And Only to Deceive

by Tasha Alexander

  Hargreaves less than enthusiastic about hunting with spears. Says he’ll spend his time trekking instead. Andrew Palmer’s game for it, though. Wonder what Kimathi will think of my plan?

  33

  BEFORE ENTIRELY SUCCUMBING TO WRETCHEDNESS THE previous evening, I had the presence of mind to send out a note, requesting an immediate reply. When it came, I sent another two; I would have to wait only a short while longer for the resolution of this dreadful business. When I had told Andrew I planned to visit Versailles, I had no intention of actually doing so. Cécile, however, insisted that we do exactly that. It was too soon for the final stage of our plan, and I could not very well go anywhere in Paris, where Andrew might see me.

  She was right, I knew, so we spent two days at the Sun King’s spectacular palace, where I furiously sketched rooms that Cécile wanted to add to her collection of miniatures. The act of drawing calmed my restless mind, allowing me to think rationally about the pieces of the forgery scheme that still eluded me. I wondered who Andrew’s connection at the museum was and how Colin was involved. Most worrisome, what part had Philip taken in the abominable crimes?

  Upon our return to Paris, I found answers to the notes I had sent; everything was in place for Andrew’s ruination.

  The following afternoon he met me in the lobby, putting his arm around my waist in a manner most unwelcome to me. I gently removed it and gave him my arm instead.

  “Really, Andrew, you are the one who was so insistent that our engagement remain a secret,” I admonished him.

  “You are difficult to resist.”

  “I must say that it shall be all I can do to keep from laughing when I see Monsieur Fournier today. To think that I now have his ring and that he has no idea. Promise me you will not tell him, Andrew. I so want to see the surprise on his face when he notices it on my hand.”

  “You’re not wearing it, are you?” he asked, grabbing both my gloved hands.

  “Of course not. I meant after our engagement is announced. I carry it with me at all times to remind me of you but will wear it only when we are alone.” I smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re beginning to make me question your sincerity, Andrew. Are you quite certain you plan to marry me?” I said, squeezing his arm lightly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Emily.” We took a cab to Monsieur Fournier’s house, not far from Cécile’s. I would have preferred to walk, but Andrew could not be persuaded. I was thankful that the ride was a short one, leaving us little time alone in the closed carriage.

  “I do not know how I allowed you to convince me to accompany you on such a tedious excursion,” he said. “Must we really spend the afternoon looking at Fournier’s dreary antiquities?”

  “His collection is marvelous, Andrew. I don’t see how your father’s love of archaeology and Greece did not rub off on you at all.”

  “That, my dear, is because you were not subjected to innumerable tedious conversations on the topic from your earliest days. I am quite at a loss to see why you have any interest in such things. I shall have to find something better to occupy you once we are married.”

  The cab stopped at our destination before I had to answer this preposterous suggestion.

  “I warn you that I shall tire of this endeavor quickly,” he said as he helped me down from my seat. “Hargreaves and I are riding at three. If we are not done before then, I will excuse myself with little remorse.”

  “And leave me alone with Monsieur Fournier and the Lyttons? That hardly seems fair!” I cried, taking note of the fact that he planned to see Colin.

  Now that we were at our destination, my heart began to pound so loudly I was afraid my companion would hear it. Monsieur Fournier greeted us and immediately led us to the room that housed his impressive collection. Lord Lytton and his wife were already waiting, sitting on heavy leather sofas whose slight smell of tobacco suggested that it was here that Monsieur Fournier and his close acquaintances retired after dinner to smoke. The ambassador rose to greet us, and I realized that my hand was shaking as he raised it to his lips. Why was this, the simplest part of my plan, causing me such anxiety? I clutched the small silk reticule that contained the ring as I conversed politely with Lady Lytton, barely aware of what I was saying. Before long, Monsieur Fournier suggested that we begin our tour.

  His collection surpassed any that I had seen before, but my distracted frame of mind prevented me from appreciating the beauty of the pieces that filled his impressive gallery. Sofas and oversize chairs were placed intermittently through the chamber, strategically located to allow a person to sit, happily contemplating the lovely works before him. Unlike Philip’s collection, which contained only objects from ancient Greece, Monsieur Fournier’s spanned the whole of ancient history. Cuneiform tablets, Egyptian ushabti, and Roman mosaics adorned the walls and cases, along with spectacular pieces from Greece and Assyria. A small, partially reconstructed chapel that he had ordered moved, stone by stone, from Egypt stood along one wall, eerily backlit by the light streaming through the large windows lining the wall behind it.

  I paid little attention to what Monsieur Fournier said as we admired all that we saw until we came to a case made of highly polished wood. It contained piece after piece of the most exquisite ancient jewelry, artfully displayed on a background of rich purple velvet. There were several spaces within the cabinet where objects were obviously missing. It was time for me to begin.

  “I see that not everything has been left safely in its case,” I said, smiling. “Your wife must be adorned in a way that would make fair Helen jealous.”

  “Unfortunately, I have fallen victim to the cat burglar,” Monsieur Fournier replied. “The pieces were stolen several nights ago. The police believe that the thief lowered himself from the roof to one of my gallery’s windows.”

  “How dreadful!” I cried. “I remember very well the beautiful ring you were wearing at Mr. Bennett’s earlier in the fall.” Andrew glared at me; I looked at him with innocent eyes. “It is neither in the case nor on your hand. I do hope it was not stolen.”

  “It was, Lady Ashton.”

  As he spoke, I worked the wedding band Philip had given me off my left hand and let it fall, the gold clinking loudly as it hit the marble floor. Andrew immediately dove to the ground in search of it, nearly knocking over Lady Lytton in the process.

  “Goodness, Mr. Palmer!” Lady Lytton exclaimed. “Why must you move with such rapidity? There is no danger that whatever Lady Ashton dropped would be lost here.”

  “I do not think that is what concerned Mr. Palmer,” I said, stepping toward Lord Lytton. Andrew rose to his feet and handed me my ring. “I believe he thought I dropped something else.” I pulled Monsieur Fournier’s ring out of my bag. “Were you looking for this, Andrew?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. What ring is that?”

  “Monsieur Fournier’s Trojan-horse ring, of course. The one you stole for me in an attempt to secure my affections.” Andrew looked entirely nonplussed, smiled, and turned to Monsieur Fournier.

  “The poor girl doesn’t know what she is saying. Is that something from your husband’s collection, Emily?”

  “No. As you well know, it’s from Monsieur Fournier’s.” Andrew laughed; Monsieur Fournier’s eyes fixed on the ring in my hand.

  “I’m afraid she is trying to protect the memory of her husband, who had an unfortunate habit of stealing antiquities.”

  “Are you suggesting, Mr. Palmer, that the Viscount Ashton stole this ring?” Lord Lytton asked. Andrew made no attempt to answer the question.

  I handed Monsieur Fournier his ring. “Is this yours?” I asked.

  He examined it methodically for a moment before nodding. “It is one of the pieces that was stolen from me,” he said.

  “Mr. Palmer presented it to me several days ago after having proposed marriage.”

  “I assure you I did not take it,” Andrew said, the edge returning to his voice. “I was foolish enough to propose, but I did n
ot give her the ring.”

  “Cécile du Lac witnessed the entire exchange. Would you care to enlighten these gentlemen regarding the relationship you have with her? I’m sure Lord Lytton would be particularly interested in your plans for the Elgin Marbles.”

  “You forget that the Elgin Marbles are safely in the British Museum, Lady Ashton. Again, I refer you to your own husband’s crimes. Perhaps you are confusing him with me. Or are you trying to blame his wrongdoings on me?”

  “Madame du Lac spoke with me this morning about the meeting you had with her,” Lord Lytton interrupted. “It would appear you have quite a bit of explaining to do, Mr. Palmer.”

  “I would like to know how you came to give my ring to Lady Ashton,” Monsieur Fournier said forcefully. “Did you steal it yourself or hire someone to do it for you?”

  “Given the short period of time in which he needed to acquire it, I imagine that he took it himself,” I said. “Although I confess I am somewhat shocked that he is clever enough to have pulled it off. I heard every word of your meeting with Madame du Lac, Andrew, and was devastated to learn of your true character. I quickly realized that greed motivated you above all else, and I knew that the lure of my fortune would be too much for you to resist. I suggested that you find Monsieur Fournier’s ring for me, knowing full well you would do anything you thought might induce me to marry you.”

  Andrew looked like a man who was slowly beginning to realize that his plans had been thwarted. Anger clouded his eyes, his expression similar to the one I had seen after refusing his first proposal of marriage.

  “I admit to stealing the ring. It was the foolish action of a man in love. But it was an isolated incident.”

  “It was nothing of the sort,” I said with conviction. “Aside from the evidence you have already provided for us during your conversation with Madame du Lac, do not forget that I am in possession of all of my husband’s records.”

  “You said you burned them.”

  “And you said that you confronted him about his illegal activities. Both of us lied. Philip kept meticulous track of your own involvement in the forgeries.”

  “Aren’t you a clever girl, Emily? I underestimated you,” he said, crossing his arms and methodically tapping his fingers against them. “But why would anyone believe what Ashton wrote? His character will not stand up to scrutiny.”

  “I find it interesting that when faced with evidence, you attempt to discredit the source rather than proclaim your own innocence. Whatever Philip’s faults, he was not a criminal.” I hoped this was true. If it was not, I fully expected that Andrew would quickly blame everything on his accomplice. “I must admit it surprises me to learn that you managed to orchestrate such an extraordinary series of thefts; I would not have thought you capable of pulling it off.”

  He bristled visibly at this comment. “I will not respond to such preposterous accusations,” Andrew snapped, his cold eyes fixed on me.

  “And I, Mr. Palmer, have heard quite enough,” Lord Lytton said, motioning to Monsieur Fournier, who pulled a bell cord.

  The two gendarmes I had arranged to have waiting in the house entered the room and bound Andrew’s hands. “You are under arrest for having stolen Monsieur Fournier’s ring. Do not doubt that further charges will be filed. Madame du Lac’s testimony was quite compelling.”

  16 SEPTEMBER 1888

  HÔTEL CONTINENTAL, PARIS

  Left K most reluctantly yesterday morning, after a decidedly sleepless night. Had I not such expectations, both for the hunt and for the conclusion of this game in which I have become involved, I think I would not have quit England. Hope she will be grateful for a less distracted husband upon my return.

  Have arranged for Renoir to paint a portrait of my darling wife; I do not think another artist could so accurately capture the brightness residing in her.

  34

  THE HOURS THAT PASSED AFTER ANDREW WAS TAKEN AWAY slipped by me unnoticed. Madame Fournier put me into one of her sitting rooms, sent for Cécile, and plied me with tea and more than a little cognac. Needless to say, her husband was delighted to have his ring returned, but he was even more pleased at having had a hand in the downfall of Caravaggio. Lord Lytton congratulated me heartily and told me that he would send someone to speak to me about the case as soon as possible. Sometime later Colin Hargreaves walked into the room. Cécile, considerably more composed than I, spoke at once.

  “I must say, Monsieur Hargreaves, that your arrival is completely unexpected. Am I to assume that this means you are not in league with Caravaggio? I hoped that such a face would not be wasted on a criminal.”

  “I’m afraid I have a significant amount of explaining to do,” he replied.

  “I have no plans for the evening, monsieur,” she said, motioning for him to sit. “Perhaps if you begin now, you could finish before dinner.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and looked at me. “I have been looking into the matter of Caravaggio for some months.”

  “How interesting,” Cécile exclaimed. “Are you a spy, Monsieur Hargreaves?”

  “Not at all,” Colin said, laughing. “I am occasionally called on by Buckingham Palace to investigate matters that require more than a modicum of discretion. Rumors of forgery and theft at the British Museum have circulated for some time, and it had become clear that some involved were members of the aristocracy. Her Majesty, as you might imagine, prefers such things to be dealt with as quietly as possible.”

  “So you have been following Andrew all this time?” I asked.

  “Partly, but I have also been following you, Emily, in a vain attempt to keep you out of danger. Shortly before the Palmers joined us on that last safari, Ashton confided in me that he had discovered their involvement in some sort of underground activity. He would tell me no details, insisting that he had the situation well in hand, and that he planned to confront them when they arrived in Africa.”

  “Perhaps he wanted to give them a chance to end things honorably?” I suggested.

  “Yes, he unfortunately assumed that they would hold to a code of gentlemanly behavior similar to his own. He rather liked the idea of handling everything alone, imagining himself as some sort of classical hero.”

  “But when did you learn of the thefts?” Cécile asked.

  “Shortly after I returned to England following Ashton’s death. I did not connect him or the Palmers to any of it until Andrew started to show such an interest in you, Emily.”

  “Is it so astounding that a man would fall in love with Kallista, Monsieur Hargreaves?” Cécile said, arching her eyebrows.

  “Not at all, I assure you,” he replied. “It was, however, astounding that a man of Andrew’s decided lack of intellect would show any interest in investigating Ashton’s papers.”

  “He did that for his father. Lord Palmer asked me for them himself,” I protested. “I have seen the manuscript.”

  “If you knew Andrew better, you would know that he never, on any other occasion, has done anything on behalf of his father. His adult life has been spent deliberately vexing the poor man, squandering his fortune, and generally causing him as much grief as possible. He had no respect for his father’s passion for antiquities. In fact, all this began when Andrew sold pieces of Lord Palmer’s collection to cover gambling debts. He replaced the originals with good copies. His father never suspected a thing.

  “Pleased to have a new source of income, Andrew began spending more and more. Once his father’s collection had been copied and sold, he and Arthur, confident in their success, decided to expand their operation. His father’s reputation enabled the son to get whatever special access to the museum he requested, even after hours. The forger would then make sketches, molds, whatever he needed to copy the piece Andrew had decided to steal. Once the forgery was complete, Andrew could switch it for the original when the museum was closed. If he ran into trouble, he found an obliging night guard who was easily bribed to let him in. The artifact would be sold on the black market. It se
ems there are endless unscrupulous buyers willing to purchase such things.”

  “I am afraid that I thought Philip was guilty,” I admitted, telling him what I had found in the library at Ashton Hall and of the information Cécile had gathered about my husband’s black-market activities.

  Colin sighed and shook his head. “I admit that I, too, suspected him initially, when I first learned he was well known on the black market. That is why I questioned you about purchases he made on your wedding trip. The day when you confessed to me your…er, feelings toward Philip, I thought you were going to tell me that you knew something about his illegal purchases.”

  “Why did Philip collect all the stolen pieces?”

  “He wanted to have all the originals in his possession before he confronted the Palmers. When they joined us in Africa, he told Andrew all he knew and asked him to put an end to the scheme and return what had been taken from the museum.”

  “How did you learn all this?”

  “As I said, I’ve been investigating the matter for some time. I suspected that both the Palmer brothers were involved, but unfortunately they left very little tangible evidence. When Lord Lytton told me that Andrew had been arrested, I confronted Arthur. He told me that Ashton had asked for nothing more than Andrew’s word as a gentleman that they would stop.”

  “Andrew gave his word?”

  “There are few other things he would give away so easily.”

  “But surely he knew that Philip would expose them if they did not stop. Perhaps he did mean to abandon the enterprise.”

  “Andrew is not the type of man to give up what he views as an easy source of income.”

  “And once Philip fell ill, there was no incentive for Andrew to stop.” I paused and looked at Cécile. She held my gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly. “What a convenient coincidence that Philip did not return from Africa.” Colin began to step toward me, then stopped. Cécile took my hand as the reality of what had happened slowly seeped into my consciousness. “Andrew killed him, didn’t he?”