Read Online Death on the Sapphire by R. J. Koreto - Free Book Online Page A

thought Frances. If these friends were other young women from the suffragist club, Mallow would suggest something simple. But if they were family friends of the Seaforths—lords and ladies with distinguished titles—she’d lay out something more elaborate.
    “Mr. Wheaton, the family solicitor, and his widowed mother. You’ve seen Mr. Wheaton, when he dined at my brother’s house.”
    “Very good, my lady,” said Mallow as she chose and smoothed out a dress. Frances’s sharp ears detected a tone in Mallow’s voice—or maybe it was just her imagination.
    “Nothing wrong, is there, Mallow?”
    “Not at all, my lady,” responded the maid, all wide-eyed innocence. But they both knew what the other was thinking. It was one thing for a lord to invite a trusted family solicitor to his table and quite another for his sister to socialize with him and his family out in public.
    A few years working for the House of Seaforth had taught Mallow a thing or two about class distinctions. It was true Mr. Wheaton could chat with Lord and Lady Seaforth, and she had heard he had a fine house himself, wore well-tailored clothes, and employed servants. But Mr. Wheaton worked for his money, and Lord Seaforth did not—he just had it. And that made all the difference: Mr. Henry Wheaton was middle class and Lady Frances was of the aristocracy.
    Mallow again thought back to her first days as a housemaid at the Seaforth house, when these important class distinctions had been drummed into her. Agnes, the Seaforth head housemaid, had explained it all to Mallow. She had been curious about the important and wealthy people who dined at his lordship’s table and one evening asked the more knowledgeable Agnes about Mr. Wheaton.
    “Oh, Mr. Wheaton, who’s dining here tonight? He’s just a solicitor, probably here because they needed an extra man to round out the table. Very nice of his lordship to invite him at all,” said Agnes. The emphasis was on “just.” The tone was dismissive. “But tomorrow night, you’ll see a real gentleman. Lord Bassington. Owns half of Kent, I hear.” She looked around to make sure Mr. Cumberland, who tolerated no gossip, was not nearby. “They say he’s very interested in Lady Frances. That’s why he’s here so often. I expect he’ll ask for her hand.” Agnes got a dreamy look, thinking about how lovely it would be to be married to Lord Bassington.
    Mallow brought her down to earth. “But I understand from Cook that Mr. Wheaton also visits frequently, even when there’s not a large party. Is he also interested in Lady Frances?”
    Agnes threw up her hands in exasperation. “I just told you, Lady Frances is the daughter of a marquess. She has to marry a lord. That’s the way it works. Ladies don’t marry solicitors. You have to know these things when you work in a great house.”
    “But Mr. Wheaton was so kind to me. When he arrived this evening, he asked me my name and said he hoped I would be happy here. No other guest ever did that.”
    Agnes just shook her head.
    The next night, Lord Bassington certainly didn’t speak to her. And according to downstairs gossip, it became clear that he wouldn’t be speaking again with Lady Frances either. Thanks to the young footman who served at the table, Mallow found out exactly what did happen when Lord Bassington tried to court Lady Frances over dinner: she spoke about women’s suffrage, reformation of the poor laws, Irish independence, and some art exhibition that Lord Seaforth had pronounced “disgraceful”—a whole host of topics unsuitable for a young lady. Lord Bassington never came back, and it was a minor scandal among the family and the servants.
    And now, some years later, here they were again, socializing with Mr. Wheaton, a man who was not of Lady Frances’s class but who had bothered to talk to a new servant girl.
    As Mallow helped Frances into her dress, Frances decided to address the matter with her maid openly.
    “I realize