“Yes, well, thank you,” Amity said. She knew she was blushing furiously.
“Very gracious of you, madam,” Penny said smoothly. “But to return to the subject of this particular wedding gown, is there anything else you can tell us about it?”
Madame La Fontaine’s brows shot upward. “I can’t imagine why you are interested in it. I told you, it is not at all in the current fashion.”
Penny gave her a bland smile. “We found the lockets quite by accident. They appear to be rather valuable. We are trying to track down the three women in the pictures so that we can return their jewelry to them. As we do not recognize the young ladies, we thought we might start by identifying the dressmaker who created the gown they all shared.”
“I see.” Madame La Fontaine relaxed somewhat. Evidently any suspicions that her clients might be seeking a replacement for her services had been allayed. “Very kind of you to go to the effort. I can tell you with absolute certainty that both the dress and the veil were made by Mrs. Judkins. Calls herself Madame Dubois, but between you and me she’s no more French than that streetlamp out in front of my shop.”
Amity looked at Penny. “Isn’t it amazing how many people attempt to pass themselves off as something other than what they are?”
“Astonishing,” Penny said.
Some twenty minutes later Amity stood with Penny at the sales counter of Madame Dubois, also known as Mrs. Judkins. The dressmaker examined the three images in the lockets with an air of confusion mingled with dismay.
“Yes, I made that dress,” she said. “But this is all very odd.”
Her accent was somewhat more refined than Madame La Fontaine’s but equally false.
“What is strange about the gown?” Amity prompted.
Madame Dubois looked up, brow wrinkled in bewilderment. “I did not make it for any of these young ladies. I suppose it’s possible that they all borrowed or purchased the dress secondhand, but I can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”
“You mean because it’s out of style?” Penny asked.
“No,” Madame Dubois said. She removed her reading glasses and dropped the French accent, instantly transforming into Mrs. Judkins. “It easily could have been remade in the current style. I meant I can’t imagine why any young lady would want to be married in a gown that had such a tragedy attached to it. Very bad luck.”
Amity knew that she and Penny were both holding their breath now.
“What is the story behind this gown?” Amity asked. “It is very important that you tell us.”
“Ah.” Mrs. Judkins inclined her head in a knowing way. “I see you were thinking of purchasing the dress for your own wedding.”
“Well—” Amity began.
“I strongly advise against it, Miss Doncaster. No good can come of wearing that gown. The bride for whom it was made died a tragic death within weeks of her wedding. She was still on her honeymoon, as a matter of fact.”
“That would have been two years ago, correct?” Penny said.
“Yes.” Mrs. Judkins made atsk-tsk-tsksound with her teeth and tongue and shook her head. “So very sad.”
“Who was the bride?” Amity asked, hardly daring to believe they were closing in on the answers to the questions she and the others had been asking.
“Adelaide Briar,” Mrs. Judkins said. “I have the details in my files but I don’t need to look them up. I remember the whole business quite clearly, not only because the bride was very lovely and the gown was so expensive but also because it was such a hurried affair. My seamstresses had to work night and day to complete the dress in time. Just between the three of us, I’m quite sure the bride was pregnant or, at the very least, concerned about the possibility, if you take my meaning.”
“She had been compromised,” Penny said.
“I suspect that was the situation,” Mrs. Judkins said. “It’s certainly not the first time I’ve been asked to produce a gown in a great rush. But that hurried wedding cost the young lady her life.”
Amity instinctively touched the tessen blade on her chatelaine. “What happened to her?”
“I’m not certain, exactly. The papers said something about a terrible accident. The couple went to the continent for their honeymoon. They stayed at an old castle that had been turned into a very exclusive hotel. In the middle of the night she somehow fell from an upstairs window. The fall broke her neck, but in addition she must have been cut up quite badly by the broken glass. According to the accounts, there was a great deal of blood. No, Miss Doncaster, you do not want to be married in that gown.”
Amity swallowed hard. “I believe you.”
Penny watched Mrs. Judkins very steadily. “Do you remember the name of the groom?”
“How could I forget?” Mrs. Judkins said.
