“Theoretically possible, I suppose, but highly unlikely.”
“So what now?” she asked.
“It’s time to send another message to Sebastian. It’s essential that I speak with him.” Margaret wanted me to quote Homer to him, but I elected to take a simpler approach:
Sebastian, I’ve seen your mother’s Bibl e and know your true identity. Please come to me at once.
“Surely he’s no reason to hide from you any longer now that you know the truth,” Margaret said. “Capet is the Bourbon heir. Francis knew this. Presumably, he told Berry. But how do you reconcile all this with Francis’s infidelity? Berry may have had motive to kill him, but so did Beatrice.”
“It’s entirely possible that the murder had nothing to do with the French throne. If Beatrice knew that her husband had a mistress and a child”—I sighed—“it would be much more satisfactory to know that there was a larger motivation behind Mr. Francis’s death.”
“Is there a motivation stronger than love betrayed? Although…” Margaret paused. “If Beatrice always loved Mr. Barber, can she really claim to have been betrayed?”
“Think on it: She loves Barber but has given him up for Francis. For years and years she buries her feelings and treats her husband with respect and affection, coming, in the end, to love him. Now, presume she learns that this man, for whom she had walked away from love, has callously tossed her aside for another woman. That is a betrayal that would be keenly felt.”
“Maybe. I think she’d take the opportunity to invite Barber back into her life. If her husband took a lover, why shouldn’t she? That’s exactly what I’d do.”
“Really?” I looked at her carefully. “Is this a roundabout way of telling me that you’ve decided to marry Jeremy?”
“Heavens, no! First off, his mother would never stand for it, and second, I’m convinced that Jeremy is capable of grand passion. Now, I’ve no illusions about fidelity in many marriages, but I shouldn’t like to have a husband with a grand passion for someone else.”
“You sell yourself short, Margaret. Perhaps you will be his grand passion.”
“There’s no chance of that. I thought him to be the most frivolous of gentlemen up until the past couple of weeks. Now there’s a change in him, a seriousness in the way that he looks at one woman in particular.”
“Tell me it’s not Lettice?”
“No, Emily, it’s you.”
“Jeremy is a dear friend, and I can assure you that he would never consider me anything else.”
“Believe what you will. I can only tell you what I see. There’s a sort of adoration that’s crept into the way he speaks about you. There’s no fawning in it, mind you. ‘Passion’ is the only word that fits.”
“Infatuation, more likely,” I said, not believing he felt even this. Jeremy and I had been friends so long that any other sort of relationship was inconceivable.
“Think what you like. I am confident, however, that unless your own affections take a remarkable change of course, the Duke of Bainbridge is going to remain a bachelor for a very long time.”
“Jeremy has always had a fickle nature. Any apparent devotion he has for me stems entirely from my lack of availability and will soon be replaced with fervor for someone equally inaccessible.” Davis entered the room with the mail. “Did Mr. Hargreaves send a reply to my letter yesterday?”
“Not of which I am aware. I shall look into the matter at once, madam.”
He returned not half an hour later, deeply apologetic. He had instructed Baines to deliver my letter, but when the footman had gone to collect it, he could not find it. A maid—the same one to whom he’d later given my effects from the carriage—was passing through the foyer and told him that she’d seen me remove a note from the mail tray moments earlier. He assumed I had changed my mind about sending it. There was no doubt in my mind what had happened. Molly had taken it, along with Bernadette Capet’s Bible, to Charles Berry.
“I need you to find Molly,” I said to my butler. “Do whatever you must, but bring her to me.”
While I waited for Davis to bring news of my wayward maid and for Sebastian to reply to my latest message, I decided to distract myself by calling on two ladies, each of whom was in a position to provide information significant to friends of mine. I went first to Eaton Place, where I spent a most diverting half hour with the Countess Anders, Lord Pembroke’s mother. After discussing the German state visit (there was a feeling of general relief at the kaiser’s good behavior), Princess Louise’s wedding to Prince Aribert of Anhalt (the countess was convinced the marriage would never last), and the difficulties in finding and keeping a decent cook (I made a mental note to increase Cook’s wages), I moved the conversation in a different direction.
“How is your son, Lady Anders? I know that he and Miss Routledge were quite attached before her engagement.”
“Oh, poor Tommy was heartbroken when she threw him over, though I must admit that I wasn’t entirely disappointed. I’m sympathetic to Elinor wanting Berry for her daughter. Royal blood is always an attractive lure. Charles Berry may have no fortune, but if rumors are correct, that will all change shortly, and Elinor will be lauded for having gambled so well.”
“I hope Isabelle finds some happiness.”
“Her prospects are as fair with Berry as with anyone, I suppose. She’s a sweet girl. She might have done nicely for Tommy if her circumstances were different, but now he’s free to find someone who can bring in a sizeable dowry. The Routledges don’t have the fortune they used to. Not, mind you, that that would be of particular consequence to us, but”—she smiled winningly—“if one has the chance to better one’s financial situation, why not take it?”
“Is Lord Pembroke still in town? I haven’t seen him since the Brandons’ ball.”
“His father sent him to Yorkshire to take care of some business on the estate. The distraction will do him well.”
I was satisfied to know that Lord Pembroke was indeed suffering for the loss of Isabelle. He did love her. Someday, she might be very glad to know that. After taking my leave from Lady Anders, I walked up Grosvenor Crescent, across Piccadilly, and back into Mayfair. Now that the initial pain from my carriage accident had begun to subside, I found that walking helped me to feel better, easing the stiffness from my sore body. I could not help but slow down as I reached Park Street, however, fearing that my next call would not be so pleasant as the last.
I felt terrible about my falling-out with Ivy and knew that I bore more guilt for it than she. We might not be able to return to the closeness we shared in the past, but I could at least make an effort to stop the woman I was certain was destroying my friend’s marriage. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door in front of me.
The Reynold-Plympton residence was an exercise in bad taste. So far as I could tell, anything that could be gilded was, and nearly every surface in the drawing room to which I was admitted had been covered with hideous displays of stuffed birds, mounted in various stages of flight. I believe the goal was to give one the sense of being outside in a garden, but the actual effect was that of being trapped in a bizarre aviary. However, I gave no further consideration to the setting once I realized the lady of the house was already entertaining a caller. Robert snapped to attention when he saw me and quickly collected his hat and walking stick.
“I shan’t stand in the way of your conversation,” he said, rushing out almost before he’d said hello to me. I made no attempt to reduce his feeling of unease.
“What a pleasure, Lady Ashton,” Mrs. Reynold-Plympton purred, eyeing me critically. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
“I’ll not mince words. I’m concerned about your friendship with Mr. Brandon.”
“Concerned? How can it be of any concern to you? Robert is not the most exciting man I’ve ever known, but he’s not so awful.”
“My concern is more for him than you.”
“Is it?” She laughed, and as she did, I knew at once why she
was such a favorite with bored, married gentlemen. The sound was like silver bells, cascading through the most delicious sort of melody, utterly captivating.
“I’m afraid I fail to see the humor in the situation.”
“A great loss for you, I’m afraid.”
“I can assure you I don’t feel it at all,” I said.
“So you are here to reprimand me? How tedious.”
This woman had no shame! She made no attempt to deny her illicit relationship! I was about to launch into a spirited attack on her morals when I was struck by an unnerving thought: I had no firm proof that she was Robert’s mistress. She had danced with him twice in a row, walked with him in the park, and received him as a caller. Not exactly irrefutable evidence of adultery. Was I any better than the gossips who had so savaged my own reputation? I considered another strategy.
“I’m a great friend of Robert’s wife,” I said.
“So I gathered when we met in the park.”
“I want to see her happy.”
“You are an impetuous thing, aren’t you? Make a habit of leaping to conclusions?”
“I do my best not to.”
“You clearly need more practice. I’m not having an affair with your poor, dear Robert.” She laughed again. More music. “How naïve you are! Can you really think I’d waste my time on a gentleman who’s not even a junior minister? Oh, you have succeeded in diverting me greatly.”
I knew not how to respond so remained silent.
“Lady Ashton, I spend time with many of Basil’s friends, especially when he’s grooming them for future greatness. I know little details about everyone—and you can well imagine how useful that is in politics. Basil likes me to pass this knowledge on to his protégés.”
“Basil?” I asked. “Lord Fortescue?”
“Is there another? He quite depends upon me.”
“Lord Fortescue? I’m…I’m…astonished.”
“There is an art to choosing a lover, Lady Ashton. The obvious choice is not always the most…valuable, shall we say?”
“So you are…”
“Providing Robert with an inestimable service. But you have caused me concern. Is there trouble in his private life? Basil won’t tolerate that. He insists upon discretion.”
“No, I don’t know that there is trouble, I just thought that—”
“To have so quickly concluded that he was having an affair means there is indeed trouble. Is his wife in a delicate condition?”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“This is not the time for false modesty, Lady Ashton. Fortescue wants Robert on track for a position in the next government. He’ll need to be guaranteed at least the appearance of a happy home.”
“I never said that their home is not—”
“She’s not with child, is she?” Mrs. Reynold-Plympton frowned. “I’ll have to speak to him about this at once. Do you think there is some sort of medical problem?”
This conversation was decaying with such rapidity that there was no hope of trying to save it. Ivy would die a thousand slow deaths if she ever learned that I had spoken to anyone about this. “No, no I don’t.”
“Oh dear. You’re gone all scarlet. How unattractive. Why do you find this so embarrassing?”
“I should never have said anything.”
“Of course you should have. I’ll take care of it at once.”
“You can’t tell Robert—”
Again came the laugh. “My dear girl, is it possible that you are really so naïve? Basil will talk to Robert.”
This was even worse.
“I don’t think—”
“Basil always keeps up on these things. Robert doesn’t have a mistress, nor does he visit—well, best not mention that. For some reason, undoubtedly a result of the long hours he works, he is neglecting his marital duties. A few choice words from his mentor about the benefits of having a cherubic infant around to complete the picture of a perfect English family will do the trick. I’m glad you came to me, Lady Ashton. Basil has great hopes for Robert. It wouldn’t do for him to have trouble at home.”
“Please, Mrs. Reynold-Plympton, don’t think there is trouble—”
“Say not another word. I am the soul of discretion. No one beyond the necessary few will ever hear a word of what we’ve discussed.”
I can’t say that I felt altogether confident about her silence. And who did she think were the “necessary few”? As I walked home, I was filled with despondency. My muscles ached, and I regretted not having taken my carriage. Why had I ever thought I could help Ivy by confronting this woman? What right had I to meddle in my friend’s marriage? My intentions may have been blameless, but I should have had the sense to say nothing about Ivy’s problems to anyone. I would have to tell her what I’d done; I couldn’t risk her learning it from someone else, and I knew this would be the absolute end of our friendship. Ivy could never forgive me for having so mortified her.
28
DAVIS, PROVING ONCE AGAIN TO BE NOT ONLY INVALUABLE BUT POSSESSED of an almost inhuman efficiency, located Molly within a matter of days. She had taken a position near Fleet Street, folding newspapers, and was working no fewer than twelve hours a day for very little money. I decided to wait for her outside her place of employment in the evening and caught her the moment she came out the door.
“Molly!” I called. She cringed when she saw me. “Don’t even consider running from me.” I took her by the arm.
“I’m sorry, Lady Ashton. I shouldn’t have left the house like that. I should’ve given notice. You were so good to me.”
“How much did Mr. Berry pay you to steal from me, Molly?”
“What?”
“I know about the letters and the Bible and the note that was to be sent to Mr. Hargreaves.”
The girl burst into tears. “I would never steal, milady, never. Especially not from you. I tried to tell you I was going, but I didn’t know Mr. Hargreaves was with you. I couldn’t do it in front of him, milady.”
“Have you had any communication with Mr. Berry since you left the Savoy?”
“Of course not! Why would I want to talk to that horrid man? Not that he even would talk to me.” She was sobbing with such ferocity that it was difficult to understand her.
“Why, then, did you leave the house?” Her reply was unintelligible. “You must get control of yourself. Come with me.” I sat her down in my carriage and gave her a handkerchief. “What is the matter?”
“I couldn’t expect you to keep me on in my…my…condition. But I couldn’t bear to have you let me go. I didn’t know what to do. Gabby told me they was looking for girls here, so I took a job. They weren’t particular about having a character from my previous position, but I suppose they’ll get rid of me as soon as they know.”
Now I understood. “Is it Mr. Berry’s?” She nodded. I wasn’t sure if she would want me to offer her comfort, but I couldn’t stop myself. I embraced her, then spoke firmly. “I would never have thrown you out of my house for something so completely beyond your control. Do you want to return with me?”
“I…I don’t know. It’s all so awful. Everyone will think the worst of me.”
“More than one person has told me that you speak highly of Mr. Berry. Why would you do that after having been so abominably treated by him?”
“He threatened me, Lady Ashton. Told me that if I ever said a word against him, he’d hurt me again. I saw him from a distance a few times in the park and wondered if he was watching me. I was scared.”
I considered a number of scenarios. It would be best, perhaps, to get her out of London, to someplace where no one knew her. I could send her to Ashton Hall, but that might cause problems for her later with Philip’s family. It would not, after all, be my home forever. “Would you like to work at Mr. Hargreaves’s estate? I’m certain I can arrange for you to have a position there. We’ll tell everyone that your husband died. No one need ever know about this, Molly.”
“You would do that for
me?”
“I only wish I could do more. Clean up your face, then go back inside and give your notice. You’re coming home with me.” I watched her walk away from me and heard a tap on the carriage window.
“Nice work, Emily. Will you let me in?”
Waters and the footmen dropped down immediately and surrounded my visitor. “It’s all right,” I said. “He’s a friend.” I opened the door.
“Rescuing a despondent maid from ruin. It is difficult not to adore you more with every passing moment. You may be nearly as romantic as I.”
“Sebastian, I know who you are.”
“Congratulations,” he said. His hat was pulled so far down that it was difficult to see his face. He handed me a velvet bag. “I’ve no use for paste.” He slipped away before I could even mention his mother’s Bible. I followed him as best I could, calling after him to stop. He paid me no heed. My footmen joined in the chase, but he managed to elude all of us. Molly returned in the midst of the confusion, and Waters sat her next to him on his perch above the horses. She seemed content there, so I let her ride with him back to Berkeley Square.
Alone again, I opened Sebastian’s bag, finding, as expected, the false diamond necklace along with a note.
Bitter waves of Love, and restless gutsy Jealousies and wintry sea of revellings, whither am I borne?
If Molly was innocent of the charges I’d thrown at her—and I did not for a moment doubt her—someone else in my household was to blame. It did not take long for my suspicions to fall upon Lizzie. She was also new, had turned up at odd moments, lingered over her tasks, and had taken more notice of my guests than she ought to have. Mrs. Ockley, my housekeeper, had hired two other girls at the same time as Lizzie, so I questioned each of them, just to be certain. One had been visiting her brother in Brighton the day the letters were stolen from my library, and the other came across as so candid, so straightforward, that I was hard-pressed to think her guilty of any crime.
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