Alice was sorry to see Mrs Davidson go, for no sooner did she have a moment alone than Mr Grantham swooped down from goodness knew where to swamp her with his attentions.
"Miss Sharp! What a very great pleasure it is to see you here."
Alice was not in the mood to play along with Grantham's fickle courtesies. "Mr Grantham. I suppose you are here with your dear friend, Colonel Moore?"
He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I have no business with the Colonel this evening, Miss Sharp. You find me entirely at your service."
Alice felt the smile she had plastered on her face grow thin. "How delightful."
Grantham was a diligent flirt, she could say that much for him. He kept her well supplied with lemonade and cake from the table, and spun a tale as well as any other young man, even if he did have a dreadful habit of mentioning his father the Viscount in every other sentence. She would at least benefit from appearing desirable to the other eligible men at the party, of whom there were a good few.
"How dreadfully wan Mrs Davidson looks this evening," Grantham remarked in a low whisper. "I cannot help but think that colour of gown does not suit her. In fact, I cannot find that a blue dress ever looks well on anyone! It seems a very difficult colour."
Alice was astonished. She knew Grantham was a social climber, and a little overbearing to boot, but she had never had him down as rude.
"I cannot agree with you," she said, as severely as she could without raising her voice. "Mrs Davidson is one of my great idols when it comes to fashion. Moreover, I can see no excuse for airing such an opinion in her own house! For shame, Mr Grantham!"
He worked his mouth for a few moments in confusion, caught off guard by her censure. "Will you try your hand at a game of lottery, Miss Sharp?" he asked finally. Alice allowed him to accompany her to the lottery table, where they made a merry party with the Duke and some others. Alice took great advantage of Grantham's eagerness to let her win, amassing a large pile of Mrs Davidson's beautiful gaming tokens. These were not the china fish-shaped pieces that might be found in lesser houses, but rectangular tablets of mother-of-pearl boasting intricate carvings on each side. Another sign of the Davidsons' comfortable wealth. Alice wondered whether some day she too might sign away her future for the sake of a large house and beautifully-carved gaming tokens. No doubt Grantham, the future Viscount, would promise her gaming fish of gold and silver if she were silly enough to ask for them.
"Let us have some music!" Mrs Davidson announced, seeing that all her guests were busily engaged at the tables and the evening was well underway. "Who can I prevail upon to play for us?"
"Miss Sharp!" called Grantham, much to Alice's horror. She had never played to such a varied crowd before, and was not vain enough of her own talents to wish for the exhibition.
The call was taken up by several others around the room, leaving her little choice but to take her place at the pianoforte. Grantham was there ahead of her, leafing enthusiastically through Mrs Davidson's supply of music.
"Here is a lovely piece," he announced, dropping onto the music stand a sheet so thick with notes the ink had nearly turned the page black. Alice's eyes widened.
"Perhaps something a little lighter might suffice?"
"Pray, indulge me," Grantham murmured, feigning an intimate whisper, yet speaking loud enough that he was heard several tables away. Alice could not see a polite way of refusing him. She concealed her grimace of effort as her fingers struck the first chords.
It was a lengthy and complicated piece, not at all to Alice's tastes, but she had studied the art of sight-reading well enough that she muddled her way through a passable imitation of the notes on the page. Grantham stood to turn the pages for her, his face displaying a most unwarranted delight. At least he was enjoying himself.
Alice was approaching the final passage with no small relief when she was robbed of the smattering of polite applause her lacklustre playing deserved. A commotion arose from one of the gaming tables.
She knew – yes, she knew without even turning her head to see – that Captain Kirby would be at the heart of it.
What surprised her was seeing the snobbish and self-important Colonel Moore rising with him.
"I won't sit idle and let you impugn my friend's honour, Moore!" Kirby was saying angrily. "I'll see you at dawn before I hear another word out of you!"
"Are you challenging me, sir?" Colonel Moore demanded, fists clenching at his sides.
"Brother! Captain Kirby! Please!" gasped Mrs Davidson, running towards them. Alice stood up at the pianoforte in time to hear her own name on Kirby's lips.
"When you insult Miss Sharp, you insult the Duke of Westbourne and you insult me. Do you stand by your words, Colonel?"
"I have not insulted Miss Sharp," said the Colonel, taking a step back from Kirby's rage. "I have only spoken the truth –"
"Fie! Then you do not recant, and I challenge you –"
"Kirby, no!" Alice cried out, running to place herself between the two men. "Please – I am sure the Colonel meant no harm. I will not hear of a duel between you. Come now – take yourself out into the garden. A little fresh air will fix this."
"Sit down, Alice," said the Duke, approaching behind her. "This is not for you –"
"But it does concern me," Alice protested, ignoring the gasps as she dared to interrupt the Duke. "I do not believe Colonel Moore can have meant me any insult, and, regardless of the truth of the matter, I cannot allow a duel on my account."
"It is your wish, then, to let this rogue go unchallenged?" Kirby demanded. Anger had brought a passionate light to his eyes which set Alice momentarily off balance.
"I will not hear of a duel," she said, standing firm between the two would-be combatants. Kirby took a step towards her. He was a very tall man, broad-shouldered and muscular enough that the power of his arms was visible through the sleeves of his red coat. Alice felt a painful energy radiating from him: a wildness, even. She did not move. Eventually, he backed down.
"I will be guided by you," said Kirby reluctantly. "Though the scoundrel does not deserve it."
"Please, Captain," said Mrs Davidson helplessly, "I beg you – such language –"
"Dear lady, I am afraid it is time for us to take our leave," said the Duke, taking Kirby by the arm. "I thank you for a very pleasant evening, and I apologise for this latter turn of events."
Colonel Moore made them a solemn bow while Mrs Davidson stammered out a farewell. Alice felt very sorry for her; the Duke's attendance at her evening party was an honour she would be sorry to lose.
She was surprised to find the Colonel's attention on her. "Miss Sharp, allow me to assure you –"
"Do not speak to her," snapped Kirby. The Colonel's eyebrows shot up as he closed his mouth. The Duke hustled Kirby and Alice together towards the door.
"No offence was meant, I am certain. Good evening, Colonel. Good evening, Mrs Davidson. Cathy? Aunt? Quickly, now."
Alice was longing for the chance to speak to Kirby alone, but she found herself tumbled with great speed back into the town coach with Catherine and the Dowager Duchess, both of whom had plenty to say about Kirby's rashness and Alice's folly in stepping between the two angry gentlemen.
"You would have done much better to let them work it out between themselves," said Catherine. "It was too forward of you to speak out as you did – a great deal too forward, Alice!"
"I hardly think it matters," she shrugged, feeling that, as the insulted party, she had the right to a little defiance. "My reputation was quite ruined among Mrs Davidson's friends the moment the Colonel began speaking ill of me."
"I heard what he was saying well enough," said the Dowager Duchess. "And I wonder at Kirby's rashness! I do not think the Colonel said anything worthy of a duel. He called you a husband-hunter, and made some comment about your dear father which I think was altogether too much considering the Colonel's own sister is married to nothing better than a tradesman. Well, and what if you are a husband-hunter? Every
young girl in the ton is on the same mission. What was Kirby thinking?"
"What indeed," Alice murmured. She could not deny the shiver of pleasure which ran through her when she thought of Captain Kirby springing to her defence.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
On their return to Amberley House, Catherine took instantly to her bed. She complained of nothing more than fatigue, but looked very pale. Her husband accompanied her, a frown of concern creasing his brow, and the Dowager Duchess gave Alice a knowing wink and retired to her own rooms.
Captain Kirby stalked from one room to the other, too full of agitation to be seated. Alice waited quietly in the drawing room until she could be certain that they were alone.
"Come here and speak to me a moment, Captain. I have heard what the Colonel said about me and I must confess I do not think it worth your anger."
Kirby rested one hand on the back of Alice's chair, so close that his knuckles lightly brushed her shoulder. He did not look at her, but fixed his gaze on the window.
"Any insult to you is worth my anger."
"It is Mrs Davidson I feel sorry for. Her party was quite ruined, and more than that – she has now entirely lost her hopes of the Duke's friendship."
"I cannot stand these title-sniffing cronies!"
"You are a good deal too harsh to speak of her that way. The Duke would have been a valuable friend –"
"Then her brother ought to have treated the Duke's family with respect."
"I do not see that he was disrespectful. All he accused me of was seeking out a husband."
"You did not hear his tone."
"You would have done better to ignore his tone for my sake as well as your hostess's."
"Well, that is not the manner of man I am," said Kirby. The hand he rested on the chair clenched into a fist. "I cannot sit by and hear ill spoken of my friends. My conscience will not allow it. Miss Sharp – Alice – I only wanted to defend you –"
"I did not ask you to!" Alice was horrified to find tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. Part of her wanted to thank the Captain for springing so fearlessly to the defence of her honour. Yet there was another part, the larger and wiser part, which knew that the Colonel's words had been true. "How can you defend me from the truth?"
"Do not do yourself a disservice, Alice. You are more than another silly girl with a head full of husbands –"
"What more am I? What more is there to be? I cannot choose but seek out a husband, Captain. There is no other method for me to make my way through Society. I am a woman – young, yes, but old enough to know my place in the world. If I am to gain any measure of respect or independence it must be as the mistress of my own household, with a good husband at my side."
When Kirby turned aside she did not know whether it was because he had heard her words and understood them, or because he still thought of her as the foolish girl who did not understand the world as he did. She burned for him to take her seriously.
His face when he finally returned her yearning gaze seemed grey and worn in a way it had not been only moments before. "I have long been unfit for marriage, Alice. I confess that the ambitions you speak of are beyond my understanding."
She touched his hand, noticing him draw back from her touch the way he had on their ride. It was as if her hand pained him – or elicited some other, deeper sensation, that he did not know how to bear. "You are fit for whatever life you choose, Kirby."
"Oh! Someone help me! Someone help me!"
The scream rent the air between them, shattering the moment of intimacy. Alice snatched her hand back from the Captain as the Dowager Duchess came weeping into the room.
"Your Grace! What on earth is the matter? Are you unwell?"
"It is bad, very bad!" sobbed the Duchess. She was waving a scrap of paper towards them, but was trembling too violently to allow Kirby to take it from her. "Oh! What will I do?"
"Come and sit beside me," said Alice, leading her gently to the sofa. "What do you have there, a letter? Give it to the Captain. We shall read it together and find a solution for whatever lies inside."
She stroked the old woman's hand tenderly until her trembling had ceased. The Duchess kept the letter clenched tight and would not hand it over.
"This must remain between the three of us," she whispered. "I cannot bear to think of anyone else knowing – oh!"
"Does it involve the necklace?" Kirby guessed. The Duchess gave a tremulous nod.
"We are your co-conspirators," Alice told her kindly. "Not a word of the matter shall be breathed beyond this room."
Kirby looked as though he wanted to disagree, but a look from Alice silenced him.
"Let me see what is written there," he said, holding out his hand for the letter. "I will be the judge of whether it merits such distress."
Glancing at Alice, he smoothed out the crumpled paper and began to read aloud.
Madam,
You may think yourself smart. You may think yourself cunning. Allow me to assure you that your machinations have been no match for the powers at my disposal.
You will cease, immediately and without delay or dalliance, all investigation into the disappearance of the Westbourne Sapphire and the necklace which bears it. Failure to comply with my instructions will result in a most unhappy end to this matter.
"There is no signature," said Kirby, folding the letter crisply in two.
"What can it mean?" asked Alice.
"Calumny!" wailed the Duchess. "Disaster and despair! My beautiful necklace – the necklace that my poor, sweet Westbourne hung about my neck on the day we were married – I was so young then, dear Miss Sharp, younger even than you are now, and I was so lovely to behold! You will not think it now, but I was! And now my last memory of that wonderful day is gone – in the hands of a villain! Oh! It is too much to bear."
"Be calm," Alice entreated her, squeezing her hands. "Captain Kirby will surely see the way forwards."
"It seems to me a very empty threat," said Kirby. "With your permission?" He took up a candlestick and held the letter towards the flame.
"Unless you think it is better now to go to the authorities," said Alice. The Duchess shook her head violently.
"I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it!"
"Then I will burn it," Kirby decided. He dipped the letter into the flame and, once yellow fire began leaping up from the paper, threw it into the fireplace. "You will think no more of this letter. It is nothing more than a fantasy – a thief's cruel fiction – designed to inflict further distress on a vulnerable lady."
"You do not think, then, that I am in serious danger?"
"I do not think it at all likely," Kirby smiled. "Now, Duchess, may I offer you a drink?"
"No – no." The Duchess pressed a hand to her chest. "I am quite overcome with weakness."
"Shall I fetch the smelling salts?" asked Alice in alarm. She was well accustomed to the Duchess's foibles.
"Allow me to lean on your arm, my dear, as I return to my rooms. I think I will take myself to bed."
Alice obliged her, though she was dying to speak to Kirby again. Something about his manner as he burnt the letter had not seemed quite right to her. She wondered whether he might have more to say when they were alone.
The two ladies left him leaning against the mantelpiece, gazing down at the ashen remains of the letter with an unfathomable expression. The Duchess required a great deal of care as she negotiated Amberley House's sweeping staircase in her state of weakness and distress. Alice found that her proffered arm bore a great deal more weight than she had anticipated. She remained with the Duchess, speaking soothing words about this person's rumoured fortune and that person's rumoured love affair, until the lady was as tranquil as could be hoped. Alice rang for the maid and requested a cup of hot milk, and then left her to rest.
She was about to start down the staircase again when Catherine's voice rang out softly across the hallway.
"Alice? Alice, is that you?"
Biting her lip, she faced h
er sister without a hint of disappointment on her face. "Cathy! I thought you would be in bed."
Cathy was wearing her nightgown, a glamorous affair of white silk and lace. It was a hundred times finer than the plain, hand-me-down linen nightwear that filled Alice's memories of the secret whispers they had shared through their childhood nights. Catherine held out both hands towards her sister, a placid smile spreading over her face. "I am not as tired as I thought. Come sit with me a moment. I have something to say to you."
At once, Alice recalled her earlier concern for her sister. Catherine had not been behaving at all like herself. Filled with guilt that she had even considered excusing herself to sneak back down to Kirby, she followed Catherine willingly into her bedroom.
What a difference from the poky, sparsely-furnished room they had shared as young girls! Catherine had an opulent four poster bed overflowing with silken sheets and pillows stuffed with finest duck down. Her dressing table was of ornately carved mahogany, the wood dark and shining, and boasted a huge, well-polished mirror which reflected the candlelight up to the vaulted ceiling. Alice removed her shoes and wriggled down under the soft covers at her sister's invitation.
Catherine stroked her young sister's hair fondly. "Quite an evening it has been."
"I am sorry that I did not act as I should have. I see now that it was not proper for me to come between the gentlemen."
"All the same, I cannot fault your intentions. I only wish I were as brave as you are! Poor Alice – Society is not enough for you, and I am beginning to think that you are rather too much for Society."
The words were kindly meant, but Alice felt a prickle of unease. If she did not fit amongst the ladies of the ton, what would possibly become of her?
"Cathy, that's enough about me. I am growing concerned about you. You did not feel up to the curricle today – and you have been so overtired lately that I hardly recognise you! Are you unwell? Have you been sleeping badly? Tell me what is the matter."
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