"Why did Philip collect all the stolen pieces?"
"He wanted to have all the originals in his possession before he confronted the Palmers. When they joined us in Africa, he told Andrew all he knew and asked him to put an end to the scheme and return what had been taken from the museum."
"How did you learn all this?"
"As I said, I've been investigating the matter for some time. I suspected that both the Palmer brothers were involved, but unfortunately they left very little tangible evidence. When Lord Lytton told me that Andrew had been arrested, I confronted Arthur. He told me that Ashton had asked for nothing more than Andrew's word as a gentleman that they would stop."
"Andrew gave his word?"
"There are few other things he would give away so easily."
"But surely he knew that Philip would expose them if they did not stop. Perhaps he did mean to abandon the enterprise."
"Andrew is not the type of man to give up what he views as an easy source of income."
"And once Philip fell ill, there was no incentive for Andrew to stop." I paused and looked at Cécile. She held my gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly. "What a convenient coincidence that Philip did not return from Africa." Colin began to step toward me, then stopped. Cécile took my hand as the reality of what had happened slowly seeped into my consciousness. "Andrew killed him, didn't he?"
"I'm so sorry, Emily. I do not think we would ever have learned of the murder had Andrew not been arrested before Arthur. The Crown is indebted to you. Arthur, it seems, is much concerned with his own fate and wanted to make it perfectly clear that he was only an accomplice. He told me that on the way to our safari camp he acquired from an obliging tribesman a poison used on blow darts. Andrew must have slipped it into Ashton's cup when he was pouring champagne for all of us. I had never suspected that he died of anything but natural causes. As I have told you, Ashton had been tired for most of the trip, but I suppose that was due to his worry over confronting his friends."
For some time I could not speak, able to think only of my poor, murdered husband. I knew that Philip had left no records that implicated Andrew; I had lied about finding them in an attempt to goad him. Philip, true to his own code of ethics, had wanted nothing more than for his friends to stop their thievery. He never had any intention of bringing them to justice. A sob escaped from my throat, and Cécile took me in her arms while Colin politely pretended to look out the window. My tears were short-lived, however; I had already mourned the death of my husband.
Cécile wiped my face with her handkerchief, smoothed my hair, and marched over to Colin. "And why did this contemptible murderer try to forge a relationship with Kallista? He would have been better to avoid her entirely," she said.
"Andrew believed that Ashton had records that would prove his guilt. Ashton had said as much in Africa. The Palmers tried on numerous occasions to find them, but to no avail. Andrew bribed a servant-a footman, I believe-to search Philip's papers in the library but met with no success. Arthur broke into Emily's suite at the Meurice."
"While I spent the afternoon at the Bois with Andrew," I said. "And when Arthur found nothing, their strategy was to convince me to marry Andrew?"
Colin continued. "At first. It would have given him free access to all Ashton's papers and, more important, a certain level of control over you. When you turned down Andrew's proposal, the scheme changed again. Arthur suspected that you had started looking around when he saw you at the British Museum with Attewater, so he and Andrew decided to change their strategy lest you uncover the information before they did. They fabricated all the evidence to suggest that Ashton was still alive, knowing that you would insist on coming to Africa."
"And what then?" I asked.
"Obviously you would not find Ashton, and Andrew would be close by to console you. Arthur said that Andrew expected to marry you in Cairo, but shortly thereafter you were to have fallen ill, just as Ashton had."
"Leaving the heartbroken widower to return to London and collect your fortune," Cécile said. "Vile man."
"I hope that the queen realizes that this incident can no longer be quietly hushed up," I said.
"I dare not anticipate what she will say. The Palmers, of course, will have to go to trial. As for the matter of the forgeries, I imagine it would be greatly appreciated if you would agree to quietly return the stolen items to the museum."
"I never intended to do anything else." I pressed my hand to my forehead. "This is all so awful. Poor Lord Palmer. He will be devastated.
And Arabella! What a disappointment to learn that her fiancé is no better than a common thief."
"And an accomplice to murder," Cécile added. "I shall discuss the matter no further; I have had enough of this dreadful business. Will you dine with us, Monsieur Hargreaves? I am certain that Kallista would enjoy your company."
"I am afraid that I must refuse your kind invitation, Madame du Lac. I am long overdue at the police station and must also make a full report to Lord Lytton."
"Oui, oui." Cécile sighed. "Will you excuse me? I must find Madame Fournier and thank her for her hospitality," she said, giving me a meaningful look and leaving the room.
I turned to Colin. "I must apologize. I have thought the most terrible things about you. I am ashamed."
"My own conduct has left much to be desired," he replied. "I am afraid that I have offended your sensibilities on more than one occasion."
"Not at all," I said, thinking of our meeting on the Pont-Neuf. "Quite the contrary."
"You are very generous, Emily," he said, pacing in front of me.
"I am sorry that I did not trust you more. But I had reason to doubt you. Why did you meet with the man Andrew hired to follow me?"
"How do you know I did?" I told him about the glove. "It was reckless of you to have run after us. After I left your party that night, I went to Lady Elliott's soirée. She lives in Albemarle Street, an easy walk to my house in Park Lane. As I crossed through Berkeley Square, I saw a man watching your house and confronted him. He denied any wrongdoing, of course, and before I could push further, he heard a sound and ran off. I chased him, but he got away from me."
"I shouldn't have run into the park."
"If I had been more straightforward about Attewater and this forgery business, you might not have found yourself trying to uncover matters by yourself. But I was under strict orders from the palace to reveal no details to you."
"Nothing would have convinced me to abandon uncovering the truth myself."
"I'm not sure that I approve of your wanton disregard for your own well-being. Andrew is a dangerous man. If he had discovered your intentions, you would be dead now. On the way to Frascati, you asked me so many questions about him that I feared you had fallen in love with him. When I think that you pretended to be engaged to that man-the liberties he must have taken..." He sat next to me and picked up my hand. "I am more than relieved that you came to no harm in the end."
"So am I." I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled and touched his hand to my face. Before he could speak, the door opened and Monsieur Fournier entered the room.
"You have earned this, Lady Ashton," he said, handing me his beautiful Trojan-horse ring.
From that day I wore it on my right hand. Philip, I suspected, would have donated it to the British Museum. Once again I found that my opinions differed greatly from those of my husband. I preferred the feel of it on my hand to seeing it in a case.
27 NOVEMBER 1888
EAST AFRICA
Despite my best attempts, this season's safari has not lived up to the expectations raised by the previous one. We are finding less game, but I think that is due more to my own cluttered mind than any change in the animal population; I fear I am virtually useless to the party. Hargreaves has had more success on this trip than the rest of us, an accomplishment that he can rarely claim, because of his habit of wandering off to investigate terrain rather than focusing on his quarry. That he is doing so well is a testament
to the situation at hand.
"The man who suffers, loudly may complain; / And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain." I do not rage, of course, but the general effect remains the same. Everyone is aware I am dissatisfied. I am aggravated even by the howler monkeys, whose antics in camp used to amuse me. Now their sole purpose appears to be dumping out every cup of tea I pour for myself. I will not tolerate this nonsense again tomorrow.
I do not, however, despair completely, and insist that I shall get my elephant and return triumphant to England and my wife. Am very much looking forward to the arrival of the rest of our party tomorrow. I hope that conversation with Palmer will put my mind at ease.
35
The case against the Palmers proved to be fairly straightforward. Arthur admitted everything to anyone who would listen, but Andrew stubbornly refused to speak again on the subject after he left Monsieur Fournier's, not that it mattered. They would both be tried in England for the thefts of the objects from the museum as well as for Philip's murder, because he had died in a British colony. In France they would be charged with the illegal sale of antiquities. The crime of murder being a capital offense, Andrew at least would probably never make it to trial in Paris. Lord Lytton accompanied me to the police station when the time came for me to give my own detailed statement, after which I felt a pleasing sensation of relief. Finished with my part of the administrative aftermath of the affair, I realized that I really ought to return to London; I wanted to speak with Lord Palmer and Arabella Dunleigh in person.
Mrs. Dunleigh had already planned a trip to Cairo, where she hoped her daughter would be more successful in catching a husband than she had been in London. She appeared rather affronted that I called on Arabella, seeming to hold me responsible for exposing Arthur's criminal past. The fact that he had participated in such terrible crimes did not trouble her nearly as much as the fact that all of society had learned about it. Arabella, eating as many tea cakes as ever, exhibited few signs of a broken heart. Knowing that one man had proposed to her improved her confidence immeasurably, and it was clear that she looked forward to the Season in Cairo.
More distressing was my visit to Lord Palmer, whose life had been profoundly affected by the turn of events. The dear old man seemed to have aged a lifetime since I last saw him. I asked him to assist me in organizing the return of the stolen pieces to the British Museum, a request that he gratefully accepted. Together with him and Colin, I took everything from Ashton Hall to Mr. Murray after the museum had closed for the day. Having completed this task that I knew to be so important to my late husband brought me great satisfaction. Afterward Lord Palmer presented me with the monograph on Achilles and the great Alexander, published on Philip's behalf. Mr. Murray, feeling keenly Lord Palmer's distress at having Andrew and Arthur betray him so completely, gave him a lovely small statue of Athena from his own collection. Unfortunately, it was now the only authentic piece in Lord Palmer's possession; we found none of the pieces stolen from him among those recovered by Philip.
When she learned all that had transpired in Paris, my mother flew into a rage that has since become legendary. I did not tell her myself, instead leaving the unpleasant task to my father, whom I had called to my side as soon as I arrived at Berkeley Square. She came to me the instant he finished relating the story to her, and I was subjected to a solid hour of her ranting; like Mrs. Dunleigh's, her primary concern was the scandal raging through society.
"It is insupportable that you should have exposed your own husband in this dreadful manner." She took a seat at last, indicating that the end of her lecture drew near.
"Philip did nothing wrong, Mother. No one suspects him of wrongdoing."
"You have turned him into a murder victim instead of a gentleman who met a noble death on safari," she said. "Why would you want to bring such notoriety to the family?"
"You would prefer that his killers go free?" I asked.
"It is impossible to speak with you, Emily." She wrung her hands. "I fear for your future more than ever."
"There is no need to worry, Mother. I have no interest in remaining in London at present and plan to depart for Greece as soon as possible; you will be glad to know that I have found a most excellent traveling companion."
"That, at least, is a relief. Who is she?"
"Cécile du Lac," I replied. It had taken some considerable arguing to convince my friend to leave Paris, but eventually she agreed to accompany me, on the condition that she could bring Caesar and Brutus. I firmly believe that her unwillingness to accept my invitation was merely a ploy to trick me into allowing those odious little beasts to travel with us.
"Perhaps there is hope for you, Daughter," my mother said, sighing. "I am certain that Madame du Lac can present you to any number of very eligible young men. But must you go to Greece? I do not know of any society to speak of there. Why not Italy instead? Perhaps Florence? I believe that the Duke of Middleton's son plans to travel there with a large party after the New Year."
"I am going to Greece, Mother. I want to see the villa and, frankly, would prefer to avoid society entirely."
"What on earth can you possibly mean by suggesting such a thing? Avoid society?"
"I am going to spend a considerable amount of time determining what it is I want from my life, and the villa will provide the right amount of seclusion required for serious contemplation."
"What you want from your life? Emily, I have lost all interest in attempting to understand you." She sighed again and fluttered her eyelids. "Well, I can assure you that a woman like Madame du Lac will not suffer to sit around at some tedious villa for months on end. I shall quite depend upon her to see to your return to society. I shall write to her today."
"Thank you, Mother," I said through clenched teeth, taking comfort in the knowledge that Cécile's version of society was infinitely preferable to that of my mother. "If you will excuse me, I have much to attend to if I am to have any hope of being ready to receive you and the rest of the family at Ashton Hall for Christmas."
"I have several other errands to run and have already tarried here for longer than I intended," she said as she rose from her seat. Unfortunately, before she could leave the room, Davis entered to announce the arrival of Colin. As soon as she heard his name, my mother sat back down and smoothed her skirts. "I believe I would like to speak with Mr. Hargreaves." I dropped my head into my hands, barely looking up when Colin entered the room.
"Good day, Mr. Hargreaves," my mother said. "I am forever in your debt for saving my darling daughter from the clutches of that dreadful man."
"I assure you, Lady Bromley, that Emily had the situation well in hand herself," he replied. "I was not even there when she exposed Mr. Palmer."
"It's lovely to see you, Mr. Hargreaves." I smiled as he kissed my hand.
"And it is even more lovely to see you out of mourning, Lady Ashton." I could hardly take my eyes off his handsome face as he lingered over my hand.
"My mother was just preparing to leave, Mr. Hargreaves," I said with a wicked grin. "I am certain that you will take no offense if she stays with us no longer." My mother scowled at me and tapped her parasol on the floor.
"Of course not." Colin bowed politely to my mother. "As always, Lady Bromley, it has been a delight to see you."
"Thank you again, Mr. Hargreaves." My mother rose from her seat once more, not willing to argue with me in front of an extremely eligible gentleman. "Will we have the pleasure of seeing you at Mrs. Barring's tonight?"
"Unfortunately not; I have a prior engagement." He bowed again, and my mother left, shooting me a cutting glance on her way out. Colin closed the door behind her and leaned against it with folded arms. "I am afraid that I am here on business."
"You look dreadfully serious," I replied.
"I've read the statements you gave to the police. You made quite a point of telling them that Aldwin Attewater had nothing to do with the thefts."
"That is true. Mr. Attewater is a frustrated artist who sells
his work to whoever will buy it. He does not deceive his clients. They are fully aware they are buying copies."
"Surely you do not believe that?" Colin asked, looking at me skeptically.
"Why shouldn't I? I imagine that if you investigate Mr. Attewater's financial concerns, you will find that he is a man of very limited means. Surely he would be much better off if he chose to present his copies as originals."
"Is it true that you have commissioned a work from him?"
"I have."
"I know that you have conversed with him at great length and that it was he who identified for you the fakes in the British Museum. Are you certain that he showed you all of them?"
"Quite certain."
"And you would swear that he never was involved in deceiving the museum?"
I paused for an instant to consider my answer. "A lady, Mr. Hargreaves, should never swear."
"Is that all the answer I am to expect?"
A smile was the only response I gave him. Frankly, I liked the idea of Mr. Attewater's fragment staying in the museum. Perhaps, in the very faraway future, it would be identified as a copy and appreciated in its own right, like the Roman versions of Greek originals.
"Very well. I am not convinced that Attewater is the innocent you believe him to be, Emily, but have no evidence to prove it. He does not appear to have the sorts of connections that would enable him to continue the Palmers' work, so I shall leave him alone for the time being. You, however-" He stopped. "No. I shall never again warn you off an acquaintance."
"Thank you, Mr. Hargreaves," I said. "I appreciate your respect for my judgment."
"Think nothing of the kind. I make it a practice not to waste my time on futile endeavors."
"Then we shall abandon the subject entirely," I said. "I'm sorry you shall not be at Mrs. Barring's tonight. It's sure to be a tedious evening. I should like to have danced with you, though."
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