Murder at Marble House Read Online Free Page A

meat for the next week, or eggs and toast in order to pay our bills. When something in my house needs repairing, that’s another several items crossed off our grocery list. Barney should have been put to pasture a year or two ago, but I can’t afford a new horse. And I need a goat because I can’t afford a gardener.”
    She had set her head on my shoulder as I spoke and now I heard a watery chuckle against my neck.
    “And when was the last time you saw me in a frock as new and fashionable as this one?” I stroked the folds of her dress where they spilled across my own.
    She fingered the edge of her coral silk sash. “You don’t care about new dresses, Emma. You never did.”
    “You’re right,” I said with such fervor she flinched and sat up straight. “It’s not dresses I care about, it’s helping people. People like Katie, my housemaid, and Jamie, your new gardener. I made a difference in both their lives, I truly did. Just consider, Consuelo, how many people I could help if I had the resources . . . and the connections. Just think . . .”
    I trailed off to let that much sink in. Her brows converged, not in anger or sorrow this time, but in contemplation. I could all but see her mind working it over. Her bottom lip eased between her teeth. I leaned closer to her. “Just think how many people you’ll be able to help once you take your place in society. Not your mother’s place, Consuelo. But when you’re no longer under her thumb and you can step out as your own person. A woman of influence in your own right.”
    “I . . . I hadn’t thought of it that way. . . .”
    “Well, no. You’ve been too upset.”
    “I’ve been selfish, worrying only about myself.” The ridges between her brows deepened. She wasn’t quite there yet, not completely convinced. Doubt continued to niggle at her, yet when I should have moved in for “the kill,” when I should have gathered every persuasive ploy at my disposal to seal the bargain, guilt reared up to stop me cold. Guilt . . . and my own doubts.
    If I truly believed my own words, then why hadn’t I accepted Derrick’s proposal of marriage this morning? He was a good man. And what about all the people I could help with the Andrewses’ fortune at my disposal?
    But I’d seen all too well what fortune does to people, how it changes them. Especially women. Yes, society matrons like Aunt Alva and Aunt Alice could support any number of causes—as long as those causes were approved by society, and by their husbands. Take on a “wrong” cause and society would close ranks in opposition. Be seen as too forward or assertive or unconventional, and a woman would find herself ostracized by friends and family, her connections severed, her influence to do good works stripped away. It was a harsh reality . . . and all too often it produced hardened women, forced to subdue their own true natures behind a gilded façade of gentility that very often bore no resemblance to the person within.
    No. I had the means to be myself, to be independent—poor perhaps, but self-sufficient and unrestrained. I could envision no other way of life for me. But for Consuelo, raised so differently than I had been . . .
    “Little cousin,” I said gently, “you must make this decision yourself. In the end, no one can truly force you to marry the Duke of Marlborough. All we can do is help you to see all of your options and then stand back and allow you to decide.”
    “It doesn’t always feel that way. In fact, it rarely does.”
    “No, you’re right. We’re all bound by our circumstances. It’s just that some circumstances come with greater possibilities than others. You need to bear that in mind.”
    She let go a long, heavy sigh. The lacy ruffles hanging over the bed fluttered and a warm, fuzzy body arched itself against my ankle. Bits of fur penetrated my stocking to tickle my leg.
    Consuelo looked down and opened her arms. “Here, Muffy.” The cat bounded up into her lap, its sweetly