Tomorrow's Crimes ll Moriarty the Patriot

A Debut to Remember

Adelaide's feet ached as she slipped back into the ballroom, grateful for the moment of respite her conversation with Moriarty had provided. The crystal chandeliers cast their warm glow across the assembled gathering, where dozens of couples still whirled to Strauss's "The Blue Danube." Her brief absence had done nothing to diminish the energy of the celebration; if anything, the crowd seemed more animated than before.

"Adelaide!" Her mother's voice sliced through the music with practiced precision. The Duchess of Ravenscroft glided to her side, her ivory fan raised like a conductor's baton. "Where have you been? Lady Winchester has been inquiring after you, and the Marquess of Thornfield's son is eager for another dance." She paused, her gaze sharp as she scrutinized Adelaide's figure for any hint of imperfection or misplaced elegance.

"I merely needed some air, Mother," Adelaide replied, fighting the urge to roll her eyes-a habit her Victorian body's original inhabitant would never have developed. "The heat from the chandeliers can be quite overwhelming."

"Never mind that," the Duchess snapped, her expression softening only slightly. "You must engage in social networking with the other young ladies in the marriage market. They are all abuzz with the latest gossips, and you cannot afford to be left out. Remember, they are not your friends; they are your rivals for the affections of suitors. It is far wiser to remain in proximity to your adversaries."

Adelaide cast a glance across the ballroom, her gaze landing on a cluster of young ladies, their laughter ringing like delicate chimes. Among them, she spotted a young lady, who was animatedly recounting some scandalous tale, her hands gesturing wildly. The other girls leaned in, captivated. "I see," she replied, a hint of resignation in her voice. "I suppose I should."

Before she could take a step, her mother leaned in closer. "And remember, my dear, charm is essential. A well-placed compliment can do wonders for your prospects."

As she moved through the throng, Adelaide caught a glimpse of Sir James Crawford holding court near the punch bowl. His considerable girth strained against the seams of his expensive waistcoat, yet he wore it with a certain pomp. A circle of gentlemen hung on his every word, their expressions a mix of admiration and mild disbelief as he expounded on his business acumen.

"-and that, my friends, is how I turned a failing venture into a roaring success!" he declared, his voice booming above the music. The gentlemen nodded appreciatively, though Adelaide could see a few of them stifling smirks.

"The secret, gentlemen," he had declared, swirling his wine glass with practiced sophistication, "is understanding that children possess a natural vigor that must be properly channeled. Why, in my factories, they develop skills that will serve them well in life! Far better than letting them run wild in the streets."

"Quite right, quite right," Lord Pemberton had agreed, though Adelaide noticed his eyes straying to the diamond pin in Crawford's cravat rather than meeting his gaze. "I've always said honest work builds character."

"Indeed," Crawford continued, clearly warming to his subject. "Just last month, I implemented a new system of fines for tardiness. Remarkable how quickly they learned punctuality! Though I must say, some of their parents showed shocking ingratitude..."

Adelaide had watched as the assembled gentlemen nodded and murmured their approval, their own hands soft and uncalloused, their children safely ensconced in private schools or under the care of governesses. The hypocrisy made her stomach turn.

Lady Winchester had swept past then, her silk skirts rustling importantly. "Sir James, you must tell Lady Ashworth about your new mechanized looms. She's been simply desperate to hear about them." Her smile was poison-sweet. "Though perhaps save the more... technical details for the gentlemen's club?"