She frowned.
“Trust me on this one. Put Violet and Georgie out of your mind and just enjoy the evening. I will dance as if I were Mr. Bingley himself.” He kissed her hand. “In honor of the anniversary of the happiest day of my life.”
She smiled. “We did come to have fun, didn’t we?”
“And we shall. Look, there’s Nick and Carrie.” He chuckled. “And Will is trying to hide behind them.”
“We’d better tell them the plans have changed.”
She steered him over to the French doors that opened onto a terrace. Will stood next to Nick and Carrie, wearing a perfectly correct long-tailed coat of blue superfine, buff knee britches, and a rather wary expression.
“I think you’ve been given a reprieve, Will,” Drew said, taking two cups of limeade from a tray on the sideboard and giving one to Madeline. “Two of our ladies have departed, so Miss Dornford will have to share you with the others.”
Will brightened, helping himself to a drink. “Well, that’s just too bad.”
“It’s those two friends of Alice’s, isn’t it?” Nick said with a shake of his head. “Can’t say that I’m sorry.”
“Shh,” Carrie hissed. “There’s Alice and Tal now.”
Alice looked particularly pale, and her eyes had the slightest tinge of red as if she had recently been crying. Tal looked more than a bit grim.
“I suppose you’ve heard,” he said. “About Violet and Georgie, I mean.”
Drew nodded. “I know your mother’s upset, but I told her already that we can carry on, just with four couples at a go.”
Alice set her empty limeade cup on the sideboard, rattling the silver tray. “I’ll just sit it out, too. I’m not much in the mood for dancing.”
“Come now, Alice,” Tal begged, setting down his own cup. “You know we’re short of ladies as it is. Mother’s already upset over it. We can’t desert her now. Please, love.”
She looked pleadingly at him. “Tal, you just don’t under—”
“Please, sweetheart. This is Mother’s grand occasion, the highlight of the whole week. Can’t we just enjoy tonight and worry about everything else tomorrow? I promise we’ll talk about anything you like then, all right? Will you do this for me?”
For a moment she only looked at him. Finally she nodded and, smoothing her skirt, put on a smile. “For you.” Her smile suddenly became more genuine as she reached up to caress his cheek. “For you, Tal.”
“Good girl. Now,” he said, turning back to Madeline and Carrie, “you ladies will have to pitch in especially, since we’re down two.”
“I won’t mind not dancing,” Will said.
Carrie gave him a stern look. “You’ll take your turn like everybody else. And stop looking like a whipped pup. This is a party.”
Will took another cup of the limeade and didn’t say anything else.
“This is delicious,” Carrie told Tal, her expression bright again as she took a sip of her own drink. “I’m a little surprised you’re serving it tonight, though. Was it popular during the Regency?”
“Actually, no,” Tal replied, “but we thought we ought to offer something for those who don’t usually imbibe. Dad was willing to bend a bit, just on that.”
“Good evening, everyone.” The Reverend Broadhurst made a bow to the ladies and then took a sip of the drink he carried. “I must agree with Tal about his mother’s limeade. It’s been a local treasure for years now.”
Laurent sauntered up to them in a black coat with silver filigree trim. His cravat was exceptionally frothy, and he carried an elegant walking stick. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He bowed to the girls, the usual insinuating smirk on his narrow face. “Ladies, I do not know by what means, but you manage somehow to grow lovelier each time we meet.” He put one elegant hand up to his bicorne hat. “You make me wish to imitate my great countryman Napoleon and conquer all I see.”
“Then I shall have to be Wellington,” Drew said solicitously. “Though I’m sure we needn’t go as far as Waterloo.”
The Frenchman returned an arch nod. “What is it your Kipling says? ‘Oh, beware the English when the English grow polite’?”
“Very nearly that,” Drew said. “And I’ve always thought him a very wise man.”
Mrs. Cummins bustled back up to them all, looking much more pleased than she had just a few minutes ago. “I’ve talked to Mr. Cummins, and he said we ought to open the country dances to anyone who wants to join in. It may not be so elegant a display as we had planned, but at least more of the guests can take part. And of course everyone can waltz. I think it might not be so disastrous an evening as I had first thought.”
Tal gave her a fond kiss on the cheek. “There, you see? Now, how shall we arrange things to begin?”
“We’ll start with the cotillion. You and Alice, your father and I, Mr. and Mrs. Farthering, Nick and Miss Holland. How would that be? You’ll know when they begin the Gallini ‘Allemande’ and Beddows will announce us. Monsieur Laurent, you don’t mind being in the second group, do you?”
“Certainly not, madame.” Laurent made an elegant bow. “There are many things to keep me occupied.”
“And . . .” She looked faintly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry to mention it, and please don’t think me rude, but will you ask your Mr. Adkins to try to be a bit less conspicuous? He seems everywhere all at once.”
“Of course,” Laurent assured her. “I apologize. The man’s an oaf, to be certain, but well, if I did not see to him, who would?”
She squeezed his arm. “Thank you. Now, I must see to Mrs. Hope’s little dog. It bites, you know, but she insists on having it with her.”
The cotillion went off without a hitch, as did the quadrille that followed, except Alice had seemed uncharacteristically rushed in her steps.
“What was Alice in such a hurry over?” Madeline asked when she and Drew stopped to have another limeade. “She’s always such a lovely dancer, but tonight she seems almost . . . forced.”
“Perhaps she is trying too hard to enjoy herself as she promised Tal she would. Or perhaps she’s upset about whatever it is she wants to tell him.”
“It doesn’t seem very like her, though, does it? To spoil things for him after she said she’d wait?”
“No. From what I’ve seen of her until now, she seems the type to withdraw if she’s hurt or upset rather than putting herself forward.” He looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Here they come, darling.”
“No, you should,” Alice was saying, laughing as she did. “Madeline, tell Tibby you’ll dance with him. He’s afraid to ask. You won’t mind, Drew, will you? Of course you won’t, because you’re going to ask me. You wouldn’t want to leave me just standing here, would you?”
Her eyes were almost too bright as she clutched Drew’s arm, and he looked at Tal with a questioning smile. “What do you say?”
“Uh, of course.” Tal bowed to Madeline. “Will you do me the honor, ma’am?”
She curtsied and went with him, looking faintly uneasy.
Alice immediately took Drew’s arm. “Now, sir, I believe you owe me a dance.”
He bowed gravely. “Ma’am.”
With one hand on hers and the other at her slim waist, he guided her into the throng of dancers. At once he realized it was a mistake. She clung to him, again ahead of the music, trying to lead instead of following him. She stepped on his foot more than once, looking alternately mortified and amused, and hung off him so heavily he feared his coat would tear.
Mercifully the music ended. Bowing, Drew offered her his arm. She stumbled a little as she took it and then laughed.
“You’re a good dancer. I’m not a good dancer. I mean, I can dance, but I don’t dance good. I mean, well.” She laughed again, hanging on him now, her words coming out far too rapidly. “You’re a good dancer. Tal’s a good dancer, but he doesn’t much like it. But when we’re married, I’ll get him to like it. I’ll get him to dance and dance and dance all the time. And he’ll
be a good dancer. I like good dancers. You’re a good dancer.”
“I’m not very good at this sort of dance, I’m afraid.” Drew tried to pull his arm away from her, yet she clung even tighter. “Perhaps we ought to sit down for a while and catch our breath.”
He finally freed himself, only to have her put both slender arms around his neck and stand tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “I like you, Drew.” She inhaled deeply. “You smell nice. You feel nice.”
He shrugged out of her embrace. “I think Tal is looking for you.”
“Oh, Tal. He’s really not a good dancer. You’re a good dancer.”
She twisted her fingers into the sleeves of his coat, and he tried again to pull away from her, looking over his shoulder to see if he could spot Tal somewhere in the throng of dancers. This was all wrong, and he was afraid he knew why.
At last he saw Tal and Madeline coming through the crowd, each of them with a glass of Mrs. Cummins’s limeade.
“Oh, there you are,” he called.
Madeline looked up, smiling, but then her expression changed. No doubt she could read the concern in his. She and Tal hurried over to him just as Alice linked her fingers through his and started swinging their hands in a wide arc.
Tal’s forehead wrinkled. “Alice? What are you doing, darling?”
Her smile was manic, her eyes wide and far too bright as she grabbed his hand with her free one and began swinging it in time with the other. “Tal, Tal, Tal, won’t you dance with us? I so love to dance. Drew’s a lovely dancer, isn’t he, Madeline? You don’t mind if he dances with us, do you?”
Madeline looked at Drew, her concern deepening.
Tal put his free arm around his fiancée, holding her as Drew freed his hand.
“Oh, don’t,” she whined. “We were just about to dance.”
“I think you’ve had quite enough for the evening,” Tal said, and he winced. “Sorry about all this, old man. I don’t know what’s got into her. She’s never been much of a one to overindulge.”
Drew shook his head. “Tal, I don’t think—”
“Tal,” Alice singsonged. “Tal, Tal, Tibby.”
“Everything quite all right?” the vicar asked as he came to Tal’s side.
“It’s nothing. I think she’s just had a bit too much.” Tal gave Alice a reproving look and tried to lead her away, but she only squirmed out of his grasp.
“You don’t want to dance with me, do you?” She gave Madeline a poisonous glare. “You want to dance with her. You want to get rid of me and dance with her, don’t you?”
Her voice was shrill and loud, and the other guests were beginning to stare. Laurent was watching them from the back of the room, his expression unreadable.
“Alice,” Tal pled, low and urgent. “Let me take you to your room. I’ll get Mother.”
He tried to take her arm again, but she shoved him away from her.
“I don’t want your mother. You know what, Tal? She makes rotten limeades. She really does. They’re thoroughly nasty, and she can’t dance.” She flung herself against Drew again, looking up at him with wide eyes, her pupils so dilated it was nearly impossible to see the pale blue of the irises. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you, Drew? You’re so awfully nice.”
She tugged on the wide lapel of his coat, pulling it askew as she listed sideways.
“Steady on now,” he said, catching her under the arms. “She’s deuced hot, Tal. Best get your mother after all and then call a doctor. Or perhaps there’s one here.”
“I said I don’t want her!”
Alice wrenched away from him, her attempted slap landing with a dull thud on his upper arm. Then she slid to her knees at his feet, laughing again.
“They think I don’t know,” she said, glancing at Tal and Madeline and then looking up at Drew. “They think I don’t know about them, but I do. They made up this whole party just as a cover.” She struggled to her feet again, steadying herself against him. “There are things going on, you know. Things they won’t tell you about. But I know. I’ve seen them together.”
Drew held her by both arms. “Madeline, go and get Mrs. Cummins. Please, and quickly.”
Brow furrowed, Madeline looked at the girl one last time before hurrying off. The music and dancing had stopped entirely by now, and everyone was talking in low murmurs, trying not to stare but staring all the same.
Tal looked around the room and then ducked his head, his voice painfully unsteady. “Drew, please, what is it?”
“We’d better get her to her room. Madeline will find us.”
Drew tried to shift the girl into Tal’s arms, but she beat her fists against him, twisting away, breaking free and bolting toward the open terrace doors like a bird unexpectedly out of its cage.
“Alice!”
Tal bolted after her, catching her as she collapsed at the terrace railing. He gathered her into his arms with her pale skirts billowing around him, clutching her close, breathing her name against her cheek, his tear-filled eyes pleading and desperate, both of them haloed in moonlight. The guests stood in silent shock, staring at the tableau, until Drew took his friend’s arm and guided him back into the ballroom and just as quickly out of it.
Nick caught up to them in the hallway. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Drew shook his head. “Stay down here. Look after Carrie and Will. Try to keep everyone calm.”
“Right. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
By the time Drew and Tal reached Alice’s room, her fever had spiked even higher and she was babbling deliriously. By the time Madeline came upstairs with Tal’s mother, Alice was gasping and convulsing. By the time the doctor arrived, Alice Henley was dead.
Five
The doctor, a severe-looking white-bearded man named Fletcher, removed his pince-nez and tucked them into his waistcoat pocket. For a moment he peered at Drew and Madeline, then at Tal, who was kneeling at Alice’s side with his face pressed against hers.
“Did you know she used the stuff?” Dr. Fletcher asked, his tone cold.
Madeline turned to Drew. “She was drunk, wasn’t she? It was just alcohol.”
Drew shook his head, and the doctor pressed his lips into a tight line.
“Alcohol’s bad enough, miss.” He exhaled and shook his head in disgust. “You young people. You think you can do anything, pour any kind of poison into your systems, and not have it hurt you. How many times must I see this? A perfectly lovely girl, dead now and for a lark.”
Mrs. Cummins put a plump hand over her mouth, horrified.
Tal’s head shot up. He glared at the doctor with red, swollen eyes. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
Fletcher glared right back. “Don’t be coy with me, Tal Cummins. I’ve known you far too long for that. A party like this, teeming with spoilt young society pups, and you think I don’t know what you get up to? And right under the noses of your fine mother and father. It’s a scandal, that’s what it is.”
“What are you saying?” Tal demanded again, his voice choked and shaking. “What are you saying? That she wasn’t drunk? That it was something else?”
Fletcher’s expression softened. “All right, son, all right. Perhaps you didn’t know. I don’t see any marks on her arms, nothing to show she snorted the stuff for any length of time. Maybe it was her first time. Once is too much for some, especially for a wisp of a girl like she was. I’m sorry, but it makes me angry. Waste and foolishness always make me angry.”
Tal looked up at Drew, lips quivering. “What is it? Drugs?”
“Tibby, don’t,” his mother murmured, reaching her hands toward him from the other side of the bed.
Drew bit his lip, wishing there was something else he could say. “Cocaine, isn’t it, Doctor?”
Madeline ducked her head against his shoulder. “Oh, Drew, no.”
Tal bolted to his feet with his fists clenched. “That’s a lie!” He glanced at the slim, bloodless figure on the bed. “Alice wouldn’t t
ouch the stuff. Drew, I swear it. It wouldn’t have been like her at all. She barely drank! Drew, tell them. Tell them!”
He grabbed Drew by both arms and dropped his head, wrenched with sudden sobs, trembling violently.
Drew put his arm around his shoulders and guided him away from the bed. “Come on, old man.”
Tal dropped heavily onto the sofa in the corner, not releasing his hold on Drew’s sleeve, and his mother came to sit beside him, looking pitifully dazed.
“It can’t be,” she said over and over again. “Not in our house. It can’t be. Oh, what will your father say?”
“It’s not true.” Tal made a visible effort to steady himself, mopping his face with the handkerchief Drew offered and pushing his mother’s soothing hands away. “No, I’m all right now. I’m all right. But you’ve got to understand. You’ve all got to understand. She’d never have taken cocaine.”
“Her friend Violet,” Drew said. “And Georgie.”
Tal nodded. “What about them?”
“Tal, I—”
Tal grabbed Drew’s sleeve again. “Tell me!”
“Madeline saw the two of them taking cocaine in the powder room near the terrace earlier today,” Drew said, pressing his friend’s hand and then gently freeing himself. “One might naturally conclude that’s where Alice got it.”
The doctor huffed and snapped his black bag shut.
Madeline looked at Drew, round-eyed. “Oh . . .”
He gave her a cautioning glance, and she pressed her lips firmly together.
“I’m sorry there’s no more I could do.” Dr. Fletcher pulled the coverlet over the dead girl’s face. “Such a pity.”
Tal covered his face with his hands, shaken with silent sobs. His mother wrapped him in her arms, pulling his head down to her shoulder. For a moment he struggled against her, but then he broke and truly began to cry, clinging to her like a child.
“Come on, darling,” Drew said, and he and Madeline followed the doctor out of the room.
“Dr. Fletcher?” Drew stopped him at the top of the stairs. “I don’t suppose . . . that is, I’m wondering if it’s possible someone could have given her the stuff without her knowing it. Tal is awfully certain she wouldn’t have taken it intentionally.”
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