The Adventuress

by Tasha Alexander

  “You are not a fool,” I said. “She is an excellent player. She had everyone fooled.”

  “Except you—”

  The door burst open before he could finish his thought, and Colin and Jack were all but fighting to be the first to enter the room. The hotel physician came next, followed by the rest of our friends. Neither Jeremy nor I was willing to succumb to medical inspection—we had already refused it at the hospital—and the fierceness of our stance on the matter convinced the man that our health was not in imminent danger. He left without further pressing his case.

  “Tell us everything,” Margaret said. “The desk clerk said the police brought you to the hotel and that the two of you looked a fright. We knew something dreadful must have happened, especially once we learned Amity never returned to her room. How did you find Emily, Jeremy?”

  “Do not give me any of the credit for our rescue,” he said. “The message that came for me at the Promenade des Anglais—Amity had sent it herself—purported to be from Emily. It said she had twisted her ankle at the ruins and required my immediate assistance. I will thank you, Hargreaves, to refrain from commenting on my reaction to this.”

  Colin crossed his arms, but remained silent.

  “The man claiming to have been Monsieur Guérin brought me the note and took me to the ruins himself. He said that he did not think Emily’s injuries were serious in the least, but that his wife had insisted he fetch me at once. I should have known at once something was wrong. She would have sent for you, Hargreaves, but sometimes we choose to believe…” Jeremy’s voice trailed and pain crossed his face. “He offered me a cigar as we went into the ruins, and the next thing I knew, he was whacking me on the head and leaving me tied to a column.”

  “Were you there already, Emily?” Colin asked, sitting by my side as I recounted the story, his dark eyes full of concern as he listened, doing his best to remain perfectly still. The cat had, at first, objected to his presence, but accepted it after I explained the situation. She was much happier when Colin, unable to contain himself any longer, rose from his seat and started to pace, as was his habit when he was stressed. When I reached the end of my narrative—Jeremy interjecting only occasionally—I turned to my husband. “You will agree, after this, that I ought to learn how to shoot?”

  “I will shoot Monsieur Hargreaves myself if he does not,” Cécile said. “And you know that I am, in fact, an excellent shot.”

  “I know the futility of arguing with either of you,” Colin said.

  “The poison was intended for my brother all along?” Jack’s face had gone ghost pale as we revealed the details of our adventure. “And Amity thought I would marry her after she killed him?”

  “No one was ever to suspect anything other than suicide,” I said. “You and Amity were already close friends, and it would be natural for you to console her after the tragic death of her fiancé left her devastated.”

  “From there, it would not have been difficult to convince you to marry her,” Jeremy said, “or so she believed. After all, there is plenty of precedent for younger brothers stepping in after such an event. Princess May of Teck married Prince George after his elder brother died, and that was only a few years ago.”

  “That does not mean I would marry her,” Jack said, his face turning crimson.

  “She wanted to live in India with you,” I said, “and admitted that she was concerned that such an outcome might not be possible if you were duke, as there was the estate to be run, but she decided you were worth more to her than India.” Jack cringed. “Regardless, when Mr. Neville succumbed to her poison instead of Jeremy, she had to try something else. She was not about to give up on her dream of marrying Jack—not after she had already had to abandon her previous love, Marshall Cabot.”

  “Marshall Cabot?” Christabel asked. “I never heard her mention that name.”

  “Amity loved him, long before she went to India, but her parents did not consider him to be a worthy husband,” I said. “They refused to let her marry him and stopped her planned elopement. The next time she fancied herself in love, this time with an equally unsuitable younger son, she decided to take matters firmly into her own hands, and to do whatever she deemed necessary to make the object of her affection a catch certain to meet with her parents’ approval. When Mr. Neville drank the poison instead of Jeremy, she pressed on with her plan. She tried again to achieve her desired result, first on the parapet by the castle in Cannes, where she pretended to trip and fall against Jeremy. The force of her weight was not nearly enough to send him careening over the edge as she had hoped, but she thought it worth a try.”

  “Then,” I continued, “she made another attempt, on the boat. She had hoped that Jeremy’s swim would result either in him drowning or in him falling ill.”

  “Evidently she felt she could help me along my way, so to speak, if the illness weren’t enough to kill me on its own,” Jeremy said. “She planned to insist on nursing me back to health, or, well, somewhere else.”

  Margaret, sitting next to him, took his hand. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am—how sorry I know we all are—”

  “Please, don’t,” he said. “Having lived through it is embarrassment enough.”

  “Are you sure that was her intention?” Christabel asked. “Amity was trying to convince Jeremy not to swim.”

  “That is what she wanted us all to think,” I said, “but she knew Jeremy well enough to know that if she goaded him in just the right way, he would decide on his own that the swim was a good idea.”

  “She goaded him the way she accused you of having done,” Christabel said, tears springing to her eyes.

  “I am afraid that is all too true,” Jeremy said. “It was she who brought up the story of Colin swimming the Bosphorus, going on at length about how dangerous it had been and how brave—but foolish—he must be and how Emily’s heart must have … Well, you get the general idea. I took the bait with little coaxing. The moment she tried to forbid me from leaping overboard was the moment I set my mind to the task. The more she tried to stop me, the more certain it was that I would go through with the action. Had I been thinking clearly I should have taken this as a sign she would prefer Jack to me. He’s the chap for feats of physical strength.”

  “If only there were some catalog of accounts of ridiculous actions taken by gentlemen solely as a result of their own stubbornness,” Margaret said. “I should very much like to read it.”

  “I do appreciate your attempt at humor,” Jeremy said. “When the swim did not kill me—no thanks to you, Hargreaves, for leaping in to rescue me (truly this has been a terrible time for my ego)—she decided to change tactics. Her direct attempts had failed, and she worried that if she continued, she might start to appear suspicious, so she targeted Emily instead.”

  “She tried to kill Emily?” Colin asked.

  “No, but she tried to turn you all against me,” I said. “This was in preparation for the final part of her plan. She locked me in the cell on Sainte-Marguerite, and hoped you all would come to the conclusion that I had done it myself to get attention.”

  “But the barrel was far too heavy for her to move,” Mr. Fairchild said. “She must have had assistance with that.”

  “Evidently a few kisses were enough to convince one of the guards to help her,” Jeremy said, his face a terrible shade of grey. “She told him it was all to be a good joke.”

  “And then she switched the invitation to her mother’s dinner to a card she had written herself, with the wrong time, so that I would look rude and inconsiderate,” I said. “Following that, she sent herself the crushed hat. The conclusion to be drawn then was that not only had I been behaving badly, I had now revealed my jealousy.”

  “Of course,” Colin said. “You are secretly in love with Bainbridge, and he with you. We would be helped to that conclusion when the two of you, in rapid succession, returned to the hotel soaked from the rain.”

  “Precisely,” I said. “She arranged for the teleph
one messages to be left for both of us.”

  “I only had to make my way back from the café,” Jeremy said. “Poor Em got the added treat of racing through the city to the church and back. Amity never was particularly fond of you, Em. I will admit that now.”

  “And the yellow carnation on the walls?” Margaret asked. “Surely she had not gone all the way up there to leave it?”

  “She claims she did not, and I am inclined to believe her,” I said. “It would have been nearly impossible for her to have done so with time left to return to the hotel in a timely fashion, and we know she was there, in the lobby, for much of the afternoon. Either Augustus had been there himself and lost the buttonhole, or it was nothing more than a coincidence.”

  “But surely she noticed that none of us blamed you for the hat or any of these other things?” Mr. Fairchild turned to me. “I regret very much that I did not defend you publicly. You deserved better support from your friends.”

  “You are kind to say so,” I said. “She did realize that the plan wasn’t working particularly well, as there was no wholesale turning against me by any of you—and I thank you all for your loyalty and assure you that defending me more staunchly would not have changed the outcome of the situation—but that did not worry her much. Each of those events remained, more or less, unexplained, which was just what she wanted. When Jeremy and I turned up dead at the ruins, they would help to reveal why I had decided to kill him and then myself.”

  “What a horrible woman,” Cécile said. “You, Kallista, have encountered many—too many—disgusting criminals, but I do believe Mademoiselle Wells is the worst of them all. So cold-blooded and calculating. A very devil of a person.”

  “And at the same time a product of a society that cares about nothing but money and rank,” Colin said.

  “If her parents had let her marry that Cabot fellow—” Jack began.

  “No,” I interrupted. “Amity is not a victim of circumstance. She is a selfish, manipulative person without any sort of a moral compass. I have not one ounce of sympathy for her.”

  “Nor would anyone suggest you should,” Colin said. “Although, were she here with us now, she might use your impassioned critique of her as further evidence to convince us that you are well and thoroughly in love with Bainbridge.”

  “It is only a matter of time, Hargreaves, before you accept reality,” Jeremy said. “Emily has loved me since she was three.”

  “The reality, my dear man, is that this entire incident has left you a priceless gift,” Colin said. “You have never really wanted to be married—you have held that position for all the many years I have known you. And now, after having been engaged to a woman who tried multiple times to kill you, you can hardly be expected to even consider approaching the altar anytime soon. I should think no one, even your own mother, would dare broach the subject for a solid five years at least.”

  “Hargreaves, what a brilliant observation,” Jeremy said, leaping to his feet. “And as I am certain I never would have reached it on my own, I do believe I am now obligated to you in a way that even yesterday I would have found intolerable. I may, in fact, be fonder of you than I am of your wife.”

  “High praise indeed,” Colin said. “At the risk of dooming myself to having to bear with equanimity even more of your goodwill, I shall take things a step further and suggest that if your brother, whom I am thoroughly convinced was well on his way to proposing to a certain young lady even before arriving in Cannes, would now follow through on his ambitions, you might no longer have to consider marriage as a necessity for yourself.”

  “My brother?” Jeremy asked.

  Jack looked at his boots. “I—I—you all are very kind, but I am afraid that my hopes—”

  “You, my dear boy, have fallen victim to Amity as well,” Margaret said. “Forgive me for speaking about it so publicly, but you are among friends, and I am not about to let another minute go by without correcting your misapprehensions, particularly as what you have suffered is not nearly so … er … humiliating as what your brother has gone through.”

  “You are kindness itself, Margaret,” Jeremy said. His tone was pointed but he was smiling.

  “I do not think you understand—” Jack started, but this time Christabel interrupted him.

  “Amity told me to push you away,” she said. “She was certain you would never propose to me if I didn’t make you suffer just a bit.”

  “It was another layer to her scheme,” I said. “She couldn’t very well have you proposing to Christabel before things were settled, so to speak, with Jeremy, so she convinced Christabel to pull away from you.”

  “She told her she ought to flirt with me,” Mr. Fairchild said. “Christabel confessed everything to me at once, because she is too dear a creature to lead a man on. Perhaps I ought not have gone along with her plan, but I thought you might need a bit of prodding to get a proposal out of you.”

  “I have been a fool,” Jack said.

  “You are not half so foolish as I was to have listened to Amity,” Christabel said. “And I am most heartily sorry if I caused you any pain, Jack.”

  “My dear girl—” He crossed to her and pulled her to her feet.

  “That is quite enough,” Colin said. “Take her somewhere else to propose, will you? And the rest of you, go downstairs and order champagne to toast the happy couple. Emily and I will see you at breakfast. We have had more than enough excitement for one night.”

  They protested as one, but it was Jeremy who ushered them out of our room. No one was about to argue with him after what he had gone through. When Colin had closed and locked the door behind them, he took my face in his hands and began to examine the various bruises and scrapes that covered it. “My dearest, darling girl, I hardly know what to say. Are you truly all right?”

  “A little battered and somewhat the worse for wear, but nothing serious,” I said.

  “You have distinguished yourself tonight,” he said, encircling me with his arms. “I could not be more proud. Moreover, I could not have handled the situation better myself. You are as capable as anyone with whom I have ever worked, and I hope you know that I have long considered you my full equal.”

  “There is nothing you could say that would mean more to me.” I buried my face in his chest.

  “That pleases me no end,” he said. “I do hope you realize, however, that your actions may cause you to soon find yourself in an interesting situation.”

  “Of what sort?” I asked, pulling back from him. “I was rather hoping for a steaming bath. I am filthy and sore and have already asked Meg to fill the tub.”

  “I would not describe that as an interesting situation, but you shall have it at once,” he said. “While you are soaking consider this: you have saved the life of a duke, a peer of the realm. Whatever will Her Majesty say? I shouldn’t be surprised if she gives you some sort of official recognition. You are after all having breakfast with her tomorrow.”

  “I suppose it would be too much to wish for a reprieve on that count. Has anyone been named a Lady of the Garter since Margaret Beaufort?” I asked. “I am no admirer of Henry Tudor, but he did have the sense to elevate his mother to the position. Perhaps Her Majesty could do the same for me?”

  “I would not set my sights quite so high,” Colin said. “I may consider you my equal, but the queen—”

  “Yes, yes, the queen. I doubt very much I will receive any sort of honor from her. More likely, she will reprimand me tomorrow morning and somehow have twisted events so as to blame me for the ensuing scandal.”

  “You are almost certainly correct,” he said. “What could I have been thinking? Rejoice, however, that there is not time for your mother to come down from Kent before breakfast.”

  The cat hissed. I took this as a sign of superior intelligence as it was clear the creature was objecting to the very idea of my mother. I decided at once that we would take her home with us. She would amuse the boys.

  “I shall rejoice in that kn
owledge,” I said. “You ought to as well because there is no risk of any honors or worse for me. Only consider if she made me a peeress in my own right—she could at last call you lord, even if it were only a courtesy title.”

  “No, my dear, your mother would never stand for that. Can you imagine?”

  “The mortification? The horror? Oh, to have a daughter recognized for service and given a peerage. One shudders at the very thought.”

  “Quite,” Colin said. “And that is more than enough shuddering for you tonight. Meg must have your bath ready by now.”

  “I would never take a peerage, you know,” I said, as he scooped me up and carried me to the bath. “You have corrupted me too thoroughly for me to believe that to be a good idea. The aristocracy, that is. But I would very much like to live in a world where such a thing was possible. Ladies recognized the way men are.”

  “It will come, Emily, it will come. We are only a few years from the dawn of a new century.”

  “I have great hopes for it,” I said. The cat meowed as if in agreement. I found myself already unaccountably fond of her.

  The queen was not fierce with me the next morning. In fact, she sent down word that we would delay breakfast by half an hour so that I would have time to recover from my travails. I appreciated the gesture even as I was amused by the idea that thirty minutes would be ample time to recover from having been knocked unconscious, kidnapped, and having shot someone. To her credit, though, Her Majesty was horrified by the dangers that had threatened Jeremy and me, and she praised the courage with which I had faced them, saying that she would expect nothing less from a noble Englishwoman. The whole affair took less than an hour, and when I returned to my friends I was delighted to be able to congratulate Jack and Christabel on their engagement. Cécile had already taken the bride under her wing, and had telegrammed Christabel’s parents to inform them she would be traveling to Paris, where together they would see to her trousseau. Mr. Fairchild booked himself onto the first train out of Nice, saying he could no longer tolerate the Côte d’Azur, and I was sorry that he could not separate the lovely towns from the brutal events that had taken place there.