A Poisoned Season lem-2

by Tasha Alexander

  "Is he quite in love with her?" I asked.

  "As much as any gentleman might be."

  "Will he ask her to go to Gretna Green?"

  "I don't think so. He made it clear to me that he's not interested in courting scandal."

  "Then perhaps Isabelle is better off marrying Charles Berry. Pembroke can't be much devoted to her if he's willing to stand by and watch her marry another man."

  "You are a romantic, aren't you?" He paused before the door to the library. "It's quite fetching." We entered the room, where Margaret and Cécile were in the thick of a game of chess. Jeremy sat beside Margaret, commenting on her every move. I pulled She by H. Rider Haggard off a shelf. With effort, I forced myself to follow the adventures of Ludwig Horace Holly and the exotic queen, Ayesha, She Who Must Be Obeyed, though all the while I was wondering if Lord Pembroke loved Isabelle enough to take her to Scotland. When an hour had passed, I put down the book, marched back to the drawing room and knocked loudly on the door, waiting a few moments before opening it. Pembroke, who looked very rumpled, was pacing furiously in front of the fireplace. Isabelle was crying harder than ever.

  "I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but I think that it's best if — "

  I did not need to finish my sentence. Pembroke grabbed Isabelle's hand, kissed it with great emotion, and ran from the room. Isabelle looked as if her heart was shattered. She buried her face in a pillow she found on the settee and continued to sob. I sat next to her, gently rubbing her back. Cécile came in and said nothing for several minutes. At last, she pulled Isabelle from her supine position and began to speak in a very serious tone.

  "What did Lord Pembroke say to you?"

  "He told me I should marry Mr. Berry. I thought he loved me. How could he ask me to marry someone else?"

  "He wants to protect you from scandal," I said, knowing full well that he was at least as concerned for himself as he was for her.

  "I feel like such a fool. I thought he would beg me to go to Gretna Green."

  "And would you have?"

  "Of course I would." She stopped crying. "So Mr. Berry is forced upon me, and dreadful though that is, I know there is only worse to come, for someday my dear Tommy will have to marry, too. Would that I might die before having to see that." The tears began to flow again.

  "It may not be for some time," I said, trying to encourage her. "Young gentlemen are rarely eager to settle down. When at last it happens, you may find that you've quite forgotten Lord Pembroke."

  "I shall never forget him, and for that my husband will suffer. He will never have my affection."

  "There are many such marriages, Isabelle," Cécile said. "You do not have to let yourself be miserable. Give yourself over to grief tonight, but no longer. After that, you will have to make your own happiness." I remembered Jeremy's comment about us being able to reach a mutually agreeable understanding. What a dreadful way that would be to live.

  5

  "I'm so sorry, madam," the maid said, wiping up the tea she had spilled on the table.

  "Don't think on it another moment, Lizzie." The girl, newly hired by my housekeeper, seemed a bit nervous at finding herself part of such a large household. "I spill it myself more often than not and wonder why people insist upon serving hot tea in a heavy silver pot. It seems to me that whoever pours is doomed to fail." Ivy watched the maid, waiting to speak until she had left us alone.

  "You are far too nice to your servants," she said.

  "Lizzie's only been here a week or so. She's constantly going to the wrong rooms, showing up where she's not wanted, bringing me things that I haven't asked for, pouring tea when I ought to do it myself. I haven't the heart to scold her, though. She's so very young, and Mrs. Ockley is convinced that she'll do well once she's settled."

  "She must learn to be competent as quickly as possible," Ivy said as she fiddled with the cup in front of her. She raised it to her lips, then returned it to the saucer without taking a sip. "I hardly know how to bring this up. Of course it is only a false rumor, but I fear..." Her pretty cheeks flushed pink when her eyes met mine.

  "Oh, dear. What have I done now?"

  "Have you and Colin quarreled?"

  "Of course not. If we had, I would have ranted to you about it immediately. You know that."

  "Well...Lady Elliott told my mother she has heard that you and Jeremy have been spending a considerable amount of time together."

  "Jeremy is here quite often, but only to give the appearance of courting Margaret."

  "Rumor has it that their relationship is intended only to hide that which he has with you."

  "That is ridiculous," I said.

  "I know it is. But several people have noticed that Colin has not been seen with you often lately, something that seems to add veracity to the story."

  "Colin is immersed in his work. Furthermore — "

  "Yes, but Emily, you are gaining a reputation as an eccentric who would prefer to spend her time buried in the library instead of on more...er...feminine pursuits."

  "Excellent. I long to be eccentric."

  "You know that I fully support your studies, but I do wish you would, perhaps, temper your approach to the Season. Would it be so awful to play the society game, just for a few months?"

  "I never thought I would hear such criticism from you," I said. Ivy looked as if she would crumple. "Don't be upset, dear. I'm not angry." I was unable to continue, as Davis opened the door and announced Jeremy.

  "I'm to meet Margaret here," he said, dropping into a chair after greeting the two of us with perfect politeness. "It's exhausting arranging these clandestine meetings for public consumption."

  "You seem to be enjoying yourself," I said. "I saw the two of you riding yesterday."

  "Capital girl, Margaret. Loads of fun." He rested his chin on the gold handle of his walking stick. "I can think of plenty worse ways to spend a Season."

  Ivy frowned but did not comment. The door opened and Davis reappeared, this time bringing Colin with him.

  "What did you think of that dinner last night, Hargreaves?" Jeremy asked as I handed Colin a cup of tea. "I can't remember when I've had such awful soup."

  Colin laughed. "Lady Cranley would be horrified to hear you say that."

  "Fear not. I told her that I'd never had its equal, and she took it as a compliment."

  "You men are dreadful," Ivy said. "I hate to abandon you to them, Emily, but I must go see to the invitations for my ball."

  "When do you expect Margaret?" I asked Jeremy when Ivy had left.

  "I thought she'd be here by now," he replied, refusing another cup of tea.

  "It's not like her to be late," I said. "I wish I had known she was meeting you here. I would have asked her to come early so that she could help me with my Greek."

  "Ah, Emily and her Greek," Jeremy said, smiling. "I'm glad someone can be entertained by such pursuits."

  "I adore it and will not tolerate your teasing me about it."

  "I'm not teasing," he protested. "You know that I have been one of your greatest admirers ever since you proved you could run faster than me."

  "It was a necessary skill, or I wouldn't have been able to escape you when you chased me with — what was it — frogs?"

  "Mmmm, yes, frogs. Not one of my finer moments."

  "I suppose I can forgive you your youthful exuberance."

  "You are as generous now as you were when you were five," Jeremy said.

  "What is troubling you with your Greek, Emily?" Colin asked, giving Jeremy a brief but pointed look. "Perhaps I can be of some use."

  "Beware, Em. A Cambridge man is rarely of any use," Jeremy said.

  "Mr. Moore has left me with a difficult passage, and I don't quite understand the grammar," I said.

  "Why don't you show me?" Colin asked. I walked to my desk and pulled out a pile of papers and books.

  "Oh, dear," Jeremy said. "Not the lexicon. That's my cue to leave."

  "But what about Margaret?" I asked.


  "She can't expect me to wait all afternoon," he said. "Tell her that she has wounded my heart and that I am unlikely to recover."

  "I'll pass along the message," I said with a laugh, giving him my hand to kiss before he departed.

  "Margaret was never going to come," Colin said when we were alone. "He's using her as an excuse to see you."

  "What gives you that idea? Have you been listening to idle gossip?"

  "Gossip? It takes nothing beyond ordinary powers of observation to notice that Bainbridge is captivated by you."

  "Don't be ridiculous. He's more expert at avoiding romantic entanglements than even I am."

  "You're not back to avoiding romantic entanglements, are you?" he asked.

  "Not when they involve you." How easy it was to lose myself in his eyes.

  "Show me your Greek," he said. We bent over the text, and Colin carefully explained the grammar to me. His arm brushed against mine, and my heart quickened. He squeezed my hand and returned to the book before us. "The Greek Anthology is marvelous. One can find a passage appropriate for nearly any situation in it. This is one of my favorites." He flipped through the pages and then read aloud, first in English, then in Greek. "'I know that I am mortal and ephemeral; but when I scan the multitudinous circling spirals of the stars, no longer do I touch earth with my feet, but sit with Zeus himself, and take my fill of the ambrosial food of gods.'" The rhythmic sound of the ancient language always moved me, and I watched him closely as he spoke. When he finished he gently touched my face. "I think, Emily, that you are my ambrosia," he said, almost in a whisper. I dropped my pencil.

  "I could grow rather fond of this method of study. Perhaps we should make a habit of it," I said.

  "What would Mr. Moore say?"

  "If you would tutor me yourself, I'd have no need for Mr. Moore."

  "There is much I long to teach you," he murmured against my neck. "But I fear we are far too easily distracted for you to learn much Greek with me as your guide."

  "Such is my misfortune," I said, turning my head towards him. Before I could bring my lips to his, he pulled away, straightened his jacket, and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

  "You'll notice that Margaret has never arrived," he said, tugging at a curl that had escaped from my pompadour. "Watch out for Bainbridge."

  I stayed home that night, happy for a quiet evening with Homer. Cécile was at a ball, and knowing that she would be out extremely late, I took my book to bed and soon fell asleep reading. Once again, something disturbed me while I slept, and I awoke around four in the morning, stunned by what I saw. My copy of the Odyssey still lay on my bed, but in it had been placed a single long-stemmed pink rose. Resting on top of the book was a small package and a note. I felt a strong breeze and watched the curtains, which I'd replaced since the burglary, billow. The window had been locked when I went to bed; now it was open.

  All at once the darkness of my room was terrifying. Was I alone? Or was the intruder hiding, watching me? Summoning all the courage I could, I lit the lamp beside my bed. The light revealed nothing immediately, and I was too afraid to do a thorough search. I tapped on Cécile's door, but she did not answer. She had not yet returned home. I started to reach for the bell but did not want to wait alone for my maid. Rushing upstairs to the servants' quarters, I pounded on Davis's door.

  "Get Mr. Hargreaves at once," I commanded. My butler did not hesitate, closed the door so he could dress, and was ready to leave the house in fewer than three minutes. My appearance in the servants' hall had caused quite a commotion. Lizzie poked her head out her door and shrieked when she saw me; soon the entire household was awake. I followed Davis downstairs where I sat on the staircase, clutching my knees to my chest, my back pressed hard against the railing as I accepted, but did not drink, the glass of brandy my maid had handed me. Meg was at least as upset as I was, and I considered offering her some brandy of her own.

  Sooner than I could have hoped, Colin burst through the door, Davis right behind him. "What has happened? Where is Cécile?" The moment I'd explained the situation to him, he raced up the stairs, two at a time. Davis organized the footmen, who began to methodically search the house. I knew they would find nothing; the intruder was sure to be long gone. I returned to my bedroom, where I found Colin staring at the note, the rose flung carelessly on the bed.

  "Have you read it?" he asked.

  "No." I glanced at the text as he read:

  "Would I were a pink rose, that fastening me with thine hands thou mightest grant me grace of thy snowy breast. Bloody hell." He looked at me. "Forgive me."

  I smiled weakly. "What's in the package?" He opened it carefully, revealing a small box and another note.

  "'A pink for you and a pink for another. Please return this to the rightful owner.'" Inside the box was a pink gemstone.

  "It must be Mr. Francis's Marie Antoinette diamond," I said.

  "I think you're right."

  "So my admirer is the cat burglar."

  "He cut a circle of glass from your window and unlocked it. Have you sent for the police?"

  "No. I only wanted you."

  He took me in his arms. "You're trembling."

  "This isn't like when he broke in before, Colin. He came for me this time," I said, making no effort to stop the tears flowing down my cheeks. "He could have returned the diamond to Mrs. Francis himself. I cannot believe there is no connection between this stone and the murder. And if there is a connection, it is I who am culpable — " I stopped at the sound of a forced cough from my butler as he entered the room. Colin stepped away from me.

  "It doesn't appear that anything in the house has been disturbed," Davis said.

  "I'm not surprised," Colin said.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you, madam? Shall I summon the police?"

  "Must we?" I asked Colin.

  "You will have to talk to them in the morning, but there's nothing they can do now that I can't take care of myself."

  "I'm quite all right, Davis. Thank you for your assistance." The butler left, leaving the door partly open behind him. Colin opened it the rest of the way.

  "I don't want to compromise your reputation." He looked at the letter again. "Have you received any other similar notes?"

  "Just the one you saw me open some weeks ago." I was suddenly aware that I was wearing nothing but my nightgown and a flimsy lace robe, and that Colin, who had dressed in a great hurry, had only partly buttoned the wrinkled shirt that he had neglected to tuck into his trousers. "I am most grateful that you came so quickly," I said quietly, tears filling my eyes. "I want to believe that I could face any situation head-on, with no assistance, but find myself more vulnerable than I expected."

  "No one should have to face every situation alone, Emily."

  "Having you here is an enormous comfort."

  "I am loath to leave you at all tonight," he said. "But you know I cannot stay." He picked me up and carried me across the room, placing me gently on the bed. "Try to sleep." Tracing my lips with a finger, he smiled. "I suppose this is inappropriate, but I can't resist pointing out that, were we married, you would not have to spend this night alone."

  And then he was gone, but he did not return to his house on Park Lane. Davis informed me the next morning that, after conducting a thorough search of the house and grounds, Colin had stayed in the garden, pacing beneath my window, for the remainder of the night.

  6

  Inspector Manning arrived at my house early the next morning, just as Cécile and I were sitting down at the breakfast table. The cheerful room, filled with sunshine and freshly cut flowers, belied the sullen mood of its occupants. The inspector questioned me about the events of the previous evening but admitted to having no leads as to the identity of the intruder. There seemed little hope that he would ever be caught.

  "Please eat something, Inspector," I said. "I really must insist. There's no point letting all this food go to waste, and I've no appetite this morning."

  "Th
ank you, Lady Ashton." He hesitated for a moment, but the temptation of the dishes on the sideboard was too great. He picked up a plate and began to fill it.

  "So this intruder left no clues?" Cécile asked.

  "Not that we can find. He's a skilled thief." He dove into his eggs and smiled gratefully when the maid gave him a steaming cup of coffee. "I would like to assure you that we'll be able to keep news of this from reaching the papers, but I'm afraid that would be a false promise."

  I sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Have you any objection to my returning the diamond to Mrs. Francis?"

  "Not in the least. So far, the local constabulary has handled the case in Richmond, but I am hoping that now we may be able to transfer it to Scotland Yard."

  "Do you think there's a connection between the thefts and the murders?"

  "Not necessarily," the detective said. "But don't worry, we'll figure it out. Mr. Hargreaves has asked that I once again increase the patrols near your house, something I will do gladly. I've also arranged to have an undercover policeman stationed in Berkeley Square overnight."

  "Thank you. I will rest easier knowing that."

  "Do you think she is in danger?" Cécile asked.

  "If the intruder had wanted to harm her, he had ample opportunity to do so last night. It seems that his interest in Lady Ashton is of a...er...romantic nature. Still, I wouldn't like to see you have another run-in with him. Difficult to guess what the criminal mind might try next."

  "I think we ought to go to Richmond at once," I said, rising from the table. Inspector Manning pushed his plate away and stood up quickly, almost knocking over his coffee. "There's no need to stop eating, Inspector," I said. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

  "I couldn't, madam," he said, but I would have none of it. I rang for the maid and instructed her to see to it that he had whatever he wanted, and then I left him there, embarrassed but obviously pleased with his breakfast.