Queen of Diamonds by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page B

ill-found wealth rested. She established her bona fides with Monsieur’s deposit, and sent for the remainder of her funds from Manchester, to the gratification of the clerk who assisted her, while assessing her response to his amorous innuendoes.
    Queenie’s response was to ignore the man altogether. She gestured toward the slightly yellowed poster on the wall near his desk. “I see that they have not found the poor missing heiress.”
    The clerk puffed out his chest, without taking his eyes from Queenie’s. “No, but we are diligent in our efforts. No one comes in here without being scrutinized.”
    So she had noticed. She stood, said “
Merci
,” called her dog to heel, and left, past a soldier in a faded uniform who was acting as guard.
    She found a tiny shop on Morningside Drive, with a front showroom and two smaller rooms behind that would be perfect for a working area and a fitting space. The narrow building even had an apartment above with two tiny bedchambers and a sitting room. Best of all, it had a small rear yard for Parfait.
    With new calling cards in her hand, Queenie approached the editors at the leading women’s journals. The fashion plates shown in
Ackerman’s, La Belle Assembleé,
or
The Ladies Monthly Museum
were how London ladies selected their styles to be made up by modistes in their choices of fabrics and colors. Queenie aimed to have Madame Denise’s name in those magazines too, so the patrons would come directly to her.
    The editors, all men, were not interested, although they did evince an interest in the ebony-curled dasher with her matching dog. Madame Denise was a young woman, albeit a gorgeous French widow dressed in the height of fashion. And she did have her name linked to the eminent Monsieur Guatheme…but so did every other beautiful woman in Paris, it seemed. They turned her away, with regrets.
    A new journal was making its debut, though.
A Lady’s World
was the product of a young couple eager to make their own fortunes in the new economy after the wars, when the burgeoning merchant class had money to spend. The wives and daughters of the bankers and manufacturers might not be true ladies, but they could act and dress like the aristocracy, if someone helped. The Milstroms were ready, and they were ready to take on an unknown designer who shared their enthusiasm.
    Queenie sold them the very same fashion plates from the Paris journal, with a few alterations, and signed a contract for future dress designs. Now she knew she could support herself. The income was not enough for her needs, of course, but the rest would come when she developed a clientele and a cachet.
    They would come in time, Queenie believed, her confidence restored by her early success.
    She was not quite confident enough to approach the Earl of Carde or his brother, Captain Endicott, yet, however. She was determined to make restitution, or give them satisfaction, at least an end to their search. First though, she had to know the current state of their affairs—and her own. Perhaps the earl’s family had given up seeking Lady Charlotte, or they might have settled on a plausible imposter, or they might have warrants out for the arrest of one Queenie Dennis.
    For all she knew, they might have caught and hung Ize by now, which would not have cost her a single tear, unless he blamed her for the blackmail and the rest.
    After discarding alternatives, she sent a note to Hellen Pettigrew. Other than Parfait, who did not count, Hellen was Queenie’s best friend in all of England, her only friend. Hellen’s mother Valerie was too driven by her own desires and the need for money to take into her confidence. Then too, she was a rich man’s mistress, so her scruples were suspect from the start.
    Queenie had to trust someone, but she still asked Hellen to meet her in the park, not giving her direction.
    â€œWhat, did you think I would peach on you?” the other