In the Shadow of Vesuvius

by Tasha Alexander

  Considering the boy’s devotion to her and his utter lack of concern for protecting her reputation, he wouldn’t have left her unaware of his dark deed. He would be compelled to let her know he was her savior. Would Callie stand by in silence, fully aware of the identity of a vile murderer? Surely no one could value a job—any job—above a man’s life?

  I heard Ivy’s soft footsteps. “Are you quite all right, Emily?” she asked.

  I rose and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve had the strangest conversation and it’s placed me in a most delicate situation. I can’t explain the details right now, but I’m in dire need of your help.”

  “Of course,” Ivy said. “Anything you require.”

  “Can you, somehow, manage to arrange things so Callie stays here, at the villa, tonight? She mustn’t think there’s anything behind it—and Benjamin must believe it was her idea. I cannot express how critical this is.” I didn’t want the two of them to have the possibility of consulting each other before I had decided what to do.

  “I am the wife of a politician, Emily. This is the sort of thing at which I excel.” She looked deliciously self-satisfied. “Neither of them will have the slightest idea they’ve been manipulated.”

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur. As promised, Ivy handled the situation with flawless ease. Expressing concern that Callie had, perhaps, partaken of too much wine, she took her inside and ordered a tisane for her. By then, it had grown rather late, and the guests had started to take their leave. Ivy crossed to Benjamin, brought him to Callie, and softly explained that she was worried about his sister. He wouldn’t mind waiting to depart, would he? So that she could be certain the girl was all right? How early was he due at the dig?

  I watched her with admiration. It took only a few sentences after asking about the time Mr. Taylor expected him the next morning for Callie to ask Ivy if it would be too much trouble for her to stay at the villa, so that her brother would have at least the chance of a decent night’s sleep. To this day, I do not understand how Ivy convinced the archaeologist that she’d had too much wine.

  Once Benjamin had gone, Ivy spirited Callie away to an empty bedroom. Jeremy, his face full of concern, tried to follow, but Ivy rebuffed him.

  “She’ll be quite fine in the morning, I promise,” Ivy said. “But for now, she needs her privacy.”

  His laurel wreath had slipped and was precariously perched on his head. “Did she really drink all that much? It didn’t appear so.”

  “You’re more perceptive than I would have guessed,” I said, noticing from the incredulous expression in Kat’s eyes that she was no more easily deceived than Jeremy. “Perhaps Ivy could sense that she preferred to stay over tonight instead of going back to the hotel.”

  “You ladies are extremely strange. Incomprehensible, really. I’m off to bed.”

  Colin, who had watched the scene from a chair in the corner of the room, walked over to me, his arms across his chest. “It would appear there is a great deal you need to share with me.”

  The night had grown chilly, so I picked up Jeremy’s discarded toga and pulled it around me like a cloak before following my husband outside, down the stairs at the end of the terrace, and onto the path that skirted the rocky cliff upon which the house was situated. We sat on a convenient boulder and I detailed for him my conversation with Benjamin.

  “You were right to let him think you planned to take no immediate action,” he said, when I had finished. “If he’s guilty of more than lying, he won’t feel the need to act in haste. The situation to which he confessed does provide him with a potential motive for Walker’s murder—and Jackson’s, too, if he had discovered the truth about the Carters—but it’s still a stretch. We can’t explain why Walker boarded the ship in the first place—he hated traveling, did it infrequently, and wouldn’t have gone back to Europe without a most compelling reason.”

  “If Felix Morgan is Benjamin’s father and Mr. Walker saw him in New York and noticed a resemblance, he could have deliberately followed the boy to Pompeii.”

  “It’s not inconceivable, but we have no evidence that he encountered the Carters before the crossing. It could have been a coincidence that they were all on the same ship. Once there, though, he might have somehow learned about their subterfuge. Would that have troubled him enough to induce him to come all the way to Pompeii?”

  “If Pompeii was his intended destination all along—and we have no reason to believe otherwise—Benjamin might have misunderstood the man’s motives and assumed he was here to expose him and Callie.”

  “If Carter killed Walker, he knows admitting the lie about Callie will be a distraction, and, possibly, give him time to flee. I’ll keep a close eye on him. In the meantime, you should tell Taylor the truth about his devious employees. Just because you said you would wait, doesn’t mean you must.” He blew out a long breath. “For the first time in a very long while, I feel like we might be getting somewhere. However, it’s the middle of the night, which means there’s nothing more we can do at the moment. With the moonlight shining on your hair and the way those folds of cloth are draping across your shoulders, you are the very image of Aphrodite.”

  “Not Venus, even in a Roman province?”

  “I know you prefer the Greeks, my dear. Would you object to returning to our rooms?”

  Naturally, I did not.

  AD 79

  38

  The hours moved at six times their usual pace. The summer had been uncommonly hot, something I noticed more in our snug city house than I would have at Plautus’s sprawling villa, cooled by gentle breezes from the sea. I was dressing to go to dinner at Lepida’s, trying to decide which tunic would look the least shabby next to her fine silks, when my friend appeared, a veil covering her head. Our doorman let her in and Telekles—always fond of Lepida; too fond, I’d say, but given his youth there was no danger in his infatuation—brought her to my room, although this was wholly unnecessary, as she could have walked the short distance herself, particularly as my door was in plain sight from the atrium.

  “Kassandra, I had to come myself, because what I have to say is wholly unexpected and more than a little upsetting.”

  “My dear friend, your hands are shaking.” I made her sit on my bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid I must rescind your invitation to dinner tonight. I’m mortified.”

  “Parties get cancelled,” I said. “There’s no need to feel bad.”

  “That’s not what happened.” She swallowed hard and stared at the geometric black and white mosaic on the floor. “When Silvanus arrived home, not an hour ago, he came to me and said I must send word to inform you that you would need to make other arrangements to dine tonight.”

  “No doubt he’s invited guests who wouldn’t be impressed by his wife’s friendship with an insignificant freedwoman. Don’t trouble yourself; I understand.”

  “It’s more than that, Kassandra. He told me I was never to see you again, that you were no longer welcome in our house, and when I pressed him for an explanation, he refused to give one.”

  It was as if someone had struck me. “Have I done something to offend him?”

  “I can’t imagine how you would and am sorrier than I can say. If you’re not allowed to come to me, rest assured that I will come to you, no matter what lies I have to tell, and I’ll dine more happily here with you and your father and that abominable Greek painter than I ever will again in my own home.”

  My heart was pounding. Had the scrolls left him dissatisfied? Was I in disgrace, having disappointed him? I could say none of this to Lepida, and I started to grow angry at having let myself be persuaded to lie to her. Still, I had given my word, and telling her now would only catalyze Silvanus to turn all the more against me.

  The ground began to shake. Pompeii had frequent earthquakes—the most devastating in recent memory had marked the very day of my birth—but, other than that one, they rarely caused severe damage. Enough to keep Melas bu
sy repainting cracked walls, but not enough to cause anyone to take particular notice. We were used to them. Reacting without thinking, as we all did during earthquakes, we started for the doorway, seeking shelter in the sturdiest space we could find, but even before we could cross the room, the tremor had stopped.

  Relief relaxed Lepida’s face, and she embraced me. “This earthquake shows the gods do not condone my husband’s decision. We will have their full support in subverting him. I feel much better now.”

  I wanted to reassure her. “You shall be late to your own party if you don’t head home. Don’t let any of this trouble you, my friend. I’m sure it will all blow over before long.”

  She kissed me and took her leave. As I watched her slide into her litter, I caught something in her expression—a mixture of confusion and sadness—that made a sob stick in my throat.

  But beyond that, lay something else. Something more terrifying than whatever disappointment Silvanus could cause. The earthquake had not struck when Lepida told me I was banned from her house; it started after her promise to keep our friendship, regardless of the lies she would have to tell in order to see me.

  I was born during an earthquake. Some people insisted this was a good omen, that it meant I was a survivor, that I could not be defeated. But others say it was a portent of doom, that my birth was cursed. Now, for the first time in my life, I could give credence only to the latter.

  1902

  39

  Colin set off early the next morning, Kat in tow, en route to Benjamin’s rooms at the Albergo del Sole. Somehow she’d persuaded her father to start teaching her how to discreetely follow someone. He must have thought the American’s walk to the dig an innocuous enough place to start. Ivy, Callie, and I sat on the terrace, enjoying the sunshine, until Jeremy emerged from his room, dressed in a crisp linen suit.

  “Callie, my dear girl, might I have a word?” he asked. I cringed, wishing there was some way to keep him from being alone with her until I could share with him the truth about her relationship with Benjamin.

  “Only if you accompany me to the excavation,” she replied, rising from her chair. We had sent a servant to fetch her clothes so she would not have to return to the hotel. “I’m late as it is.” I wanted to keep her away from Benjamin, but Colin, who would reach the dig before her, could do just that.

  As soon as they were gone, I told Ivy everything. She was aghast. “I never, ever would have suspected such a thing,” she said. “Whatever can they be thinking? The deceit, the utter disregard for propriety! Only imagine what sort of heartache a girl capable of such chicanery could heap upon Jeremy.”

  “I agree it’s shocking, but, after contemplating the matter, I can’t judge her so harshly as I did at first.”

  “Her behavior is unacceptable—”

  “It is grievously wrong, of that there is no question,” I said. “Yet, I understand why she did it. Is it fair that she be denied employment for which she is amply qualified simply because of her sex?”

  “Does she need the income or does she do the job only to satisfy her own whims?” Ivy asked. “If it’s the latter, which I very much suspect, she is keeping some more worthy individual from earning honest—and necessary—pay. And that aside, she was living with Mr. Carter!”

  “We must not place the blame solely on her. Benjamin is as guilty as she, yet his reputation will not suffer like hers as a result. Society won’t care about him in the long run. Oh, he may feel the lash of harsh tongues for a few months after their ruse is exposed, but in the end, it’s only Callie’s name that will be remembered.”

  This did not placate my friend. “Then perhaps she is fortunate that no one cognizant of the situation knows her true name.”

  “Benjamin swears there is nothing but friendship between them, although he did admit to an attachment in the past. He’s obviously in love with her, but I’ve seen no indication that his feelings are returned.”

  “Well, of course you haven’t, Emily,” Ivy said. “She’s been pretending to be his sister. Anyone capable of pulling off such an act would be far too clever to reveal any of her true feelings.”

  “He’s in no doubt of her indifference to him.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Despite his propensity for deception, on that count, I do.”

  “O, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” Ivy frowned. “How does exposing these two liars impact your suspicions regarding Mr. Walker’s murder?”

  “A question, Ivy, I wish I could readily answer. Now, though, I must tell Mr. Taylor the truth about his employees.”

  “The poor man! He’ll be mortified at having been so cruelly tricked.”

  “More likely, he’ll be furious to lose such a skilled archaeologist,” I said. “At least he ought to be.”

  * * *

  I sent a message to Mr. Taylor, asking him to meet me in the main excavations of the city. “A crowded public place often offers more privacy than a quiet room where one can be overheard,” I explained, when he came to me outside the Stabian Baths. The archeological park was more crowded than usual, owing partly to the weather (sunny and warm) and partly to the fact that we were approaching the high tourist season. Someone called Hazel (I am aware of her name because her husband employed it while shouting at her to be quiet) was abusing her beleaguered spouse for having forced her to visit such an uncivilized place. Apparently she had twisted her ankle, but this could hardly be his fault. She was wearing the most ridiculous shoes, with narrow pointed toes, thin soles, and heels inappropriate for navigating ancient cobbles. She could not have been badly injured as she was still walking unassisted, holding her skirts up so that she might step with ridiculous deliberateness.

  “Travel does bring out the worst in many of our fellow humans, doesn’t it?” Mr. Taylor asked.

  “Too right,” I said. Ignoring a twinge of nerves, I twirled the handle of the parasol in my hand. (The sun had grown hot enough that even I wanted a little relief.) “I cannot in good conscience delay any longer revealing to you the reason I asked for a private chat. I’ve learned something that I must share with you, difficult though it may be to hear.”

  “Now you’ve alarmed me, Lady Emily.” His face was too brown from years spent in the sun to blush, but there was no mistaking the concern in his eyes. “Shall we find somewhere else? It might be an idea to get out of the sun.” We ducked into the baths, crossed through the palaestra, and took advantage of its shaded portico.

  “There’s no easy way to say this. It has come to my attention that the Carters are not, in fact, brother and sister.” I explained to him how and why the subterfuge came about. He listened without interrupting, his face revealing no hint of emotion.

  When I finished speaking, he shook his head, slowly, back and forth and took three steps away from me. “Well, now, this is unexpected. I’m at a loss for words, and that’s something that doesn’t often happen. I like both of them, and they’ve done good work for me. Thought they were good eggs, but to know that they so callously lied…”

  I didn’t press him to continue, wanting him to have adequate space and time to take in this information and give it due consideration. He turned away from me, walked to the end of the colonnade and back three times, and then, returning to stand in front of me, looked me square in the eyes.

  “Did you suspect anything?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “Benjamin confessed to me because he erroneously believed I was onto them.”

  “Did anyone else know their secret?”

  “No. If he hadn’t told me, I’m confident they would have got away with the scheme. They gave no one any reason to think they were not siblings.”

  “I half wish they had got away with it,” he said. “I’m no monster, Lady Emily, but I’m as vain as the next man, not wanting to be made a fool of. But if no one else picked up on their trick, I’m no stupider than the rest, am I? Which means it would be tough for me to claim I’ve been embarrassed
or humiliated.”

  “No one could consider this a humiliation,” I said.

  “I didn’t grow up wealthy, you know. My parents were simple folks, content with their lives, but I always wanted more. I was raised in Ohio, in a perfectly ordinary small town, but no matter what I tried, I couldn’t make my fortune in America—I went from one failed venture to another—so I came abroad, where I talked my way into a position working for a bank in Vienna. Now, I’m not ashamed to say that when I first met Augustus Baeder, the man who changed my life, he had no reason to hire me, but he was willing to give me a chance, because he saw something in me that he recognized. Grit, probably. That position led me to where I am now, rich enough to do anything I want. Callie Carter—or whatever her name is—came better prepared than I was at that interview with Herr Baeder. She’s educated and impeccably trained, and her work is as good—better, truthfully—than most.”

  “She’s capable, efficient, and determined,” I said. “And although I cannot condone such blatant lying, I do understand what motivated her. She had already been rejected seven times for positions on other archaeological teams, the sole reason given in each case was the fact that she is an unmarried woman without a chaperone. Hence, the need for a brother.”

  “She believed I’d be no different than the others who wouldn’t take her on.” Mr. Taylor tugged at his hat, removed it from his head, and stared at it while he turned it in his hands. “I’d be lying if I said I would’ve hired her. I’m a creature of my times. Perhaps that should change. She does outstanding work. They were wrong to lie, but it would also be wrong to ignore their respective talents and let one mistake destroy their lives.” He plopped the hat back on his head. “That’s the only fair way forward and it’s what I’m going to do.”