Had she returned it that night after the supper party? Or perhaps mislaid it?
“I wore it the night of the supper party.”
“It’s usually kept in a box in my wardrobe.” A place where anyone might have access to it.
“I remember laying it atop my dressing table before I dressed for bed.” Not helpful there.
“And you will want to speak with the servants,” she had added then.
“Yes, if you will be kind enough to let me see your private rooms,” I added.
“I have explained that I laid it on my dressing table. It’s not there now. It has disappeared.”
My smile was painful. I explained that it could be useful to see the place she spoke of and perhaps find a clue what might have happened to the necklace.
“Oh, I do see. This is so exciting. To think there might have been a thief here.”
I was not inclined to think that it was exciting that a thief was there. I smiled again.
“If you would be so kind as to show me your private rooms?” I reminded her for a place to begin.
“Of course.”
She set dear Bitsy on the floor. The animal assumed a safe distance as Kitty Ambersley escorted me to her private rooms.
I had developed a throbbing headache.
There was nothing unusual discovered in the search of Lady Ambersley’s private rooms.
Other than the fact that she was in the habit of leaving a trail of clothes about the rooms, all either in a shade of purple or fuchsia, including a purple wig on a wood head stand in her private dressing chamber. And there were those who thought my great-aunt was eccentric!
I wondered if Sir Ambersley was similarly kitted out. That conjured up amusing images and would most certainly make the meetings at Parliament most interesting.
We had then returned to the formal drawing room where late afternoon tea was served, including scones filled with dried fruit and nuts. Rupert would have been ecstatic, as scones were a favorite treat.
Not that I was above slipping a bit of the crumbly delight to the current animal who had followed my every move, at a safe distance, when Kitty Ambersley went to request the guest list from the night of the supper party.
Bitsy tentatively took the bit of scone, then stepped back a safe distance once more. It appeared we had an understanding.
With the list in hand, I thanked Kitty Ambersley and explained that I would be calling on the guests from that night if she would be so good as to contact them in the matter.
It was after five o’clock when I left the Ambersley manor, darkness settling over St. John’s Wood, with the lights of Regent’s Park glowing through the misty rain.
Lady Ambersley had Mr. Ives summon their driver for the short ride to Mayfair.
I fully expected the coach to be decorated in purple wool, stained purple leather, and window shades, and was surprised that it was not.
Surprisingly, my headache had all but disappeared by the time I arrived at the townhouse.
My housekeeper, Mrs. Ryan, had prepared supper. A warm fire burned on the hearth in the front parlor.
After removing my coat, I went into the parlor and poured myself a dram of Old Lodge whisky.
It was all quite cozy—that was the word for it. The whisky was most excellent.
I went to my writing desk and retrieved my notebook from my travel bag to set down my notes from the afternoon meeting with Lady Kitty Ambersley.
Yet there was something missing…
