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Electra frowned. “I thought you wished to speak to me.”

“I do, but I want complete privacy, and there are always ears in a household such as ours.”

Electra stared at Violet and felt only a jagged thread of anxiety from her.

“Very well.”

Ten minutes later, they left the house after Electra asked a footman to pass on the details of her departure to Gideon. Another ten minutes later and the leaf-dotted emerald swath of the park came into view. Only when they were near the green’s edge did Electra notice that Violet had something clutched under her arm. A small, barely visible book of some sort.

They crossed into the park, walked a while in the sun breaking through the morning’s cloud cover, and soon Violet gestured to a wrought-iron bench, set off the main path and facing the lake at the heart of the park’s acres.

“Shall we sit?”

Electra did so, turning to look around them to ensure they had the privacy she had insisted upon.

“I did something rather shocking,” Violet whispered.

“Did you?”

“Perhaps shocking isn’t the right word. Perhaps offensive is the word.”

Electra turned so that she could look at her more squarely on the bench. Her expression conveyed distress, mouth tight, brow furrowed. Electra sensed a feeling of guilt as she attempted to read her emotions.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Delacourt?”

“My sister kept a journal. I knew of it, but I wasn’t certain where it might be. I guessed that it was hidden somewhere in her room.” She paused and licked her lips. “My father asked if I knew whether Iris kept a journal, and I lied. I said I did not know because I knew Iris would not want him looking through her private thoughts, just as I would not want him looking through mine.”

She reached up to press a hand to her chest, as if her heart was racing. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and especially after our initial discussion. I knew anything I could discover would help you. It seemed reasonable to think the answer to where she might be was in her journal, so I pushed past my misgivings and looked. And I found it in her wardrobe.”

Finally, she laid the book she’d been clutching onto her lap, pressing her hands to its cover. “You must believe that in a million years, I would never betray my sister in this way under any other circumstances.”

“I believe you, Miss Delacourt.” Electra couldn’t take her eyes off the journal Violet had retrieved from Iris’s room, eager to touch it.

“Is there something written in the journal that might aid us in finding her?”

Violet bit her lip, then said, “Possibly.” She opened the blue leather-bound book with a ribbon marker. “Most of her journal is simply an account of day-to-day activities, recording where she went, how she felt. Obviously, it becomes a bit more colorful after she began working at the museum. She speaks of Miss Collier, almost entirely in fond terms. But there is an odd entry. It’s quite unlike most of the others.”

“What does it say?” Electra had to restrain herself to keep from reaching for the journal, but she quickly removed her own gloves, in case Violet might let her hold the book.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I—I’m not trying to prevaricate. I just…” Then she offered the journal to Electra. “You may read it for yourself.”

When Electra took the volume from the lady’s hands, she realized Violet was trembling.

The book fell open where the ribbon marker had been placed. The entries were much as Violet said. Iris spoke of the day, what she’d done, even what she’d eaten for lunch. The next entry was much the same.

Took a nap. Cook made my favorite soup. Worked on the Byzantine silk. I will be done with that painting tomorrow.

And then below it, a brief entry on the next day.

I cannot believe I agreed to this. I think I regret it already.

And then three days later, a long entry written in much messier handwriting.

He kissed me. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t expect him to. And I hate that I wanted him to. Secretly, I wanted him to. And then he did, and I felt awful. The guilt almost swallowed me whole. But the guilt wasn’t alone. There was pleasure too. Giddiness. A strange happiness that I’ve never felt before in my life. What have I done? How do I undo it? I don’t want to undo it. I am a terrible person because I want more. Selfish. I am very selfish. I learned that about myself today, and I do not like it.

It was the last entry in the journal.

“Do you have any idea who she was referring to?”