“Should I enjoy hearing about his past loves?”
“Past?”
I looked him dead in the eyes and leaned towards him, then lowered my gaze. “I keep trying to convince myself that if it were only the past, it wouldn’t matter. But that’s not quite true, is it?”
“You have a history of your own. You were married to his best friend, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“So you are no stranger to betraying those you love.”
“You can’t betray the dead.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” He dropped his arm from the bench and rested a hand on his knees. “But that does not concern me at the moment. I see the jealousy on your face when you hear Kristiana’s name. I’m inclined to believe that you are upset enough to betray Hargreaves. And if not…” His lips parted in a wide smile that in any other context would have charmed the most cynical soul. “It doesn’t matter. You love him enough to want to protect him. So now convince him that the attack on the emperor will come at a Fasching ball.”
“How am I to do that?”
“That, Kallista, is no concern of mine. You’re the one with a vested interest in seeing him alive at the New Year.”
I HAD NO INTENTION of hiding any of this from Colin. But with each step I took from the cathedral to his rooms, my legs grew shakier and my stomach lurched, until Jeremy suggested we find a fiacre. Driving, we reached the house quickly. Though the frigid temperatures ought to have made it impossible, sweat beaded on my forehead as I burst through Colin’s door. Jeremy, who had been ten paces behind me, caught up at the instant my fiancé, taken aback by my appearance, took me in his arms.
“It doesn’t appear you have any further need for me,” he said, nodding at Colin, who reached for his hand and shook it.
“I’m much obliged, Bainbridge.”
Jeremy left without another word. Colin turned to me, his face full of concern.
“You are unwell. Let me get you some wine.”
“I don’t want wine.” I lifted my lips to his and kissed him so fiercely that he started to lose his balance.
“What brings this on?” he asked.
“Need I have an excuse?”
“Never.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me gently, then dropped one hand to the back of my neck, pulled me closer, and abandoned any pretense of softness.
I would have happily continued on in this manner for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening had I been able to ignore the fear stabbing at me. With effort, I slowed my breathing and stepped away from him. “I’ve learned something significant.”
“About Robert?”
“No. About Schröder’s plans.” I bit my lip. “I know I must tell you everything, but I’m finding doing so unexpectedly difficult.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if you know his plans, you’ll thwart them. And if that happens, he’ll kill you.”
“You give him far too much credit.” His untoward smile troubled me.
“I fear your confidence will make you careless,” I said.
“You must tell me what you know.”
“You could at least pacify me by insisting that you’ll be careful.”
“Honesty is more important to me than pacifying you, Emily. My work requires confidence—and boldness—that would not be possible if I were overly concerned with being careful.”
I stared at my hands.
Then at his boots.
Then back at my hands.
And finally I mustered the courage to meet his eyes.
“I understand and respect your work. I know that it’s dangerous. That does not trouble me. But I will not lose you to arrogance.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Consider carefully the threats against you. Do not assume you are invincible.”
“I would never be so foolish,” he said.
“Yet you seem so very cavalier about knowing that someone has been hired to kill you.”
“I am well trained to take care of myself, Emily. You must trust in that.”
“I’ll ask nothing of you that you don’t ask of me: No unnecessary danger.”
“Fair enough.” His answer came too quickly. “So what have you learned?”
I looked into his eyes and for an instant knew what it would be to never see them again. “It will happen during the kaiser’s next visit here, after the Fasching has begun.”
“The kaiser is not scheduled to be in Vienna until the summer.”
“It’s an unofficial visit.”
“How did you learn this?”
“The empress.”
“And how did you confirm that the attack will take place then?”
“Schröder.”
“Is there anything else?”
“At the moment, no.” My heart was knocking against my ribs. Surely this was enough. He would figure out the rest, but not so easily that it would alarm Herr Schröder. But what then? While Colin solved his puzzle, I would have to figure out a way to render Mr. Harrison powerless. And somehow, in the midst of all this, find whatever he might have stolen in Yorkshire. I felt Colin’s finger on my lips.
“I’m curious to know what inspired your amorous greeting this afternoon.”
“I’m not sure. It took me by surprise. I was so scared after talking to Herr Schröder, and every nerve in my body seemed…I don’t know.”
“More alive?”
“Yes, but I was terrified.”
“Invigorating, isn’t it?” He was kissing my neck.
“Inexplicably, yes.”
“Almost makes the fear palatable.”
“Almost.”
“You’ll have to redirect the emotion.” And he proceeded to act in a manner perfectly designed to do just that.
AFTER LEAVING COLIN, I set off for the von Langes’ house. My courage did not wane even when I was ushered into the countess’s too-hot sitting room. The last time I’d been in it, I’d welcomed its warmth; now I found it cloying. I peeled off my coat, dropped into a chair, and pulled a fan out of my reticule.
“Warm, Lady Ashton?” The countess glared at me as she came into the room.
“Terribly. I don’t know how you bear it.” I snapped open the fan and began waving it.
“Why are you here, Lady Ashton? I’m not bored enough to have even the slightest inclination to pretend to be your friend.”
“Do you love Colin?”
Her eyes flashed. “Why don’t you ask him?”
I stared at her a moment before continuing. “I suppose love is irrelevant. You still long for him. That’s obvious.”
“I have a connection with him that will never fade.”
“What precisely is your relationship with Schröder?” I asked.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Harrison has hired him to kill Colin.”
“He told me. Thought I’d find it amusing,” she said.
“Did you?”
She met my stare. “I did not.”
“I’ve already admitted that I don’t like you,” I said. “When I’m near you I feel awkward, inept, and inexperienced. I look at you and wonder how he could have loved both of us.”
“We’re not so different,” she said.
“Your sophistication puts me to shame.”
“Colin’s had more than his share of beauty, and it never made him happy. I was always able to offer him more, as are you.” She lit a cigarette. “Not that I take any pleasure in saying that. I’d hoped to find you nothing more than pretty and vapid.”
“I’d hoped never to find you at all.”
She blew smoke towards me and laughed, then drew deeply on her cigarette. “Your naïveté is almost touching.”
“You’re Schröder’s lover, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes. He tells me you’re providing him with information that’s making it worth his while to delay completing the job.”
“Yes, but I may have to retur
n to England soon. And if I do, I need to know that there’s someone here in a position to influence him.”
“You would trust me to do that?”
“I trust that you don’t want Colin harmed. Can I count on you? For this, at least?” I asked.
“Ja. But not for anything else.”
“I’m not so naïve as you think,” I said.
“Perhaps not.”
I stood to leave, but before I’d crossed to the door I stopped and turned back to her. “Why didn’t you marry him?”
“Because I knew that the responsibility of having a wife would weigh on him, and the distraction might make him careless in his work. I didn’t want to lose him, but I couldn’t let him know that I loved him. He would have kept proposing if I’d given him any hope of that. And so you see, Lady Ashton, that is the difference between us. My love for him is selfless. Yours will kill him.”
“KALLISTA, CHÉRIE! Why have you kept this from me all this time?” I’d found Cécile in Klimt’s studio and pulled her into a quiet corner while he mixed paint.
“I don’t know. I feel so insecure and hopeless and foolish.”
“There’s nothing foolish about it. Tell me about this Kristiana. You are not truly concerned that she could pull Monsieur Hargreaves away from you?”
“No, it’s not that. I just worry that after loving a woman like her—so sophisticated and experienced, with so much knowledge of the world—he’ll find me lacking.”
“He would never have proposed to you if that were the case. He knows you better than anyone, Kallista.”
“Yes, but—”
“I know what you are worrying about.” She looked at me, her gray eyes serious. “I have no doubt that he will be pleased. It is not a difficult thing. But you already know this.”
“To a very small degree.”
“That is enough. Your passion will take care of the rest.”
“I wish I knew why he stopped wanting her,” I said, tugging on my bottom lip with a nervous hand. “Can emotions be so fickle?”
“They almost always are, chérie.”
“He proposed to her, Cécile. She turned him down.”
“That was years ago.”
“Turned down whom?” Klimt had finished with his paints and come over to us.
“No one,” I said.
“Kristiana and your fiancée?” he asked.
“Does everyone in Vienna know their history?” I asked, petulant.
“Ja, pretty much. It was quite a story at the time.”
“All that matters is that he’s with you now,” Cécile said.
“More or less,” Klimt said.
“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence,” I said.
“Love is not a static thing.” He rolled a paintbrush between his hands. “You have him now, and that should be enough. Don’t worry about what came before or what will come after.”
“I can’t imagine something coming after. I can’t imagine not loving him,” I said. “Or feeling it with less intensity, regardless of our circumstances, regardless of how much time goes by.”
“Hold on to that,” Cécile said. “Don’t let it slip away from you.”
“Is it something over which we have control?” I asked.
“I don’t know, chérie. I don’t know.”
“There’s no controlling love,” Klimt said. “It comes when it comes and goes when it goes.”
“I don’t want to believe that,” I said.
“Then close your eyes, Fräulein. You’ll need to.”
28 December 1891
Berkeley Square, London
Madam:
I felt I should inform you that the difficulties Mrs. Brandon faces are increasing daily. Newspaper reporters are hovering on the front steps day and night, daunted only slightly by the footmen emptying buckets of dirty water directly above them. They follow Miss Seward and Mrs. Brandon whenever the ladies leave the house. Miss Seward and I have developed any number of complicated schemes to throw them off, but unfortunately we’ve met with something less than success. Tomorrow she plans to wear a maid’s uniform and exit through the servants’ entrance.
It is an admirable plan, but I’m afraid that even a newspaperman can tell the difference between a maid and a lady. I find that I don’t have the heart to tell Miss Seward this. She’s quite consumed with excitement.
Mrs. Ockley has informed me that Odette has a tendency to suffer in cold weather and suggests that she take a tincture—recipe enclosed—before bed every night. I should hate for Mrs. du Lac to lose the services of so capable a maid even for a short time.
Berry Bros. & Rudd have delivered the port you ordered and I wonder if you would prefer that I send it directly on to Park Lane. I cannot imagine any circumstances in which you and Mr. Hargreaves would not be married before it is ready to drink.
I am your most humble and devoted servant,
—Davis
Chapter 20
Cécile finished sitting for her portrait the next day. I wondered if she would continue to see Klimt, but she had very little to say on the subject. We spent the afternoon at the Imperial, hosting Friedrich and Anna, and I must say that being in the proximity of such eager love made me feel nearly as cynical as the Countess von Lange. I turned my back to our guests (who weren’t paying us the slightest attention anyway) and read my mail, laughing when I came to Davis’s letter.
“You’re quite diverted,” Cécile said.
“My butler is concerned that your maid will suffer in the cold weather.”
“It is essential we keep them apart, or one of us is going to lose a servant.”
“You could move to London,” I said, bending down to scratch Brutus’s head.
“I’ve already been away from Paris longer than I can bear.”
“But you’re providing so many valuable services in Vienna,” I said. “Look how happy Friedrich and Anna are. Do you think her parents will ever come around to accepting him?”
“Herr Klimt was impressed with his sketches. He will help the boy. But whether that makes him acceptable to her parents…” She shrugged. “If he could get a commission to work on the murals in one of the Ringstrasse buildings, he would be in a much better position.”
“He’ll never allow us to arrange such a thing, and I respect him immeasurably for it. But there must be something. The empress doesn’t allow her image to be taken any longer, does she?” I asked.
“Non. She’s adamant about it.”
“But what if he were to draw her—you’ve seen the vitality in his work—she could not help but be charmed. Even if the piece were never exhibited, so long as word got out that he’d sketched her…”
“Très intéressant. This is something that perhaps I might arrange. I will convince her to call on me here at the Imperial and have Friedrich arrive at close to the same time.”
“Could you do that?”
“She’s desperate to leave the palace. It would do her good to get out. I can persuade her to come to us.”
“But will she object to meeting Friedrich?”
“Not if I tell her he is a friend of mine.”
I glanced at the watch hanging from my lapel and called out to our guests. “It’s nearly time to go, Anna. I’ll take you home.” Cécile and I turned our heads so she and Friedrich could bid each other a proper farewell. I pulled on my coat and waited at the door until Anna joined me, her eyes shining.
“He’s so perfectly lovely,” she said as we made our way out of the hotel. When we’d reached the bottom of the stairs to the lobby, I tripped and slammed into a gentleman in front of me. “Jeremy! I’m so sorry.” His hand gripped my arm, and our eyes met only for an instant.
“Lady Ashton—apologies.”
“Jeremy, don’t be so formal. I—”
“Are you going somewhere? Do you need an escort?”
“Oh, you’re so sweet, Your Grace,” Anna said. “But we need privacy. Ladies often have much to discuss, as I’m sure
you can imagine.”
He looked at me, questioning with his eyes.
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll get a fiacre.”
“Very good.” He kept walking.
“The poor duke,” Anna said, looking after him. “He’s so sad these days. I wonder why?”
“It’s not always simple to be happy in love.”
Anna grinned. “Can we walk home? I want more time to chat with you than driving would allow.”
“I suppose so,” I said, smiling. “It won’t be dark for a while. But you must speak to me in German. Cécile has no need to practice her idioms, but I’m not so lucky.”
“I think we should speak French if we’re discussing love.”
“German,” I said with a smile. “You’re supposedly here as a language tutor.”
“Do you think the duke will be married soon? He’s awfully handsome.”
“Yes, I suppose he is handsome.” My voice was slow, measured. I’d never before given Jeremy’s appearance any thought. “I have a hard time seeing him as anything but a little boy.” I explained to her that we had grown up together, and found myself filled with sadness as I remembered days spent with him fishing, climbing trees, and racing our horses.
“What a pity you never fell in love with each other. It would be such a touching story.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic.”
Something caught my eye as we crossed the street. We were being followed. “It’s colder than I thought. Let’s get a fiacre.” I increased my pace, hoping we would find a carriage quickly.
“You’re walking too fast,” Anna said.
“It’s the only thing keeping me warm.” We went another block without seeing an empty coach. Harrison, skilled at slipping into shadows, was hard to see, but I knew he was close behind us. I took Anna by the arm. “Tell me more about Friedrich.”
“He’s found a perfect house for us near his studio. It’s so charming that not even my mother could find fault with it. If he gets a few more commissions—”
“Let’s cross to the other side of the street.” I pulled her to the curb. “A few more commissions, you say?”
A Fatal Waltz Page 20
