The Circle of Sappho

by David Lassman

  ‘If I am honest, I do not have much time for her, although I reserve admiration for her later work, especially her more pious and reverential writings. I believe they represent her true nature.’

  Mary was slightly bemused by these remarks.

  ‘Forgive me Mr Huntley, but my brother has spoken of your keen literary acumen and perception. I do think though, in light of your evaluation of Mrs Rowe, he may have been mistaken.’

  ‘Touché, Miss Gardiner, and please forgive me, my dear, as I could not help indulge in a little amusement at your expense. I chanced upon your biographical sketch of Mrs Rowe on Lady Harriet’s table this afternoon, after my arrival, and I would not remain in business as a literary agent for long if I did not peruse, however fleetingly, any unpublished manuscript that happens to cross my path.’

  The other guests around Lady Harriet’s dinner table, except Swann, laughed nervously; many relieved the verbal sparring between Huntley and Mary had been based on nothing more than a fabrication, at least on Huntley’s part.

  ‘In fact, Miss Gardiner,’ continued Huntley, ‘I consider Mrs Rowe to be one of our most esteemed authoresses and poets, as well as a well-rounded woman, in terms of her attributes, which your essay has fully appreciated. You have a style about your prose which is, in turn, praiseworthy and enviable. Possibly a little verbose and didactic in places, if I may venture such an opinion, but overall I feel you have captured her essence and brought the subject to life in a manner which the great artists achieve on canvas. But then, of course, having seen your work, I know you are an accomplished portrait artist, as well.’

  ‘I believe your statement regarding having seen my niece’s work to be erroneous, Mr Huntley,’ said Lady Harriet, in a measured but light-hearted manner, ‘given the fact you have not previously met my niece, at least not to my knowledge, and therefore have had no opportunity to view her artistic endeavours.’

  Swann instinctively knew he had to assist his good friend in extricating himself from a potentially troublesome situation.

  ‘On the contrary, Lady Harriet,’ he interjected. ‘Huntley met Mary in Bath last autumn, at the Luchini exhibition. As Mr Luchini was Mary’s art teacher at the time, I am naturally inclined to suppose I mentioned to him, in passing, my sister’s accomplishments in portraiture, but can only assume my descriptions were so vivid, Huntley here believes he has actually viewed several of them!’

  ‘Yes, that sounds like me,’ said Huntley laughing, although visibly relieved at Swann’s intervention. ‘I do remember the exhibition well, but obviously had forgotten our conversation, Swann. By the way, how is your piece on Bath Abbey coming along?’

  ‘It is as good as completed,’ replied Swann, ‘and will be with you by Sunday.’

  ‘Good. I would not want you dying on me as well, before it was finished. Although, obviously I would not wish you dead after its completion, either!’ Richard Huntley was the kind of person who would throw in a remark and then retire quietly to observe the verbal melee that ensued. On this occasion, however, he had been brought to account by Lady Harriet, herself known for her well-aimed comments. He had taken an instant dislike to her from their first meeting, but as they both worked for the same section within the Aliens Office, he knew he had to tread cautiously. As for Swann, Huntley was grateful for his intervention. It had been chance that brought them together in a London bookshop a few years previously, when a passing remark by Swann to the bookseller about an author Huntley represented had opened a literary conversation that had since led to friendship. When he later learnt that Swann was related to Lady Harriet, it seemed like provenance that the encounter had occurred.

  It had been an eventful week for Lady Harriet. The murder of a diplomat’s daughter and an employee of a close friend had been a bad way to start the week. This had been followed by the unwillingness of one of her agents to carry on the work he had been spared the gallows in order to undertake; a struggle to distract her nephew from the pursuit of a man he sought over his father’s murder; and what had amounted to a dressing down from a man who, if not her direct boss, could easily cause a lot of trouble for her. And now there was this; a potential breech of security caused by Huntley’s carelessness that could bring all of her carefully orchestrated plans crashing down, through the mere utterance of one untimely remark. She had thought at the time, when the Scarred Man portrait was being duplicated from Mary’s original rendering, for agents in the field, that Huntley did not have a high enough level of clearance to warrant receiving a copy – but she had been overruled. Her instinct had been vindicated. The transgression was diffused now though, through the intervention of Swann and the fortuitous meeting at that exhibition the previous autumn. Now to return to the business in hand; this evening’s gathering.

  Alongside Lady Harriet were eight guests seated around the dinner table and each one had been invited by Lady Harriet for a different, specific reason known to her alone. Along with Swann, Mary and Huntley, was Lockhart, Catherine Jennings, Mrs Forsyth, a near-neighbour of Harriet’s, and Colonel Braithwaite and his ‘daughter’ (a successful subterfuge carried out in regard to everyone else seated around the table, except for Harriet, who knew the truth about their relationship, and Swann, who had concluded it through his observations of them throughout the evening).

  A ninth guest, John Bolton, the deceased girl’s chaperone, had been invited but had not yet arrived. Whether he would now appear was open to conjecture, especially as the second course was about to be brought in.

  As one group of servants cleared away the remains of the first course from the table, so another group began to bring in the dishes of the next; placing them on the table in accordance with prearranged instructions. Where there had been dishes of petit patties, Soup de Santé, haricos of mutton, chicken, turkey, tongue, sheep’s rump and sweetbreads-à-la-daub, there were now scalloped oysters, apple puffs, prawns, Fowl à la Braise, rib of lamb, broccoli and Pompadore cream.

  Not long after this course had been served, and with everyone replete with their fill of food and feeling the effects of the alcohol, a half-full wine glass was tapped several times. The various conversations taking place ended and all eyes focussed on the instigator of the sound.

  ‘Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Lockhart, standing up. ‘I have an announcement to make. As many of you may know, Miss Gardiner and I are engaged to be married.’ Lockhart glanced down at Mary, seated next to him, and she smiled. ‘Until this evening, however, we had not yet finalised a date. Having had a most agreeable conversation with Lady Harriet, the aunt of my betrothed, I am pleased to announce that the wedding is to take place at the end of October.’

  Mrs Forsyth and Catherine Jennings, along with Colonel Braithwaite and his ‘daughter’, immediately offered their congratulations to the happy couple, while Swann, Lady Harriet and Huntley used the distraction to gather their thoughts regarding the announcement.

  ‘Lady Harriet has also kindly agreed to host the service and celebrations here in the grounds of her house, as well as providing accommodation for those guests travelling a great distance,’ continued Lockhart. ‘This obviously all depends on whether Lady Harriet’s builders have finished their work, of course.’ This last sentence was delivered sardonically.

  The congratulating guests all laughed. Mrs Forsyth turned to Lady Harriet.

  ‘Is there any news when your builders may actually conclude?’ she enquired.

  ‘They have assured me they will be finished by the end of the summer,’ replied Harriet.

  ‘Yes, but have they told you which year?’ quipped the colonel, rather red-faced from his over-indulgence of alcohol that evening. Miss Jennings and Mrs Forsyth, along with Mary and Lockhart, all laughed at the colonel’s witticism, and even Huntley managed the briefest of smiles. When the colonel proposed a toast to the couple, they all lifted their glasses in unison and wished Mary and Lockhart the very best for the future.

  As far as Harriet was concerned, t
he evening had gone from bad to worse. For the second time tonight one of her guests, with whom she had close working ties, had spoken out of turn. The agreement to an October wedding was only provisional, she had told Lockhart when they had met before dinner, and would depend on what happened in the intervening months. To announce it ‘officially’ in front of witnesses was beyond disobedience. If she wanted the Office’s secret operation to be successful, however, she would just have to stand back and do nothing for the time being. She needed Lockhart as much as he needed her and he knew it!

  Swann was inwardly furious he had not been consulted about the wedding date and would confront Lady Harriet at the earliest opportunity over it. As for Huntley, the announcement meant that his earlier faux pas regarding Mary’s portrait had now been well and truly annulled. If his had been no more than a skirmish, then Harriet’s agreement to a wedding date was tantamount to a declaration of war. He still could not believe, given what he knew of her relationship with Lockhart and the man’s notorious past, that she could not only arrange a date for him to be married but the bride was to be her own flesh and blood!

  Catherine Jennings, although outwardly congratulatory, pondered the sense of a woman wanting to subjugate herself to a man. Had she not said as much last year, during a talk in this very building? She wholeheartedly believed the responsibility of a woman remaining true to herself within marriage lay solely with the woman, she had told the packed room. She should therefore ensure that the man she is going to marry will not stand in her way of continuing personal development. Miss Jennings had recognised Mary from that talk, and now wondered how much of her speech had been retained.

  Mrs Forsyth, on the other hand, could not imagine a woman not being married to a man. She had enjoyed nearly forty years of married bliss and the secret, if anyone ever ventured to ask her, was that they were spent with several different husbands. It seemed no sooner had the passion begin to wane from one of her marriages, the husband would ‘fortuitously’ pass away and she would find another, sooner rather than later, to take his place and so rekindle the fervour.

  Lockhart’s announcement reminded Colonel Braithwaite of his own marriage and how much he regretted undertaking it. This thought, however, was tempered by the fact his wife was many miles away, holidaying with friends in Brighton, and he was able to spend the night in the company of his ‘daughter’ and enjoy Harriet’s hospitality of the guest room. As for this ‘daughter’, she wanted only to be married to the wealthy and elderly colonel, yet at this present moment she also wished herself in the opposite seat to where she was now, in that of the bride-to-be, having taken a fancy to the man who had made the announcement.

  As for Lockhart himself, he was overjoyed that he had found the courage to announce it tonight, as it meant Lady Harriet could not indulge in any delaying tactics given as it was now in the public domain. He knew it was a gamble to have done so, as there were certain risks involved, but then had he not always been so lucky. The fact he had met someone of Mary’s calibre, after everything he had gone through, surely meant something. And long may it carry on, he thought to himself. He would just have to figure out a way to keep all the plates spinning until October. He could do it. He would just have to convince Kirby to let him continue working for the organisation but not to escort the women. If Swann found out about it, he would surely tell his sister and there was every good chance that she would believe him and bring an end to their engagement. It was now almost seven months since he had met Mary and he still felt the same way about her. No, if anything, his feelings were even stronger.

  The meal ended not long after the toast had been made and as much as Harriet would have liked to have said goodnight to the guests there and then, she offered her assembled visitors the opportunity to play cards; hazard being the game of choice.

  In the time it took everyone to walk from Harriet’s dining table to the nearby room where several card tables had been set up, Swann had become engaged in two furtive conversations. The first was with his sister. ‘Are you happy for me, Jack?’ Swann thought for a moment before he answered.

  ‘I do not believe he is the right man for you, Mary,’ he had replied honestly, ‘but if it is your desire to marry him and you are truly happy, then I am happy for you.’

  Mary went through to the other room, content at her brother’s answer. As Swann moved forward, he felt an arm grab him and hold him back. It was Huntley.

  ‘Jack,’ he whispered. ‘I cannot tell you how I know, but the man with the scar you seek will be in Bath sometime on Saturday night and will be in the city for no more than a day. I implore you not to seek him though, as your life will be in great danger. If you do, however, you must know that you are, at present, being played as that of a pawn in a game of chess. That is all I can say for now.’ He put a finger to his lips in a ‘silence’ gesture. And with that he was gone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After numerous games of cards, the party of guests at Harriet’s residence had started to go their separate ways. A drunken Colonel Braithwaite had retired with his ‘daughter’ to his host’s guest bedroom, replete with the four-poster bed that awaited them, while Huntley had made his farewells and left the estate completely.

  Swann had been walking up and down the corridors, looking for Harriet and determined to confront her over the matter of the wedding. He had left Mary and Lockhart in the card room conversing with Mrs Forsyth, who had been in the process of giving them advice on what constituted a successful marriage.

  The door to the library was ajar and there was a light inside. He knocked on the door and entered.

  ‘Forgive me, Lady Harriet, I did not realise you were with company.’

  ‘Do not worry Swann,’ replied Harriet. ‘Catherine was about to retire for the evening.’

  ‘Yes, Harriet has kindly offered me a guest room for the night. The hour has become later than I would wish to return to the school.’

  ‘I was just updating Catherine on your progress into the deaths at her school.’

  ‘I am afraid I have not made much,’ replied Swann, addressing Miss Jennings. ‘I wonder though whether you will be at the school sometime tomorrow?’

  ‘My carriage will be returning Catherine in the morning,’ replied Lady Harriet.

  ‘Good,’ said Swann. ‘I would be grateful if you could arrange it so I can talk to Anne again. She was one of the girls that shared a dormitory with Grace and I have a couple more questions for her.’

  Swann had not mentioned to Lady Harriet or Miss Jennings about the Circle of Sappho yet, as he was not certain whether either of the two women in his presence now were involved in it.

  ‘Will ten o’clock be agreeable, Mr Swann? I shall be at the school by then.’

  ‘That will be most agreeable, Miss Jennings,’ replied Swann.

  Miss Jennings said her goodnights to Harriet and Swann and made her way out of the library.

  ‘I thought we had an agreement to make certain the marriage did not happen,’ said Swann to Harriet, as soon as Miss Jennings was out of sight.

  ‘And so we did,’ replied Lady Harriet.

  ‘Then why have you arranged a date for the wedding behind my back?’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ said Harriet quietly, as she crossed to the library door to close it. ‘Our agreement has not changed. It is just that certain developments have occurred which necessitated me being seen to be arranging the wedding.’

  ‘I do not understand. All I know is that something I thought we were both supposedly against is now taking place with seemingly your full agreement and co-operation.’

  ‘Swann, listen to me. There are things you do not understand; there are powers at work which are greater than us. I cannot divulge details; I only ask that you trust me in this matter. Believe me, I do not want this marriage any more than you do and I have no intention of allowing it to proceed.’

  ‘What about Mary?’

  ‘That is where I need you, Swann. You will have to be there
for her when the time comes to terminate the engagement.’

  ‘Terminate?’

  Lady Harriet was silent.

  ‘Is Mary in danger?’

  ‘Swann, this is not the time or place to —’

  ‘Damn it Lady Harriet! I believe it is. I will never willingly let any harm come to Mary and if it does, I can assure you that I will not stop in my pursuit to bring anyone remotely responsible to justice.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Swann?’

  ‘No, and I apologise for my outburst, but you talk about country, service, government. What are these things compared to family?’

  ‘You are not the only one who has lost someone dear and seek justice for them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘As you know, I was widowed far too soon.’

  ‘Yes, I know, your husband died in an accident, he fell from a mountain path.’

  ‘It was no accident,’ whispered Harriet. ‘He was murdered.’

  ‘I am sorry, Lady Harriet,’ replied Swann, his voice quiet. ‘I had no idea. What happened?’

  ‘He was betrayed by those he worked for and I have made it my life’s work, just like you with your father, to avenge his death.’

  Harriet gestured for Swann to sit down in one of the armchairs near the fire, reminiscent of his meeting with Moorhouse only the night before at Fitzpatrick’s club.

  ‘What I am about to tell you I have never told anyone else,’ said Harriet, sitting down opposite Swann, ‘and you must swear to keep it to yourself.’

  ‘Why are you telling me?’

  ‘I want you to know you can trust me and that in many ways we are alike in what we seek. My husband, as you may be aware, was financially independent but worked for the government, in the same capacity as I do at the moment. We had not long arrived in Constantinople when my husband announced he had to go to the island of Crete on an urgent matter. He had been there several times before, while we were living in Athens, but always on his own. This time I told him I wanted to go with him. He was reluctant at first, but I convinced him to take me and so we went. No sooner had we arrived at our hotel than he left for a meeting from which he never returned. I was told that on the way there, he had accidentally fallen from a goat path somewhere in the mountains and broken his neck. The two British Government officials who told me the news advised that I should leave for England. Once I agreed, they made arrangements for my departure the following day.