The Ace of Clubs

by Patricia Loofbourrow

  He never thought I would find out.

  “To answer the questions you should be asking: One, I was made aware of certain transactions between Spadros and Diamond Manors; Two, I went to Gardena Diamond —”

  Tony took a step forward. “Jacqui, I can explain —”

  This made me even angrier. “How could you possibly explain this?” Disgusted, I said, “And three: Gardena has told me all.”

  Tony’s demeanor became that of a man terrified by some sudden thought. He whispered, “Not here. Please. We don’t know who listens.” He rushed to put the portraits away and lock the drawer. He tried to take my hand, but I shook it off. He never trusted me. Not once. “Let’s go out to the gardens, Jacqui. Please.”

  So I followed him out to the gardens, then turned on him. “She told me all, Tony. All that you have not told me in the five years since you asked me to marry you. That you love and desire her. That you never wished to marry me —”

  “That’s not true —”

  “— but felt forced to for fear of your father. And that you have a son you never told me about, even when Gardena begged you to.”

  Tony stared at me in horror.

  “Did you think I would harm him? Did you think I would reveal him to your father? Or was I not good enough to know about him? All the times you’ve chided and harassed me, had your men follow and spy on me. You were so worried about what I was doing, what I kept from you, and yet here you’ve kept the most important thing in your life from me. When were you going to tell me? Would I have gone to my grave, not knowing? Would I learn from some tabloid, some chance meeting —”

  Tony flinched. So he knew I saw Roland on Market Center.

  “— and learn the truth? Why am I so untrustworthy in your eyes? What defect have I that I can’t know the bonds of love my husband has, that I have to learn of his son from his mistress?”

  He went pale. “Jacqui, it’s not like that —”

  “Not like what? You don’t spend time with your true family, speak Italian with the woman you love and her son? You never even tried to teach me!” That hurt almost as much as anything else. “Perhaps you have some secret hideaway you use those times when you say you’re out late tending to the Business.”

  Tony said, “I’ve never seen Roland, Jacqui. I wasn’t even allowed to name him. And Gardena’s never allowed me to touch her again.” His shoulders slumped. “After the dinner, a letter came with the last photo: ‘This is all you’ll see until you tell her’.”

  I felt as if cold water had been thrown upon me. So Gardena had blackmailed him, there at the last. That was why Jonathan was so angry at her on Queen’s Day.

  I drew him to the arbor, where two chairs and a small white table stood. I sat across from him, leaning my arms on the table. “Tell me what happened.”

  “What happened? I was young, and stupid, and too much in love.” Tony sounded disgusted with himself. “Several weeks later, I slipped my guards, just as you do. The Diamonds captured and blindfolded me, then told me Gardena was with child. They said I must marry her or sign their paper — but what choice was there? I couldn’t risk harm coming to her. I was barely of age, terrified of my father learning, so I consulted no one. But I must pay, and there’s nothing in the paper as to what I get in return!” He sounded close to panic. “I took them to a secret court after the dinner; my lawyer provided every argument he knew. But it’s no use. I can’t see my son, and if I try I may be prosecuted.” His voice broke. “My own child! I see pictures of him, and he of me. Or so they tell me. Who knows what he thinks!” He put his head in his hands. “He must think I abandoned him. That I care nothing for him. It’s unfair. It’s unjust.”

  “Well,” I said. “This is a situation.” The Diamonds took advantage of his youth, his fear, and played it. “But now that I know, perhaps Gardena can persuade her father to relent.”

  “He hates me, they all do.”

  “Not Jon. And not even Gardena. She said she’s fond of you.”

  More than fond.

  Oh, gods, I thought. She loves him too. “She understands now why you refused to make things right.” I reached across the table, held his hand. “So this is why the nightmares.”

  Tony shook his head. “I know you hate me, Jacqui.”

  I let go of his hand. Did I hate him? I felt crushed, angry, abandoned, betrayed. “You lied to me.”

  Tony went on. “You’re right. I lied. You should have known everything before you agreed to this madness.”

  A pang shot through me: I had never agreed to any of this.

  “I gave money to them instead of keeping it safe for my lawful heirs.” He gave me a small sad smile. “Which I believe you’ll give me someday — if you’ll let me.” He paused, suddenly downcast. “You have every reason to hate me.”

  I leaned forward, cupped his face in my hands. “But I don’t hate you for this.”

  I had other reasons to hate him; sometimes I did. But I didn’t want to think of my forced marriage, my meaningless life in this gilded cage, my murdered friends, his threats. I didn’t want to think about Joe, who I had to see under false pretenses so he wouldn’t be killed too.

  I must never speak of that: Joe had to be kept safe at all costs.

  “In the Pot, none of this would mean anything. You’re providing for your child. You sacrificed your dearest wishes to protect Gardena and your son.”

  Tony stared at me, mouth open. “Y—you’re proud of me?”

  I nodded.

  He took me onto his lap. “Oh, Jacqui, I love you so much.”

  I laid my head on Tony’s shoulder; he wrapped his arms around me. And I thought of Joe’s words two months ago:

  “So he defies his father. He takes you and leaves Bridges. And then what? Are you going to stay with a man, sleep with a man, who you feel for only as a brother? Why?”

  I felt as if I woke to a strange land with no guideposts.

  I waited for Joe’s leg to heal. I wanted to stop the men who kidnapped David. I wanted to learn who killed Marja. But the real reason I stayed? Fear of Roy Spadros.

  At first I didn’t understand what Roy sharing a humiliating secret meant. Roy’s only motivations involved causing pain. But then I realized he caused me pain by sharing his secret. He’d cause Tony and Molly pain if I revealed it. Either way, he’d won.

  My marriage to Tony was a torture set by Roy many years ago. But the torture had unwittingly extended, not only to Gardena, but to her entire family.

  I could no longer play this game. There was only one way everyone could be free.

  I had to leave.

  The Change

  I’d thought of leaving before, and even made plans for it. But when I firmly decided to leave as a definite act of will, a tremendous weight lifted from me.

  Tony asked, “What is it?”

  I kissed his cheek. “Things will turn out well. You’ll see.”

  Of course, all the other reasons I couldn’t leave still remained. But it felt manageable: remove one card — mine — and the game was won. And yet I felt a great fondness for Tony, as if he were already free of me and happy.

  Perhaps I was mad, but it was a beautiful madness, where everything seemed so clear.

  Tony gazed into my eyes: his heart lay bare. “You’re a better woman than I ever imagined. I promise never to hide anything from you again.”

  Then madness passed; grief and anger returned. I rose, turned away. “Let’s go inside.” So I went through the gardens and to the veranda, Tony trailing behind.

  Tony said, “Where would you like to take tea?”

  “Is it that late? Here will do.” I hadn’t faced Tony, nor did I wish to. “I’ll return shortly.”

  I went towards my rooms. I needed to think.

  How was I to find money for four zeppelin tickets? Surely Joe wouldn’t leave his sister to face the Spadros Family alone. Tony would stop at nothing to learn where we went.

  When I entered my room, Amelia said, “Wha
t’s wrong?”

  I fell into her arms and wept; even now I couldn’t say why.

  Amelia just let me cry. Once the storm passed, she took hold of my upper arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Amelia helped raise Tony. I remembered her tears at his broken rib, how she wept the night I almost killed him with opium. I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t want to know.” Amelia loved Tony more than her own son: to learn what he had done, what the Diamonds had done to him .... “There are things I can’t tell you, Amelia.”

  She smiled. “I know, mum. But if ever I might ease your troubles, I’ll do it gladly. You’ve been kinder to me than any mistress should be, and for that I’m grateful.”

  I stared at her, dismayed. “One day we must talk.” Then I sighed. “But today, my husband wishes tea on the veranda.”

  Amelia nodded. “Come wash your face; your makeup needs fixing. Once you’re ready, I’ll take care of everything.”

  Cold water and deep breaths eased my face and mind. As Amelia redid my makeup, I forced myself to list the things which needed doing. I had almost enough money for one zeppelin ticket. Perhaps I might find a case, or borrow the money for more.

  Might the bank be willing to extend me a loan, with my apartments as collateral? They were in my name, after all.

  But the bank would want to know why I needed a loan, and surely would notify Tony — or worse, Roy — to ask permission.

  Or perhaps I could see a broker to ask about the value of the apartments. But how to do so without involving Tony? He’d wish to know why I would sell the apartments so soon, especially since they were the only thing I had left of Dame Anastasia.

  But I still had her makeup book. If I were to disguise myself well enough to fool Tony’s men, I might fool a property broker.

  “There!” Amelia spoke proudly. “Stand tall and smile, and no one will ever know you shed a tear.”

  * * *

  During tea, I considered the matter. A female broker would be scrutinized more closely than if I approached the bank myself. Someone would contact Tony or Roy to confirm my identity.

  I decided honesty might be the best policy here. Or at least forthrightness. “I wish to renovate my apartments.”

  Tony sat reading some mail. “Oh?”

  “I’ll need to take a loan on the bank.”

  Tony smiled. “No need — I’ll give you the money.”

  If I were to steal from the Spadros Family, they would never stop hunting me. “Are you certain? I could take the loan, and establish credit. I’ve read that —”

  Tony burst out laughing. “A married woman? Taking loans, establishing credit? You sound like some widow merchant.” He smiled fondly at me. “There’s no need for such things. Write a list of what’s needed, and the amount, and I’ll give it to you. Or contract it out and have the bills sent to me.” He went back to reading. “Whatever you wish.”

  “Very well.”

  This was a mistake. If I made a list, Tony — or his accountant — would want to verify how the money was spent. Not only a mistake, a dead end.

  Perhaps inspiration might come to me later. In the meantime, there was something else I needed to bring up. “I know you said you didn’t want me working on cases anymore, but ... I must learn who killed my friend Marja. She was as a mother to me.”

  Tony glanced at the servants. “Might we discuss this some other time?”

  I had forgotten they stood there. “You’re right, of course.”

  * * *

  After tea, Tony and I met with three Spadros Family lawyers. Tony’s father Roy wanted to meet with us as well — or so Tony said — but Tony refused to have him here.

  The men sat in armchairs in Tony’s study; we sat on the sofa. Tony posted Sawbuck to keep anyone from listening.

  A Mr. Primero Trevisane spoke, the other two taking notes. “I’ve managed to place you and your wife at the end of the proceedings, which went well with the inquest’s wishes.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. “If I recall, this means they wish to build their case on testimony we might give, to prove us false.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Trevisane said. “Yet we can hear and counter their evidence.” He opened a thick folder. “Servants were questioned first: those in attendance at the explosion and of all four Families.”

  “Four?” I said.

  “Since the allegation of collusion has taken place,” Mr. Trevisane said, “the inquest has been made aware that this could be a Hart plot to defame the three Families so accused.”

  I laughed. “An idea likely from the Clubbs.” Everyone stared at me. “It’s no secret they bear animosity towards each other.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Trevisane said. “In any case, the questions seem irrelevant. What fuel runs the heating in Spadros Manor? When is Mrs. Spadros ‘at home’? Have there been any incidents?”

  “Such as?” Tony said.

  “The dismissal of three kitchen maids from the Pot. It angered many that instead of hiring their own, Spadros Manor would bring this sort,” he glanced at me, “to serve in such capacity.”

  Tony said, “A mistake which has since been corrected.”

  “But your butler revealed the theft of letters from your wife.” He turned to me. “Perhaps you can enlighten us on this matter.”

  “I never thought to examine them. If I may, I’ll fetch them.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Spadros. It would be helpful.”

  I poured a drink and began searching. I found the letters stacked at one end of the window-seat in my study. “They’re all personal correspondence. Must you read them?”

  Mr. Trevisane pursed his lips, frowning. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Spadros, but they might contain something important.” He conferred with the others in whispers. “If you would care to read them? Perhaps some detail might help.”

  I opened one. “A notice of an appointment with my dressmaker.” I set it aside. “A personal note inquiring after my health.” That was from Jonathan. And then I scanned the next envelope. “I don’t recall getting this.”

  Tony leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “A letter from Jo — Miss Josephine Kerr.” I’d never seen Josie’s handwriting before then; all her cards and envelopes so far had been embossed. But it seemed familiar. I tore the envelope open and glanced at the top: dated from before the Grand Ball.

  They intercepted my mail!

  But how? All mail was supposed to go through Pearson. “Does Pearson keep a record of the mail?”

  Tony rang for Pearson.

  Why would they take a letter sent from Josie?

  Pearson entered. “Yes, sir?”

  Tony said, “Mrs. Spadros has a few questions for you.”

  Pearson closed the door, taking several steps into the room. For the first time, he seemed uneasy. “How can I help, mum?”

  “Do you keep a record of mail?”

  He glanced between Tony and I. “What sort of record?”

  “When a letter leaves. Where it’s sent. When one arrives.”

  “Yes, mum.” He surveyed the room. “Do you need it?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. His face never changed, but he was angry.

  I turned to Mr. Trevisane. “I fear these women were stealing my mail for longer than we thought. They may have been gathering information about who I have contact with.”

  Tony nodded. “Might they have also taken mail you posted?”

  “How would they do that?”

  Mr. Trevisane said, “One might only bribe a messenger boy to have access to all sorts of information. We never use them except for the most routine correspondence.”

  “Hey, you need be giving us more money.” Poignee stood in front of me in my study, hands on her hips. Ottilie and Treysa stood beside her. “You wouldn’t want us telling Mr. Spadros about your romp with Joseph Kerr, now, would you?”

  They blackmailed me to bribe messengers for my letters?

  Tony said, “The will?”

  “Oh,
yes, sir,” Mr. Trevisane said, opening another file from his case. He handed over a stack of papers. “Your signature on the last page, sir, then we can witness it.”

  He was going through with this?

  Tony scanned the papers then signed. “Arrange a bank account for my wife. Place the income from her apartments there.”

  The lawyers gaped at Tony. “Why sir,” Mr. Trevisane said, “a woman? Holding a bank account? Why, it’s preposterous! We’ll have to consult your father —”

  Tony’s expression didn’t change. He reached into his left jacket pocket, removed his revolver from its holster, then placed it on his leg, the barrel pointing towards the man. “I didn’t hear you correctly. Are you my attorney or are you my father’s?”

  Mr. Trevisane glanced at the revolver. “Y—yours, sir.”

  “Then pray carry out my wishes. Without involving my father.” He pointed the gun back and forth at the three men, not raising it from his leg. “Or I will know who to call to account. Make sure the bank understands this as well, because I’ll hold you responsible should he hear of it.”

  The three turned pale, then nodded. Tony replaced his revolver in its holster.

  I glanced at the fireplace, where Tony shot Duck after the man betrayed him. I could never forget the pool of blood there.

  I’d been to the bank on Tony’s behalf many times, and of course I had Anastasia’s lockbox. But I’d never had a bank account before, and I didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid.

  Pearson returned with two of his sons, each carrying a large stack of ledgers. “This is for the year so far, mum.”

  And it wasn’t yet May! “Bring the six months prior.” I turned to the men. “That was when the women were most saucy to me,” I gave Tony a quick glance, “which is why they were dismissed.”

  These men had no business hearing the real reason.

  Pearson glanced between us then said, “Yes, mum.” The three left, returning — in two trips — with six equally large stacks.

  Pearson wouldn’t recognize some of my mail, but Tony would wonder why I wrote to (for example) Thrace Pike. I needed to see what was in the ledgers before Tony did. “This’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack. I keep record of correspondence; I’d be happy to search for missing mail.” I didn’t keep any record, but it was the best way to control these records I could think of.