A Fatal Waltz lem-3

by Tasha Alexander

  “What precisely is your relationship with Schröder?” I asked.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Harrison has hired him to kill Colin.”

  “He told me. Thought I’d find it amusing,” she said.

  “Did you?”

  She met my stare. “I did not.”

  “I’ve already admitted that I don’t like you,” I said. “When I’m near you I feel awkward, inept, and inexperienced. I look at you and wonder how he could have loved both of us.”

  “We’re not so different,” she said.

  “Your sophistication puts me to shame.”

  “Colin’s had more than his share of beauty, and it never made him happy. I was always able to offer him more, as are you.” She lit a cigarette. “Not that I take any pleasure in saying that. I’d hoped to find you nothing more than pretty and vapid.”

  “I’d hoped never to find you at all.”

  She blew smoke towards me and laughed, then drew deeply on her cigarette. “Your naïveté is almost touching.”

  “You’re Schröder’s lover, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes. He tells me you’re providing him with information that’s making it worth his while to delay completing the job.”

  “Yes, but I may have to return to England soon. And if I do, I need to know that there’s someone here in a position to influence him.”

  “You would trust me to do that?”

  “I trust that you don’t want Colin harmed. Can I count on you? For this, at least?” I asked.

  “Ja. But not for anything else.”

  “I’m not so naïve as you think,” I said.

  “Perhaps not.”

  I stood to leave, but before I’d crossed to the door I stopped and turned back to her. “Why didn’t you marry him?”

  “Because I knew that the responsibility of having a wife would weigh on him, and the distraction might make him careless in his work. I didn’t want to lose him, but I couldn’t let him know that I loved him. He would have kept proposing if I’d given him any hope of that. And so you see, Lady Ashton, that is the difference between us. My love for him is selfless. Yours will kill him.”

  “Kallista, chérie! Why have you kept this from me all this time?” I’d found Cécile in Klimt’s studio and pulled her into a quiet corner while he mixed paint.

  “I don’t know. I feel so insecure and hopeless and foolish.”

  “There’s nothing foolish about it. Tell me about this Kristiana. You are not truly concerned that she could pull Monsieur Hargreaves away from you?”

  “No, it’s not that. I just worry that after loving a woman like her—so sophisticated and experienced, with so much knowledge of the world—he’ll find me lacking.”

  “He would never have proposed to you if that were the case. He knows you better than anyone, Kallista.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I know what you are worrying about.” She looked at me, her gray eyes serious. “I have no doubt that he will be pleased. It is not a difficult thing. But you already know this.”

  “To a very small degree.”

  “That is enough. Your passion will take care of the rest.”

  “I wish I knew why he stopped wanting her,” I said, tugging on my bottom lip with a nervous hand. “Can emotions be so fickle?”

  “They almost always are, chérie.”

  “He proposed to her, Cécile. She turned him down.”

  “That was years ago.”

  “Turned down whom?” Klimt had finished with his paints and come over to us.

  “No one,” I said.

  “Kristiana and your fiancée?” he asked.

  “Does everyone in Vienna know their history?” I asked, petulant.

  “Ja, pretty much. It was quite a story at the time.”

  “All that matters is that he’s with you now,” Cécile said.

  “More or less,” Klimt said.

  “You’re not exactly inspiring confidence,” I said.

  “Love is not a static thing.” He rolled a paintbrush between his hands. “You have him now, and that should be enough. Don’t worry about what came before or what will come after.”

  “I can’t imagine something coming after. I can’t imagine not loving him,” I said. “Or feeling it with less intensity, regardless of our circumstances, regardless of how much time goes by.”

  “Hold on to that,” Cécile said. “Don’t let it slip away from you.”

  “Is it something over which we have control?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, chérie. I don’t know.”

  “There’s no controlling love,” Klimt said. “It comes when it comes and goes when it goes.”

  “I don’t want to believe that,” I said.

  “Then close your eyes, Fräulein. You’ll need to.”

  28 December 1891

  Berkeley Square, London

  Madam:

  I felt I should inform you that the difficulties Mrs. Brandon faces are increasing daily. Newspaper reporters are hovering on the front steps day and night, daunted only slightly by the footmen emptying buckets of dirty water directly above them. They follow Miss Seward and Mrs. Brandon whenever the ladies leave the house. Miss Seward and I have developed any number of complicated schemes to throw them off, but unfortunately we’ve met with something less than success. Tomorrow she plans to wear a maid’s uniform and exit through the servants’ entrance.

  It is an admirable plan, but I’m afraid that even a newspaperman can tell the difference between a maid and a lady. I find that I don’t have the heart to tell Miss Seward this. She’s quite consumed with excitement.

  Mrs. Ockley has informed me that Odette has a tendency to suffer in cold weather and suggests that she take a tincture—recipe enclosed—before bed every night. I should hate for Mrs. du Lac to lose the services of so capable a maid even for a short time.

  Berry Bros. & Rudd have delivered the port you ordered and I wonder if you would prefer that I send it directly on to Park Lane. I cannot imagine any circumstances in which you and Mr. Hargreaves would not be married before it is ready to drink.

  I am your most humble and devoted servant,

  —Davis

  Chapter 20

  Cécile finished sitting for her portrait the next day. I wondered if she would continue to see Klimt, but she had very little to say on the subject. We spent the afternoon at the Imperial, hosting Friedrich and Anna, and I must say that being in the proximity of such eager love made me feel nearly as cynical as the Countess von Lange. I turned my back to our guests (who weren’t paying us the slightest attention anyway) and read my mail, laughing when I came to Davis’s letter.

  “You’re quite diverted,” Cécile said.

  “My butler is concerned that your maid will suffer in the cold weather.”

  “It is essential we keep them apart, or one of us is going to lose a servant.”

  “You could move to London,” I said, bending down to scratch Brutus’s head.

  “I’ve already been away from Paris longer than I can bear.”

  “But you’re providing so many valuable services in Vienna,” I said. “Look how happy Friedrich and Anna are. Do you think her parents will ever come around to accepting him?”

  “Herr Klimt was impressed with his sketches. He will help the boy. But whether that makes him acceptable to her parents…” She shrugged. “If he could get a commission to work on the murals in one of the Ringstrasse buildings, he would be in a much better position.”

  “He’ll never allow us to arrange such a thing, and I respect him immeasurably for it. But there must be something. The empress doesn’t allow her image to be taken any longer, does she?” I asked.

  “Non. She’s adamant about it.”

  “But what if he were to draw her—you’ve seen the vitality in his work—she could not help but be charmed. Even if the piece were never exhibited, so long as word got out that he’d sketched her…”

&nbs
p; “Très intéressant. This is something that perhaps I might arrange. I will convince her to call on me here at the Imperial and have Friedrich arrive at close to the same time.”

  “Could you do that?”

  “She’s desperate to leave the palace. It would do her good to get out. I can persuade her to come to us.”

  “But will she object to meeting Friedrich?”

  “Not if I tell her he is a friend of mine.”

  I glanced at the watch hanging from my lapel and called out to our guests. “It’s nearly time to go, Anna. I’ll take you home.” Cécile and I turned our heads so she and Friedrich could bid each other a proper farewell. I pulled on my coat and waited at the door until Anna joined me, her eyes shining.

  “He’s so perfectly lovely,” she said as we made our way out of the hotel. When we’d reached the bottom of the stairs to the lobby, I tripped and slammed into a gentleman in front of me. “Jeremy! I’m so sorry.” His hand gripped my arm, and our eyes met only for an instant.

  “Lady Ashton—apologies.”

  “Jeremy, don’t be so formal. I—”

  “Are you going somewhere? Do you need an escort?”

  “Oh, you’re so sweet, Your Grace,” Anna said. “But we need privacy. Ladies often have much to discuss, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  He looked at me, questioning with his eyes.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll get a fiacre.”

  “Very good.” He kept walking.

  “The poor duke,” Anna said, looking after him. “He’s so sad these days. I wonder why?”

  “It’s not always simple to be happy in love.”

  Anna grinned. “Can we walk home? I want more time to chat with you than driving would allow.”

  “I suppose so,” I said, smiling. “It won’t be dark for a while. But you must speak to me in German. Cécile has no need to practice her idioms, but I’m not so lucky.”

  “I think we should speak French if we’re discussing love.”

  “German,” I said with a smile. “You’re supposedly here as a language tutor.”

  “Do you think the duke will be married soon? He’s awfully handsome.”

  “Yes, I suppose he is handsome.” My voice was slow, measured. I’d never before given Jeremy’s appearance any thought. “I have a hard time seeing him as anything but a little boy.” I explained to her that we had grown up together, and found myself filled with sadness as I remembered days spent with him fishing, climbing trees, and racing our horses.

  “What a pity you never fell in love with each other. It would be such a touching story.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

  Something caught my eye as we crossed the street. We were being followed. “It’s colder than I thought. Let’s get a fiacre.” I increased my pace, hoping we would find a carriage quickly.

  “You’re walking too fast,” Anna said.

  “It’s the only thing keeping me warm.” We went another block without seeing an empty coach. Harrison, skilled at slipping into shadows, was hard to see, but I knew he was close behind us. I took Anna by the arm. “Tell me more about Friedrich.”

  “He’s found a perfect house for us near his studio. It’s so charming that not even my mother could find fault with it. If he gets a few more commissions—”

  “Let’s cross to the other side of the street.” I pulled her to the curb. “A few more commissions, you say?”

  “That’s all he’ll need to be able to afford it. I can’t think of anything sweeter than struggling together.”

  “It will be lovely, I’m sure.” Harrison waited until we were at the end of the block, then crossed to the other side.

  “Things are more simple when you’re not swimming in money, don’t you think? Sharing a snug little house, eating soup all the time. It’s so romantic I can hardly bear it.”

  “Poverty isn’t a game, Anna.” My voice was throaty, harsher than I’d intended. I glanced backwards; he was still following us.

  “Of course not. But we wouldn’t really be in poverty. It would be more like Marie Antoinette in her little rustic village at Versailles. Papa would never let me starve.”

  “I’ve seen the circumstances in which the poor are forced to live. It’s appalling. And for either of us, who’ve never known real hardship in our lives, to speak lightly of their plight…I can’t abide it.”

  She fell silent. The footsteps behind us quickened.

  “Come, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I increased my pace, and soon was all but pulling her alongside me.

  “Please, Lady Ashton, can’t we slow down?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so cold.” We were only two blocks from her house. “Has Friedrich painted your portrait?”

  “No, but I’m going to sit for him next week. If, that is, you and Madame du Lac will help me come up with an adequate excuse to escape from my house.”

  “That shouldn’t pose a problem.”

  Harrison had crossed the street again and was walking directly opposite us, his top hat pulled low over his face, hands in his pockets, and shoulders hunched. The cold air could not compete with the chill I felt at finding myself so close to him. Another block to go.

  “I can’t begin to express how grateful I am for all that the two of you have done for us. I’d nearly given up hope.”

  “Never abandon hope.” We had reached the beginning of her block. Her father’s house stood in the middle, and though I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I saw it, I did not slow my pace until we’d reached the stoop. I ducked inside with Anna and asked for the family’s carriage to be ordered for me, but when I exited it after arriving back at the Imperial, I realized that Mr. Harrison was not so easily deterred.

  “You will not escape from me unless I allow it,” he said, stepping out from behind the carriage and gripping my arm so hard I knew it would bruise. I twisted to get away from him, but he released me. “And this time I will allow it. But remember, Lady Ashton, that I know where you go, who you see, what you say. It would be remarkably simple to eliminate you.”

  He had scared me, but now I was angry, and I spun around to face him. “Then why don’t you?”

  “Only because I think you may yet be of some use to me.”

  “Highly unlikely, Mr. Harrison.”

  “I hear rumors that you’re planning to return to England.”

  “Idle gossip,” I said.

  “The best kind.” His hands were in his pockets, and I could see he was fingering something in one of them. “I’ve never doubted that you’d choose Hargreaves over Brandon.”

  “I’ve no need to make such a choice.”

  “Yes, you do.” He handed me a piece of paper. “But you should understand that the likelihood of your saving either of them is negligible at best. Brandon’s case is all but hopeless, and Hargreaves…though he’s capable of taking care of himself, I share your concern that his careless arrogance may prove his undoing.”

  I held up the paper. “Shall I read this now or later?”

  “It makes no difference. Either way I’ll know your reaction.”

  “I’m going inside before you grow even more tedious,” I said. “I do hope you enjoy gauging my response to your missive.” I marched into the hotel and doubled back through the lobby to make sure he hadn’t followed me. He did not reappear, but I found Jeremy sitting on a couch in the smoking room, cigarette in his hand.

  “What are you doing still down here?” I asked, taking the seat next to him.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve had an adventurous afternoon,” I said.

  “Is that so?” He studied his cigarette as if it held the secrets of the universe.

  “Another encounter with Mr. Harrison.”

  He bristled. “Did he harm you? I shouldn’t have let you leave the hotel without me.”

  “I’m perfectly fine. A bit scared, if I’m honest, but more angry than anything.”

  “Do you need something from
me, Em?”

  “I can’t stand this silence between us. I need your friendship. I miss you, Jeremy, and I hate feeling so distant from you. Will you never laugh with me again?”

  “I’ve behaved abominably,” he said, tapping his cigarette on a crystal ashtray.

  “You behave abominably nine-tenths of the time. What makes this instance so different?”

  He dropped his head against the back of the seat and blew a stream of silver smoke towards the ceiling. “I suppose there’s no use hiding the truth from you.”

  “There’s nothing you need hide from me.”

  “Oh, Em…” He groaned. “I love you. I suppose I always have. But when I kissed you…” He sat up straight and at last let a smile escape, then shook his head. “You’ve ruined me.”

  “Jeremy, I—”

  “Don’t say it. I know you love Hargreaves, et cetera, et cetera. Spare me the romantic details, will you?”

  “You’ll meet someone else, these feelings will—”

  “No, I won’t have it. Don’t tell me to look elsewhere, that my feelings will change. I don’t want them to. You know what an obstinate brat I am.”

  “You only feel like this because I’m unattainable. You’ve never wanted to marry,” I said.

  “I’ll admit there’s some truth in that, but you needn’t point it out so callously. I may be a cad, but I do have some feelings. You could at least acknowledge the terrible pain I’m suffering.” I could hear the beginnings of a smile in his voice.

  “Now you sound like your old self.” I stopped myself from reaching across and patting his arm.

  “I see what you’re doing. Afraid to touch me now, are you?”

  “I only—” I sighed. “I don’t want to make things worse for you.”

  “Things couldn’t be worse for me, and you can blame yourself not only for my own broken heart, but for the demise of the House of Sheffield. I shall never marry.”

  “You always were a master of melodrama.”

  “We all must have some skill. But my uncle will thank me. If I lead a dissolute enough life, I may die early. He’s always coveted my estate, and even if I should outlive him, his idiot son will inherit. And you, my dear girl, will have single-handedly destroyed one of the oldest families in England.”