“Emily!” Arabella waved at me. I had no desire to speak to anyone but did not want to insult her. I waved back and waited for her, along with Mrs. Dunleigh and Mr. Palmer, to come to me.
“Good day, Mrs. Dunleigh, Arabella. I see you found your party, Mr. Palmer.” The usual pleasantries were exchanged, and I hoped for a quick escape.
“Arthur tells us you have already been to the museum,” Arabella said. “What a pity! You could have joined us.”
“I am on my way home,” I replied.
“Where is your carriage?” Mrs. Dunleigh asked.
“Actually, I planned to walk. I’m rather looking forward to the exercise.”
“Shocking!” Mrs. Dunleigh cried. “My dear child, you must allow me to send you home in our carriage. Our driver has only just dropped us off and is still at the curb. Berkeley Square must be nearly two miles from here, and it is unseasonably chilly today. One would think we were already in the depths of autumn. I should never forgive myself if you fell ill.” I knew she was trying to be polite, and I did not want to insult her, particularly in front of the man she hoped would soon be her son-in-law. Unwillingly I allowed myself to be helped into the carriage for the short ride home.
It started to rain almost immediately, so I was forced to admit that I was lucky not to have walked. Between the cool, damp weather and my troubled state of mind, I was trembling by the time I reached home. Davis met me at the carriage with a large umbrella and led me into the house. Unfortunately, Berkeley Square did not provide the respite for which I longed. As Davis took my hat, he told me that my mother was waiting for me in the drawing room. I did not want to see her and delayed by having Davis tell her I would be in as soon as I finished an urgent letter. I slipped into the library, sat at Philip’s desk, and quickly penned the text of a cable to Ivy, begging that she return to London as soon as possible. Before I could ring to have Davis send it for me, my mother burst into the library.
“This, Emily, is unpardonable!” She dropped onto the settee. “I will not be kept waiting while you answer correspondence.”
“Mother, please understand that I had no intention of insulting you.”
“I have heard quite enough,” she said. “Your behavior of late can be described in no way other than extraordinary. I realize that losing your husband so soon after your marriage deeply distressed you, but do not expect to be able to use this indefinitely as an excuse for unsuitable actions.”
“I cannot imagine what I have done now that has you so concerned,” I said halfheartedly. She had already delivered a particularly scathing lecture after my now infamous dinner party; it was unlikely she would return to a subject to which she had done justice.
“I have been somewhat concerned at the way you and Mr. Andrew Palmer conduct yourselves. But I am a reasonable woman and realize that the standard of behavior to which you young people hold yourselves these days is not as high as one would hope. The Palmers are an excellent family, although, given their lack of fortune, I would have hoped you would set your sights higher. A woman in your position could easily catch a duke.”
“Mother, I am in no mood to discuss whatever marriage plans you have in mind for me.”
“I assure you, Emily, that your mood is of no consequence whatsoever to me.” She continued without drawing breath. “As I was saying, your shocking behavior with Mr. Palmer I can tolerate. I suppose his unorthodox approach to courtship appeals to you.”
“Mother,” I tried to interrupt.
She silenced me by lifting her hand. “I shall hear nothing from you until I am finished. Now I have learned that Mr. Palmer has, in fact, proposed to you and that you have refused him. Is this true?”
“Yes.” I sighed. I had tried to keep my rejection of Andrew as quiet as possible but knew that inevitably my mother would hear of it. In her opinion there are few crimes greater than turning down an offer of marriage, unless, of course, it is done in an attempt to intensify the rejected gentleman’s feelings. She knew well that I deplored the very idea of doing such a thing; it was a subject covered thoroughly between us in the early days after my social debut.
“I would like to believe that you refused him because you are expecting a superior offer from another gentleman?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “No, I thought not.”
“Is it so terrible to think that I might never marry again?”
“Yes, it is, Emily. It would be a complete waste of everything. You are beautiful, rich, titled. Our family’s history can be traced to the earliest days of England. My dear, had you put your mind to it, you could have married royalty. I will always regret that you showed no interest in Prince George.” She dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. “Well, he certainly would have no interest in a widow.”
“I would imagine not,” I said flatly. “Could you perhaps come to terms with the idea that I, like our great queen, prefer to remain a widow?”
“The queen has remained in mourning. Your current behavior is proof that you have no such intention.”
I would have liked to point out that there were any number of rumors concerning the queen which implied that she was not really in mourning, but I knew that suggesting such a thing would begin an argument that I had no interest in finishing.
“You cannot have it both ways, Emily. Either mourn your husband or find another.”
“I do mourn Philip!” I shouted, rather more loudly than I intended. Tears sprang to my eyes. “You have no idea what I suffer. I will not be judged by you or anyone else. My refusal to marry Mr. Palmer should be no one’s concern but his and my own.”
My mother shook her head slowly and smiled in her most patronizing fashion. “We shall see, Emily. You may enjoy yourself now, but eventually your looks will be gone. If you insist on remaining a widow, you had better think about changing your behavior, or you will find that the only company you attract will be that of the most desperate fortune hunters. No one else in society would be willing to associate with a woman who so openly flaunts her disregard for social customs. Which leads me to another topic: This insistence of yours on pursuing Philip’s intellectual work is very odd. There is no role for women in the academic world. I could not imagine where you would get such ideas until I met your friend, Miss Seward.”
“Margaret is the daughter of a very respectable family.”
“Emily, what Americans consider acceptable is often questionable at best. Miss Seward’s influence on you is distressing. She is taking you down a path that can lead to no good. You have been attending lectures, child. Have you lost all sense of decorum?”
“My behavior is not so bad as you suggest, Mother,” I snapped. “I have, perhaps, not always done the right thing but in general am above reproach. If you have difficulty understanding my need for an intellectual life, then I am very sorry for you. One would hope that one’s own mother might offer support rather than relishing the role of critic.”
“Emily, if I am more critical of you than others, it is only to protect you.” She sighed and pulled her gloves back on. “It would be for the best if you were to spend the fall with your father and me in Kent. You clearly are floundering on your own. I can give you no more time today, child. Mrs. Dunleigh is expecting me. Her daughter does not share your lack of interest in the married state.”
I did not respond to this, nor did I wait until she left to return to my seat at Philip’s desk, furious. I would never marry again after having been so completely deceived by Philip. My thoughts turned once more to Mr. Attewater and the museum. Why on earth had Philip done it? If only he were alive, I could have barged into his library and demanded an explanation, knowing quite well he would be unable to offer anything satisfactory. He would have been shocked to hear me shout at him and most likely would have ordered me upstairs until I could control my emotions. I would have refused, of course, and implored him to remember his morals, his values, and to become again the man we both knew him to be. This would move him greatly; he might even break down
and confess that he himself was plagued by his actions and did not know what to do. I would have told him that, maybe, I could find it in my heart to forgive him if he were willing to return everything to the museum. He would have thanked me profusely and congratulated himself on finding such a wife. I sighed. Beastly of him to have died before I had the chance to orchestrate a happy ending.
IVY APPEARED ON MY DOORSTEP the next day, earlier than I could have hoped. She was not surprised to hear confirmation of our suspicions; we both knew it was unlikely that there could be any other explanation. We settled into chairs in the library to discuss how we should proceed.
“Are you absolutely certain that Mr. Attewater will give you no further information?” Ivy asked.
“He was very clear on that point,” I replied. “I suppose we cannot expect more of him.”
“Well, at least we know that Philip did not contact him directly and arrange for the copies to be made. I’m inclined to believe that he heard of the availability of the pieces and snatched them up.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But either way Philip did something both illegal and immoral.”
“Have you told Margaret yet?”
“I saw her last night and expect her here at any moment.”
Ivy paused. “This must be very difficult for you, Emily.”
“To put it mildly,” I said, and told her about Andrew’s proposal and my mother’s visit.
“I do not envy you your mother,” Ivy said. “Thank goodness you do not have to live in her house. How did you ever manage to survive all those years? Philip clearly deserves our sympathy, if only because he removed you from an unbearable living situation.”
“Yes,” I said wryly. “Which would put us back to where we were before Philip became interesting.”
“Except that you are in love with him now,” Ivy said, the slightest hint of a question in her voice.
“Unfortunately so,” I admitted.
Margaret arrived, and we all rehashed what we knew, to little result.
“Terrible that it’s too early in the day for port.” Ivy sighed, glancing at the clock.
“Do you think that Cécile can be of further help to us?” Margaret asked.
“I have already written to her, asking her opinion. In the meantime I thought that perhaps I could do something similar to what she did in Paris: let it be known that I am in the market for black-market antiquities.”
“Do you really think that would be a good idea?” Ivy asked.
“It’s an excellent idea, Emily!” Margaret cried. “You must let me assist you.”
Before I could reply, Davis announced Colin Hargreaves.
Ivy gasped when she saw him. “Has he grown more handsome since Paris, do you think?” she whispered while Margaret smiled.
After a brief exchange of the required pleasantries, Colin turned to me. “Please forgive my frankness, Lady Ashton, but I do not know any other way to broach this delicate subject with you.” I closed my eyes, irrationally certain that he had somehow heard about my refusal of Andrew’s proposal. I couldn’t imagine what he would say to me on such a topic. I was, however, completely incorrect. “I understand that you met with Mr. Aldwin Attewater in the British Museum. Is this true?”
“Yes,” I answered, remembering our conversation in Paris concerning Mr. Attewater.
“I hope you do not mind my speaking freely in front of your friends?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Hargreaves. Say what you came to say,” I snapped.
“I had hoped that, upon reflection, you would heed the advice I gave you in Paris. I see that is not the case. Suffice it to say, Emily, that some very undesirable parties have noticed your acquaintance with Mr. Attewater. You appear to be seeking some sort of information from him, and I cannot say strongly enough that you should abandon doing so immediately.”
“Really, Mr. Hargreaves?” I asked, not looking at him as I spoke. “Why is that?”
“I am not at liberty to speak further on the subject. Believe me when I say I would never want any harm to come to you and would not issue such a warning lightly.”
“Good heavens, Mr. Hargreaves!” Ivy exclaimed. “A warning? I cannot imagine what you mean. Emily’s interest in the British Museum could not be more innocent. She hired Mr. Attewater to make a statue for her. Where is the harm in that?”
“In theory there should be none,” Colin said. “Please, Emily”—he looked into my eyes—“promise me that you will make no further inquiries.”
“I will promise no such thing.” I rose from my chair. “You have given me no reason to.”
“I ask that you trust me as a friend,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s more important than you can possibly imagine, Emily. Please.”
“I shall take the matter under advisement, Mr. Hargreaves. If there is nothing further, my friends and I were in the midst of a rather important discussion.”
“I apologize for the interruption.” He stopped partway out of the room and came back to me, reaching for my hand. “Emily, if I could tell you more, I would. You must trust me.” He kissed my hand and departed.
“What an interesting man,” Ivy said.
“More interesting than either of you know.” I told them about the glove. “I see no reason at all to trust him.”
“When I think of Andrew telling you to stay away from Colin, I get chills down my spine.” Ivy shuddered as she spoke. “Do you think Andrew knows anything of this?”
“He may have surmised that something funny was going on. Andrew is very perceptive when it comes to anything that could be remotely related to gossip. Despite his faults, he is very straightforward. Had he any idea of the specifics of this situation, I have no doubt that he would have told me.”
“Do you think Colin is
behind the forgeries?” Ivy asked.
“I don’t know, but I have every intention of finding out,” I said.
3 OCTOBER 1887
GRAND HÔTEL D’ANGLETERRE, ATHENS
Vardakas’s collection frankly stunned me. Hardly know what to think and have no intention of writing about it.
Letter from K arrived today. Unfortunately bland, as they usually are, but can expect little else until she knows me better. Agreed to ride on the fox hunt with me—sure to be a capital day. Did not reprimand me for going ahead with plans for safari—said she had no objection to me spending April away, so long as I return to London before the wedding. I will have a most understanding wife.
My Achilles-Alexander project is progressing nicely, although have not written as much as I would have liked. Too distracted, I suppose. This will change once back on Santorini.
21
“LOOK AT THIS,” I SAID, HANDING A NOTE TO IVY THE next morning at breakfast. “Arthur Palmer has proposed to Arabella.”
“Your mother must be pleased.” Ivy smiled.
“Exceedingly.” I pushed the rest of the mail away from me and turned my focus to Colin. “I am wondering at Colin’s motive for befriending me after Philip’s death. I suppose he wanted to keep an eye on me. He sent the man with the scar to follow me. That would explain why he made no attempt to pursue him that day in Paris.”
“Do you think he had something to do with the break-in at the Meurice? Didn’t he send you a note that very afternoon telling you he was leaving Paris?” Ivy asked.
“Yes, he did,” I answered. “Trying to establish an alibi, I imagine. Why do you suppose he would have broken into my room?”
“Nothing was taken,” Ivy began, “but I cannot imagine what he would have been looking for.”
“I have found nothing in Philip’s papers that could be related to any of this. Yet I must be close to discovering something if Colin feels the need to warn me. Perhaps it is time to talk to Mr. Attewater again.”
Davis entered the room and presented me with a calling card. “The gentleman would like to see you immediately, Lady Ashton.”
“Good heavens, Davis, you look very seri
ous this morning.”
“Yes, madam.” Davis nodded. “If you please, madam, Mr. Palmer was most insistent that he speak with you concerning an urgent matter.”
“Well!” I raised an eyebrow and laughed as I looked at the gentleman’s card. “I expected to see the bride before the bridegroom.”
“He must be quite pleased with himself,” Ivy said.
“I have put him in the drawing room, Lady Ashton,” Davis said.
“Very well, Davis, we shall be there directly.”
The butler led us up the stairs and opened the heavy drawing-room door. Instead of closing it behind us, he followed us into the room. Arthur looked decidedly ill and rushed toward me.
“Lady Ashton, forgive my intrusion. I have asked your butler to remain, as what I have to tell you is of a most shocking nature.”
“We have already heard of your engagement, Mr. Palmer, and wish you great happiness,” I said with a smile. “Surely you did not think we would be surprised that you and Arabella will be married?”
“No, Lady Ashton, of course not. I am here concerning something altogether different.” He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
“I hope your family are all well?” I asked, suddenly worried that Andrew had taken my refusal more badly than I had thought.
“We are all fine. Please, Lady Ashton, Mrs. Brandon, be seated.” His voice sounded so strained that I did not object to being ordered about in my own house.
“What is it, Mr. Palmer?” Ivy asked. “It’s not Arabella, is it?”
And Only to Deceive Page 17
