‘Because it was a real mystery,’ Caro said, and Felicity nodded.

‘I figured I’d take the magnifying glass and hide it, then we could spend the weekend investigating the theft. I thought it would be fun!’

‘What were you planning to do when Isobel called the police and had you arrested?’ Rosalind asked, mildly.

‘I didn’t think she’d go that far,’ Felicity admitted. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. But I saw it sparkling there in the case, and I thought about that first Dahlia short story – you know, the one with the jewels at the dinner party that show up in the soup?’

‘“Sapphires for Supper”,’ Caro supplied, helpfully.

‘Yeah. And I guess I thought it would be like that.’ Felicity sighed. ‘That we’d team up in pairs to find the missing jewels and it would be a big game. But obviously, it wasn’t.’

‘So you hid the magnifying glass in Posy’s room to avoid getting caught,’ Rosalind guessed.

Felicity nodded. ‘I’d planned to put it back where I got it, but then I heard Hugh coming down the stairs from the second floor and I panicked. The locks on these doors are so feeble, I twisted the nearest one and stumbled in. The fact that it was the China Room seemed kind of appropriate. And when I realised it was Posy’s room …’

‘You decided to frame her.’

‘No! Well, not really. I …’ Felicity’s brows twitched down into an angry frown. ‘She’s not Dahlia. She can’t be. Anton promised us he’d only cast someone who truly understood the books, and I don’t think she’s even read them!’

‘She’s working on that,’ Rosalind murmured, but Felicity was on a roll and didn’t seem to hear her.

‘She’s completely wrong for the part! I mean, her history, the stories about her – and all she’s ever played are stupid, whiny popular girls in American teen movies. She’s every girl I ever hated growing up. Every perfect girlfriend my brothers ever brought home.’ Felicity sucked in a breath. ‘She’s like … the anti-Dahlia!’

Rosalind raised a knowing eyebrow in the direction of Felicity’s bright blue hair. Felicity stared back. ‘Appearance isn’t character, you know.’

‘She has a point,’ Caro allowed.

‘You don’t understand.’ Felicity took the jewelled satin headband from her hair and placed it in her lap, rubbing at her temples. ‘For me, Dahlia is more than just a fictional character. She was my escape. My rebellion, even.’ She huffed a laugh. ‘My parents didn’t care whether I dyed my hair or got full sleeve tattoos. They only cared about academic achievements.’

‘But you didn’t,’ Caro guessed, remembering how Ashok had said that all of Felicity’s family were doctors, except her.