A Terrible Beauty

by Tasha Alexander

  She flung her arms around me and hugged me the way I imagined other people’s mothers did when they found their children in dire need of comfort. I choked back a combination of tears and laughter, contemplating what my own mother’s reaction to the current situation would be. Horrified would not begin to describe it. There could be no doubt she would blame me entirely, and somehow convince the rest of society that some deep flaw in my person had caused the scandal. Privately, she would despair, but even the thought of this brought me no comfort.

  “I hope we did the right thing, letting him in the house,” Mrs. Katevatis said, keeping me tight in her embrace. “His friend was in dire straits, I could see that at once, and it would not have been right to send them back into the storm.”

  “You had no choice,” I said. “And he … did you know Lord Ashton well?”

  “No, Lady Emily, I saw him on occasion but did not work in the house until you hired me. The maids recognized him immediately, and started weeping.”

  “They had no doubts about his identity?”

  “None,” she said. “Would you like to speak with them?”

  “No,” I said. “What do I do now?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “Only you can decide that, my child.” She kissed my forehead, and I wandered back to the others, who had moved into the music room, a space with smaller windows set high into the front wall and, hence, cooler—at least a bit—than the drawing room. Margaret was playing the piano while Colin and the newcomer sat across from each other, leaning close, deep in conversation. Jeremy brightened when he saw me.

  “Capital, Em, you’re back. Come with me. I want to see this island of yours.” He linked his arm through mine and lowered his voice. “Let the two of them be. Hargreaves will get to the truth of the matter—it’s the sort of thing he was made for.” I motioned for Margaret to join us, but she refused with a quick shake of her head, and I knew she had every intention of eavesdropping as best she could. At the front door, Jeremy thrust a parasol at me. “I won’t have your mother blaming me for the destruction of your complexion.” He picked up his walking stick from the stand in the corridor, and we fled the house.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t feel that I should run off again, but I couldn’t bear to stay.”

  “It’s not like you, Em, leaving them to hash things out.” We took the cliff path in the direction of Fira, the sun beating down on us. I welcomed its warmth; Philip’s return had chilled me to the core.

  “You told me I ought to,” I said.

  “Indeed, and you should, but it is out of character for you to resist intervening. Do you think they’ll duel?”

  “Duel? Colin? Don’t be ridiculous.” I squinted in the sun and opened my parasol.

  “A duel, yes, that is just what we need. They’re both decent shots, so I would have a reasonable chance of being the only man standing afterward. I could sweep you off your feet—”

  “No, thank you. The last thing I need is a third husband.” The very thought caused me to burst out laughing. I stopped walking. “Lord, this is … absurd. Is it not absurd?” The path narrowed and I stepped around a sharp rock jutting from it.

  “Utterly and completely,” Jeremy said. “Why don’t we run off to Switzerland and live in sin? Hargreaves and Ashton can have each other.”

  “Colin has not done anything wrong.”

  “Has Ashton? If his story is true, he has suffered losses so awful as to be nearly incomprehensible.”

  “Do you believe him?” I asked, moving out of the way of one of the island’s many cats, which was charging toward us. We started walking again, passing more houses and a church as we drew closer to Fira.

  “It would be impossible not to doubt him.” He stopped and leaned against his walking stick. “The tale he tells is unlikely in the extreme. And, yet, here he is.”

  “Yes. Here he is.”

  “Do you believe him, Em?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I had all but forgot the details of his face,” I said, “but I recognized him as soon as he stepped into the doorway.” I turned away from Jeremy and stared at the caldera, my eyes barely focusing. I felt tears smart and brushed them away with the back of my bare hand. In my haste, I had taken neither gloves nor handkerchief with me.

  “You are certain?” Jeremy asked, turning me to face him.

  “How can I be? I only knew him briefly before we were married and he died so soon after. He looks much older, but I suppose we all do after a decade.”

  “Quite. I can’t claim to remember much about his appearance and I never knew him particularly well, but while you were out of the room he reminded me of a time before you were engaged when the two of us argued over who would get to bring you a raspberry ice at Lady Elliott’s ball.”

  “I never knew that.” Our eyes met, and we started to walk again. “Jeremy, do tell me you were not considering courting me at the time.”

  “Heavens, no. Some dreadful girl had been clinging to me and I hailed Ashton as a means of escape. When he told me he was fetching raspberry ice for a lady, and that the lady was you, I knew battling him over it would send a strong message to the young person who would not let me be. I suppose it was a bit cruel.”

  “Not as cruel as letting her think you might fall in love with her would have been,” I said. “You generally take a long view of things and act accordingly. Turn this way.” We had reached the spot where the path diverged. One direction continued on to Fira, but I led us the other way, where a narrow trail turned to the west, leading across the rugged surface of Skaros, a rocky promontory jutting out from the island. Once the site of a medieval Venetian fortress, it stood all but abandoned now, save for the ruins of houses built in the eighteenth century and long since abandoned.

  “So you don’t think they will duel?” Jeremy asked.

  “Of course not. What is there to fight over? I am legally bound to Colin. We have children.”

  “It is a crushing disappointment,” he said. “I would have seconded Hargreaves, you know. But tell me, Em, can your marriage be valid if your first husband never died? I don’t suppose there is an English solicitor anywhere on this island?”

  “No, there is not, but I hardly think it matters. There is a valid death certificate that ensures the validity of my marriage,” I said, having no confidence in my words. “Furthermore, the man claiming to be Philip stated clearly that he has no desire to disturb my domestic bliss. He only came here because his friend was in desperate need of medical attention.”

  “Did you examine the body?”

  “No. Why would I?” I picked my way over a rocky section of path, grateful for my sturdy boots.

  “Again, uncharacteristic, Em. Someone deposits a corpse in your house and you aren’t inspecting every inch of it in hope of finding proof of foul play?”

  “The situation could not be more straightforward,” I said. “The doctor examined the poor man last night and he gave the cause of death as blunt trauma to the head.”

  “And you and I both know blunt trauma can only occur accidentally.”

  I frowned at his sarcasm. “Are you suggesting this man whacked his friend on the head and then risked both their lives going down that awful road in a storm simply to have an excuse to come to the house?”

  “A house he owns if he’s not dead.” Jeremy poked at a rock with his walking stick. “You are correct, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “None of it does.”

  “Can it really be Ashton?” Jeremy asked. “Is such a return possible, regardless of the explanation?”

  “At present, I have more reason to accept him than not. I recognized him—his eyes. Who else could it be? Yet…” My voice trailed off. “How can it be he? I am utterly confounded.” We had reached the midpoint of the path to the tip of Skaros. The heat had grown worse, and we had no water or other supplies with us. We were both breathing heavily from exertion, and perspiration soaked my shirtwaist. “Perhaps we should turn back. Your n
ose is starting to burn.”

  The walk back passed quickly—more quickly than I would have liked. I dreaded having to face my two spouses again. My mother might criticize my failure to faint when I saw Philip as proof of my lack of decency, but in my defense I should like to go on the record stating that most husbands, once dead, have the decency to remain so.

  When we reached the villa, we spotted a young man in a khaki jacket and trousers, knee-high boots, and a pith helmet approaching the house.

  “You must be Herr Reiner,” I said, surmising as much from his clothing, which was appropriate for an archaeologist. “Your colleague told us to expect you.”

  “I am.” He clicked his heels together and bowed neatly, his blue eyes flashing. “I presume you are Kallista—er, forgive me—Lady Emily? We did meet once before, years ago, at the site of the excavations at Ancient Thera. I would not expect you to remember.”

  “I am she,” I said, “and I do recall our meeting. I understand you and my…” I could feel a stricken look cross my face. Jeremy, seeing my distress, interrupted and held his hand out to Herr Reiner.

  “Jeremy Sheffield, Duke of Bainbridge,” he said. “I understand you’re a friend of the first husband.”

  “I apologize, Lady Emily, for the awkwardness of the situation,” Herr Reiner said. “I am at a loss as to how one ought to proceed.”

  “It’s rather warm, so a cool drink would be a good start,” I said. “Do please come inside.” This proved to be one of those rare moments where inane social conventions offer welcome solace. Everything, I suppose, has its purpose.

  “Thank you, you are very kind.” He hesitated. “I have some news for Ashton, but I worry he already has been overburdened.”

  “We heard about the death of your colleague, and I am most heartily sorry for your loss,” I said. “Has something else happened?”

  “Our expedition leader, Professor Hiller von Gaertringen, has already made the arrangements to accompany our friend’s body to Athens, where his family will collect it. This morning, I went back to our camp—the local workers we had hired needed to be informed we would not be working today—and came upon the most dreadful sight. Ashton’s tent has been destroyed and all his belongings smashed.”

  “The storm?” Jeremy asked.

  “I don’t think so, as nothing else in the camp suffered a similar fate. It is as if someone did it deliberately.”

  “How terrible,” I said. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Herr Reiner said. “But he must be told.”

  “Inside,” Jeremy said. “No point delaying the inevitable.”

  The others were still in the music room, where Margaret was playing a rousing rendition of “Say Au Revoir and not Goodbye,” a song I found particularly inappropriate in the present circumstances. Colin pulled me aside at once. “Come upstairs,” he said. “I want to speak with you privately.”

  The shutters in our bedroom remained closed all day against the heat of the sun, keeping the room deliciously cool. Colin pushed the door shut behind us and pulled me roughly to him, kissing me with the intensity of fire. I tangled my fingers in his curls, barely able to catch my breath. He raised me slightly off the ground, my toes leaving the tiled floor, and moved toward the bed, stopping when he reached it and setting me gently back on my feet.

  “Apologies,” he said, taking half a step back from me. “This is not the time.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “I cannot lose you.”

  I took his face in my hands. “There is no question of that. It is only … what are we to do with him?” Suddenly I could not bear the oppressive darkness of the room. I went onto the balcony, slipping through the door so as not to let hot air into the house. Colin followed me, bringing with him the ewer of water and two glasses that had stood on a bedside table. I flopped onto a chair as he passed me a drink. He went to the edge, looked over, and then sat beside me, pulling his chair close.

  “No one is below. We may speak freely, but should keep our voices down,” he said. I nodded. “My emotions are a tumult, but I am more concerned for you. Are you all right?”

  “As right as anyone could be in the circumstances,” I said. “Do you think it really is Philip?”

  “I was wholly incredulous at first, despite the physical similarities—”

  “His nose looks different than I remember,” I interrupted.

  “Yes, but he explained it has been broken. That does alter one’s appearance. I imagine the scar on his chin came at the same time. The time he says he spent in Africa and at archaeological sites would explain the lines on his face—he is a walking example of why your mother insists you carry a parasol in the sun—and of course we all change over the course of a decade.”

  “Yes, alas,” I said. “And the scar on his leg? You recognized it?”

  “I can’t say so with precision. I saw the wound that caused it, and the scar looks like a good match. You, er, may have…” He cleared his throat. “You may have seen it more—”

  “I was only vaguely aware of it.” The words tumbled from my mouth and I scrambled to change the direction of our conversation. “Did you recognize him as your dearest friend? Not physically, I mean.”

  “When you left with Bainbridge, we picked up conversation as if we had spent no time apart,” Colin said. “His manner and his way of thinking have not changed.”

  “What did the two of you speak about?”

  “He is distressed at having come to us and wants everything to go on as if nothing has happened. He will return to the dig, and we to our lives.”

  “What about his family?” I asked. “Do they know he is alive?”

  “No, and he is adamant that they not know.”

  “He is a viscount. He can’t just walk away from his responsibilities.”

  “He did that years ago, and is confident the estate is in good hands with his nephew—”

  “Who is only twelve years old,” I said.

  “And away at school, yes. The boy’s father and Ashton’s sister have matters well in hand. He has no desire to take back the title. He finds the life of an archaeologist suits him, and regrets only that he agreed to come to Santorini, as the decision has now caused you pain.” A shadow crossed my husband’s face.

  “He had to know if he was working here eventually we would find out,” I crossed my arms. “I visit Ancient Thera several times a year. It is only good fortune that has kept him from being exposed before now.”

  “Please do not judge him so harshly, Emily. If he is telling the truth, he is in an untenable situation. When he realized you were in love with me, it nearly killed him, and it took him years to move on from the blow,” Colin said. “But now he has, and if he came here with the secret hope that he might, perhaps, be able to see you from afar once in a while, it is a small sin.”

  “Is he telling the truth?” I asked.

  “The evidence points to it, for now at least. I cannot reconcile the breadth of his knowledge of our shared experiences any other way, but I cannot say with absolute certainty.”

  “You speak most calmly for someone who only a few minutes ago was acting as desperate as I feel,” I said. A breeze kicked up from the sea, bringing welcome relief from the heat.

  “Calm is my best armor,” he said, his jaw firm. “I do not know the legal specifics of our situation. Whether our marriage—”

  “Is valid.” I bit my lip. “Jeremy and I were discussing the same thing.”

  “Is Bainbridge a solicitor now?”

  “Don’t be unkind. He is only trying to help.”

  “Forgive me.” He stood and started to pace the length of the balcony, running his hand through his hair. “He has been a good friend to you, and for that I am grateful.”

  “Should we contact someone? I worry for the boys—”

  “They are legitimate. There is no question of that.” No one would dare disagree with Colin when he spoke in that tone.

  “
No?” I asked.

  “The court would declare them so even if our marriage—” He stopped talking, tipped his head up to the sky, and blew out a long breath. “How can this be happening?”

  “I tried to run, you know,” I said. “I couldn’t bear to face it. Escape seemed the best option.”

  “If you hadn’t come back when you did I would have set off for St. Petersburg in search of you.”

  “How did you know I was considering Russia?”

  “You’ve always wanted to go. Whenever I’m sent there for my work, you beg to come along. Furthermore, I am well aware of your admiration for all things Fabergé.”

  “You know me so well.” I tried to smile, but pain seared through me. How much longer would we be allowed these private moments if I were legally someone else’s wife?

  Colin sat back down, pulled me onto his lap, and kissed me again.

  “You cannot do this in broad daylight,” I said.

  “Why not? On the privacy of our own balcony? With the door to our chamber locked behind us?”

  “Is it still our own balcony?” I asked, burying my face in his neck. “I am most appreciative of this man’s not wanting to cause us further distress, but can it be as simple as him returning to his camp and us remaining here? There is more going on here, Colin, and I am afraid he may need our help.”

  “Whatever he may or may not need, he will not take me from you, my dear. That is the only certainty before us.”

  Philip

  Vienna, 1891

  The excavation season—what a thrilling season!—in Turkey finished, Reiner had returned to Munich. Ashton, however, flush with earned income for the first time in his life and full of excitement after months spent unearthing treasures (even tiny ones), went to Vienna, where he had arranged to spend the winter working for a well-respected antiquities dealer. It had occurred to him that he perhaps ought not use his proper name, as eventually someone might draw a connection between Philip Ashton, archaeologist, and the Viscount Ashton, who had a reputation of sorts in the world of classical scholarship. “Philip,” he decided, was innocuous and common enough to never draw attention on its own, but he adopted “Chapman” as his new surname, after his favorite translator of Homer’s works. Mr. Chapman—how funny to be a “mister” after all these years!—had proved an asset to the team in Turkey, and looked forward to returning there in the spring. But for now, he had Vienna, a city he had always loved. It would be the perfect place to usher in the New Year.