A study in scandal

To my sweet husband, Paul, your faith in me is amazing.
I can’t believe how fortunate I am to be your wife.
To Bob and Marilyn, thanks for the warm welcome—
I couldn’t have handpicked better in-laws. And to
Kelly and Pam, my writing dream team, thanks for
everything!

“Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot.”

The Adventure of Abbey Grange

London, 1892

A
melia Watersfield’s hand flew to her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. She fought the urge to scan down the page of the
Strand
as excitement bubbled inside her. Such a sinister crime, but oh, so brilliant too.

She moved her hand to block the page to the right, so great was her desire to know if her speculation was correct. Her foot tapped a restless beat on the floor. It was almost time.

She turned the page just as that clever detective solved the case. Aha, she was right!

She smiled, held the magazine to her chest, and leaned back into the thick velvet chair. Amelia sighed as she always did when she finished the latest story. And now she would have to wait for the next one to solve another mystery.

It was a shame that the man most perfect for her was of literary persuasion rather than flesh and blood.

Sherlock Holmes.

She shook her head, fully acknowledging she was acting as a twelve-year-old girl would. Sherlock was not real. He was nothing more than a creation of the writer’s mind, yet there was no other man like him. So clever, so intelligent, so witty. It was a pity—as what a treat it would be to know such a man.

She frowned. How was it that poor Watson never quite caught on? Oh, he’d gotten better at noticing details as they continued with their cases, but he never saw the important details. She herself would be a much better assistant.

The clock chimed three, bringing Amelia to her feet. The other ladies would arrive any moment. Amelia rang for tea and shortly thereafter the girls filed into the parlor.

Amelia loved their meetings nearly as much as she loved the Sherlock stories. And they had big things to discuss today. She waited for them all to settle in before she began.

Tapping her spoon against her teacup, she cleared her throat. “I now call to order this meeting of the Ladies’ Amateur Sleuth Society. Let us recite our oath,” Amelia Watersfield said.

“Honestly, Amelia, must we repeat the oath at every meeting?” Charlotte asked.

It was silly, Amelia knew that. They weren’t an official society, merely four friends who called themselves such. Repeating the oath certainly made it feel real, though. And with today’s news, everything about their society could change.

“It makes it more official,” Amelia replied.

“We solemnly swear to unravel mysteries by ferreting out secrets at all costs,”
they said in unison.

“Are we all present?”

Amelia looked around her parlor, her three closest friends the only other occupants. Charlotte sat straight and tall with a look of sheer annoyance on her pretty face, her lips pursed, creating little creases above her perfect rosebud mouth. Meg’s legs were somehow hidden beneath her dress; no doubt she sat cross-legged, although how she managed it in the skirt was beyond
Amelia’s comprehension. And then there was Willow, spectacles perched on her nose, a frown furrowing her brow.

Forming the society had been Amelia’s idea, admittedly as an outlet for her fascination with mysteries, and her friends, being the generous souls they were, agreed to join. It was only the four of them, and not another person knew of the group’s existence, but they met weekly regardless.

But with today’s news, everything might change. Perhaps their first official case, a new thief that was currently keeping Scotland Yard detectives at bay.

Her hands itched with excitement. Before today, they had dabbled in the occasional case, though it was difficult to discover the whereabouts of Lady Craddock’s missing necklace without proper clues or the opportunity to interrogate anyone. But with this case, information and potential clues would be printed in the newspaper—giving them the perfect situation.

Finally Amelia would be able to work on an honest-to-goodness crime. Well, crime was neither honest nor good, but that was beside the point.

“Now then, have any of you read the paper today?” she asked.

Charlotte and Meg both shook their heads, while Willow pulled the item in question out of her parcel.

“I haven’t quite finished,” she said. “I got caught up in the ludicrousness of the front-page story. That man is a pitiful writer. Takes him several paragraphs to say what should only take a sentence, perhaps two. He drones on and on.”

“Thank you for the vivid example, Willow,” Charlotte said playfully.

Willow pushed her glasses back up her nose and released a low breath.

“I’m certain he’s a dreadful writer,” Amelia offered, “but the story I read applies slightly more to the purpose of our meeting today. Did you see the small report on page seven about the robbery at the opera the other evening?”

Willow shook her head. “No, I haven’t yet made it to page seven.”

“Allow me to fill you in. A masked gentleman sneaked into a private seating booth and blatantly took all of the ladies’ jewels, as well as a diamond-encrusted walking stick. He got away before they could report it to the authorities. Apparently the robbery took place in the middle of a particularly long aria, and the people in the booth did not want to disturb the audience.”

“That’s preposterous. I wouldn’t have cared a whit about disrupting people,” Charlotte said, clearly put out about the entire situation.

“Propriety has never been your strong suit, Charlotte,” Meg said.

“Yes, well, these people did seem to care about annoying the other operagoers. In any case, the paper calls him the Jack of Hearts,” Amelia said. “It seems this isn’t his first attack, although it’s the first they’ve reported on him in the
Times
.”

“Why do they call him that?” Willow asked.

“Apparently he leaves a Jack of Hearts playing card at every scene,” Amelia said.

“Then it shouldn’t take the authorities too long to catch him,” Willow observed.

“Why is that?” Meg asked.

“It’s simple, actually,” Willow said. “The man cannot have an endless supply of playing cards, so they need only inquire around the shops and gather information on the people who purchase cards regularly. I haven’t purchased cards myself, but surely there isn’t an endless supply of stores that sell them.”

“Brilliant,” Amelia said. “We can start there.”

“We? What exactly does this case have to do with us?” Charlotte asked.

“I thought it could be our first real case,” Amelia said. “I realize that no one outside of our group would know we were investigating this Jack of Hearts, but we could solve this case. Wouldn’t that be so exciting?”

Amelia acknowledged that this was probably more exciting for her, but eventually her friends would feel the same. She felt confident she could bring the inner detectives out of them. After all, she’d successfully done so when introducing them to the world of Sherlock Holmes. Now they were all hooked on his great adventures.

“What do we need to do?” Willow asked.

Amelia smiled. “For now, I think we should keep our ears and eyes open. Keep reading the newspaper for more reports.” She held up one finger. “Oh, and we must reacquaint ourselves with Millicent Moffett.”

Charlotte groaned.

“I know, I know,” Amelia said. “She’s dreadfully annoying, but the very best source of information in town. She always knows everything.”

“Very well,” Charlotte conceded, “but I’m not making any promises where Millicent’s concerned.”

“Charlotte has a point. We might want to keep
the two of them separated,” Meg said. “She truly hates Charlotte.”

Willow cleared her throat. “One might say it’s justifiable hatred. Charlotte, you did steal Millicent’s beau.”

Charlotte sat straight up. “I did no such thing. Can I help it if the man preferred me to Millie’s nasal tones? And her clothes.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “She has no taste. I did her a favor, if you ask me. That man had wretched breath.”

“Did he kiss you?” Amelia asked in a tone far more eager than she intended. She sank back into her seat and hoped no one had noticed.

“No. Not for lack of trying, though. I swear that man had more than two hands.”

“Charlotte, you are disgraceful,” Willow said.

Amelia had always marveled at how Willow and Charlotte could speak so nastily to each other yet remain friends. They appreciated their differences and weren’t afraid to acknowledge them. It was a brutal honesty Amelia had never experienced. She’d always been such a pleasant sort that no one ever aimed a cross word in her direction. But that was hardly the thing a person legitimately complained about.

“So it’s settled,” she said. “We shall start our investigation today and keep each other abreast of any new clues we might discover. This shall be a most exciting adventure.”