Murder at Marble House(25)

My cousin Emma tells me I am strong and intelligent, and that I shall prevail. I’m not quite sure how, but she tells me also that I must let people know that I am a force to be reckoned with. That I must soldier on, map my battleground and discover a way to be happy. I think what that all means is I must now take matters into my own hands. Go where I want. Take what I want. Live how I want. I believe she is right. I—





“Well, Emmaline?”

Startled, I snapped the diary closed and looked up to see Aunt Alva poised in the doorway. “What?” I said stupidly, trying to blink away the guilt I was sure blazed in my eyes. Good heavens, not only had I not made things better with my interference, I’d made them much, much worse. If Consuelo had run off somewhere, it was only because of what I’d said to her and my foolish notions of courage.

Could she have run off to elope with Winthrop Rutherfurd?

“Did she leave us any hints in that ridiculous book of hers?”

“I . . . ah . . . no.” It wasn’t a lie. Consuelo hadn’t left so much as an inkling of where she might have gone, or with whom. But as the seconds ticked past, I became more and more convinced that she had, indeed, gone.

And then I realized why her bedroom felt so completely empty.

Muffy was gone. Perhaps Consuelo had been in too much of a rush to grab her diary, but she would never abandon her cat. . . .

“You have to find her, Emmaline. That’s all there is to it.”

“Aunt Alva, surely this is a matter for the police—”

“If you say that one more time, Emmaline, I swear I’ll scream. The police cannot be involved. Can you imagine the scandal? And with the Duke due to arrive within the next two weeks?” Her fist flew to press her chest just below her collarbone. Her breath rasped in and panted out in such rapid succession I became alarmed and went to her.

“You’ll faint if you don’t calm down.”

She grasped my wrist and squeezed like an iron vise, until I began to fear the bones would snap. “She is with one of her friends, Emmaline. She must be. And you must find her. Don’t go telling me you can’t. You were the one who discovered who murdered my brother-in-law’s financial secretary. Surely you can discover the whereabouts of one silly girl.”

Her intensity frightened me. And she was hurting me. “Yes, all right. I’ll find her, Aunt Alva. Just let me go before you break my wrist, please.”

“Oh.” She looked down, saw how her fingers were trembling because of how tightly she held me, and immediately let go. “Sorry. I think you should try Ochre Court first; she’s very probably with May Goelet. Or . . . Let’s see, where else would she go?”

Her eyes closed and a little groan escaped her. With one arm clamped around her middle, she made her way back to the chaise and sank onto the cushions. For a moment I feared she’d be ill.

“Aunt Alva?” I knelt beside her and reached up to put an arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, Emmaline, if she’s eloped with Winthrop Rutherfurd it’ll be the end of the world.”

“That’s a rather extreme outlook, don’t you think?”

“After all the care I took in raising her,” she lamented as if I hadn’t spoken. “All the planning I’ve done. She’s meant for better things than being the wife of some obscure New York fop.”

“The Rutherfurds are hardly obscure.”

Her eyes opened and she treated me to one of her quelling glares. “That’s not the point.”

“No, I suppose not.” I stood. “I’ll call on the Astors and the Goelets on my way home. I’ll check with cousin Gertrude, too.”

“Home? Emmaline, there isn’t time to go home. You must find her immediately and—”

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s never to underestimate the power of the servants’ rumor mill. I would never have discovered who killed Alvin Goddard if it hadn’t been for Nanny’s help. She has ways of sweeping hidden little details out into the open. We need her in this, Aunt Alva.”

“She’ll be discreet?”

I wanted to shake sense into the woman. What was more important, her daughter’s life or some silly reputation?

But I knew the answer. In Alva Vanderbilt’s world, a woman’s reputation was everything, every bit a commodity as the empires their men controlled. Oh, there were limits for every woman from every rung of society, but for most of us it was nearly impossible to imagine how much harm even a breath of scandal could do to a young woman like Consuelo. In my aunt’s eyes, her daughter would be better off dead than with a tarnished reputation.