nodded, not entirely sure if Sir Blodgett had died or had simply been lost in the jungles of some hot, horrid, uncivilized country.
“Let me think, where was I?” The woman’s brow furrowed. “Oh yes, I was telling you about the founders of the society—Lady Guinevere Blodgett and her dearest friends, Mrs. Persephone Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Ophelia Higginbotham. Well, more like sisters really than friends. They were all married to men of adventure and travel, although Sir Charles was the most famous of the lot. The poor dears are all widows now, but they do indeed know a great deal about the rigors of travel and the adventures to be found on a tramp steamer traversing the globe or sailing the Nile in a felucca or—”
“So Lady Blodgett and her friends are the ones arranging tours and travel for members?” India interrupted, trying to hide her impatience.
“That would stand to reason, wouldn’t it? They are all so knowledgeable.” The woman paused. “Although I must confess, I’m not well versed in the running of the society, even though I did join shortly after it was formed. I only began to lend my assistance here last week—as a favor to Mrs. Higginbotham and the others—until someone is hired to manage the organization. The society has grown far faster than anyone ever expected.”
“The society is relatively new, isn’t it?” Yet another question India already had the answer to, but one never knew what further information one might uncover by pretending to be less informed than one was.
“It began about eight months ago and was sorely needed if you ask me.” The woman’s lips pressed together in a firm line. “In this day and age there is no reason why a woman cannot travel the world if she so desires.”
“No reason except...finances.” India studied the other woman closely.
“There is that, of course. And fear of the unknown I suppose.” She shook her head. “It’s rather sad when we don’t pursue our heart’s desire because we’re afraid that it might not be as wonderful as we had hoped.”
India tried not to stare, but it was obvious this woman was the worst sort of unrealistic dreamer. “About the charges? For membership?”
“Yes, of course. One pound for a month-to-month membership or ten for a full year membership.”
“And that provides?”
“The lectures on travel—lectures are usually once a week—along with the meetings with like-minded women such as yourself. However, the majority of the monthly dues is set aside to provide future payment for arranging the details of a travel itinerary.”
“So when I decide to actually travel—” India chose her words with care “—I have already paid for any charges for the arrangement of transportation, hotels, tour guides, that sort of thing?”
“For the most part, although I believe there is also another, relatively insignificant fee. To pay for additional expenses incurred in the arranging of itineraries. To be expected, of course.” The woman picked up a printed form from a stack of papers. “Now then, if you would fill this out, you may bring it, along with payment, if you decide to return. There is no charge for your first lecture.”
“How very generous.” Or clever.
“Not at all,” the blonde said, rising to her feet and handing India the paper. “You can’t fail to delight in Lady Blodgett’s tales and sage words. If you have even the tiniest flicker of yearning for the excitement of travel, Lady Blodgett will fan it to a full blaze.” She smiled. “I should introduce myself. I’m Miss Honeywell and I have no doubt you’ll be joining us.”
“I am Miss Prendergast—” India nodded curtly “—and I suspect you’re right.” Again that annoying sense of guilt stabbed her. She simply wasn’t used to deception. “How many members do you have?”
“We’re up to more than ninety, I believe.”
“That’s most impressive.”
“It is indeed. The society first met in Lady Blodgett’s parlor, but now there are entirely too many of us for that. Because of the ladies’ husbands’ long association with the Explorers Club, the society was allocated an office here and permitted to use this room for meetings and lectures three days a week.”
“How very generous.”
The other woman scoffed. “They couldn’t very well turn down the request of the widow of Sir Charles Blodgett.”
“I would think not.” India forced a note of indignation to her voice. Not at all difficult as indignant was the very least of her feelings. If the society had been more forthright and responsive to India’s inquiries about Heloise in the first place, she never would have suspected the questionable nature of the organization. Nor would she have begun asking questions, the answers to which were less than satisfactory. “Do tell me about Lady Blodgett and the others. They sound lovely.”
“Well, I have known Mrs. Higginbotham for a number of years. She and the others knew my...”
Either Miss Honeywell was the most sincere woman India had ever met or she was an accomplished actress. The more the blonde waxed on about the virtuous Lady Blodgett and her cohorts, the more India suspected Miss Honeywell was a total innocent. And India had always trusted her ability to assess character.
If the three ladies were as guiltless as they seemed to Miss Honeywell, perhaps there was indeed a man behind the scenes manipulating the old dears like a master puppeteer. That was the speculation of Inspector Cooper of Scotland Yard. He had spoken to India at the request of Sir Martin. But as dashing as he was with his slightly unkempt fair hair and his air of solid authority, he was most annoying in his refusal to understand that Heloise’s disappearance was a matter of grave concern. The man pointed out that her cousin’s lack of communication was no doubt due to the inferior mail services in other countries. He had added, in a vaguely chastising manner, that aside from all else, Heloise was an adult, accompanied by another adult, and was more than likely having such a grand time she’d simply forgotten about writing home. Nor would he acknowledge there was anything at all suspicious about the Lady Travelers Society. And, given there had been no complaints about the society, there was nothing the authorities could do. India had certainly complained quite loudly but apparently the complaints of one lone woman were insufficient. As he had made his pronouncements with such an amused, condescending gleam in his eye, it was all India could do not to smack the smirk from his face.
“I must introduce you to some of our members.” Miss Honeywell directed India toward a group gathered by the refreshment table. “You will notice that most of them are substantially older than you or I, but you’ll find we have a great deal in common.”
A lifetime of savings, no doubt, and little resistance to the lure of far-off destinations. “I would imagine.”
“Mrs. Vanderkellen.” Miss Honeywell addressed the lady India had stood behind. “Do allow me to present...”
Miss Honeywell introduced her to several more ladies, all of whom were in the throes of anticipation about today’s lecture. Without exception, those India met were either widows or spinsters. A few minutes later, India and Miss Honeywell took two of the few remaining seats left for the lecture. The room had filled nearly to capacity since India’s arrival. Obviously, the society was doing quite well.
An elderly woman strode to the front of the room with a sprightly step. Two other equally enthusiastic older ladies trailed behind, pausing here and there to greet the women already seated in a charming and gracious manner, as if they were all the oldest and very best of friends and not shepherds leading unsuspecting sheep to a financial fleecing.
“Lady Blodgett is the speaker today,” Miss Honeywell said in a quiet voice that nonetheless failed to hide her enthusiasm. “The other ladies are Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Mrs. Higginbotham. You’ll like them, Miss Prendergast. They are all quite wonderful and extremely nice.”
“I look forward to meeting them,” India said with a touch of feigned eagerness.
Before