Excerpt from A Death of No Importance by Mariah Fredericks, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I said, "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you seek in a maid."

Louise looked panicked. "Oh, I don't know. Anything."

Mrs. Benchley said, "Louise—" But she was interrupted by a shriek and crash from downstairs. Hurrying toward the door, Mrs. Benchley exhorted our better acquaintance and left.

Gazing at the dolls, Louise said, "Have you met my sister?"

"Miss Charlotte. Yes, I have."

She took the hand of one of the dolls, swung it as if they were walking together. "She belonged to Charlotte. When we moved, Charlotte wanted to throw them out. Maybe it was silly, but I couldn't bear it. Something you've had always, just tossed aside. I suppose that's why I have so many." She looked up at me. "I warn you now that I am completely hopeless."

"My uncle is a reverend. He says no one is completely hopeless."

"Well, I am. At everything. Everything that matters. Except badminton." For a moment, she brightened. "I am very good at badminton."

"Loyalty and athleticism—admirable qualities," I said.

"Oh, no," said Louise. "I'm a ninny. I have been all my life. But it didn't seem to matter as much when we weren't … as we are now. Charlotte managed straightaway. She's so pretty, so stylish. Brave. When we summered at the shore, she would go rushing into the waves, while I clung to Mother and cried. And it's the same here. Everything she finds so wonderful about this life I find impossible."

I asked, "What is it you find so difficult, Miss Benchley?"

She was quiet a long while before she burst out, "Anything with people. You try so hard to be pleasant and they just look right through you. You're not clever enough, not pretty enough, not … well, we certainly have money, but even that's not enough. Not unless you've been here a hundred years and have one of five last names."

I thought of how Mrs. Armslow used to rail against the Astors as upstarts, and said, "You would be surprised how quickly money can grow old in this city."

"It's all supposed to be so gracious, so agreeable. But in truth, it feels almost … violent. Everyone wants the same thing. All the girls hoping to marry into the same fortune. Their mothers wanting to be invited here or there. Oh, Mrs. Tyler tries to be kind—but all we are to those people is one less chance for them." She looked up. "Sometimes, in those rooms, it almost feels like they want to kill you."

Trying to make light of it, I said, "Well, I have never seen anyone stabbed with a fish knife or bludgeoned with a champagne bottle."

"Perhaps not," she said vaguely.

For a moment, I inspected Louise Benchley. I had met three of the four Benchleys, and I could vividly imagine their failings as employers. And yet I felt the irresistible pull of need, the sense that I might be useful here. For Charlotte, I could do no more than any maid. But for Louise, there could be something else.

"Come," I said, taking her face and turning it to the mirror. "Let's have this hair the envy of every debutante in New York. Let the mothers bring their knives and cudgels. We are not afraid."

"I'm afraid I am afraid," said Louise, but she was smiling.

Of course, I did not take her talk of killing seriously. At the time, I thought Louise Benchley was indulging in that fascination with death that so many who live far beyond its grip—the young, healthy, and wealthy—have.

Tragically, she was far closer to the truth than I was.

Excerpted from A Death of No Importance by Mariah Fredericks. Copyright © 2018 by Mariah Fredericks. Excerpted by permission of Minotaur Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.