A Gilded Grave

Book 1: NEWPORT GILDED AGE

by Shelley Freydont

Genres: Historical Fiction; Female Sleuths; Thrillers

Synopsis

Step back into the past in the first Newport Gilded Age mystery—from the author of the Celebration Bay mysteries.
 
In 1895, the height of the Gilded Age, the social elite spend their summers in Newport, Rhode Island. Within the walls of their fabulous “cottages,” competition for superiority is ruthless...and so are the players.
 
During her first Newport season, Deanna Randolph attends a ball given in honor of Lord David Manchester, a Barbadian sugar magnate, and his sister, Madeline. The Manchesters are an immediate success—along with their exotic manservant and his fortune-telling talents.
 
But on the nearby cliffs, a young maid lies dead—and suspicion falls on Joseph Ballard, a member of one of the town’s most prestigious families.
 
Joe humiliated Deanna when he rebuffed an engagement to her, but while he may be a cad, she knows he isn’t a killer. Now the reluctant allies must navigate a world of parties, tennis matches, and séances to find the real murderer. But a misstep among the glittering upper classes could leave them exposed to something far more dangerous than malicious gossip...

Release date: August 4, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 416

Sample

Chapter
1

NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND

JULY 1895

Deanna Randolph eased away from the hairbrush that was scraping her scalp.

“Miss Deanna, would you please hold still? Everyone will be ready to go and you’ll still be sitting here.”

Deanna glanced up and smiled at the mirror image of her maid, Elspeth. The filigree that surrounded her dressing-table mirror framed them like a portrait. The seated figure, dark hair piled up on her head and clothed in a white dressing sacque, dark eyes peering out at the painter. The smaller figure standing behind, barely a head taller even with her mistress seated. Her fair complexion, made even rosier by the gaslight of the bedroom, almost luminescent above the black and white that was her daily uniform.

Deanna would like to paint them just this way. Not in the style of the Pre-Raphaelites, with their vibrant colors and play of dramatic lighting. And not like the pen-and-ink covers of the dime novels featured in the windows of the Bellevue Avenue newsstand. Something less defined, their figures softened and made slightly hazy by the gaslight, like the brushstrokes of the Impressionists.

But all she was ever given were pears and vases and landscapes to dutifully reproduce.

Oh, to be like Mary Cassatt, painting and living in Paris. Or Nellie Bly, traveling around the world. Or even Kate Goelet, the dashing lady detective of the dime novels she and Elspeth secretly read each night as Deanna got ready for bed.

“Miss Deanna!”

“Sorry,” Deanna said, falling back to earth. She was eighteen and about to make her second coming-out, the first in New York, and now tonight in Newport for the summer season. She glanced over her shoulder at Elspeth, only twenty-two but already in service for ten years, the last two as Deanna’s maid.

They would both be going to the ball at Seacrest tonight, Elspeth to sit at the ready to answer Deanna’s every little need and Deanna to impress the elite of Newport. She straightened her back and felt nerves flutter in her throat.

Elspeth tapped the brush on Deanna’s shoulder. “You’ll want to make a good impression tonight. So, hold still.” She paused, the brush raised over Deanna’s head. Maid Slaying Her Mistress with Hairbrush.

“And if you’re worrying about seeing Mr. Joseph tonight, don’t be. Orrin says he never attends any social events.”

“Ugh.” Deanna slumped again. “I wasn’t thinking about Joe at all. Not until you reminded me.”

“I’m sure no one will remember anything of what happened.” Elspeth tugged Deanna’s shoulders back.

“You mean that I was jilted before I was even proposed to?”

“Orrin says—”

“I know. Your brother thinks Joe is a paragon of modern society. Sometimes I’m sorry I suggested Joe take him on as an apprentice.”

That was before Joseph Ballard had shocked her, their families, and all of Newport at the end of last season by announcing that he wouldn’t be returning to New York but planned to remain in Newport year-round to work on his inventions. To add insult to injury, he was living and working in an old warehouse he’d rented in the working class Fifth Ward, when he had a perfectly good mansion on Bellevue Avenue.

“Oh, miss, you don’t mean that.”

“No, of course I don’t.” Deanna sighed and pushed at a curl that had sprung from her fringe of bangs. Stupid things, bangs. “I’m sure Joe is a perfect master. Now, let’s not talk about him anymore.”

Elspeth returned the brush to the dressing table, lifted a strand of pearls and tiny white flowers, and pinned them to the knot of hair that crowned Deanna’s coiffure. Deanna hardly flinched when the pins scratched her scalp. It wasn’t that Elspeth was ham-handed; she was quite gentle. It was just fashion that wasn’t comfortable. No wonder Deanna’s sister, Adelaide, was always succumbing to the migraine.

“I don’t know why they’re having a ball at Seacrest tonight. They say that Mr. Woodruff has been acting right strange ever since he came back from that heathen place.”

“Barbados isn’t heathen,” Deanna said. “At least, I don’t think it is. And Cassie says her father always gets seasick.”

Elspeth harrumphed. “Seasick? He’s been back on land for almost a week and he’s not getting any better. Daisy, she’s chamber maid over there, says one minute he’s all energetic and the next he looks like he’s gonna kick it. She’s had to light a fire in his bedroom every morning. I just hope he didn’t bring home some unheard-of disease and give it to the whole household just so he can show off those guests of his.”

“I’m sure Lord David Manchester is no heathen and is perfectly healthy, even if he does live in Barbados.”

“Hmmph. They say he has a valet as black as the night and seven feet tall, who can pull coins out of thin air, but if you get in his way, he puts a curse on you.”

“Sounds like a carney trick, if you ask me,” Deanna said.

Elspeth shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s really black magic.”

“I think black magic only happens in novels, Elspeth.”

“Maybe.” Elspeth added another tiny spray of flowers to Deanna’s hair.

“Are you finished?”

“Almost. They say that Lady Madeline—she’s Lord David’s sister—didn’t even bring a lady’s maid. Said her maid was afraid to get on the boat. Well, I don’t blame her. My ma came on a boat from Ireland, said she nearly died. Anyways, Mrs. Woodruff offered her the use of her own maid, but that Lady Madeline points to Daisy, who was filling the water ewer in her bedroom, and says, ‘That one.’ Now Daisy is a chambermaid and a lady’s maid, and she only came over from Ireland a year ago. What do you think about that?”

“I think Daisy is going to be very tired before the Manchesters leave for home.”

“Well, I say, good for her.”

“So do I.”

Elspeth stepped back to regard her handiwork. “All done. You look like a princess.” She helped Deanna out of her dressing sacque and disappeared into the next room.

Deanna stood before the full-length mirror wondering if she would be a success tonight or if people would whisper about her because she’d been jilted. But when Elspeth returned carrying Deanna’s ball gown high above her head, she forgot about Joe, and what people would think, and even about Kate Goelet and her detectival adventures.

The dress was unbelievably beautiful, with the lightest jonquil bodice, trimmed in Valenciennes lace, and tapering to a fitted waist before flaring out in soft flounces of gold-embroidered gauze. Mama had spent time and money to ensure Deanna’s success at her first Newport ball. Now it was up to Deanna to do her part.

She held on to Elspeth’s shoulders for balance and stepped into her dress, then stood patiently while Elspeth closed the row of tiny buttons down the back of the bodice and shook out the flounces that trailed down the back of the skirt.

“There now, you’re as pretty as a peach. You’ll turn heads tonight, miss.”

“Wonderful, just what I need.” How could she feel excited and depressed at the same time? She was a minnow—no, a goldfish—swimming with the sharks. Smiling, bejeweled, and beautiful sharks, but deadly all the same. She might not have been out very long, but Deanna knew what was what.

“I don’t mean the old snouts. If one of them looks at you funny, you just out-grand them.”

Deanna nodded, but it was easier said than done.

“I meant the gentlemen what will be there tonight. And one gentleman in particular.”

Deanna shivered, even though the room was oppressively close. “Not Joe.”

“Not him, though I’m sure he’s kicking himself for how he acted. I meant Lord David. Everyone says he is very charming—and handsome and rich—” Elspeth gave her a saucy smile. “And single. I bet he’ll only have eyes for you.”

There was a quiet tap at the door followed by the entrance of a diminutive parlor maid. “Miss, you’re wanted downstairs.”

Deanna sucked in her breath and pulled on her gloves. She waited impatiently for Elspeth to do up the buttons, took her fan and evening bag from the dressing table, and paused long enough for Elspeth to stand on tiptoe to give her headdress a final check.

“Oh, miss, you look beautiful,” the parlor maid said before she stepped back to let Deanna pass through the doorway.

Elspeth draped Deanna’s evening cape over her shoulders and followed her out of the room. “You’ll do us all proud, Miss Deanna.”

“Yes, I will.” If she couldn’t be a painter or catch villains, at least she could marry well. She’d have to be content reading about someone else’s adventures. “Tell me again what you’ve heard about this Lord David Manchester.”

They were waiting for her in the foyer: Mama, Papa, and her older sister, Adelaide. Her father looked grumpy, an expression he’d been wearing too much lately. He was overworked, poor dear, and he had never quite regained his vigor in the three years since her brother, Robert, had died during the influenza outbreak at Yale. That was why Adelaide was engaged to marry Charles Woodruff, to consolidate the two families’ R and W Sugar Refineries, now that Bob was dead.

Deanna kissed her father’s cheek and breathed in the lingering aroma of his pipe tobacco. That did more than anything to calm her nerves.

Her mother gave her an appraising look and nodded. She herself was dressed in deep green Chantilly lace with large puff sleeves and a diamond parure, and beside her, Adelaide was a vision in pastel pink. Her sister looked beautiful and very self-assured, and Deanna felt a tiny spark of envy. Adelaide had been out for three years and engaged for one. Deanna had only been out for six months; she was still feeling her way.

“Girls,” her mother said. She didn’t need to say more. The one word contained a lifetime of advice, commands, expectations, and warnings of how to behave. She turned, paused long enough for the footman, who had been staring unabashedly at Adelaide, to rush to open the door, then swept out of the house.

Adelaide followed immediately after. Her father gave Deanna a reassuring smile, offered her his arm, and the two of them went out together.

“Heavens, it’s close tonight,” Mrs. Randolph said as soon as they had all taken their places in the carriage. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come on to pour before we arrive.”

The sky was indeed overcast, the moon a vague halo behind the clouds. There was no breeze, and both the night and the carriage were dark and oppressive. Deanna could hardly make out her family in the shadowed depths of their seats as the carriage started out, moving slowly and stately down the street.

Deanna reached to open a window.

“Your gloves,” her mother said. Deanna drew her hand away from the window.

“Deanna, please sit still,” Adelaide said languidly. “You’re mussing my skirts.”

Deanna sat back. Beside her, Adelaide sat perfectly still. She could stay that way for hours. Nothing perturbed her. Deanna, on the other hand, tumbled from excitement to dread with each sway of the carriage.

“You know, my dear,” her mother continued, “just because you had a successful New York season doesn’t mean you will take in Newport. There are different requirements of a young lady here.” She sighed heavily. “Especially after that embarrassing incident with Joseph Ballard last summer. I don’t know how your father and Lionel Ballard could make such a muddle of something so simple. You’ll just have to brave it out if the subject comes up.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Deanna concentrated on sitting still while her mind raced with all the instructions she must remember at the ball. All too soon, the carriage took its place in the long line of conveyances slowly progressing up the horseshoe drive to Seacrest, the Woodruff family’s summer cottage.

Her mother gave her a penetrating look. “Remember that you are a lady born and bred, Deanna.”

“Yes, Mama. I won’t forget.” How could she? Her mother had been molding both her daughters for as long as Deanna could remember. And over the last winter, she’d been well and truly finished. She was eager to take her place in society. Still, she’d miss leaving her girlhood behind. No more sneaking off to run down to the sea or swinging in the tire swing her brother, Bob, and Joe Ballard had made in the garden of Bonheur, the Ballards’ cottage on Bellevue Avenue. No more lying in the grass watching the clouds pass or naming the constellations in the night sky.

She’d not been able to visit even one of her old haunts since arriving in Newport last week. There hadn’t been a minute that wasn’t filled with shopping, fittings, visiting, and afternoon drives. It was a different life; she’d looked forward to it, but now she wasn’t certain she was going to like it.

Her mother stirred the air with a plumed ivory fan. “Seacrest is always stifling. Deanna, make sure you are breathing properly. And if you get overheated in a dance, retire immediately to the ladies withdrawing room and send for your maid before you start to perspire.”

“I know, Mama.”

A snort came from the corner of the carriage where her father sat.

“George, this is her first big night in Newport. It’s a mother’s duty to remind her of every little thing. Newport is not New York. And one little misstep here—”

“Oh, leave off, Jeannette. You’ll make her so nervous that she’ll fall out of the carriage, trip up the stairs, and knock over a tray of champagne.”

“I won’t, Papa.”

“Of course you won’t.” He leaned forward to pat her knee. “And even if you did, you would carry it off with such panache, no one would dare snub you.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Adelaide in her perfectly modulated voice.

Deanna glanced at her sister. Adelaide would never expend the energy to fall up the steps or knock over a tray of champagne. Sometimes Deanna was amazed she could stand upright.

The air in the carriage ruffled as her mother made use of her fan. “I wonder how many people are invited? Seacrest won’t accommodate a large number of guests, no more than two hundred at the most. Francis and Eleanor should have heeded our advice and used Hunt instead of this American architect no one has ever heard of.”

The carriage inched ahead.

“I don’t know what Lord David will think of us, with us missing dinner.”

“I’m sure Francis will explain that the ferry was late. No doubt there will be other late arrivals.”

“And Lionel not even bothering to make an appearance to the man’s introduction to Newport society.”

“As I explained to you, my dear, Ballard had business issues that couldn’t wait.”

“Ah, business,” she said, dismissing the idea with a wave of her fan.

“Keeps you and the girls in finery, and I must say the three of you are looking exquisite tonight.”

Deanna shot a smile across to her father. Her? Exquisite?

Mrs. Randolph nodded slightly and returned her attention to Deanna. “Lord David is the owner of a huge sugar plantation in Barbados, and from what I hear very handsome—and eligible. And a peer. I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, Deanna, and please, please try not to scare this one away.”

“But I—” A look from her mother hushed Deanna’s tongue. She hadn’t scared Joseph Ballard away, had she? It had all happened so suddenly. The families had decided the two of them would marry, and before Deanna had even assimilated the news, Joe had bolted. An unladylike word, but there it was.

It wasn’t even as if she’d loved Joe. Or he, her. They had practically grown up together. When Bob died, Joe became a surrogate big brother. He’d always been solicitous to Adelaide, who was just four years younger than he, but Adelaide never wanted to do anything fun or interesting or energetic.

Joe called her Adelaide the Limpid.

Deanna, on the other hand, according to Joe, was a handful. He could be bossy and a little overprotective, like an older brother, but he could also be fun.

She erased the slight smile from her face. She wasn’t going to think about Joe tonight.

The carriage moved forward and finally came to a stop at the front steps of Seacrest. The door was opened by a liveried footman, and a ripple of anticipation danced up Deanna’s spine.

Jeannette Randolph looked quickly across at her daughters.

“Adelaide, pinch your cheeks. You’re looking positively peaked.”

Adelaide pinched her cheeks, and they all descended.

Deanna didn’t fall out of the carriage or trip up the steps, but she did stop to take it all in. Deanna and Cassandra Woodruff were great friends, and she’d been to Seacrest hundreds of times. It was one of the many new “cottages” that lined Bellevue Avenue. Not as monumental as Marble House or Chateau-sur-Mer, not nearly as big as the new Vanderbilt “cottage,” The Breakers, which had just been completed in time for the summer season.

Seacrest was a sprawling confection of towers and turrets and fairy-tale details with wonderful places to play hide-and-seek. The Woodruffs held extravagant parties that Deanna and Cassie had spied on from the oriel window above the ballroom. But tonight was the first time she’d actually been invited to one.

Every window was ablaze with light. The Woodruffs had installed electricity throughout the house last year, and the lights were so much brighter than the gaslight they still used at Randolph House. Gaslight was softer but harder to see by; her father so far had refused to install the new lighting.

Deanna had to admit there was something garish about all that brightness. It took the mystery out of the façade: flattened out the scrollwork until it looked almost like a painting instead of intricately carved detail; and turned the turrets, belvederes, and gabled eaves into hard geometric shapes.

Her mother paused on the landing, looked down the sweeping steps, and cleared her throat. Deanna collected herself, lifted her skirt gracefully in one hand, and climbed the steps without mishap.

They stopped in the foyer, where backlit stained glass windows rained particles of color on the visitors as they entered. The majordomo showed them through to the ballroom as if none of them had been in the house before. Even Deanna had danced there, but only in the daylight, when Cassie and she would sneak in and twirl to the music in their heads until Cassie’s governess found them and shooed them back to the schoolroom.

Tonight it had been transformed. The three giant chandeliers shone brilliantly overhead. Each crystal had been washed and dried and replaced by gloved hands, and they sparkled like diamonds. Wall sconces shot cones of electric light against the new “japonesque” wallpaper that Mrs. Woodruff had commissioned for the occasion. Chaises and chairs were placed for convenience around the dance floor.

The ballroom was already filling with people, the women’s colorful dresses standing out among the gentlemen’s dark evening wear as if bits of light from the foyer had followed them inside. Music floated down from the hidden orchestra alcove above their heads and filled the room with the latest tune.

The Randolphs made their way to their hosts, who were standing near the entrance to the ballroom. Mrs. Woodruff was wearing a gold-and-orange brocade evening gown with a ruffled scooped neck that showed off her ample bosom. A tiara of diamonds and amethysts was nearly buried in the curls of her coiffure. A diamond choker circled her rather plump neck and a corsage of pale lavender orchids embellished her left shoulder.

She was dressed lavishly but none too tastefully, and Deanna knew her mother would not approve. Mostly, her mother disapproved of Eleanor Woodruff because her wealthy silver-mining family, though rich in money, was poor in pedigree. Deanna thought that what Mrs. Woodruff lacked in taste and refinement, she more than made up for in generosity and good humor.

Fortunately, her mother had to put up with Mrs. Woodruff, because Francis Woodruff not only was a partner in R and W Sugar, but came from a family with both a staggering fortune and an impeccable pedigree. And why she’d allowed Adelaide to become engaged to Charles.

“Don’t you look lovely tonight,” Mrs. Woodruff said when it was Deanna’s turn to be presented. “Cassie is somewhere around here. She’s been looking for you all evening.” She practically winked at Deanna. “Won’t it be nice to be down here among the grown folks rather than peeking through the oriel?”

Deanna unconsciously glanced up at the peep window where she and Cassie had sat, heads together as they’d watched the dancers waltzing below. Mrs. Woodruff smiled and turned her attention to her next guest.

“And who is this beauty?” Mr. Woodruff took Deanna’s hands in his. Always a slight, lean man, tonight he looked positively frail. There were dark circles under his eyes. But his eyes were bright and his smile was genuine, and Deanna forced a smile to her lips.

“How do you do?”

“Just fine, my dear, just fine.”

“There you are.” Cassie Woodruff, swathed in layers of light rose taffeta, appeared out of the crowd. She was glowing with excitement, her cheeks flushed to the same lovely color as her dress. “I’ve been waiting ages. I want to introduce you to Lord David and his sister, Lady Madeline. She’s gorgeous and so much fun. You’re going to love them.”

She took Deanna’s hand and began leading her across the room, so close to the swirling dancers that Deanna felt dizzy. She quickly looked around to make sure her mother wasn’t watching.

“Cassie, slow down.”

“Oh.” Cassie dropped her hand. “Sorry. I forgot this was your impression night.”

“Yes. And don’t pretend you’re so old and jaded just because your parents brought you out a year ahead of me.”

“Yes, and still an old maid,” Cassie said. “Though Lord David is definitely delectable.”

“Cassie . . .” Deanna began, but she couldn’t chastise her friend for not taking Deanna’s first Newport appearance seriously. Cassie loved parties, and she was naturally vivacious and high-spirited, sometimes embarrassingly so.

“There they are, over by the fireplace.”

Deanna looked toward the far end of the ballroom, where a giant spray of peacock feathers screened the fireplace, lending an Egyptian feel to the gabled and gilded overmantel. The dance ended, and the crowd separated to the sides of the room, leaving them a full view of the sugar baron and his sister. But Deanna hardly noticed him. Standing at his right side was Joseph Ballard. He caught her eye, quickly excused himself, and walked swiftly into the crowd and out of sight.

Mortified, Deanna stood frozen for a full ten seconds, while heat flooded her face. What was wrong with her that Joe would be so anxious to avoid her? And why was he even here? So much for what Orrin said. She would make Elspeth promise to never use the words “Orrin says” ever again.

Deanna dragged her gaze from the empty spot next to Lord David and turned to Cassie.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be here?”

“Lord David? It’s a party in his honor.”

“I meant Joe.”

“Joe? Is he here?”

“He was standing right next to your guest of honor. Didn’t you see him?”

Cassie giggled. “No. I didn’t even know he was invited. Shall we snub him all evening?”

Deanna shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” From the way he’d reacted to seeing her, she didn’t think she had to worry about running into him again. How had she gone from friend to pariah so quickly? She wished their families had never cooked up that marriage scheme. It had ruined everything.

“Well, forget him and come meet our guests.”

Deanna made a concerted effort not to glance around for Joe as Cassie guided her across the floor to Lord David and Lady Madeline. She forgot Joe the instant Lord David saw them and turned his smile on her. He was tall and thin with dark blond hair “kissed by the sun,” probably from overseeing his plantation. A full mustache and a sparkle in his eye made him look slightly roguish, like the hero of one of her dime novels.

And more handsome than Joe, who was dark and clean-shaven, though maybe just a tad taller than Lord David. And a tiny bit more muscular. And he had looked very distinguished in a crisp white shirt and black formal attire.

Not that she cared how Joe looked.

“Lord David, Lady Madeline,” Cassie began a little breathlessly, “may I make my friend known to you?”

Deanna curtseyed to Lord David, then turned to his sister. “Lady Madeline.”

“Do call me Maddie. I can tell we’re going to be great friends.” Madeline Manchester was as beautiful as her brother was handsome, with even lighter hair and the same sparkling blue eyes fringed in dark lashes. Her gown was a rich azure, trimmed in pointed lace that accentuated her tiny waist, and had a décolleté that hinted at, but didn’t quite show, high, firm breasts.

Madeline was so bubbly yet so decorously assured that Deanna knew she would be an instant success in Newport, even with the more exacting ladies.

As well as the envy of every girl in the room.

Cassie was enchanted with both guests, though Deanna found the sister the more captivating of the two. So much so, that she was startled when Lord David asked her to dance. Recollecting herself, she curtseyed and let him guide her onto the dance floor.

Chapter
2

Joe Ballard stood in a shadowed alcove and watched Lord David lead Deanna Randolph onto the dance floor.

Of all the rotten luck. He’d been so intent on getting entrée to the Manchesters, he’d forgotten that Deanna had made her coming-out over the winter and would most likely be here, too.

“That was very unmanly of you. Not to mention rude.”

“Grandmère.” Joe turned quickly to encounter his grandmother.

Gwendolyn Henriette Laguerre Manon was a much smaller woman than her name implied. Joe had heard one of his father’s friends say she was like Queen Victoria, but with twinkle. “My mother-in-law may look like that old prune,” his father remarked, “but she has the spirit of a French—” He’d broken off immediately, remembering Joe was in the room, but Joe knew just what he’d meant.

Grandmère had a fire for living and had exercised that fire in more than one affaire de coeur. Even now, she held sway over men who should know better. She had a distaste of the boring, anger at injustice, and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Which evidently she was planning to do at the moment.

Joe bowed over her proffered hand.

“Joseph, was that really necessary?”

He looked up over their linked fingers. His grandmother’s deceptively mild gray eyes flashed for an instant before she smiled. He didn’t trust that smile; he hadn’t missed her brief look of censure.

“I suppose you’re talking about Deanna.”

“Who else?”

“I didn’t expect to see her,” he said. “If that’s what you mean.”

“And what else would I mean?” She tapped his hand with her fan.

Joe was sure it looked like a playful act from a distance. But his skin felt the sting of her displeasure.

“Did you mean to give her the cut direct?”

“I did not.”

“Well, that’s what it looked like to