“But you’re wearing jade and cream.”
Julia looked down. “Yes, I am. Then why did you ask me? You must wear the plum and silver. You look dazzling in that gown.”
Sarah sighed greatly, and then the maid, whom Julia hadn’t even noticed standing by the armoire, withdrew a silver gown with pale purple ribbon woven under the bustline and through the caps of the sleeves.
“Why are you sighing like that?” Julia asked.
“Because you’ve been twitter-pated for nearly a week.”
Julia shook her head, glancing at the maid who ignored them both while draping the gown over Sarah’s head, taking care not to make a mess of her coiffure.
“I haven’t.” Then Julia paused. “Have I?”
“See, that’s what I mean. There you go again, acting like a pudding-head. Do you want to tell me why?”
No, she most definitely didn’t. “You’re imagining it. Doyouwant to tell me why you foolishly let Becky do your hairbeforeyou chose your gown? I think your aigrette has moved.”
Reaching up to adjust it, she stared at the nakedness of her right hand and gasped.
“What is it?” Sarah asked. “My hair can’t be that bad.”
“Mother’s ring,” Julia whispered. “It’s gone.”
They stared at one another. With her heart instantly racing as if Lord Marshfield were touching her, Julia dashed back to her own room. She scanned the polished surface of her chest of drawers, then she opened her glove box perched atop and rifled through all her recently worn gloves.
She had the awful notion she hadn’t seen the ring on her hand all day but had been too buffle-headed lately to be certain.
Sarah entered behind her. “I’ll help.”
Julia nodded, looking under the bed, then going to her bedside table while her sister went to the armoire. Too late, Julia recalled her hidden treasures.
“Oh my God!” Sarah’s words sliced through the silence of the room as Julia faced her, her stomach clenching with sickening apprehension.
Her sister rose to her feet, holding a handful of jewels.
“How could you? That first earring fell at your feet, but when you told me your idea, I thought it merely a fantasy, a silly whim.” Sarah shook her head. “But you’ve done it. You’ve taken someone else’s jewelry.”
“Yes,” Julia agreed. There was no question of denying it.
“All this time, I wondered why you were going to these dances and parties without caring about securing any man’s favor. You weren’t interested in finding a husband.”
“I told you I wasn’t,” Julia tried to defend herself.
“This,” Sarah said, shaking her clenched hand from which the jewelry dangled precariously, “this cannot be all of it. Where is the rest?”
“Sold,” Julia snapped, stepping forward and holding her palms open. “Give it to me, please.”
Sarah hesitated. Ignoring Julia’s request, she went over to the bed, sat heavily upon it, and dropped the jewelry in her own lap.
“And the money?” Her voice had lowered to a whisper.
“Already given to the poor.” Julia confessed.
“You will cease this madness at once.” Her older sister’s tone had an edge Julia had never heard before.
She remained quiet, not wanting to argue, nor lie to her. Yet Julia saw no other way to help, and she’d seen the evidence of how much good the large donations could do.
“Tell me to whom each of these belongs,” Sarah added.
