"It is most singular," murmured Lady Margaret, who delighted in other people's troubles. "Whatever can he mean by it?"
"He means to humble me," Beatrice said. "He has always thought himself too good for the games of society—too honest, too just." She said the words as though they tasted of vinegar. "And now he has found a way to set a kitchen drudge above me in my own home! I shall not bear it!"
Mrs. Holloway leaned in, her dark eyes bright. "Then do not bear it, my dear. A girl like that has no friends and no name. She could vanish from this house tomorrow, and not a soul would think twice."
"He would think twice! He took an interest in her, heaven knows why. If I simply turned her out, he would only bring her back and think the worst of me for it." Beatrice set down the pot. "No. It must be done so that even he cannot defend her. She must be made to disgrace herself so plainly before so many witnesses that to keep her would shame him before the entire county."
A silence fell, broken only by the drip of condensation from the glass above. It was Lady Margaret who spoke first, slow and thoughtful.
"There is nothing the county despises so much as a thief among the servants."
Beatrice's head turned sharply. "Go on."
"A trusted girl, raised so high so quickly, and then found with her mistress's jewels hidden among her things..." Margaret spread her hands. "Who would defend her? A thief is a thief. Even your high and mighty Duke could not argue with a brooch found beneath her own mattress."
The idea settled over Beatrice like a warm shawl. She smiled for the first time in two days.
"The diamond brooch," she said softly. "My mother's—the one I wear on the great nights." Her fingers traced the shape of it in the air. "I shall make a great show of missing it. I shall weep over it before the guests on the final night of the summit, when the whole gala is gathered. And when it is found in her room, she is finished."
"Cast out before all of them," Mrs. Holloway breathed. "No house in the province would take her after that."