“Now it is I who do not know what to say.”
“When Hargreaves told us Philip was dead, I was filled with guilt, wondering if he had done himself harm.”
“How awful for you! But, Andrew, it could not have been your fault, even if he had done such a thing.” I wondered if there was any truth in what Andrew was telling me. Had Philip been Andrew’s partner?
“Perhaps you understand now why it has been so important for me to go to Africa to find him. If I can find my friend alive, I will be relieved of this pressing feeling of guilt.”
I was astounded at the lengths to which this man would go, twisting facts to make himself appear nobler than he could ever hope to be.
“I have one more confession to make,” he said. “When we returned from Africa, I learned that when Philip died, he owed money to at least one of his unsavory associates. You and I weren’t acquainted, and I did not feel right imposing upon you while you were in mourning, so I hired a man to watch you, lest someone come after you. I apologize for infringing upon your privacy but could think of no other way to protect you without causing unnecessary alarm. I fully expect Philip to rebuke me upon his return for my having done it.”
I wondered what he had hoped to achieve by doing such a thing. I could only imagine that he feared I would somehow learn of his role in this intrigue, and shuddered to think what he might have done if he thought I was prepared to report him to the police. I had seen the man with the scar just once following my return to London—the night he had met with Colin, whose role in this still confused me. After I had allowed Andrew to befriend me, he could easily have kept an eye on me himself, and I thought of the hours I spent in his company, all the time being watched. Despicable man! I forced my attention back to our conversation.
“I think, Andrew, that it is very unlikely Philip is alive. You and I have both fallen victim to putting too much faith in rumors and coincidences because they suggest something we wanted to believe. The best evidence came with the wedding picture, and we know it was not true.”
“I’m sorry, Emily.”
“Don’t bother to apologize. I know that your intentions were the best,” I said, glad to find I could speak such drivel without giving myself away. “Philip is the one who deserves my anger. Have you ever read Balzac?”
“No.”
“‘Behind every great fortune there is a crime.’ I do not think I would have agreed with such a statement before now.”
“You have suffered greatly, Emily.” I tried not to openly seethe watching his eyes dance as he spoke.
“I would find it easier to forgive Philip if he had not presented himself as a man of such high principle. I shall never forget on our wedding trip—Oh, but I shall make you late for dinner. I cannot impose on your goodwill, forcing you to listen to my lament.”
“I don’t mind at all. It is such a relief to know that I do not have to hide all this from you any longer. Tell me whatever you wish. It may help you feel better.”
“We were in an antiquities shop, and I saw the loveliest ring—gold, of course—with a picture of a horse on it. You know how I love to ride?”
“Better than most,” he said. I could see he wanted to take my hand.
“I begged Philip to buy it for me, but he refused. Because the horse in question was apparently the Trojan horse, he felt the ring too significant a piece to be relegated to the role of bauble to a society wife. He actually said that—can you imagine?”
“I’m afraid I can,” he said, shaking his head. How I would have loved to slap him.
“We argued for some time about it, even went back to the shop on more than one occasion, but he would not alter his position. In the end he said that he would consider buying the piece only to donate it to the British Museum. At the time I decided it was an inconsequential incident and actually admired the way he adhered to his principles.”
“And now?”
“Now? Now that I know he was a common thief? That he took whatever he wanted for his own private collection while denying me a petty ring? I’m furious.”
“You shall have to find the ring and buy it.”
“It’s in the private collection of a gentleman here in Paris. He’ll never sell it.”
“Everything has its price, my dear.” At last the man spoke the truth. I gazed into his eyes and knew that I had him.
“If only that were the case.” I sighed. “I would be eternally indebted to anyone who could convince him to sell. I’m sure it must seem trivial, but knowing what I now do about Philip, the ring has become something of a symbol to me.”
“I do not think it is trivial in the least, Emily. The ring has taken on great significance to you.”
“Angry though I am, I cannot abandon Philip in Africa. But given that it seems very unlikely he is alive, I do not want to risk your health or that of your brother in the venture. I have written to Lord Lytton asking him to arrange for an official search party of sorts. I’m not sure what he will be able to do, but I do not doubt that it will be adequate.” I took his hand. “And so, my dear friend, I have called you here to relieve you from your duties as expedition director and to beg your forgiveness for my own shortcomings.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I shall never breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Thank you, Andrew. I know that I am asking a great deal of you.”
“Do not mention it again,” he said, still holding my hand. “Will you return to London immediately?”
“No. The thought of going back to Philip’s house no longer appeals to me. I think I shall stay in Paris and take on the role of eccentric widow.” I looked in his eyes. “Although I will admit that being a widow is not quite as appealing to me as it once was. I didn’t think it would be this lonely.”
“You feel lonely because you have suffered so great a betrayal. It will not last forever.”
“You are right,” I said, forcing my face to brighten. “There is no cause for despair. I shall enter the Parisian social scene with a vengeance, announcing my intention of marrying the first gentleman who can produce for me the Trojan-horse ring.”
Andrew laughed but met my eyes with a steady gaze.
“Of course, it would be rather embarrassing if Monsieur Fournier took the opportunity to offer it to me himself.”
“Oh—it’s in Fournier’s collection?” Andrew said, his voice returning to its usual bored drawl. “I shouldn’t think his wife would let him part with it.”
9 JULY 1888
FLORENCE
I have taken to combing the city’s antiquities dealers when not sightseeing—K not troubled at all when I leave her. She seems immensely gratified by her ability to speak Italian like a native. Think she must have something of a flair for languages, but she insists that her German is atrocious. We laugh often now, and her presence in my room no longer renders me speechless. I may not yet know her heart but am certain that we will spend our years together happily.
Although she does not invite me to take her in my arms, neither does she shun my advances. If I may flatter myself, I think she enjoys them, as it is one of the few times she abandons her reserve and allows her eyes to meet mine—“…the many-colour’d maid inspires / Her husband’s love, and wakens her former fires…”
32
THREE DAYS PASSED WITH LITTLE INCIDENT. CÉCILE AND I agreed that my discussion with Andrew had gone as well as we could have wanted; now we could only hope that the lure of my fortune would be great enough to tempt him to steal Fournier’s ring. There was nothing more we could do.
Margaret sent a wonderful letter describing her sister’s wedding in the most humorous detail. American socialites, apparently, are at least as silly as their English counterparts, and their antics made for delightful reading. Also enclosed were some simple passages in Greek from the Iliad. Mr. Moore be damned, she said, I was ready for Homer. Expecting that I would not receive her letter until my return from Africa, she suggested that I have my husband assist me with th
em. I succumbed to a brief moment of melancholy, knowing that the translation would be done without Philip’s help, then fell to work, feeling uncompromised satisfaction when I had succeeded in translating the first, despite the fact that it was, not surprisingly, a passage lauding Achilles.
That same afternoon Cécile came for tea, and we were in the midst of discussing plans to visit Versailles when Meg told me that Andrew was at the door. This was wholly unexpected. He had made a great point of going on at length about how the demands of his business affairs would allow him little time to see me. Not wanting him to realize that she and I were acquainted, Cécile hastened to my bedroom, where she left the door slightly ajar.
“Are you expecting someone?” Andrew asked, glancing at the tea table, which contained far too much food for only myself. I gave him my hand, which he kissed with far more attention than I would have liked.
“I’ve just disposed of a most unwelcome guest,” I lied. “A French acquaintance with perfectly dreadful manners. I thought she would never leave.”
“I’m glad to have found you alone,” he said, sitting too close to me on the settee. “I have some news that I’m afraid will be most distressing. I’ve just had a letter from our ambassador to Egypt. He wrote that he has learned that the Englishman rumored to be wandering about in the bush turned up in Cairo nearly a month ago. He was a missionary by the name of Thomas Tresham.”
I did not speak for several minutes, first, because I felt that it lent a certain credence to my position as widow with ambivalent feelings toward her husband. More important, I needed to control my anger. I had talked to Lord Lytton not four hours earlier. He had told me in no uncertain terms that it would be months before anything could be determined about Philip’s fate and that I should not count on ever receiving confirmation from Africa. Rumors, like the ones I had heard, had very little chance of being either proved or completely discounted.
“Philip is dead,” I said at last, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, my dear, he is.” I had no doubt that on this point he was telling the truth. Although this was not entirely a surprise, hearing the words spoken made me feel as if I had received a violent blow. There was no small hope left to which I could cling. I had been led to believe that my husband was alive because it furthered Andrew’s plans, whatever they had been. Now that he believed he might have a chance at marrying me, it served his purpose to leave Philip dead. I wanted to sob, to mourn again the man whose love I had never appreciated, but knew that I could not do so at present. Instead I raised my head slowly, looked at Andrew, and smiled.
“Will you think me very bad if I tell you that I am most relieved?” As I said this, I could not help but remember that relief was in fact the emotion I had felt when I had originally learned that my husband was dead.
“I understand your reasons completely,” he assured me, taking my hand in his. “You have already mourned him once, Emily. You need not feel further obligation to such a man.”
“Yes, such a man,” I said, wondering at the ease with which Andrew disparaged his friend. “I am glad you were the one to tell me, Andrew. I’m afraid I find myself most obligated to you.”
“You owe me nothing,” he said, looking at me in a most unnerving fashion. Clearly he felt I owed him everything. I did not like how close he was to me, and I rose from my seat.
“I must turn again to Balzac. ‘When women love us, they forgive us everything, even our crimes; when they do not love us, they give us credit for nothing, not even our virtues.’ I have been guilty of overlooking your true character, Andrew. My misguided love for Philip kept me from seeing it.”
“Do you credit me my virtues now, Emily?” he asked, walking toward me. I backed away.
“I believe I do, Andrew,” I said, almost whispering, trying to ignore an overwhelming feeling of nausea. “When I think of the opportunities I have thrown away…” I let my voice trail off and daintily placed a hand on my forehead. “I think I shall make plans to visit Margaret in America as soon as possible. Traveling always makes it easier to forget.” My head still lowered, I raised my eyes to look at him. His expression brought to mind a hunter readying to fire at his prey.
“I did not plan to give you this so soon,” he said, removing something from his coat pocket. “I needed more time—” He stopped abruptly. “But perhaps it is best that you have it now, if you will agree to accept it.”
I took the small parcel he presented to me, knowing full well what I would find when I opened it: Monsieur Fournier’s lovely ring.
“Oh, Andrew! How did you ever persuade Monsieur Fournier to part with it?” I gushed, hoping I looked appropriately awestruck.
“I can claim no great skill in the matter. He sold it to a dealer several months ago. All I had to do was track it down. Dare I hope that you will take it?”
“I don’t know how I could refuse,” I said, slipping the ring onto my finger.
“Of course,” he said, pausing, smiling in his most devilish manner, “you cannot expect to have it for nothing.” I laughed nervously, recalling a time when I had taken great pleasure in that smile.
“Are you going to beg another kiss?”
“No, Emily, I will not be satisfied so easily. I want you to be my wife.”
I had expected this and knew how I must respond, but the thought of entering into any arrangement with this man, even a false and temporary one, revolted me.
“Marry you, Andrew?”
“You said only three days ago that you would marry the first man who could present you with this ring.”
“Surely you didn’t think I was serious?” I was not going to allow him to get his way so easily.
“As you can see, I did,” he said. I saw anger begin to cloud his good humor. “I assure you I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to satisfy you if I did not.” I let him stand there, stupidly, for a moment before replying, watching him wonder whether he was going to succeed in getting my fortune.
“I had little hope that you would renew your suit after having been so abominably refused,” I said coyly.
“Did you think my feelings so fickle?”
“I feared you would despise me after you learned what I know about Philip and how I have hidden the facts.”
“I would forgive you anything, even your crimes,” he said, smiling once more.
“Again, you tell me news that brings me great relief,” I said, looking at the ring and twisting it anxiously on my finger. “I would like very much to keep the ring.”
I let my eyes meet his and smiled demurely, tacitly accepting his odious proposal. He took me forcefully by the shoulders and kissed me hard on the lips. I could barely keep myself from pushing him away. Happily, he did not pursue the endeavor for long, stepping back from me and sitting down.
“It would be best, my dear girl, if we did not tell our general acquaintance of our understanding at present. Wear the ring as much as you like when you are with me and when you are alone, but not in public. Such a striking piece would be certain to draw attention, and I do not want anyone to think I have sought to win your affections while you are still in mourning. I would not have your reputation so tarnished.”
My reputation? He did not want me to wear the ring where Fournier might see it; he had not been able to get it copied.
“I am nearly out of mourning, Andrew—it’s only a matter of weeks. I don’t think anyone would take notice.”
“You are not to wear it in public, Emily.” I did not like his tone.
“Already you consider yourself my master?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling and coming back to me. “I shall have to take a firm hand with you. Give me the ring until you can be presented as my fiancée.” I could not risk letting him get it from me.
“If you remove it from my hand, I shall not kiss you again until I can be presented as your fiancée,” I said, simpering. “Can you wait that long?” I pulled him close to me. He took the bait and kissed me in the most horrendous way, all the
while clumsily fondling my neck. My head throbbed.
“I am going to enjoy taking you as my wife,” he said, his breath distressingly heavy. I stepped away, backing against the wall. “Your modesty suits you,” he said, looking at my crimson face and neck. “A woman should not be too eager.” The sound of breaking china came from my bedchamber.
“Oh, dear,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m afraid my maid must have broken something. Will you excuse me, Andrew? I really must see what she has done.” Afraid that he would try to kiss me again, I walked quickly toward the door. He picked up his hat and his stick and followed me, kissing only my hand as he took his leave.
“I look forward to seeing you wearing my ring again. I shall call on you tomorrow.”
I could not bear the thought of being alone with him. “Not tomorrow, Andrew. I’ve planned a trip to Versailles.”
“Let me know as soon as you return.” I locked the door after he left.
Cécile immediately appeared from the bedroom. “That man is more dreadful than I would have thought,” she said. “You should not have been alone with him.”
“There was no other way, Cécile.” I called for Meg, wanting her to run a burning-hot bath for me as soon as possible. “I will not, however, repeat the experience. I shall be forever grateful to you for breaking whatever unfortunate object you did in order to rescue me.”
“Something had to be done,” she said, “and it was a very ugly vase.”
14 SEPTEMBER 1888
BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON
Lord Palmer dined with us tonight—made a point of steering conversation to things that might interest K, rather than letting us fall into our typical arguments about Achilles. Capital evening. K was a vision of perfect elegance and an excellent hostess. Imagine she will want to entertain on a grand scale next Season.
And Only to Deceive Page 26