charlotte exchanged a glance.

Barton Isley was waiting for them in
the study. There was no sign of Lily. “Please be seated.” He waved
a hand toward the maid. “Close the door behind you as you
leave.”


Something wrong, Barton?”
asked a puzzled Sir Anthony.

Isley lowered himself into a chair.
“Most certainly there is. Do you understand the need for
confidentiality among our order? Why have you brought these two
ladies—” his gesture included Concordia and Charlotte “—to such a
gathering?”

Sir Anthony looked at his wife. “I
thought you had secured permission for Charlotte and Miss Wells to
attend.”

Lady Dunwick maintained her dignified
air. She addressed both men. “No, I did not. Since this was to be a
purely social occasion, such a formality seemed
unnecessary.”

Barton’s face grew red. “You foolish
woman. A basic tenet of the order is that the membership remain
unknown to outsiders.”

Lady Dunwick had gone pale. Sir
Anthony leaned over and patted her arm before looking back at
Isley. “Now then, Isley, there’s no need to address my wife in such
a rude manner.”


This
is
a social event, is it not?” Lady
Dunwick retorted, her voice quavering with barely-concealed anger.
“These ladies are hardly ‘outsiders’. Charlotte is my niece, and is
considering membership in the Daughters of the Black Scroll. Miss
Wells is a good friend of hers. Her mother, Mrs. Wells, has also
been offered membership, based upon her exceptional charitable
works. It is quite natural that Miss Wells would be interested in
attending this function.”

Isley gave a bark of
laughter. “This young woman–” he pointed to Concordia “–has proved
herself, time and again, to be exceptionally
nosy
, prying into the affairs of
others, no doubt out of some prurient curiosity known only to her
sex. She is the worst possible outsider you could have brought here
tonight.”


And why is that, Mr.
Isley?” Concordia asked, giving the man a hard look, even as she
clenched her gloved hands together to keep them from trembling.
“What do you fear I would learn?”

Sir Anthony gave Concordia a sharp
glance of understanding.

Barton Isley glared at Concordia.
“Nothing,” he said, through gritted teeth.

Concordia stood, heart pounding.
Perhaps retreat was the prudent course. “I apologize for
distressing you so. It would be better if we were to
leave.”

There was a light rap on the study
door, and Lily Isley walked in.


Barton, shouldn’t you be
joining the party?” She stopped, taking in the sight of her
red-faced husband and the subdued Dunwicks, rising from their
chairs and collecting their belongings. Then she noticed Concordia.
“Well, this is a surprise! I hardly recognized you. Whatever are
you doing here?” She turned to her husband. “Barton?”

Isley spoke through clenched teeth.
“The Dunwicks took it upon themselves to invite Miss Wells and Miss
Crandall to our gathering.”


Oh.” Lily regarded her
husband uneasily. “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,
dear.”


Indeed,” Lady Dunwick
interjected apologetically, “I didn’t realize….”


Of course not,” Lily said
sympathetically. “And no doubt my Barton has over-reacted,” she
added. “These people are our friends, dear, and certainly do not
mean us any ill-will.”

Barton Isley shifted uncomfortably.
“Perhaps so,” he said gruffly. “I apologize.”


Now, that’s better, isn’t
it?” Lily said. “And since you are already here, why not rejoin our
little gathering?”

Isley glowered at his wife.


You are most kind, but I
believe we’ve had enough revelry for one evening,” Lady Dunwick
said smoothly, looking only at Lily and turning a stiff back to
Barton Isley.


I’ll have your carriage
brought around,” Lily offered, pulling on the bell, “but I was
wondering...Concordia, could you possibly stay? Only for a little
while. I know it’s terribly late.
You
didn’t have the benefit of seeing the production, but there is a
most promising senior I want to talk with you about. I’m thinking
of taking her under my wing.”


Unfortunately, I came with
the Dunwicks,” Concordia said, glancing uneasily at Barton
Isley.

Lily waved a dismissive hand. “Oh,
don’t worry about that. I’ll send you back to the college in my
coach as soon as we’re done, I promise.”

Concordia was torn. She was tired and
felt the instinct to retreat, but on the other hand, her plans had
been interrupted. Perhaps she could learn more in a confidential
tête-â-tête with Lily Isley, if the discussion could be turned to
the Black Scroll.

Concordia turned to Lady Dunwick.
“I’ll stay here for a little while longer. Thank you for your
kindness. I regret the trouble it caused.”

Lady Dunwick squeezed her hand as she
turned to leave. “No matter, my dear.” She dropped her voice.
“Actually, it has given Sir Anthony and myself a great deal to
consider, regarding this group.”

Charlotte said goodbye to Concordia
next, her forehead puckered in concern. “You’re sure you want to be
alone with them?” she whispered.

Concordia nodded. “The house is full
of people. I’ll be fine.”

Charlotte reluctantly followed the
Dunwicks out.


Oh, Barton,” Lily said,
“the judge was asking for you. Perhaps you should return to our
guests?”

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