A Gilded Grave

First in a new series from the author of the Celebration Bay mysteries

In 1895, at the height of the Gilded Age, Newport, Rhode Island, is the summer home of the social elite. Within the walls of their fabulous “cottages,” fortunes and reputations are made and lost. Competition for superiority is ruthless and so are the players.

During her first season, Deanna Randolph has the pleasure of attending 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 known for his magical, fortune-telling talents.

But on the nearby cliffs, a young maid lies dead, her neck broken—and a member of one of the town’s most prestigious families is found kneeling over the body.

Joseph Ballard humiliated Deanna when he broke off their courtship at the end of last season. But while Joe may be a cad, Deanna doesn’t believe he’s a killer. Now reluctant allies, the two must navigate a world of glittering parties, fashionable tennis matches, and intriguing séances to find the murderer. But when their investigation leads them to Newport’s most powerful inner circles, they’re exposed to something far more dangerous than malicious gossip…

Chapter One

Deanna Randolph eased away from the hair brush 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.  Not a painting by one of the Pre Raphaelites with their vibrant colors and play of dramatic lighting, or the pen and ink covers of the dime novels featured in the windows of the Bellevue Avenue newsstand. But something less defined, their figures softened and made slightly hazy by the gaslight of the bedroom, like the brush strokes of the Impressionists.

The seated figure, dark hair piled up on her head and clothed in a white dressing sacque.  Dark eyes frowning 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, almost luminescent above the black and white that was her daily uniform.

Deanna would like to paint them just this way. Instead she was only given pears and vases and landscapes to dutifully reproduce.

Elspeth was only four years older than Deanna, had been her personal maid for two of those years, but a veteran of service for ten years or more.  Deanna wondered what it would be like to have to work, not as a servant but as something  . . . different. Exciting. Like Mary Cassatt, painting and living in Paris. Or Nellie Bly who became a journalist and traveled around the world. Or even Kate Goelet, the dashing detective of the dime novels she and Elspeth secretly read each night as she got ready for bed.

“Miss Deanna!”

Deanna started.  “Sorry.” She straightened her back and felt nerves flutter at her throat. 

Elspeth tapped the brush on Deanna’s shoulder. “This is your first Newport ball since your come out. You’ll want to make a good impression. So hold still.”  She paused, the brush raised over Deanna’s head.  Maid Slaying Her Mistress with Hairbrush.

 Elspeth tapped her a little harder.  “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.”

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

“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 as usual but planned to live in Newport to work on his inventions.  That was bad enough but he’d taken rooms in the working class Fifth Ward, when he had a perfectly good mansion on Ocean Avenue to live in.

“Oh miss, you don’t mean it.”

“No, of course not.” 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 any more.”

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 scraped her scalp.  It wasn’t that Elspeth was ham-handed.  She was quite gentle, it was just that fashion wasn’t comfortable. No wonder her sister Adelaide was always succumbing to the migraine.

“They say that Mr. Woodruff has been acting right strange ever since he came back from that heathen place. I just hope he didn’t bring back some unheard of disease and give it to the whole household.”

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

Elspeth humphed.  “He’s been 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 she doesn’t catch it, whatever it is.”

“I’m sure she—”

“And that’s not all. They say Lord David’s valet is as black as the night, and seven feet tall. He 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.  “Are you finished?”

“Almost.” Elspeth adjusted the strand of pearls.  “That Lady Madeline 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.” She chose Daisy; now Daisy is a parlor maid and a lady’s maid and she’s been in this country less than a year.  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.”

“I do, too.”

Elspeth made a final adjustment to the hair piece and stepped away. “All done.  You look beautiful.”

Elspeth helped Deanna out of her dressing sacque and disappeared into the next room. Deanne stood before the full length mirror wondering if she would be a success tonight, or whether people would whisper about her because she’d been jilted.

But when Elspeth returned carrying her ball gown high above her head, Deanna forgot about Joe, and what people would think, even about Kate Goelet and her detectival adventures.

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

She held onto Elspeth’s shoulders for balance and stepped into her dress. She 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?

“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.  She was a minnow—no a gold fish—swimming with the sharks, smiling, bejeweled and beautiful, but deadly all the same. She might not have been out very long, but she knew what was what. It was the women that ruled Newport and it was them she’d have to please. She stifled a groan.

“I was talking about 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 the guest of honor Mr. Woodruff brought back with him.  Everyone says he is very charming—and handsome, a plantation owner, 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 a diminutive parlor maid.  “Miss, you’re wanted downstairs.”

Deanna sucked in her breath.  It was time to make a good impression on the Newport elite.

She pulled on her gloves, 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 tip toe 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.”

 

Deanna Randolph eased away from the hair brush 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.  Not a painting by one of the Pre Raphaelites with their vibrant colors and play of dramatic lighting, or the pen and ink covers of the dime novels featured in the windows of the Bellevue Avenue newsstand. But something less defined, their figures softened and made slightly hazy by the gaslight of the bedroom, like the brush strokes of the Impressionists.

The seated figure, dark hair piled up on her head and clothed in a white dressing sacque.  Dark eyes frowning 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, almost luminescent above the black and white that was her daily uniform.

Deanna would like to paint them just this way. Instead she was only given pears and vases and landscapes to dutifully reproduce.

Elspeth was only four years older than Deanna, had been her personal maid for two of those years, but a veteran of service for ten years or more.  Deanna wondered what it would be like to have to work, not as a servant but as something  . . . different. Exciting. Like Mary Cassatt, painting and living in Paris. Or Nellie Bly who became a journalist and traveled around the world. Or even Kate Goelet, the dashing detective of the dime novels she and Elspeth secretly read each night as she got ready for bed.

“Miss Deanna!”

Deanna started.  “Sorry.” She straightened her back and felt nerves flutter at her throat. 

Elspeth tapped the brush on Deanna’s shoulder. “This is your first Newport ball since your come out. You’ll want to make a good impression. So hold still.”  She paused, the brush raised over Deanna’s head.  Maid Slaying Her Mistress with Hairbrush.

 Elspeth tapped her a little harder.  “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.”

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

“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 as usual but planned to live in Newport to work on his inventions.  That was bad enough but he’d taken rooms in the working class Fifth Ward, when he had a perfectly good mansion on Ocean Avenue to live in.

“Oh miss, you don’t mean it.”

“No, of course not.” 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 any more.”

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 scraped her scalp.  It wasn’t that Elspeth was ham-handed.  She was quite gentle, it was just that fashion wasn’t comfortable. No wonder her sister Adelaide was always succumbing to the migraine.

“They say that Mr. Woodruff has been acting right strange ever since he came back from that heathen place. I just hope he didn’t bring back some unheard of disease and give it to the whole household.”

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

Elspeth humphed.  “He’s been 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 she doesn’t catch it, whatever it is.”

“I’m sure she—”

“And that’s not all. They say Lord David’s valet is as black as the night, and seven feet tall. He 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.  “Are you finished?”

“Almost.” Elspeth adjusted the strand of pearls.  “That Lady Madeline 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.” She chose Daisy; now Daisy is a parlor maid and a lady’s maid and she’s been in this country less than a year.  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.”

“I do, too.”

Elspeth made a final adjustment to the hair piece and stepped away. “All done.  You look beautiful.”

Elspeth helped Deanna out of her dressing sacque and disappeared into the next room. Deanne stood before the full length mirror wondering if she would be a success tonight, or whether people would whisper about her because she’d been jilted.

But when Elspeth returned carrying her ball gown high above her head, Deanna forgot about Joe, and what people would think, even about Kate Goelet and her detectival adventures.

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

She held onto Elspeth’s shoulders for balance and stepped into her dress. She 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?

“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.  She was a minnow—no a gold fish—swimming with the sharks, smiling, bejeweled and beautiful, but deadly all the same. She might not have been out very long, but she knew what was what. It was the women that ruled Newport and it was them she’d have to please. She stifled a groan.

“I was talking about 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 the guest of honor Mr. Woodruff brought back with him.  Everyone says he is very charming—and handsome, a plantation owner, 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 a diminutive parlor maid.  “Miss, you’re wanted downstairs.”

Deanna sucked in her breath.  It was time to make a good impression on the Newport elite.

She pulled on her gloves, 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 tip toe 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.”