Murder at Marble House Read Online Free Page B

flat face tilted lovingly up at its mistress. Consuelo bent over the creature and rubbed her nose in the fur between its tufted ears. I reached out and stroked the bushy, snaking tail.
    “I thought I would marry Winty,” Consuelo said without looking up. “I believed it with all my heart until Mother blatantly informed me otherwise. Winty believed it, too.” She glanced up. “He’d have been a good catch, I think. Not much money, relatively speaking, but a good man from a good family.”
    I nodded. She was speaking of Winthrop Rutherfurd, an older gentleman past thirty, whom she had known most of her life as his New York family belonged to the same circles as the Vanderbilts. In many ways the Rutherfurds boasted an even more sterling pedigree that could be traced back to Peter Stuyvesant, the last Dutch director-general of New Amsterdam before the city was sold to the British and renamed New York. Many families like the Rutherfurds considered the Vanderbilts to be upstarts—new money gotten through trade. But poor Winty didn’t have a title and the family coffers had been a bit depleted through the years, which in Aunt Alva’s book made him a most unsuitable suitor.
    “I could have accomplished just as much as Winty’s wife as the Duke’s,” Consuelo went on stubbornly. “After all, the Duke’s hardly got any money either. It’ll all be mine. Why couldn’t I take that same money and settle in New York with a man I . . . I . . .”
    I stroked my palm up and down her back, my fingers tripping over the tiny buttons securing her frock. I was searching for something consoling to say when she spoke again. “Winty wasn’t good enough for Mother, and now, apparently, I’m not good enough for Winty.”
    My hand went still. “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, Emma, he’s dropped me completely. Just stopped trying to see me.”
    “How can you know that? Maybe he’s been here and turned away. For all you know, he might come calling every day.”
    Consuelo was shaking her head. “It’s true, Mother wouldn’t have let him in. She’s been sending away all of my friends ever since we arrived in Newport. B-but Gertrude came by a few days before her coming-out ball. Mother didn’t dare turn her away for fear of what Father and Uncle Cornelius would do. Gertrude wanted to apologize for the fact that I couldn’t be invited to the ball, not with Mother and Father’s divorce and all.” She paused for a shaky breath and dabbed tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. The fingers of her other hand combed through Muffy’s lush fur. The cat closed her eyes, then opened one and winked up at me. For an instant I was reminded of Alva, gratifying her own ambitions while selfishly ignoring her daughter’s pain.
    “Did Gertrude say something about Winty?” I prodded gently.
    “She said . . . he’d b-been seen at the Casino and the Yacht Club and all a-around town—laughing and indulging and h-having a splendid t-time. While I’ve been here, trapped in this room I loathe with every fiber of my being.”
    At that she broke into a fit of tears and choking sobs. She slumped onto my shoulder again and reached her arms around me, holding on for all she was worth.
    “Oh, Consuelo, darling, I’m sure Winty isn’t having a splendid time.” I stroked her back as I tried to reassure her. “It’s just that men behave differently than we do. They throw themselves into their daily activities when they’re unhappy. It’s their way of keeping their minds off their distress. And I’m sure he’s very distressed right now.”
    She poked her head up from my shoulder, turning her tear-streaked face to mine. “You really think so?”
    I nodded.
    “Oh, but still. It’s impossible for us to ever be together. Mother will never allow it. She’d rather see me dead than give in.”
    “No, darling, that isn’t true.”
    She was inconsolable, so I held her and let her cry herself out while Muffy, who had become squished between us,