“Quite right. You were too good to him, you know. You may think him deserving of every good thing, but that can only be because he was far kinder to you during your childhood than he was to me. I think him a perfect beast.”
“You two fought constantly. I remember it well.”
“I recall your father taking him to task for bad behavior on more than one occasion,” Jack said. “Perhaps we should warn Miss Wells. She may not be aware of just what she is taking on.”
I smiled—warmly, I hope—but did not tell him I feared it was Jeremy, rather than Miss Wells, who was blissfully unaware of just what he was taking on.
We looped back along the promenade and returned to the hotel, dining before the gentlemen abandoned us for the casino. On their way out, they led us into the lounge, where Amity had organized coffee and sherry to be served to us ladies. Like the rest of the public rooms in the hotel, its walls were covered in a delicate porcelain-colored paint, trimmed with elegant gilt work. Shimmering Persian carpets softened the pale marble floors, and the Louis XIV furniture was upholstered in golden silk.
“I understand that some among us may prefer something other than sherry,” Amity said, her perfect lips spread into a smile that lit up her face. “I have ordered port for you, Emily.”
“You are very kind to have taken note of my wife’s habits, Miss Wells,” Colin said, standing behind my chair.
“My darling Jeremy insists that I take good care of her to make up for how abominably he treated her when they were small,” Amity said, “and I make a point of always doing whatever he says.”
“How did I get so lucky?” Jeremy beamed. If ever a man appeared truly happy it was he on that night. “Right, now, chaps, we must take our leave from these lovely ladies and console ourselves as best we can without them.”
“I am certain you won’t miss us for a moment,” Amity said. “I have made arrangements with the management of the casino to ensure the establishment will cater to your every whim. Daddy, you must behave just a little, though. I cannot have Mother angry at me.”
At this comment, Victor Fairchild, a tall, well-built man whose studious countenance belied a personality devoted to cricket rather than any academic pursuit, raised an eyebrow, and then leaned down to whisper something to Cécile. She whacked Mr. Fairchild’s hand with her fan and shooed him away as the gentlemen departed. He skulked behind the others, but looked back twice as he crossed the hotel lobby. Cécile met his gaze both times.
“Really, Cécile,” I said. “He is not yet forty and therefore does not meet your ironclad requirement for being interesting.”
“Sometimes, chérie, a lady does not require interesting. There are other qualities that, on occasion, prove more important. I do believe that Monsieur Fairchild’s devotion to cricket might prove to have some fascinating and unexpected benefits.”
“If I understand you correctly, Cécile, you might want to take better notice of Jack,” I said. “He ran the marathon in Athens in 1896, when the Olympics were reestablished.”
“I shall take your suggestion under consideration,” Cécile said, “although at the moment it is the patience cricket requires that intrigues me. Only consider what ramifications such a well-developed skill might have when applied in other situations.”
“You are such a card, Mrs. du Lac.” We had not spoken in a volume loud enough to be overheard, but Mrs. Wells must have been able to interpret some essential part of our exchange. “Nothing wrong with the young man that I can see.”
“I am fortunate that my fiancé’s friends have proven so delightful,” Amity said, “although I fear the same could not be said about all of their wives. Are you girls acquainted with Mrs. Harrop? I find her a terrible bore and do not comprehend how her husband can tolerate her. I have met her only briefly, but it was long enough to know that I didn’t want her here in Cannes with us.”
“But Mr. Harrop is here. I assumed his wife was indisposed,” Margaret said. “You refused to let her come?”
“Categorically,” Amity replied. “Do not think me cruel. She had as little interest in being here as I had in hosting her. You, Margaret, like me, are used to American directness. Society is all well and good, and many of its mores are admirable, but I will never play false with anyone. I did not cut her openly, nor would I. I shall never be anything short of civil to her. We are not fond of each other, so why should we be thrust together simply because our husbands are friends?”
“You have no doubt made both Mr. and Mrs. Harrop happy through your decision,” I said. “They have never been what one could describe as close.”
“Another unhappy forced marriage?” Mrs. Wells asked.
“Quite,” I said. “Both families wanted it.” Amity’s words about Mrs. Harrop were harsh, but accurate, and I admired her unwillingness to hide her true feelings, while at the same time maintaining civility.
“I would never have allowed my Amity to enter into such an arrangement,” Mrs. Wells said, her wide bosom swelling. “Savage, really.”
Amity’s eyes flashed as her mother spoke, but she regained her composure with such speed I was unsure as to what I had seen. Our libations arrived and once they had been consumed, we all retired to our rooms. Colin returned from the casino only a little over an hour later. Gambling had never held much appeal to him, particularly, he told me, when there were far greater temptations at his disposal.
“Tedious evening, truth be told.” He unknotted his white tie and pulled it free from his collar before draping it over the back of a chair and turning his attention to the studs on his shirt. “I am far happier here with you.”
We both were, until the knock on our door came, informing us that death had interfered with everything.
Amity
Seven months earlier
Amity took to tiger hunting like a young Indian prince for whom it was a required right of passage. Anyone would think she had been born for it. She adapted quickly to riding on elephants, and, despite the obvious discomforts of camping in the wild, adored every minute of the experience. On the third morning, she killed a tiger. That afternoon, her father took out four.
“When is it enough?” Christabel asked, looking morosely at the animals’ sad corpses. “Surely we do not need more than this.”
“Does it trouble you?” Jack asked.
“Very much so, I’m afraid.” Her voice trembled and broke. “I thrilled at seeing the noble beasts moving through the grass. It was at once terrifying and delightful. But the moment the first fell—do forgive me, Amity, I know it was a triumph for you—I was sickened. I refused to take your father’s photograph with his trophies and he is most put out.”
“You are a dear, sweet thing,” Amity said, “and I shall tell Daddy that we are done here. I don’t want you tormented for even a single minute more.”
“You are so kind to me,” Christabel said.
“Your friendship makes up for all the years I spent with nothing but brothers in the house.”
“How many brothers?” Jack asked.
“Five, each of them perfectly savage. Augustus, the youngest, is perhaps the least awful of them, but I despise them all,” Amity said. “Fortunately Daddy does, too. He fears for his business when he’s gone. I think that is part of the reason he wants to see me well settled. He knows my brothers will do nothing but squander everything they have. What about your brother, Jack? Is he a savage?”
Jack laughed. “A savage? Not quite. Your father would, no doubt, object to his reluctance to do any sort of useful work, but in his case, that would only mean managing the estate, and my mother handles that. My father quite relied on her. I have never been able to determine whether Jeremy refuses to assist her because he wants to lead a meaningless life or if it is all just a scheme to let her continue. She and my father adored each other, you see, and his death left her heartbroken. If she were no longer needed on the estate, I am not sure what she would have to live for.”
“Her sons, of course,” Chri
stabel said.
“No, she never much cared for either of us. She was too engrossed in everything to do with Father. At any rate, we were away at school most of the time. After that, I dedicated myself to the pursuit of adventure, something to which my mother never objected. It did not trouble her in the least when I set off to re-create the travels of Marco Polo, even when I told her I might be gone for several years.”
“Did you succeed?” Amity asked.
“No, alas,” Jack said. “We made it from Venice to Constantinople and then to Jerusalem, where, after visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, my compatriots decided they wanted to return to Europe. They’d had enough of the East, they said, and not even Polo’s descriptions of the palace at Xanadu could induce them to continue on. The only encouragement I got was from my mother, who told me in every brief letter she wrote not to worry that she was suffering from my absence.”
“Is she kinder to your brother?” Christabel asked.
“Not in the least. She scolds him constantly.”
“Yet despite this, your brother does all he can to ensure her comfort. Is it possible that he, whom you have previously mentioned only occasionally, but always in terms that made me believe him to be something of a dissolute cad, might, in fact, be of noble character?” Amity asked.
“There is a slim possibility,” Jack said. “Nobility is in his blood, after all.”
“Oh, you British and your aristocracy.” Amity sighed. “I suppose it does make things awfully nice so long as you’re the one inheriting. No need to work or be useful.”
“That does not spare one from feeling the pressure to maintain the estate and take care of one’s tenants,” Jack said. “I, fortunately, need not worry about either. I much prefer the army.”
“And India?” Christabel asked.
“Yes, although I am afraid I shan’t be here much longer. I am being posted to Egypt next month.”
“Egypt? Is this an attempt to follow us when we leave India?” Amity asked.
“You are both going to Egypt?” Jack asked. “I thought your mother was taking you back to England, Christabel?”
“Amity has persuaded me to stay with her.”
“It was difficult,” Amity said, “but Daddy saw to her. He called on her five times every single day until she relented. He wants me to be happy, and he knows I can’t be if I don’t have my Christabel with me while I explore the land of the pharaohs.”
“This is outstanding news!” Amity noticed a slight color rising in Jack’s cheeks as he spoke. “I shall be in Cairo before you, and will be at the station to welcome you upon your arrival. In the meantime, there is still more to be seen in India. Come, now, let us draw up a list of every place we must visit before we all depart the subcontinent. There is much to be done.”
3
Mrs. Wells had arranged for us all to breakfast together each morning of our stay in a private section of the hotel’s elegant dining room. Colin had gone down early, knowing that someone would have to inform the others of Mr. Neville’s death. I followed him as soon as possible, wanting to be on hand to offer whatever help I could. For more than three-quarters of an hour, we were alone. The row of French doors that led to the terrace stood open, letting in a balmy breeze from outside. The air smelled of lavender, not surprising given the profusion of its flowers found in the vases on each table, and the sun warmed the room to a pleasant temperature.
“It seems the evening’s festivities took a toll on the group as a whole,” I said, looking at the sumptuous buffet Mrs. Wells had caused to be laid down for us and finding I had no stomach for food. All I could think about was the glassy look of poor Mr. Neville’s eyes. “How long do you think they will all sleep?”
“Quite late, I imagine,” Colin said. “A great deal of champagne had been consumed and Wells had already lost five thousand francs at baccarat when I left. I wonder how his wife took that?”
“I wonder if she knows?”
“Do you really think she allows him to hide anything from her?” Colin asked.
“A fair point.” I sighed. “Amity has been up early every day that I can remember. She told me she likes to walk in the morning. Perhaps she is already out and we missed her.” It was Margaret and Cécile who appeared first, however, both in high spirits that evaporated the instant we told them of the tragedy.
“How terribly sad,” Margaret said. “I had not known Mr. Neville well before we came to Cannes, but I have grown rather fond of him over these past few days. He had such a calming effect on everyone around him.”
“His kindness was extraordinary,” Cécile said. “He took great care to make sure we all were comfortable and well looked after. He even offered to go to Paris to collect Caesar and Brutus for me when I mentioned feeling their absence keenly.” Cécile adored her two small dogs, and rarely traveled without them. On this occasion, Brutus had been somewhat under the weather, and she felt it best to leave them at home. “A lovely man. What caused his death?”
“The doctor suspects overindulgence,” Colin said.
“Overindulgence?” I scowled. “Does that not seem odd? Mr. Neville was a hearty young man, full of vigor and health. Are we to believe one night of excessive carousing put him under?”
“What are you suggesting, Emily?” Colin asked.
“That someone murdered him, of course,” Margaret said, nodding with such violence I worried that her hair might come undone. “Capital idea, Emily. I quite agree.”
“This is a very serious accusation,” Colin said. “We must not make light of it.”
“Apologies, Colin. I let my imagination get away from me,” Margaret said. “It was wholly inappropriate.”
“We are all on edge after this news,” I said. “And it will behoove us to remember that reactions to grief range from tears to laughter and everything in between. Will there be an autopsy?”
“I imagine so,” Colin said, peering at me through narrowed eyes. “I assume we are to conclude that your own reaction to grief is to search for explanations?”
“Doing something productive will keep me from going mad,” I replied. “I remember seeing a bottle of whisky next to the bed where Mr. Neville fell.”
“Yes. There was a glass on the floor near his outstretched hand,” Colin said. “A trickle of liquid suggested he was drinking before he lost consciousness.”
“They must surely suspect foul play in such a case,” I said. “Why else would a gentleman teeter over mid-drink?”
“It can happen, Emily,” Colin said. “I have seen it, although it does not generally end in death. Perhaps we should hope for a straightforward verdict from the coroner, given that Neville was found in Bainbridge’s room. Accusations of foul play would not be pleasant for your friend.”
“You cannot possibly be suggesting that anyone would believe Bainbridge would cut down one of his dearest friends?” Cécile said. “It is unthinkable.”
“I quite agree,” Colin said, “but murder investigations have a way of refusing to stay within the bounds of propriety. No one would be beyond suspicion if this were ruled a homicide.”
Amity and her parents approached us, her sickly-looking brother trailing behind them. “Poor Augustus is exhausted, which makes me wonder just what you all were up to last night,” she said. “I expect you, Colin, to look after him specially and make sure he enjoys himself today.”
My husband did not reply to this inane command, and the young Mr. Wells made only the barest replies to our greetings before seating himself at a table and asking for breakfast. Evidently he was too fatigued to bother to go to the buffet himself. I knew Amity had other brothers—several, though I could not remember the precise number—and I wondered why none of the rest had come to celebrate her engagement. Mrs. Wells had made a multitude of comments about business and how time-consuming it was, but the expression on her spouse’s face at the time caused me to believe there was some other reason they had stayed away. Colin pulled aside Amity’s father and spoke
to him sotto voce. Mr. Wells blanched at the hideous news and called for his wife. After an earnest-looking discussion, Mrs. Wells shouted—yes, shouted—for Amity, who was now sitting next to her brother.
“Mother, darling, can’t you see I’m trying to look after poor Augustus?”
“You must come at once, child. Emily—help me.”
“Enjoy your ability to summon me while you can, Mother. Soon I shall be a married woman and you will not be able to order me around any longer. I—” She stopped when she saw Jeremy walking toward her, still in evening kit. “Darling! You look a wreck.”
“Long night, my dear. I have only just arrived, as you can see.”
“Whatever happened to you?” Amity asked, crossing to him and offering him her hand to kiss.
“It is a rather complicated story, I am afraid. I—”
“Bainbridge, I need to speak with you at once,” Colin said. “Will you come outside?”
“Now, Colin, don’t you go taking my fiancé away from me in what I promise you will be a vain attempt to keep him from having to explain his appearance.”
“I assure you, Miss Wells, I mean nothing of the sort.” He gave her a neat bow before placing a firm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and steering him out onto the terrace through the French doors at the front of the dining room. Before they crossed the threshold, he turned back to me. “Emily, will you see to things?” He nodded subtly in Amity’s direction.
The Wells parents were now standing in a corner, facing away from the group, apparently having given up on delivering the unhappy news to their daughter. I marched over to her. “A word, Amity?”
“After breakfast, Emily. Why are you being so uncivilized?”
“It cannot wait, I’m afraid.”
“If you know something about what Jeremy did last night, I have no desire to hear it. So far as I am concerned, there are some things a gentleman should be allowed to keep private.”
The Adventuress Page 3
