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from the Dulwich Picture Gallery.’
    ‘The Dulwich Picture Gallery?’ Annabel felt an unpleasant bolt of surprise. ‘I was there with Father only last night.’
    Madeline’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, and uncomfortable as she felt about her proximity to the crime, Annabel couldn’t help but be pleased at her normally blasé cousin’s reaction. ‘Really? Then the painting may have been stolen from under your very nose,’ she breathed.
    ‘Madeline,’ Aunt Delilah Black remonstrated mildly, ‘that is a rather vulgar expression.’ But Madeline did not seem at all perturbed by the reproof.
    ‘It is most thrilling,’ she said. ‘There is sure to be a nation-wide hunt for it.’
    ‘Why?’ Annabel asked ‘What was the painting.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Madeline said dismissively. ‘It was something famous.’ So Mr Leahey’s collection remained intact, Annabel couldn’t help thinking.
    ‘It was Venus of Urbino ’ said Augusta.
    ‘A Titian!’ Annabel gasped. The thief was bold indeed to have stolen one of those. ‘Father will be terribly upset to hear about that! He has always said there are few enough Titians on display to the public as it is.’ At that moment the carriage came to a stop.
    ‘Here we are, girls,’ Aunt Delilah said. ‘Berwick Street!’ The next hour flew by in a haze of shimmering, floating fabrics. Although Annabel had shopped with her mother before Christmas, she wasn’t prepared for the abundance of new material that had arrived in the spring. Delicate muslins vied with brilliant silks for her attention and then were both overshadowed by luxurious velvets. ‘Thank goodness the war with France has finished,’ Aunt Delilah remarked, ‘One’s wardrobe had become so limited without the continental touch.’
    Annabel had selected a swathe of pink muslin, so finely woven it was almost sheer, and another length in very pale yellow. Both fabrics would make enchanting day dresses, and as the season drew to a close, she was sure there would be plenty of picnics and other daytime activities to attend in the summery weather. Then she saw Madeline eyeing a bold silk in peacock blue and impulsively she decided that as well as her more sensible choices she would have one more evening dress made up. Leaving her cousins and aunt to debate the merits of violet and rose she dug through the bolts at the back of the shop. Some of which the shop assistant had put out since their arrival, suggesting that they were the very latest fabrics to arrive. The colours were strong, almost surprisingly dark for that time of year, and next to the silks were lengths of lace, almost jumbled together as if the shop manager had not yet had time to think of how to display them to their best advantage. She ran her eyes across the silk, ignoring the dark blue and a purple so strong that at first she had taken it for black, and then one fabric jumped out at her, a deep red silk that rippled on the roll and seemed to speak her name and she knew at once that it would be glorious on her. But not on its own. The red silk would be the under dress, cloaked with something flimsy or filmy. Annabel turned to the laces piled next to the silks and found it almost immediately, a delicate gold lace, intricately patterned with Brussels’ fastidiousness, but light enough that the red silk beneath would shine through like a ruby. It was perfect. ‘Aunt Delilah,’ Annabel said. ‘I’ve found some more fabric I wish to buy.’
    She could tell by the gleam that lit up in her aunt’s eye that she too could envisage how devastating the combination would be and she wondered for a moment if Aunt Delilah would attempt to dissuade her from buying it, as she was sure to outshine her two cousins the first night she dressed in this, but her aunt was more generous than she gave her credit for. ‘This will be most becoming on you,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘The gold will bring out the colour of your eyes, and the red is very