‘Miss Cransdon?’ Pug snapped her fan closed and pointed it across the room. ‘She is over there.’
Sure enough, Delia stood surrounded by three young officers, the small group laughing at some quip she had made. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the room, a delicate rose upon the smooth alabaster of her skin, and her hurriedly altered cream gown made the most of her new silhouette. She looked like a slender lily set against the crimson backdrop of the men’s uniforms.
‘Miss Cransdon seems to have changed a lot since the,’ Pug dropped her voice, ‘scandal. She has certainly found the way to be fascinating.’
‘What do you mean?’
Taking Helen’s gloved hand, Pug led her towards the door. ‘She has the irresistible aura of scandal around her.’ A tilt of her head directed Helen’s attention to an emaciated, hawk-nosed woman in purple who seemed to be watching Delia with some kind of malicious delight. ‘That is Mama’s best friend, Mrs Albridge, a nasty cat of a woman. One of the biggest gossips in England. She has been busily reminding everyone of your friend’s disgrace — how she eloped and was never married — and so now the men think she is …’ Pug let the sentence hang.
‘She is not!’ Helen protested.
‘It does not matter if she is or she isn’t,’ Pug said, linking her arm through Helen’s. ‘Anyway, you and Lady Margaret have lent her the protection of your good names, and so she has moved from scandalous to fascinating.’ Pug surveyed Delia for a moment, then sighed. ‘She certainly looks fascinating. I wonder how she lost all that weight so quickly. Do you think it was the vinegar diet?’
‘I think it was all the pain and anguish,’ Helen said dryly.
‘Well, that is not a route I’d wish to take, even for such a figure,’ Pug said. ‘I would much rather be comfortable and eat what I like.’
On that synchronous note, they reached the refreshment room. A large table ran down the centre filled with platters of cold delights for the army gentlemen or, indeed, anyone else who could not wait for the hot supper at midnight: jellies, tarts, carved meats, cheesecakes, nuts, meringues, and even a churn of ice cream. A huge silver epergne in the shape of a cornucopia stood in the middle of it all, overflowing with strawberries, nectarines, grapes and three costly pineapples, one already cut into bite-sized pieces for the delectation of the guests. Two footmen in blue and silver livery stood in attendance; one in charge of a tea service set upon a smaller table, and the other ready to help serve from the table. Yet underneath all the delicious smells, Helen could detect something tainted. She wrinkled her nose. Yes, something was definitely well into decay. She glanced at Pug; her friend did not seem to have noticed.
A few people were circling the largesse with plates in hand. One lone lady, in a slightly outmoded lavender gown, sat on the edge of a chair against the far wall, a glass of lemonade clasped in her hand. She did not look at all well; pasty skin, cracked lips, and deep lines of suffering etched across her forehead and between her brows. Even so, there was a sweetness about her heart-shaped face and large eyes, and a dignity in the straightness of her back.
Lady Dunwick swept into the room and cast a critical eye over the table. Her attention paused for a moment on the wan lady, then came to rest upon her daughter. ‘Ah, there you are.’ She waved them both over, the two heavy gold Egyptian bracelets about her wrist clinking together. ‘I am glad to have found you, Elizabeth. And you, Lady Helen.’ She lowered her voice, addressing her daughter. ‘Will you do me a favour, my dear? That lady over there is Mrs Pike, the wife of the Second Secretary at the Home Office. She knows no one and I fear she is not enjoying herself. Will you talk to her for a while? It will, I think, help Papa.’
That was Pike’s wife? Helen looked at the woman again. So Pike banned love, yet was married himself?
Lady Dunwick lowered her voice even further. ‘We had to invite her and her husband. They are not in our circle, of course — their lodgings are at the far end of Edward Street — but he has the ear of Lord Sidmouth, and now that the new Cabinet has been named, that is quite useful. Lady Helen, I would not presume to impose the acquaintance upon you. I am sure Elizabeth will not be long. Let me find an officer to escort you back to the salon.’
She looked around the room as if searching for a lurking redcoat.
‘That is not necessary, Lady Dunwick,’ Helen said quickly. She was not going to pass up the chance to meet Pike’s wife. ‘I have no objection to making the lady’s acquaintance.’
‘That is most gracious of you, my dear. Come then.’
They skirted the table — one of the meat dishes was definitely rancid — and advanced upon the little lady, who, seeing them approach, rose from her seat.
‘Ah, Mrs Pike,’ Lady Dunwick said warmly. ‘Allow me to present you to my daughter, the Lady Elizabeth Brompton, and her friend, the Lady Helen Wrexhall.’
Mrs Pike curtseyed. ‘Honoured,’ she murmured.
The smell was stronger around the woman, Helen noticed.
‘Well, I shall leave you to converse,’ Lady Dunwick announced, and with a satisfied nod she abandoned them, bracelets click-clacking as she hurried from the room.
‘Are you enjoying Brighton, Mrs Pike?’ Helen asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
Pug smiled. ‘Have you seen much of the town?’
‘Yes.’
It seemed Mrs Pike was not a woman inclined to chatter.
‘Are you here for the Season or for your health?’ Pug tried.
‘My health.’ Mrs Pike passed the lemonade glass from one slender hand to the other. ‘My husband insists I come every year. The sea water is very beneficial.’
‘Yes,’ Pug said, seizing upon the subject. ‘Lady Helen is here for her health as well.’
‘You are?’ Mrs Pike asked, a spark of interest entering her pretty hazel eyes. ‘Have you found much relief from the water?’
‘I find it very invigorating,’ Helen said. ‘Have you found some relief?’
Mrs Pike wet her cracked lips. ‘My ailment is long-standing, I’m afraid, but I do find that I am a little improved after a sojourn here.’
Long-standing. Was she consumptive? But she did not cough. Perhaps a canker in her breast? Helen had seen similar symptoms in one of the maids at her uncle’s estate. A startling realisation dawned: the rancid smell in the room was Mrs Pike. Good Lord, Helen thought, I can smell disease! Was this another Reclaimer talent?
‘I am glad to hear you are improved,’ Pug said bracingly. ‘If you will excuse me, I must return to the salon to call the next dance.’ She glanced at Helen pointedly. ‘I believe you are promised for the next set as well?’
Helen was not promised, purposely so, but Pug clearly thought her in need of deliverance from Mrs Pike. She was quite wrong.
‘Thank you for the reminder,’ she said. ‘I will be in directly.’
‘Of course.’ With a nod to them both, Pug made her exit.