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    Murder at the Debutante Ball
    Murder at the Debutante Ball
    Murder at the Debutante Ball
    Ebook360 pages6 hours

    Murder at the Debutante Ball

    By C.J. Archer

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    In this 5th installment of the bestselling mystery series, Cleopatra Fox gets entangled in a web of betrayal and blackmail that leaves the high society matchmakers scandalized.

    When a notorious cad is bludgeoned to death with a candlestick in the library at the most important ball of the London social season, Cleo finds herself in the prime position to solve the crime. After all, she stumbled across the body soon after the victim’s demise and is a witness to the evening’s events.

    But when a footman is arrested with a stolen painting in his possession, she finds her services are not required. Yet several things don’t add up, and the lead detective is convinced the man he was forced to arrest isn’t guilty.

    With the aid of Harry Armitage and her friends from the Mayfair Hotel, Cleo sets out to uncover the truth. They’re soon neck-deep in the scandalous secrets the victim unearthed about members of society. Secrets that could ruin marriages, reputations and futures if exposed.

    But which secret is worth killing for? And which suspect is hiding the most explosive secret of all?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOz Books
    Release dateDec 6, 2022
    ISBN9781922554284
    Murder at the Debutante Ball
    Author

    C.J. Archer

    Over 3 MILLION books sold!C.J. Archer is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of historical mystery and historical fantasy novels including the GLASS AND STEELE series, the CLEOPATRA FOX MYSTERIES, the MINISTRY OF CURIOSITIES and THE GLASS LIBRARY series.C.J. has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, 2 children and Coco the black and white cat.Subscribe to C.J.'s newsletter to be notified when she releases a new book, as well as get access to exclusive content and subscriber-only giveaways. Join via her website: www.cjarcher.comFollow C.J. on social media to get the latest updates on her books:Facebook: www.facebook.com/CJArcherAuthorPageTwitter: www.twitter.com/cj_archerInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorcjarcher/

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      Murder at the Debutante Ball - C.J. Archer

      CHAPTER 1

      LONDON, APRIL 1900

      My plan to blend in with the wallflowers at the Bunburys’ ball failed before I’d even had the opportunity to greet our hostess. A row of elderly chaperones raised their lorgnettes as one and peered at me. They didn’t try to hide their scrutiny, but they did cover their mouths with their open fans so they could gossip without having their lips read. Whatever their opinion of me, I couldn’t tell. Nor did I care. I wasn’t here for their entertainment. I’d only come to the ball to appease my aunt and uncle who were using the occasion to officially launch me into London society. I owed them this much after they’d taken me in with open arms.

      My cousin Floyd followed my gaze. They look like crows, ready to swoop on the unsuspecting.

      His friend Jonathon, standing on my other side, leaned down to my level. His breath smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. The only swooping they’ll do will be on the supper table later.

      He looked every bit the respectable gentleman tonight, dressed in a black tailcoat and crisp white shirt with his blond hair neatly combed back. But the indolent youth hadn’t completely disappeared. It was still evident in the heavily hooded eyes, the sneering tilt of his lips, and over-confident manner. He’d managed to secure the first two dances with me purely because he’d asked me in the presence of my aunt and uncle and they made it clear I should accept.

      Lady Bunbury welcomed us with enthusiastic smiles and a warm greeting which onlookers would have believed was genuine, but our family knew was false. After learning of the Bunburys’ financial difficulty during my last investigation, Lady Bunbury had pointedly not invited us to her ball, the first and most important event on the social calendar. It was only after Aunt Lilian’s unspoken threat to expose the Bunburys’ predicament that she’d finally extended invitations, but not before Flossy had cried herself to sleep for several nights. My cousin had been convinced her life was over.

      We exchanged the obligatory pleasantries before moving on to Lord Bunbury and finally further into the ballroom itself.

      Flossy stopped abruptly and clasped my hand. Look at this room, Cleo. Isn’t it heavenly?

      It was indeed marvelous. There was no sign of the Bunburys’ poverty. Guests were welcomed at the Mayfair townhouse’s front steps by dozens of lanterns illuminating the way, then invited up the sweeping staircase woven with garlands of leaves and white roses. More rose garlands hung above doorways and windows and filled enormous vases. Clearly the ball’s theme was white, signifying innocence, a virtue the debutantes who’d recently been presented at court were expected to possess.

      The unofficial theme for the evening was wealth. The opulence was on display everywhere, from the diamond encrusted tiaras of the debutantes to the jewels adorning the throats and ears of their mothers and chaperones. It wasn’t just the wealth of the guests, but also of the Bunburys, although in their case it was all a façade. Lady Bunbury had sold her jewelry and had replicas made to look like the originals.

      The Bunburys had everyone fooled. By holding the first ball of the season for many years, they’d set themselves up as the arbiters of style and ensured they remained popular. An invitation and their regard were both highly sought after. But this evening must be costing them a small fortune. It wasn’t just the decorations. There were a lot of staff, too; far more than the Bunburys employed on a permanent basis. There were footmen in abundance, and there must be several more staff in the kitchen preparing the refreshments.

      Flossy touched my arm and directed my attention to a girl standing with a large group. That’s Amelia Livingstone. They say she’ll be debutante of the year. I can see why. She’s very beautiful.

      And beauty is the chief requirement, I muttered.

      You’re so cynical, Cleo. It’s just as important to be amenable, accomplished in the gentle arts, and well-bred. Oh, and thin. She sucked in her stomach. If Lady Bunbury does crown her as debutante of the season, she’ll be engaged to be married before August.

      It looks like the eligible bachelors are already circling.

      Miss Livingstone was surrounded by people, not just young men, but their mothers, too. She smiled sweetly at something one of the gentlemen was saying. Indeed, she’d been smiling the same way ever since I’d laid eyes on her. It never wavered. Not even when the others laughed at a joke. She continued to smile inanely. Either she wasn’t listening, or she had a different sense of humor to the others. Or none at all.

      Flossy took my arm. Come on, Cleo, let’s mingle.

      I’ll stand over there, out of the way.

      Jonathon put out his hand to me. You will not. You promised me two dances.

      The musical ensemble struck up a slow tune and I inwardly groaned. I’d prefer something jaunty if I had to spend a few minutes alone with Jonathon. The less intimate the better.

      I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer, thankfully, as I was a poor one. He would have had lessons, whereas I’d been taught by my grandparents in their parlor. I had to concentrate, and that meant I didn’t notice him watching me until I finally looked up.

      He smiled. You scrub up well, Cleo. The cheerful tone didn’t match the intensity in his eyes.

      Thank you. So do you.

      It’s nice to see you out of black and gray.

      I’d set aside my mourning clothes which I’d been wearing since my grandmother’s death six months ago. To some, I’d shed the dark colors too soon, but younger women were often encouraged to come out of mourning earlier than their elders. My off-the-shoulder evening gown of white satin and ecru lace, woven with coral velvet ribbon through the bodice at the waist with velvet nasturtiums sewn onto the skirt in a cascade was the most elegant thing I’d ever worn, not to mention the most expensive. Another four ballgowns hung in my wardrobe back at the Mayfair Hotel, as well as new evening dresses and daytime outfits, all made by the best seamstresses in London. My uncle paid for them. I could never repay him, but I would dance with a few gentlemen of his choosing as a mark of my appreciation, beginning with Jonathon.

      I didn’t dislike Floyd’s friend. He could be charming and amusing. But he was a little too full of himself, not to mention a wastrel. I didn’t want to encourage him. Once our two dances concluded, I made a show of rejoining my cousins, both of whom had danced the last dance with attractive partners. All three men immediately fell into conversation about a long-distance rally to Edinburgh and back, staged by the Automobile Club of Great Britain.

      Flossy gossiped about the other girls with Floyd’s dance partner. None of it was unkind, but I didn’t know many of the people they spoke about, so I tuned out. I spotted Miss Hessing standing by the wall, a little apart from the group that included her mother. She had also tuned out of their conversation, and her gaze wandered the room. The wealthy American heiress was a guest at the Mayfair Hotel with her mother. She was here looking for an English husband who could rescue her from her horrid parent. Shy Miss Hessing was completely overwhelmed by her exuberant mother. I quite often asked her to join me for a game of cards when I spotted them in the foyer or at afternoon tea with Mrs. Hessing’s friends. She was very grateful for any respite.

      I excused myself and headed her way, ready to rescue her again. But it wasn’t her mother she needed rescuing from. Three gentlemen walked past. One of them said something to his friends and they all laughed. Miss Hessing’s face fell and her eyes filled with tears. She dipped her head to hide them.

      Is everything all right? I asked.

      She sniffed and offered me a smile. Oh, Miss Fox. I am glad to see you. I’m quite all right now that you’re here.

      I wanted to ask her what the men had said but decided against it. Perhaps it was better if she ignored them. Unfortunately, the three men returned moments later. One of them neighed as he passed.

      Miss Hessing lowered her head again. I hate these things.

      I squeezed her hand. I loathe them too.

      But you’re so popular with the men.

      Two dances with my cousin’s friend don’t count.

      It’s better than nothing. She sighed. I don’t know why we come.

      Because you’re invited?

      She smiled. I suppose so.

      You should smile more often. It lights up your eyes.

      She blushed. You’re too kind.

      I nodded at the retreating backs of the men. Ignore them. I plan to.

      What if one of them asks you to dance?

      I’ll tell him I don’t dance with moronic boys. I prefer men with at least half a brain.

      She giggled. I wish I had your confidence.

      Mrs. Hessing suddenly and loudly burst out laughing. Mother, Miss Hessing hissed. Everyone’s looking at us.

      A cluster of women that included Lady Bunbury peered down their noses at Mrs. Hessing. Then something caught Lady Bunbury’s attention and she hurried off in the direction of a lady and gentleman studying one of the many paintings dotted around the room. She sported a look of terror as she forged a path towards them. The pair didn’t see her approach. They were too intent on the painting.

      Mrs. Hessing covered her mouth with her fan and leaned towards her daughter. You have nothing to be ashamed of, child. You’re better off than most in this room, including our hostess. I’ve just heard the most interesting rumor about the Bunburys. Believe me, if they had a son your age, his mother would be throwing him at you. Mrs. Hessing turned to her friends, leaving her daughter blinking at her back.

      Nobody will throw their sons in my direction, Miss Hessing said to me. They all want that girl over there.

      I followed her gaze to Amelia Livingstone, dancing with a man shorter than her. He stepped on her toe and apologized. She gave a small wince, but her smile remained. Her partner looked besotted with her, and grateful to be in her sphere.

      Jonathon joined us and bowed to Miss Hessing. Good evening. We haven’t met.

      Miss Hessing didn’t correct him. She performed a little curtsy and blushed.

      You met Miss Hessing at the hotel, I told him.

      Ah. I do apologize. Dreadful memory for faces. He nodded at Amelia Livingstone being led off from the dance floor by her partner. I saw you watching her. I just heard the most scandalous thing about her. Do you want to hear it? It will make you feel better.

      Better about what? I asked.

      Your situation in comparison to hers. He leaned in. I heard something that throws shade over her virtue.

      Don’t, Jonathon. I’m not interested in nasty gossip.

      He held up his hands in surrender. Very well, but if you change your mind, let me know. It really is scandalous. He chuckled to himself.

      He wasn’t the only one who’d heard salacious gossip about Miss Livingstone. Going by the way a few of the young men looked at her with sly smiles, rumors about her were circulating fast. The extent to which her virtue was muddied wasn’t clear, however. For most girls, a mere kiss wasn’t a cause for scandal, but for a society girl, it would be the end of her good name. Her reputation would be ruined, and she’d be ostracized by the Lady Bunburys of the world. It would be the social death of her.

      If these people knew I’d kissed Harry Armitage mere weeks ago, I’d be the one subjected to their whispers and stares. While being ostracized by them didn’t bother me, it would affect my family. It wasn’t just Flossy who would suffer, but my aunt and uncle too. They found their guests among these people. If they suddenly stopped being invited to balls and dinners, they would lose touch with the society leaders who sent their friends to stay at the Mayfair and spoke favorably about the hotel to their social circle.

      I was suddenly glad I hadn’t heard from Harry since the kiss. Clearly he’d decided to pretend it never happened. That was the best thing for me to do too.

      If only it hadn’t felt so wonderful, it might be easier to ignore it. But the more I tried not to think about him, and the way he’d responded to the kiss, the more I did think about it.

      Miss Livingstone appeared to be doing her best to ignore the gossips. She continued to smile sweetly at those around her, as if she were slightly removed from them. It wasn’t until Lady Bunbury approached that she came to life. She straightened and lifted her chin. She gave Lady Bunbury a small curtsy as she passed, as if she were the queen.

      Lady Bunbury failed to notice. She was glaring at her husband, as if willing him to look at her. The gentleman and lady she’d spoken to at the painting had dispersed. The lady was nowhere to be seen, but I caught sight of the man through the door on the landing outside the ballroom. He was a handsome fellow, perhaps early thirties, with an air of confidence about him as he strode towards a tall potted palm. A rather pretty maid stood there, her face lifting when she spotted the gentleman. They spoke and he handed her something before they parted. She limped off along the corridor while he returned to the ballroom where he fell into conversation with a group of young ladies who fluttered their eyelashes at him, hanging on his every word.

      Who is that? I asked Jonathon, still standing beside me.

      Ambrose McDonald. He made a sound of disgust in his throat. Don’t set your heart on him, Cleo. He’s a cad. He nodded at another gentleman, standing alone. He was Ambrose McDonald’s opposite in every way. Short, overweight, with protruding front teeth and spotty skin. Poor Cuthbert Calthorne. He can’t win tonight. He continues to get snubbed by every girl he asks to dance. Can’t blame them. He has the biggest feet. Imagine getting trod on by those hooves!

      Cuthbert Calthorne suddenly looked our way as if he sensed we were talking about him. He self-consciously looked away but then turned back to us. Or, rather, he turned to look at me. With a determined tug on his cuffs, he headed my way.

      Jonathon swore under his breath.

      Mr. Calthorne greeted him amiably and bowed to Miss Hessing and me. Introduce me to your delightful friends, Hartly.

      Jonathon obliged then added, Miss Fox has just agreed to dance with me.

      Mr. Calthorne’s smile slipped.

      I didn’t, I pointed out.

      Jonathon asked to see my dance card. I obliged with a frown. He perused it then wrote down his name with the attached pencil. If my name is there, you have to dance with me. Calthorne, you’ll need to find another partner.

      There was an available partner right beside me, but Mr. Calthorne merely bowed and made his excuses. He walked off.

      Miss Hessing went very still. The snub was cruel indeed, and I knew she would feel it keenly. I wanted to tell her to ignore Mr. Calthorne, that he was not worthy of her, but I knew she would consider them empty words, even though I meant every one. Mr. Calthorne was beneath her.

      There you are! Floyd joined us, breaking up the tension with his easy manner. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.

      At first I thought he was talking to Jonathon, but he bowed to Miss Hessing. If you’re not otherwise engaged, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?

      She stared at him, her eyes huge and clear. M—me?

      If you don’t mind me stepping on your toes, that is. I’m a terrible dancer.

      Oh. I’d be happy to dance with you, Mr. Bainbridge.

      He grinned. Excellent. He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though. Your pretty shoes will be scuffed by the end.

      She blinked up at him as if he’d just rescued her from drowning. In a way, he had.

      He’s a good man, Jonathon said. It’s no wonder all the wallflowers love him. He should be careful, though. If he dances too many times with them, the better prospects will grow tired of waiting. He held out his hand to me. Shall we?

      I opened my dance card and struck a line through his name. I’m afraid you’re not on my card, Jonathon. It’s probably just as well. If the other gentlemen see me dancing three times with you, they’ll grow tired of waiting. I turned and walked off. I didn’t care what affect my comment had on him. I was quite sure his ego could cope with it.

      I couldn’t find Flossy, so I stood near the door and observed. My first society ball was proving to be a little disappointing. The young men were either immature or dull, the girls desperate for attention, and their parents grasping. Everyone was out to impress in one way or another. Most of them directed their efforts towards Lady Bunbury. She was very popular with the girls and their mothers, all hoping to win her favor. She was the consummate hostess, however, giving them equal attention.

      A lady passing me delighted in telling her companion about the daughter of a peer who’d been caught kissing a fellow behind a tree at a flower show.

      Lady Bunbury won’t choose her now, the companion said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

      Speaking of Lady Bunbury, she looked very cross earlier. Do you know why?

      They continued on and I settled back against the wall, growing more and more bored by the minute. I was beginning to wish I’d danced with Jonathon after all when an acquaintance of Floyd’s approached and asked me to dance. I readily accepted.

      I didn’t stop dancing until supper was announced. All the guests headed through to the room where it was being served, only to find we had to queue for food. I joined Flossy at the back.

      Thank goodness for this interlude, she said. I’m starving and my feet are sore. They’ve been stood on so many times, I can’t feel my toes. And look at my shoes! They’re filthy. Her delicate pink silk shoes were black at the toes. One of the poor hotel maids would have a devil of a time cleaning them tomorrow.

      Perhaps you should vet your dance partners more carefully, I teased.

      We can’t all have our pick of men.

      I frowned. Are you saying that I do? I’ll have you know I was quite alone until one of Floyd’s friends rescued me. I’m sure Floyd put him up to it.

      You were alone for five minutes, and I can assure you Floyd did not put him up to it. We shuffled forward in the queue. Speaking of Floyd’s friends, what did you say to Jonathon? I saw him leaving in a huff.

      He was being unkind.

      Not to you, I’m sure. He likes you.

      No, I said quietly. Not to me.

      We finally arrived at the first table and Flossy breathed a sigh of satisfaction at the array of roasted fowl, trifle, cakes, iced sherbet, bonbons and ices. I’m glad you’re not interested in Jonathon. As much as I want you to marry someone rich and titled, he’s not deserving of you. Three years ago, he called me fat. I’ve never forgiven him.

      Then he has just gone down even further in my estimation.

      Flossy eyed Miss Livingstone as she perused the delights on the table, only to select a single wafer before stepping away. She wasn’t the only girl to ignore the food. Most chose just one item or none at all.

      Flossy sighed again, this time more heavily. She put down her plate. I’m not hungry.

      I picked up her plate and handed it back to her. You just said you’re starving. As am I. I think we should divide and conquer. You go down the left side of the table and I’ll take the right.

      We gathered a selection and met again at the end of the room. We joined Aunt Lilian, standing in the corner with her back to everyone. She was stuffing a croquet of pheasant fried in pastry into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten all week. Embarrassed to be caught, she placed her fingers to her lips as she chewed. Her fingers trembled.

      Flossy gave her mother a disappointed look. You’ve taken a second dose of your tonic tonight, haven’t you?

      Aunt Lilian swallowed her mouthful. I needed it to get through the evening. If I hadn’t, my head would be pounding and I’d be falling asleep in a chair. This way I can enjoy myself. She picked up another croquet from her plate. Don’t glare at me, Flossy. You don’t know how I feel. Now, go. Leave me alone and mingle. Both of you. Oh wait, Ruth is about to make her announcements. This will be interesting. My money’s on Miss Livingstone taking a sweep of all three categories. Her words tumbled out on top of each other, making her a little difficult to understand amid the noise of the crowded room. When she saw us both still studying her, she pinched each of us on the arm and nodded at Lady Bunbury, waiting for the guests to quieten.

      As a hush descended, some of the debutantes pushed towards her, still vying for her attention even now. Miss Livingstone stood nearby, her serene smile in place, her pert chin thrust forward, confident in her position as the favorite. Beside her stood an older man, beaming. Flossy informed me he was Sir Ian Livingstone, her father.

      Lady Bunbury gave a short speech, thanking her guests, then launched into her so-called awards. As Aunt Lilian predicted, Amelia Livingstone won the title of the most beautiful debutante, the most graceful, and the most accomplished. She accepted the three posies of flowers—white, of course—with a little curtsy for the hostess. Her father preened like a peacock.

      Miss Livingstone’s rivals congratulated her and told her she was a worthy winner. Their smiles slipped off when then they turned away, and more than one muttered something under her breath.

      With supper over, Lady Bunbury stood by the door to farewell the elderly guests who were ready for their beds, while the musical ensemble resumed their places in the ballroom. The younger guests were eager to enjoy themselves now that the contest had ended.

      Except that it hadn’t. The scramble to secure the most desirable dance partners created a frenzy of activity. Gentlemen jostled one another and ladies scribbled names on their cards. Miss Livingstone was popular, but other girls were too. Flossy sported a broad smile so her card must have filled. My own didn’t fill up at quite the same rapid pace, but I had enough partners to keep boredom at bay for a little longer.

      The ensemble struck up a lively tune and we were about to head onto the dance floor with our partners when a piercing scream ripped from the depths of the house.

      The music stopped. The guests froze.

      Being near the door, I was among the first to exit the ballroom and race downstairs in the direction of the scream. I found a lady trembling by the door to the library. She pointed a shaking finger into the room.

      I peered in and saw the body of a man lying on the floor, legs akimbo. I couldn’t see his face, but it was obvious from all the blood matting his hair and staining the carpet that he was dead.

      CHAPTER 2

      The library was soon overrun with guests and staff, but thankfully someone with an authoritative voice ordered them all out and asked for the police to be fetched. I had mere moments to study the scene before my presence was noticed and I was asked to leave too.

      I was surprised to see the victim was a guest I recognized. Ambrose McDonald was the handsome gentleman who’d studied a painting in the ballroom, alongside a lady, and had given a maid something in the corridor. Jonathon called him a cad. Now he was dead, his sightless eyes staring straight ahead until one of the other guests closed them.

      A large silver candlestick smeared with blood lay on the carpet nearby. A matching one stood on the mantelpiece. I picked it up to gauge its weight before returning it. Steeling myself for a gruesome sight, I once again looked down at the body. Going by his position, the victim had been facing away from the door and the murderer when he was struck. Either he’d turned away from the murderer, or he’d never seen them enter the library in the first place. There were no signs of a struggle on his body, clothing or around the room. All was in order.

      The only odd thing about the room was a large blank space on the wall. Something was missing, either a painting or mirror. It was possible it had nothing to do with the murder, however.

      With only a few gentlemen remaining in the library, I was conspicuous. Lord Bunbury gripped my elbow and steered me towards the door. Come along, Miss. This is no place for a lady. He clearly didn’t remember meeting me at the beginning of the night. But I knew him. He was much older than his wife with a balding head and boney fingers that dug into me. Find your mother and go home. The ball is at an end.

      It most certainly is not. Lady Bunbury swooped down on her husband as I walked away. They exchanged words in harsh whispers before she clicked her tongue and strode off.

      She told the hovering butler that the evening was over and to see that coats were ready to collect and carriages brought around.

      The guests can’t leave yet, I said. The police will want to speak to everyone.

      Lady Bunbury’s nostrils flared then she picked up her skirts and all but stomped up the stairs. She reminded me of a child unhappy with her parent’s directive.

      Lord Bunbury ignored me and closed the door to the library. At least the scene would be preserved for the police, but it seemed as though the guests would be allowed to leave.

      Some had remained near the library, watching on with macabre fascination, while the rest had returned to the ballroom upstairs. The butler disappeared through a door and there were no other servants about. I wanted to observe the guests and staff in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, but my uncle put a stop to me returning to the ballroom.

      "There you are,

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