Page 17 of Murder on the Upper East Side

Ten minutes later, Hannah had finished her wine and returned to the living room. Theo Fitzgerald was gone. In the library, Elle had resumed her place in the same club chair by the now-smouldering fire. In a matching chair on the other side of the fireplace sat Madison DuPont.

Hannah turned to listen to the pianist. She did feel for Elle, and she’d make a point of giving her some extra grace at school next week, no matter what nastiness she wrought, but she’d had enough of theduelling queens and their power plays for one evening. She glanced at her phone, waiting for Oliver’s text. He should be outside any minute. Maybe he’d be in the mood for tacos or dumplings. The quail skewers, mini croque-monsieur bites and spiced madeleines that were circulating had been tasty, but hardly a meal.

In that moment, the elevator doors opened, and Oliver stepped through the vestibule and into the Harringtons’ living room in an outfit that was technically formalwear but much louder – and much oranger – than anything else being worn to the party.

Hannah rushed over. ‘I thought we were meeting outside?’

‘Relax, relax. We’ll leave in a minute. But first, a word with Mademoiselle Elle.’

‘Are you sure? We should probably…’

This seemed like a bad idea. But Oliver nodded, and Hannah pointed to the library.

Oliver had taken no more than two steps before Madison was on her feet and walking briskly towards them.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she hissed, blocking Oliver’s path. Then she turned to Hannah. ‘Did you invite him?’

‘I—’ Hannah began to say, but Madison didn’t let her finish.

‘You both need to leave,now.’

Before Hannah could respond, Bash was beside them. He gave Oliver a once-over, eyes trailing down and then up his orange, double-breasted SebastianCruz Couture jacket, then coming to rest on his diamond-studded collar. Without saying a word to Oliver, he turned to Madison instead.

His tone was soothing. ‘Our girl is in a fragile state tonight, and we all need to keep things mellow. For Elle’s sake.’

‘We were just…’ Hannah gestured weakly to the vestibule.

‘Leaving, I’m sure,’ Bash said. Any camaraderie they’d shared earlier on the sofa was gone. It was every person behind Elle now, and Hannah had upset the order of things by inviting a bright orange distraction into the Harringtons’ demure and stately quarters when clearly the opposite was desired.

Oliver planted his feet. ‘I thought I’d stay for a drink, say a few words to our host. Looks like Elle could use a bit of levity tonight.’ It struck Hannah that for all the contempt Oliver showed for Prescott’s elite, he was desperate for acceptance. Even the tentative nods of approval they’d shown Hannah had been denied to him for years.

‘The fuck you will,’ Madison hissed, voice shimmering with venom, but low enough so as not to be overheard. ‘Elle is notyourhost, and the last thing she needs is new money trash stinking up her night. You’ll only remind her of Gemma.’

Hannah cringed, but Oliver’s face remained impassive.

In a flash of deep aubergine crêpe and shimmering red locks, Madison turned to Charles, who just asswiftly placed the silver drinks tray on an end table and took Oliver firmly by the elbow.

‘Right this way, Mr Morgan.’

‘I—’ Oliver began to protest, tugging at the butler’s grasp, but just as quickly, the fight drained out of him. ‘Fine, you can chill. I’m leaving.’

The butler released his hold, and Oliver walked back to the vestibule, spine arrow straight.

Madison turned to Hannah. ‘You’ve got a lot of nerve,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Not sure if that’s admirable or suicidal.’

‘Guess you’ll have to keep me around to find out,’ Hannah muttered. Then, without waiting for Bash or Madison to reply, she hurried to the elevator and jammed her finger onto the button.

1 October 2016

Instagram

Image: An action shot of Gemma Phipps, walking down the sidewalk towards the Concord Room. She wears a strappy summer sundress and chunky wedge heels, and the sun glints off her short blonde hair.

TheUpperEdgeLooky what just slid into my DMs. That’s our very own Gemma Phipps on East 87th, steps from the Fitzgeralds’ flagship restaurant in Carnegie Hill. I have it on good authority that this photo was taken in mid-August – just weeks before the boudoir shoot that set the Upper East aflame. Our girl looks a touch underdressed for the dining room, but something tells me that sundress didn’t stay on for long…

@WhoIsElizabethI cannot believe she had the nerve to eat at the Concord Room while Elle was in Mallorca with me.

@Ty_Mars@WhoIsElizabeth ‘eat at the Concord Room’ nice one