A Crimson Warning Read Free Page B

her.
    Ivy smiled and crossed to her friend. “My dear Winifred,” she said. “What a delightful surprise to see you.”
    “It can’t be much of a surprise, Ivy,” Mrs. Harris said, squinting at us through a fashionable lorgnette that was attached to her too-snugly tailored jacket. “It’s the Season. Where else would you expect to find a woman of my standing at this time of day? Hyde Park is the only place to be seen.”
    “I only meant it was a pleasant surprise for me,” Ivy said. “I never meant to suggest you would—”
    “Yes, yes,” Mrs. Harris said. “How is your husband, Lady Emily? I understand he’s embroiled in this unpleasant business that occurred in Southwark last night.”
    “He’s involved in the investigation, yes,” I said.
    “A very dodgy business,” she said. “I do hope his insistence on working doesn’t harm your reputation. It’s unseemly for a man of his fortune to seek gainful employment.”
    “He’s never shirked from his duties to the Crown,” I said. “The queen quite depends upon him.”
    “He’s charming enough—and handsome enough—for us to tolerate nearly anything he does. But you don’t quite share his status, my dear. It would behoove you to be very careful when choosing how you occupy yourself. People are prone to talk. You should keep well clear of the investigation. I know you’ve insisted on doing otherwise in the past.”
    “Mr. Hargreaves is taking care of everything,” Ivy said. “You’ve no need to worry on Emily’s behalf.”
    “Only intervenes when he gives her permission, does she?” Mrs. Harris asked, as if I weren’t standing directly in front of her. “I’m glad to hear someone in the family has a drop of sense.”
    “Forgive me, Mrs. Harris,” I said. “Ivy and I will be late to the Women’s Liberal Federation if we don’t beg our leave at once. It was as lovely to see you as it always is.” The sentiment was strictly true. If she chose to take from my statement that I found it empirically lovely to see her, that was her choice. Pulling Ivy by the arm, I dragged her back to the pavement before she could protest our hasty departure.
    We walked along the southern side of the Serpentine, the park’s long, curving lake and then continued on towards the Round Pond, where countless children were playing with toy boats. The pavements were slightly less crowded here, and became even emptier as we passed Kensington Palace and moved out of the park and into Kensington Palace Gardens, one of my favorite streets in all of London. Tall plane trees lined both sides and elegant houses stretched the half-mile length of the edge of the park. We turned left to reach Palace Green, the southernmost part of the road, but stopped before we’d taken ten paces. There was Polly Sanders’s house. Its noble edifice was gracious and neat, but the front door and the steps, along with the fence in front of the property—all of which had been gleaming white—were covered with a swathe of dark red paint.
    “What happened here?” I asked, inquiring of the servant on her hands and knees, scrubbing the bottom of a white square pillar that stood between sections of the fence.
    “Madam?” She looked down, seemingly afraid to speak to me.
    “I’m Lady Emily Hargreaves, a friend of Polly’s,” I said. “Who did this?”
    “It was a vandal of some sort, madam. We don’t know who. I’ve been at it for more hours than I can count, but it’s right near impossible to remove. They’ve sent someone off to get turpentine.”
    “When did it happen?” I asked.
    “It was like this when we woke up yesterday morning. Terrible thing, ’specially now. The missus doesn’t need any more trouble.”
    “No, she certainly doesn’t,” I said. “Don’t let me distract you from your task.”
    “Yes, madam.” She returned to her work, her face tense with effort.
    We continued towards Lady Carlisle’s house in the bottom of the street. “This is dreadful,”