The Willflowers also honed their problem-solving abilities. Charlie summed up the main strategies as falling under one of three categories: finesse, flee, or fight. In acting out various scenarios, it became clear that the girls had different strengths. Fiona was the best at finessing, Glory at making a quick getaway, and Livy…well, she’d developed a fondness for Mrs. Peabody’s techniques.
“What lesson do we have next?” Livy asked with an eagerness that she’d never felt in all the years at Southbridge’s.
Unlike the finishing school, Charlie imparted knowledge that was of interest to Livy. Yesterday, they’d spent half a day practicing different accents, from Cockney to Scottish (Livy had a leg up on the latter). The day before, they’d paid a visit to a shop owned by Mrs. Quinton, a talented African modiste and friend of Charlie’s. The Angels had been ushered into a backroom, where Mrs. Q, as she was known to intimates, outfitted them with her innovative designs, which included parasols with hidden blades, dresses with detachable skirts and trousers beneath, and reticules with secret compartments.
Livy couldn’t wait to see what was next.
“It’s time for luncheon, actually,” Charlie said.
“Capital.” Glory grinned. “I’m starved.”
Changing back into their usual attire, the girls followed Charlie out of the training chamber, which was located in the building behind the main house. They stopped at the next room to exchange cheery hellos with the “Janes.” The three women, all named Jane, were expertly embroidering handkerchiefs and writing pamphlets.
Someone had to do the work of the “charity,” after all; Livy was grateful it wasn’t her.
Livy and the others crossed the cobblestone courtyard to access the main house, her home for the next month. Her family had departed for Scotland yesterday, and while she’d been teary-eyed bidding adieu to her parents and brothers, she was also brimming with excitement at her newfound freedom and the adventures ahead.
It was almost enough to distract her from thoughts of Hadleigh.Almost.
Pushing aside the maudlin thoughts, Livy entered the dining room, a high-ceilinged space with pristine plaster moldings and sumptuous forest-green curtains fringed with gold. The table had been cozily set for four: Charlie and Livy took the head and end seats respectively, and Fi and Glory the ones in between. After the rigorous exercise, Livy was famished, and silence reigned as the women tucked into the delicious repast of consommé, sliced meats, pickled vegetables, cold puddings, and freshly baked rolls.
“I hope you do not mind if we discuss some business,” Charlie said.
“I don’t mind.” Livy bit into a buttered roll, nearly swooning at its crusty goodness.
“Me neither.” Fiona helped herself to a slice of ham. “Mama is coming to fetch me at two o’clock for a fitting at the dressmaker’s, and I don’t want to miss anything important.”
Although Fi and Glory managed to stop by Charlie’s almost every day, they still had to carry on with their regular activities. As did Livy. She found it the oddest thing, training to be an investigator while living a debutante’s life. In between sparring and target practice, she’d gone to luncheons and balls. When Lord Sheffield had come to call unexpectedly one afternoon, she’d had to hurriedly change out of a disguise she’d been perfecting. Luckily, before Livy rushed off to meet Sheffield, Charlie had plucked off the fake mustache still glued to Livy’s upper lip.
Livy felt like she was leading a double life, and it was exhilarating.
“I believe you are ready for your first case,” Charlie said.
“By Juno, we have a case?” Glory’s hazel eyes sparkled; perched on her shoulder, Ferdinand II twitched with excitement. “Who is the client?”
“The Countess of Longmere.”
Shock rammed into Livy. “Pippais hiring us?”
“She believes she is hiring an investigator I know,” Charlie corrected, “and I am merely the go-between. She does not know of your involvement. For your protection and hers, you must keep it that way. Secrecy is paramount; without it, the Society of Angels will not survive. You recall the vow you took when you joined?”
Nodding, Livy chanted in unison with Glory and Fi:
No matter what danger may await
An Angel is loyal, brave, and true.
We will not betray our society’s aim,
“Sisters first” will see us through.
Charlie smiled. “Very good, Angels.”
“But why would Pippa need to hire an investigator?” Livy persisted.
“For the same reason most women do: a man,” Charlie replied. “In this case, her husband, Lord Edwin Longmere.”
Livy remembered Pippa’s ill-hidden distress at the symposium.
