“No.” Her gaze sharpened. “Why? Has something happened? Is Consuelo ill? Or have she and Aunt Alva been arguing again?”
I saw no harm in disclosing what had happened at Marble House yesterday, minus Consuelo’s disappearance. Gertrude paled as I told her about the murder. Then she dragged herself to her dressing table chair and sank down into it.
“Good heavens . . . again?”
I left Gertrude to resume sorting through the contents of her dressing room. Satisfied that Consuelo hadn’t contacted her, I went out to the terrace to bid good day to the family. Leaving it to Gertrude or the local newspapers to reveal the details of the murder, I said fairly quick hellos and good-byes and let myself out the front door. I met my eldest cousin, Neily—short for Cornelius—out on the drive. He had just ridden up on horseback.
To his credit, he acknowledged Katie with a short wave, to which she gave a polite nod. There had been a time when I’d held Neily responsible for Katie’s troubles last spring, but that’s all another story. He and I had always been good friends, possibly my closest out of all my Vanderbilt cousins, though lately his interests had been diverted elsewhere.
With a grin he dismounted, grabbed me up in a hug, and swung me about. I slapped at him to put me down; after all, we weren’t children anymore, but I secretly relished his playfulness. Being Uncle Cornelius’s primary heir, twenty-one-year-old Neily ran the risk of becoming too serious, not to mention too grand for his britches. But somehow, so far, he remained immune to the burdens he’d one day assume.
“Are you leaving?” he asked with a bit of a pout.
“I am. Are you living here again?”
He’d recently moved out after arguing with his parents over a young woman he’d begun courting. They didn’t approve of her; Neily didn’t give a hoot.
“I’m back home for the moment,” he said, then lowered his voice. “But Grace and I are planning, Emma.”
“Do be careful. There could be serious repercussions.”
“I am. But eventually Mother and Father will have to accept my choice.”
“Oh, Neily.” I looked up into his handsome face and pressed my palm to his cheek. “No, they don’t, and you could end up disinherited.”
“Then I’ll have to find a way to earn a living, won’t I?”
Would Grace want him then, I wondered. With all my heart I hoped so.
“I have to be going,” I said, “but come by Gull Manor for supper some night. Bring Grace, if you like. You know Nanny would love to cook for you.”
“Nanny loves to cook for everyone.” His expression darkened. “Is Brady still staying with you?”
Neily had reason to resent my half brother. Brady had attempted to steal business secrets from Uncle Cornelius, though in the end his conscience won out and he hadn’t been able to carry out his subterfuge.
“Can’t you try to forgive him, Neily?”
He shrugged and kissed me good-bye.
Katie and I spent the next hour or so coaxing Barney up and down Belleview Avenue and its surrounding area. The streets bustled with activity, there being quite a well-heeled crowd riding up and down the fashionable avenue to see and be seen, waving hello to acquaintances and stopping to talk to friends. More than once the genial traffic brought my rig to a complete halt, not to mention the several times I was obliged to stop and exchange greetings and news with those who recognized me as a Vanderbilt relation. I might not have been a desirable acquaintance in my own right, but my connections kept me in fairly high social demand during the Season. That I wrote a society column that extolled the grandeur of their houses and their glittering summer activities didn’t hurt either.
One of the interruptions in my travels did bring an unexpected benefit, for as I climbed down from my carriage to trade pleasantries with Mary Hazard and her mother, who should happen by but Carrie Astor—really Carrie Wilson now, but most people still referred to her as an Astor. Her younger cousin, Waldorf, who was about Consuelo’s age, strolled at her side.
The Beechwood estate had been my next intended stop. Earlier, calling on the Goelets and their nearby neighbors, the Oelrichses, had produced little in the way of results. I’d forgone the direct approach I’d taken with Winty and instead steered the conversation in ways that encouraged Consuelo’s friends to divulge whether they’d seen or heard from her in recent days. May Goelet hadn’t encountered my cousin since the same ball where Consuelo had managed to speak with Winty, and Blanche Oelrichs hadn’t glimpsed Consuelo at all since they’d met in Paris in the spring. Both expressed concern for her, and nothing in their attitudes or bearing led me to believe either had reason to lie.