The other ladies murmured in agreement.
“Even so,” Derek began.
“We have all lived relatively independent lives, Derek.” Aunt Guinevere raised her chin a notch and met his gaze firmly. “We took care of ourselves and each other when our husbands were off doing all those things men so enjoy and do not for a moment think women would appreciate, as well. We do not, at this point in our lives, relish the thought of throwing ourselves on the mercy of relations who barely acknowledge our existence. Nor do we intend to.”
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore squared her shoulders. “I will not be relegated to the category of poor relation.”
“And if it came to that, we would much prefer, all three of us...” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes blazed with determination. “Prison.”
“I doubt that,” he said sharply, then drew a deep breath. “Forgive me, ladies. I do see your position. Truly I do, and I promise you I shall do everything I can to help alleviate your financial woes, but you must understand you cannot continue this endeavor.”
“I don’t see why not.” Mrs. Higginbotham crossed her arms over her chest. “Our members flock to our meetings and lectures and are quite content with our services. Thus far, we have not had one resign her membership. Why, we’ve had no complaints whatsoever from our members.”
“Not from members perhaps.” He leaned forward in his chair. “But do you recall a Miss India Prendergast?”
“India Prendergast?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “A lovely name but if I’ve heard it before I simply can’t remember.” She heaved a wistful sigh. “I fear my memory is not what it once was.”
“She’s written the society a number of times,” Derek said. “Now do you remember?”
“Effie handles most of the correspondence,” Aunt Guinevere offered.
Derek turned to the other woman. “Mrs. Higginbotham?”
“Prendergast you say?” Mrs. Higginbotham asked.
Derek nodded.
“Let me think.” She pursed her lips and considered the question then shrugged. “No, it doesn’t sound the least bit familiar, but then my memory is no better than Poppy’s.” She cast him a helpless smile he didn’t believe for a moment.
“That is odd.” He laid his palm on the stack of papers on the desk. “As she has written you at least five letters demanding to know the whereabouts of her cousin.”
Aunt Guinevere’s eyes widened. “And who is her cousin, dear?”
Oh, they were good, this trio of septuagenarians. He would wager a considerable amount their minds and their memories were as sharp or sharper than his own. Still, he was not going to be outwitted by the pretense of elderly virtue or incompetence.
“Lady Heloise Snuggs.”
“Of course.” Aunt Guinevere beamed as if she was proud merely to have recognized the name. “Dear Heloise.”
“Dear, dear Heloise,” the other ladies murmured.
He resisted the urge to raise his voice. “Do you know where Lady Heloise is at the moment?”
Aunt Guinevere shrugged. “I haven’t a clue.”
“She could be anywhere, I would think,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“Although I suspect she’s somewhere between Paris and Constantinople.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore thought for a minute. “Or perhaps Hamburg and Athens. It’s impossible to say with any certainty.”
Derek stared. “Did you or did you not arrange Lady Heloise’s travel?”
The trio shifted uneasily in their chairs.
“An answer if you please, ladies.”
“Certainly, we arranged Lady Heloise’s travel.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore chose her words with obvious care.
“There is a possibility,” Mrs. Higginbotham said slowly, “that we did not arrange it as efficiently as one might hope.”
“That is to say, while we did write to hotels and other establishments across the path Lady Heloise wished to take requesting accommodations...” Mrs. Higginbotham began.
“We didn’t actually receive any definitive confirmations,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore finished. “You see, once Lady Heloise decided to embark upon a life of travel, she was impatient to be off. She assured us our assistance had been invaluable.”
“We did our best, Derek, to send her off with all the information she might possibly need, brochures, tourist guides, train and ship timetables. She couldn’t possibly be more prepared,” Aunt Guinevere said staunchly.
“Unless, of course, you had actually confirmed her travel and accommodations.”
“There is that,” one of the ladies conceded.
Derek pressed his fingers to his temples in hopes of forestalling the kind of headache he used to experience only after a night of drunken merriment. He hadn’t the slightest doubt his great-aunt and her friends were well aware of Miss Prendergast’s letters and her valid charge that their society had mislaid her cousin through incompetency and chicanery, as well as her threats to involve the police in the matter if something was not done to locate Lady Heloise and ensure her safety. Aside from the fact that he didn’t want Aunt Guinevere incarcerated, his mother’s request for Derek to keep an eye on her would certainly place the responsibility for any kind of scandal squarely on his shoulders. Especially in Uncle Edward’s eyes. Besides, if he and his mother had paid more attention to the needs of an elderly relative, perhaps she wouldn’t have turned to this scheme in the first place.
Now it was up to him to get Aunt Guinevere out of it. No, he amended the thought, it was up to him to extricate all three old friends from this mess. He suspected if one was drowning, the other two would do whatever was necessary to save her even if it meant they would all sink beneath the waves together.
He drew a steadying breath. “Well, it appears Lady Heloise has vanished. I do not want to think of the consequences if she is not found unharmed. In the letters you claim to be unaware of—” the ladies traded guilty looks “—Miss Prendergast threatens legal action.” He met his aunt’s gaze directly. “She has already contacted Scotland Yard.”
Aunt Guinevere gasped.
“I made inquiries at a private investigation agency about efforts to locate Lady Heloise.”
“How brilliant of you, Mr. Saunders.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed.
“I told you he was clever.” Aunt Guinevere’s smile matched her friend’s. “I knew he would find a way to determine the whereabouts of Lady Heloise.”
“I doubt that she’s truly missing,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Why, I myself am quite awful at keeping up with correspondence.”
“Although making certain she has come to no harm is probably a good idea,” Aunt Guinevere pointed out. “We would hate for the membership to be concerned—”
“The membership is now closed,” Derek said firmly. “You will accept no new members until the matter of Lady Heloise is resolved. Nor will you plan trips for any of your current members, and, for God’s sake, should a trip already be in the works, do not let any of them embark upon it. Once Lady Heloise is located, we will then decide the future of your Lady Travelers Society and whether or not it can become something more legitimate than it now appears.”
Mrs. Higginbotham sucked in a short breath, but Aunt Guinevere laid a hand on her arm and the other woman’s mouth snapped shut.
“Unfortunately, the agency I contacted warned me it would take some time and considerable resources to locate a woman missing outside England. Given the increasing level of concern, as well as the growing outrage in Miss Prendergast’s correspondence, time is not on our side.” He ran his hand through his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, his latest discussion with the agency that morning had left him with one inescapable conclusion. “I’m afraid at this juncture, leaving the tracing of Lady Heloise in the hands of even the best of professionals may not be enough.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” A hard feminine voice sounded from the doorway. “That is not nearly enough.”