''It is below a man of my standing to accept help from a woman, although I do thank you for your kind offer. Please excuse me, my glass is empty.''
Emily stood alone again and looked around. She didn't recognize anyone she knew, so she decided to try her luck in the tea room. It too was very full, and quite stuffy. This time however, Emily did recognize some ladies and they beckoned for her to come and join them. Each of them was older than Emily and they were all married. Emily drank some very hot tea and listened to them talk of the exploits of their respective children. After a short time, she suddenly became quite faint and her complexion turned milky white.
''Are you quite well, dear,'' asked one of her conversation partners.
''No, I feel quite faint. I am very hot, I think it is a mixture of the tea and the stuffiness of this room. If you will excuse me ladies, I need some air.''
Emily walked out of the tea room, down the side of the dance floor and out of ballroom. In the corridor, it was slightly cooler but she was still far too hot. Instead of walking all the way down the corridor, and out through the official entrance, she opened a door in the side of the corridor and stepped outside. She began to feel better as the cold December air filled her lungs. She was standing on a path that seemed to run alongside the house. In front of her, there was a large oak tree and beyond that, a high hedge. Emily was mindful that she was dressed only in her ball gown and that she mustn't stay outside for too long, but she was enjoying the cooling effect of the cold air. She walked a few steps and leaned against the trunk of the oak tree.
When she heard voices, she listened to see where they were coming from. It appeared there were people behind the hedge. She could hear the voice of a man and a woman. She listened more intently as the woman spoke.
''And what will I get out of it, if I assist you?''
''I will make sure you never want for money ever again. Emily is rich beyond measure.'' When Emily heard her name, her heart began to race. Who were these people, and what were they talking about, she thought.
*****
In the card room, Peter had played four hands and lost every one. ''I'm sure my luck must change at some point,” he laughed. The man sitting next to him looked at him sympathetically, as he drew on his cigar, and send a ball of smoke towards the ceiling.
''Lord Wallace, I'm afraid a lot of people seem to be losing money these days, and not just at cards. The markets are in turmoil. What do you make of it?''
''It is very worrying. I'm afraid it is terribly difficult to find good investments. It isn't a good time now. We are constantly at war with France and war is never good for the markets. Everyone seems to get very jittery when the bullets begin to fly. The best place to have your money is, either in cash, in the bank, or tied up in land or property.''
''Yes, it's a terrible mess at the moment. I have lost quite an amount recently, but luckily I was sensible enough, to only invest a tiny fraction of my wealth in stocks. Not like the poor blighter in Bead House. His property backs onto mine and one day, he told me he's lost just about all he has, on some hotel deal in London.''
''How very unfortunate for him. Hotels are really not the kind of thing you should invest in at the moment thought.''
''No, quite. Peter do you know what the best investment is in life?''
''Prey tell me.''
''A good woman. Look at you. You have the best looking wife in the area and she looks after your household with such precision it is scarcely believable. Add in the fact that she is wealthy, and you have to conclude that such an investment could never be beaten.''
''Indeed, although I am not sure the fairer sex would be too happy if they knew we looked upon them as investments.''
''One exception to that rule is that woman in the village. What's her name? Ah, yes Mrs. Pemberly. She has no money whatsoever. Her husband left her almost bankrupt. And her daughter doesn't seem to help. I hear she swans around London spending what little money they do have.''
''Really? It's your turn again. Did you hear of the new alterations at Newmarket Racecourse?'' Peter asked, eager to change the subject.
*****
''Alright, I'll help you, but how do we go about it,'' the woman said.
''You have Lord Wallace's trust, do you not?'' the man said.
''Yes, I do. I only have to say the word and he jumps.''
''Good, then I suggest we proceed as follows.''
Emily felt as though she was going to pass out as she listened to their plotting.
''Get him to meet you at his office in London, and offer him a lift home in your carriage. I'll meet the carriage where the road runs through the forest and stop you. It will look like a robbery. I'll get him out of the carriage and shoot him. That way you can be a witness and give the police a totally false description of me.''
''But what about the driver? Surely his account will contradict mine?''
''I'll shoot him too.''