“Ignore it,” Cecilia reiterated, although with a sympathetic smile. “‘And before him on the upland, he could see the Shining Wigwam—’”
“Who? Where?” Pleasance peered around anxiously—as if, having been neglected at the door, Miss Wigwam had forced another entry.
“It is in the poem, dear,” Cecilia explained. “Hiawatha sees the magician’s tent.”
There came again a knocking, only this time it was heels against the foyer floor, accompanied by a trilling voice. “Yoo-hoo! Jem! Anyone home?”
Miss Darlington sighed. “Anne Brown,” she muttered.
And indeed Miss Brown entered the room, her propulsion so determined, and so assisted by her bellows-like skirts, that Pleasance had no option but to scurry before her or be trampled.
“The door was open,” Miss Brown said. “I mean, it was shut and locked, butin essenceit was open, if you understand me. I say, Jem!” She stared aghast at Miss Darlington. “You do look rather done in.”
“It is but a scratch,” Miss Darlington replied dismissively.
“It is several cuts and one stab wound,” Cecilia corrected. “I’m afraid Aunty is not able to entertain visitors at this time.”
Miss Brown gave her a cool, penetrating look. “My how you’ve grown since I last saw you, Cecilia.”
“That was two hours ago, Miss Brown.”
“Exactly. Amazing what flying off unchaperoned with a knave, defeating one’s villainous father, and meeting the Queen can do for a girl’s stature.”
Cecilia held her breath. This was it! Finally! The moment of her promotion!
But then Anne Brown turned away. “Don’t worry, Jem, I won’t trouble you for long. I merely have a small matter upon which I seek your advice.”
“It’s fine,” Miss Darlington said, frowning briefly at Cecilia, who had given a loud sigh. “What matter?”
Miss Brown looked over her shoulder. “Bring it in, girls!”
Several Wisteria Society ladies trooped into the sitting room, shoving the wretched figure of Miss Muriel Fairweather. She hunched within her torn, smoke-stained dress, making no effort to repel the ladies’ hands. Contempt squatted in her eyes—but as Cecilia met that heavy, dark gaze, she realized the contempt was directed inwardly. Miss Fairweather was very sorry indeed for getting caught.
“There is a dispute as to what we should do with it,” Miss Brown explained.
Miss Darlington endeavored to sit taller in her chair. Pleasance dashed forward with a cushion to place behind her back; Miss Darlington took said cushion and threw it at Miss Fairweather.
“Traitor!”
Miss Fairweather shrugged.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself? No excuse for betraying your fellow Wisterians?”
Miss Fairweather shrugged again. “It made me rich.”
“I see.” Miss Darlington’s eyebrows angled together as if to discuss the matter between themselves. She glared at Miss Fairweather for a moment, then her expression eased. “Makes sense.”
“What?” Miss Fairweather blinked with bewilderment.
“I would have done the same myself,” Miss Darlington said. “You, Anne?”
“Probably,” Miss Brown agreed.
The Wisteria Society ladies looked at one another and nodded. A few of them patted Miss Fairweather on the back in congratulatory fashion. “How rich?” Millie the Monster asked.
“Several thousand pounds and a rather nice diamond,” Miss Fairweather said with a triumphant smile.
“Ten percent into the kitty,” Miss Darlington decreed. “That should buy tea and biscuits for the next few reunions. And let that be a lesson to you!”
