Mysterious Mrs. Pansy

This meant that Jane wasn’t the girl Patrick had met when he was a child, and a disappointed expression clouded Patrick’s handsome face.

Oblivious to his disappointment, Jane eyed him with suspicion. What did he mean? Did he expect her to get kidnapped? The rest of the ride passed in silence, and when they arrived home, Beatrice handed Patrick an invitation, remarking, “Don’t forget that Old Doyle is hosting a banquet for his seventieth birthday this weekend.”

The banquet was to be held at the Imperial Hotel, the city’s most luxurious establishment, and all the attendees were either wealthy, influential, or both.

Jane had already experienced her share of such events after the company’s recent anniversary celebration, much to her displeasure. Beatrice had woken her early in the morning and given her a stern lecture. “Get up! You mustn’t bring shame to this family,” she warned, wagging her finger at Jane.

The banquet hall buzzed with activity as well-dressed guests chatted and reveled in their finery. But the whole affair bored Jane, so she retreated to a corner, scanning the crowd until her gaze fell on Patrick, who stood out like a star.

With a sigh, she decided to escape to the rooftop for some fresh air. However, her path was blocked by a group of young women, including Florence and her snobbish friends.

Florence flaunted a dazzling diamond ring and bragged, “This is a limited edition piece designed by the world-renowned Ada. My grandfather bought it at an overseas auction for my birthday last year.”

One of Florence’s friends chimed in, “Oh, it’s exquisite! It suits you perfectly. No one else could pull it off like you do. Gorgeous!”

Their sycophantic behavior revolted Jane. She frowned at their audacity, finding nothing special about the ring. It was undeniably beautiful but featured a relatively small diamond compared to the sizable ones her own grandfather had gifted her.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Jane uttered, sidestepping them and proceeding without a second thought.

“Bumpkin! She’s so gauche!” Florence and her friends whispered behind her back.

Jane spent a considerable time on the rooftop. When she reluctantly returned to the banquet hall, a uniformed waiter pointed at her and yelled, “It’s her! She’s the one I saw earlier!”

Jane halted, baffled by the waiter’s accusations. Where had he seen her, and why was he shouting? Florence swiftly approached, squeezing through the gathering crowd.

“So, you’re the one who stole my diamond ring!”

Stole her diamond ring? What was going on? Frowning deeply, Jane looked at Florence and inquired, “What diamond ring?”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Florence’s friends encircled Jane, joining in the accusation.

“Gosh! It’s astonishing to think that Patrick’s fiancée is a thief.”

“I’m not surprised. Bumpkins like her have no morals. Remember how she ogled the ring when she saw it earlier? She could never afford such an expensive piece, so she must have stolen it.”

“Florence, there’s no point in arguing with her. Just call the police!”

A revelation struck Jane at that moment-she was being accused of theft. It was a setup! She examined Florence’s hand and realized that the diamond ring was missing.

“What’s going on here?” Bernard Doyle, using a walking stick for support, made his way to the center of the crowd.

“Grandpa, please help me,” Florence said, clutching her chest and pretending to be distressed.

Pointing at Jane, she continued, “This girl stole the diamond ring you gifted me, and she’s pretending not to know anything about it!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Old Doyle assured his granddaughter, patting her on the shoulder. He then turned to Jane and asked, “Did you steal Florence’s diamond ring?”

“No, sir,” Jane replied calmly.

Old Doyle’s brow furrowed, and he said, “I could buy a million diamond rings, but the missing one is Florence’s favorite. If you have it with you, please return it. I’ll buy you another one. Just give it back.”

Jane was taken aback. “How can I return something I didn’t take? The ring isn’t in my possession!”

“Shame on you, Jane! Someone witnessed you stealing it with their own eyes. Why are you still denying it?” Erica Terry, one of Florence’s friends, scolded, pulling the waiter who had pointed at Jane and accusingly shouting.