"Someday, I'm sure, I'll want to thank you for that. At the moment, however, my views on the subject are rather conflicted."
I was more excited than I had expected to be about Lady Elinor's ball. It had been too long since I had danced, and I felt no small measure of irritation at the thought of holier-than-thou society matrons keeping me from their guest lists and, in turn, from waltzing. The entrance hall to the Routledges' house was filled with enormous masses of flowers, providing a perfect backdrop for the legions of ladies in their stylish gowns and brightening the patches of black where gentlemen congregated in their elegant black jackets and white ties.
Isabelle was less miserable than I would have guessed. She stood next to her fiancé on the stairway that led to the ballroom, a charming smile on her face, but there was no brightness in her eyes as she welcomed her guests. Although Mr. Berry deliberately took as little notice of me as possible, I could feel his eyes linger unpleasantly on me after I had passed him, and I shuddered at the thought of his attention. I hurried away from him, eager to find a friendly face at the party; instead, my mother headed me off the instant I entered the room.
"You must behave yourself," she whispered with such force that it was clear she had every intention of being overheard. "Otherwise there's no chance that you will be able to reclaim your place in decent society."
It was unfair of her to accost me in public, where she knew I could not respond to her as I wished. "There's no need to worry, Mother. I'm always perfectly appropriate."
"You are not to speak to Bainbridge tonight unless you plan to marry him. I won't let you ruin yourself with flirting."
"I'll thank you to stop telling me what to do."
She looked at me with such satisfaction that it was obvious this performance was for her own benefit. She wanted to make sure that society knew that she was doing all she could to control me, so that, should I be ruined, she would have their sympathy rather than their censure.
"I'll not stand by and watch you drag the reputation of our family through the gutter, Emily." She may have objected to watching that, but she certainly did not object to watching me, closely, for the entire evening. The only time I was able to escape her was when I danced. Happily, although the ladies of society seemed bent on cutting me, the gentlemen did not share their scruples, and I had no shortage of partners. But other than my mother, Lady Elinor, Isabelle, and dear Ivy were the only ladies who spoke to me.
I did, at last, get to waltz with Colin. Feeling his arm at my waist was more intoxicating than our hostess's champagne, and he guided me across the floor with expert grace.
"Holding you like this makes me realize how wise I was to avoid dancing with you in private," he said. "It could have led to nothing good. You're lovelier than ever tonight." I had spent a small fortune on my gown, cut from silk of the palest shade of rose, embroidered with silver thread and crystal beads. The neckline was daringly low, and the sleeves puffed subtly at the shoulder, tapering to fit tightly at the elbow. Mr. Worth himself had beamed with pleasure when he saw me in it at my final fitting.
When the music ended, Colin handed me off to my next partner, Jeremy, whom I had accepted as much to irritate my mother as I had because I wanted to dance with him. He and Colin nodded sharply at one another but said very little. It did not occur to me at the time that one might be jealous of the other. Almost before the dance had ended, my mother was stalking us on the edge of the crowd.
"Your Grace, it is a pleasure, as always, to see you."
"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Bromley."
"I do hope Emily is being kind to you."
Jeremy flashed a smile but did not reply. My father, who had early in the evening abandoned my mother to talk politics with a group of his friends, returned to collect her, and not a moment too soon. Given more time, she would have brokered a marriage contract between the two of us right there on the dance floor. I was about to seek out a glass of champagne when Lord Fortescue appeared in front of me.
"I think we ought to dance, Lady Ashton."
"If you insist, Lord Fortescue," I said, hating the feel of his arm on mine. He was not a bad partner; that much I will give him. But his manner was in every other way deplorable.
"You'd do well with Bainbridge," he said, leading me across the floor. "You're both in dire need of settling down. I know you've had your eye on Hargreaves, but he's not a good match for you."
"I'm sure it's none of your concern," I said, doing my best to keep a smile on my face.
"It's very much my concern, as it is the concern of anyone with a sense of loyalty to the empire."
"Really? I'm all astonishment."
"Do not play ignorant with me. Hargreaves's work for the Crown is invaluable. You've proven to be nothing but a distraction to him."
"His work has suffered on my account? Not only do I find that unbelievable, but it's also insulting to Mr. Hargreaves. He would never allow personal concerns to interfere with his work. How dare you suggest such a thing?"
"I know your type, Lady Ashton. Always wanting to be involved, meddling where you should not. If you care for him, leave him alone. He does not deserve the trouble you are certain to heap upon him."
Clearly, my only options were to ignore my partner entirely or to engage him in a discussion of the weather. I chose the former. When the music stopped, we stood next to Robert and a woman whom I did not recognize. Her age fell somewhere between mine and that of my mother, and she was dressed in an extremely expensive, though ostentatious, gown.
"Have you met Mrs. Reynold-Plympton?" Robert asked. I shook my head, and the introduction was made. I was about to ask her how long she'd been in London when the music began again, and she turned to my friend's husband.
"Shall we dance again? I can't remember when I've had such a pleasant partner." Robert mumbled something unintelligible and led her back to the floor, leaving me stranded with Lord Fortescue.
"Will you excuse me?" I asked before he had the chance to claim another dance. As I made my way across the room, a servant approached me.
"Lady Ashton, a gentleman asked that I give this to you." He handed me a large ivory envelope.
"Lord Fortescue?"
"I don't believe it was he, madam."
I looked around the room, searching for Colin, but did not see him. Ivy was not far from me, and I pulled her into the garden, wanting someone with me when I opened the parcel. She was appropriately horrified when I told her what had been going on.
"Oh dear," she said. "Perhaps I should get Robert."
"We can open an envelope without him, Ivy." I pulled a pin out of my hair, which was piled high on my head in a simple pompadour, and carefully slit the paper.
"Who left it for you? Is he still here?" She looked around, then relaxed as much as her corset would allow, apparently satisfied that there was no one stalking us in the garden.
"Highly unlikely." Within the envelope was a note wrapped around another letter. I can help more than you know, Kallista darling was scrawled in now-familiar handwriting. Inside this was a letter, folded, with the remains of a wax seal on the back. Excitement filled me; the letter was addressed to Marie Antoinette. Careful not to harm the fragile paper, I unfolded the page, eager to see who had written the letter. "It's from Léonard." He gave a terse description of his daily activities, referred briefly to some of the queen's acquaintances, and closed with an account of an altercation he'd had with a merchant in a butcher's shop. He wished the queen well, said he was praying for her soul, and promised to write again soon.
I handed it to Ivy. "How tragic," she said after she had read it. "To think, the poor woman was waiting to be executed, and this is the sort of correspondence from which she was to take consolation."
"I'm sure everything was read by her jailors. Hardly circumstances in which someone would be willing to divulge personal details. But you're right. It is sad." I touched the fading ink on the page. "I had hoped for something else, something that would reveal th
e significance of the queen's letters."
"Could he have more of Léonard's letters?"
"That, Ivy, is an excellent question. He must have been following me when I went off in search of the letters. How else would he know I was looking for them?"
"I wonder..." she began, but was interrupted by Robert.
"What are you two discussing? I thought Hargreaves was with you."
"No, darling, Emily and I were talking about another of her admirers," Ivy said, standing and giving her husband her arm.
"Hmmm. Dangerous topic these days, eh, Emily?" Robert was quite handsome when he smiled.
"It wouldn't be a dangerous topic if people would limit themselves to the discourse of facts."
"Until reality becomes as interesting as fiction, I'm afraid that's unlikely," he said.
"That reminds me," I began. "How are you enjoying the book I lent you, Ivy?"
"Oh, it's...well...I thought — "
"What book is this?" Robert asked.
"Mount Royal," I said. "Are you familiar with it?"
"It's not the sort of thing that Robert—"
"Not more trash by that Braddon woman, I hope," Robert said. "A dreadful waste of time."
"I prefer to think of it as an entertaining escape," I said. "Have you any concept of the amount of effort it takes to run a large household well? Ivy's overdue for some relaxation."
Robert looked at me, then at Ivy, then at his shoes, then back at me. "There are plenty of methods of relaxation that are not so utterly without merit." His smile softened the remark, but not enough.
"I didn't mean —" I said, but Ivy interrupted me.
"Oh, it's perfectly all right, both of you. Robert has arranged for me to assist the Duchess of Petherwick with her charity work, so I've no time at all for reading."
"What are you doing for her?"
"Sewing baby clothes for orphans."
"Sewing? And this is meant to be relaxing?" I looked at Robert.
"Ivy enjoys handwork." I could see there was no use arguing. With effort, I managed a smile. Robert pulled a heavy gold watch from his pocket. "It's getting late. You should go home, darling. I'm to meet Fortescue and some others at my club." Even Ivy's curls seemed to droop, and though Robert didn't look closely enough to notice, she could hardly keep her eyes from filling with tears. "I'll get the carriage for you."
"No, Robert," I said. "Let Ivy come home with me." I stopped myself almost at once, disgusted to find that I was talking about my friend as if she were not there. "Would you come with me, Ivy? It's so lonely at my house without Cécile."
"I wouldn't want to leave you alone, Emily, but Robert — "
I hoped he would protest. "Of course you shall go with Emily. I'll be dreadfully late — you may as well stay the night." He looked more pleased than he ought to with this arrangement. "I can't imagine you'll have finished analyzing the events of the evening before morning."
And I couldn't imagine that, if he knew what sort of events we would be analyzing, he would approve of his wife spending the night with me. But as I gave the matter more thought, I decided that Ivy and I would not sit up until all hours discussing my investigations. Instead, we would read out loud to each other favorite passages from Mary Elizabeth Braddon's books.
15
The day after the ball I called again at the White residence, and again the housekeeper rebuffed me. "I don't think the lady of the house needs to be bothered by the likes of you," the housekeeper said, glaring at me.
"Excuse me?"
"A lady in mourning should be left alone. This is a house of decent people. I won't have you harassing my mistress."
That a servant would speak to me in such a tone was astonishing, and I could hardly find my voice to reply. "That is a decision to be made by Mrs. White, not you. You give her this note. I shall come back in an hour and expect a reply." I had thought it likely that Mrs. White would refuse to see me and in preparation for this possibility had brought with me a letter explaining that I needed to discuss with her some information about David Francis at the earliest possible moment. After an hour had passed, I returned to the house. This time the housekeeper admitted me, though she made no effort to make me feel welcome.
I began to understand her behavior the moment I met Mrs. White. She was younger than I had expected but extremely frail, and looked on the verge of falling apart. She came into her drawing room, clinging to furniture as she walked, so slowly it was painful to watch. At last she lowered herself into a straight-backed wooden chair.
"Forgive me, Lady Ashton, for not admitting you when you came before," she said, her voice so soft that it was difficult to hear. "I've never been fond of society and find it worse than ever now that Mr. Francis — " She pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I am most sorry to disturb you during such a difficult time." I wished there was something I could say to make this conversation easier. "I have promised to assist in the investigation of Mr. Francis's death and am hoping that you might be able to help me."
"Are the police not capable of handling the matter themselves?"
"Yes, of course they are, but there is some concern that they made an arrest too quickly."
"Who is concerned?"
"Mrs. Francis."
"I see." She had not looked at me directly since she entered the room. "I have not met her, of course. I understand she was quite devoted to Mr. Francis."
I had no answer for this. Mrs. White sat in silence, but she was not at ease, tugging at her cuticles while she held her hands in her lap. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, but there was a tiredness in her eyes that made her look far older. I waited as long as I could bear to before speaking.
"I have offered to help Mrs. Francis, but please know that I am not here to sit in judgment of you. I just thought that, given your...closeness...to Mr. Francis, you might have an idea of who would have wanted to harm him."
"Mr. Francis was a complicated man."
"Did he have enemies?"
"I wouldn't know, Lady Ashton. As you may have guessed, the part of his life that he shared with me was very limited."
"Did you see him often?"
"He came to me every Sunday. He felt it was important that he see the boy at regular intervals."
"His son?"
"Yes. He visited more often before Edward was born. Things change after a child comes."
"But surely he wanted to see Edward?"
"He wanted a child, and until he was certain I had provided one, it was necessary for him to spend a great deal of time with me."
"And you did not object to this?"
"Why should I?" She did not appear to have the energy to object to anything.
"Has he provided for the two of you?"
"As you can see, we are comfortably settled."
I bit my lip. "Forgive me — I do not mean to insult you or to criticize the choices you have made. But why would you agree to such an arrangement?"
"I was brought up well, but my father lost his fortune in a bad business deal. When he died, some years after my mother, he had nothing left. I had no skills and therefore no way to earn an income. My only brother is in the navy, and I've no other relatives. I had nowhere to go."
I couldn't imagine the woman sitting before me turning to prostitution. She was so shy she could hardly bring herself to look at me. Could she have been that desperate, with no other options?
"I know what you're thinking," she said, and I had to lean forward in my seat to hear her. "But you're wrong. I was so naïve, I don't think it would have occurred to me. My father's creditors forced me to leave the house, not allowing me to take anything save my clothes, which I sold for enough money to rent a room for some weeks. I tried in vain to find employment and found myself thrown out of my lodgings when I could no longer pay the landlady. I wandered around the city, not knowing where to turn. Eventually, I wound up on a bench in Hyde Park."
"You slept there?"
"No. Mr. Franc
is found me. He assumed, as had several others before him, that I was a park girl. Of course, I had no idea such people even existed and didn't know that simply by being in the park so late at night, I had, in effect, identified myself as one of them."
"So Mr. Francis...hired...you?"
"No. He admonished me to abandon my evil ways, which shocked me greatly. I told him of my circumstances, and he insisted that I allow him to help me."
"You had no other options," I said.
"Quite true. He set me up in this house, paid for two servants, and saw to it that I never wanted for anything."
"And now?"
"Now...I don't know what shall happen to us." Tears streamed down her face, but she did not bother to wipe them away. "He didn't intend to make me his mistress."
This confused me. "But he kept this house for you?"
"He wanted to prevent me from turning to prostitution, Lady Ashton, not to seduce me into a more comfortable version of it. It was two years before—" She stopped.
"Before you fell in love with him?"
"I fell in love with him almost at once. How could I not have? He saved me from the worst sort of fate. But he never showed any romantic interest in me, and eventually I discovered that he was married and gave up hope."
"So what changed?"
"His wife. Mr. Francis wanted a child, but eventually it became clear that his wife couldn't give him one, so he turned to me. How could I deny him after all he'd done for me?" She sighed. "And I didn't want to deny him. I wanted him to love me."
"I'm sure he did."
"No, it was only for the child. I know that all too well. Forgive me, Lady Ashton, I don't think I've been of any use to you, and I must beg that you leave me now. This has all been a great strain, and I don't think I can stand much more."
"Of course. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
"I hope his wife is coping."
"She will manage," I said.
"Please do all you can to figure out who killed him," she said. "Whatever he did, he didn't deserve to die." I was about to ask what she thought he might have done, but she left the room before I could open my mouth. I wouldn't have guessed that she could move so quickly.
A Poisoned Season lem-2 Page 13