A Poisoned Season lem-2 Read online

  "It's not simply about recovering the earrings," I said.

  "Je ne sais pas," Cécile said. "I would very much like to get my earrings back. They're a favorite pair."

  "Of course," I said. "But isn't catching the thief and preventing further thefts of primary importance?" Cécile shrugged but did not answer. "If nothing else, I call on you, as a gentleman, to see to it that you do all you can to keep the name of poor Marie Antoinette from being subject to more intrigue and scandal."

  "You are most persistent, Lady Ashton. I will talk to the police in the morning if you insist that it is the right thing to do. In the meantime, tell me what you thought of the play we saw tonight."

  "I adored it," I said. "Hedda's plight is fascinating. She's incapable of taking pleasure in those things it is assumed will bring a woman happiness."

  "So miserable, yet she seems the perfect wife," Mr. Barber said.

  "It's rarely wise to accept at face value the image presented by a society wife," I said.

  "Or a husband," said Mr. Francis.

  "Quite." I smiled, all the while wondering what layers could be found beneath my guest's polished façade.

  Mr. Francis was true to his word and spoke to the police about the pink diamond the very next morning. Within two days, the newspapers were filled with sensationalised stories about the thefts. All of society was buzzing about it, and Charles Berry made a great show of issuing a plea to the burglar through the Times, asking that all the objects that belonged to his great-great-grandmother be returned to their rightful owners. Those in possession of such items were thrown into a frenzy, desperate to protect themselves from the thief. Lady Middleton, who owned a chair purported to have been in the queen's bedroom at Versailles, caused a scene when she sent it to her bank and insisted that it be stored in the vault.

  "The president of the bank tried to dissuade her, but she refused," Margaret Seward told me as we sat in the Elgin Room of the British Museum that afternoon. "I wish I could have witnessed their exchange."

  "Who would dare cross Lady Middleton? I wonder that he even tried." I was sketching a piece of the east pediment of the Parthenon, which depicted the birth of the goddess Athena. Margaret, who read classics at Bryn Mawr, had brought a volume of Ovid with her, and she alternately read and chatted with me while I worked. Occasionally, she would meander through the museum, ready with amusing reports upon her return.

  "I have just spotted a man nearly as handsome as Colin," she said after one such journey.

  "Really?" This caught my attention.

  "Well, not quite. I don't suppose there is another man as handsome as Colin. But this one comes close. He's walking with a terrified-looking young lady and her mother — a real dragon."

  "Did you recognize any of them?"

  "The girl is called 'Lettice.'"

  "Ah," I said. "Lettice Frideswide. The man must be Jeremy."

  "You know him?"

  "Oh yes, quite well. He's the Duke of Bainbridge. Inherited last year. His estate is near my father's."

  "Emily, I will never forgive you for hiding him from me. You know my parents have me here to look for a husband. My father won't settle for anyone without a title — it's crass, but that's the truth of it." Mr. Seward was a wealthy railroad man who, like so many other Americans, longed to see his daughter part of England's aristocracy. Margaret had agreed to do the Season only in exchange for her parents' promise that she could study at Oxford in the fall. "Tell me, is dear Jeremy engaged to the lovely Lettice?"

  "I don't think so. He's quite in demand and doesn't seem inclined to settle down."

  "He is perfect," she sighed.

  "Margaret, I am all astonishment. I thought you'd no intention of marrying."

  "I don't want to marry him, but I am desperate for someone to flirt with. Perhaps the good duke and I can come to some sort of understanding that can see me through the rest of the Season. He pays court, which keeps my parents happy, but is safe in the knowledge that I've no desire to marry him. When he hasn't proposed and it's time for me to go to Oxford, they'll return to America, armed with stories about the English lord who let their daughter slip away."

  "Lady Frideswide would never forgive you. She's been trying to catch Jeremy for her daughter almost since the girl was born."

  "And what does the daughter think?"

  "I've not the slightest idea."

  "She's awfully young. It won't harm her to wait another Season. Will you introduce me?"

  "I suppose so. Were they coming this way?"

  "They're upstairs looking at mummies." Margaret looked at me expectantly.

  "Are you suggesting that you want me to rush over there and nonchalantly introduce you to the Duke of Bainbridge? Won't it look a bit obvious?" I turned back to my sketch. "No one comes to the museum without visiting the Elgin Room. Be patient, Margaret, and your duke will come to you."

  I was right. Not half an hour passed before Jeremy and his party, which had expanded to include Lady Elinor and Isabelle, appeared. The ladies were dressed with such violent elegance that I almost regretted having chosen to abandon the tight lacing of corsets. To stave off the feeling, I took a breath far deeper than any of them could hope to draw and smiled broadly, giving my hand to the duke. Greetings were exchanged and introductions made, following which there was little conversation of substance. Lady Elinor complimented my drawing, and I her pin, a striking bird of paradise fashioned out of gold, its feathers covered with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. Margaret was politeness itself, eager to impress Jeremy, who clearly felt no discomfort at finding himself the only gentleman in such a large group of ladies. The younger members of the party remained silent, posed prettily behind their mothers, until Lettice stepped towards me, squinting as she looked at the sculptures in front of us.

  "Where's the baby?" she asked. "The sign says this shows the birth of Athena."

  "There is no baby," I said, smiling. "Athena sprang fully grown from Zeus's head."

  "Really?" She looked at me, then at Isabelle. "I don't know the story."

  "Athena's mother was Metis, Zeus's first wife — "

  "Yes, thank you, Lady Ashton." Lady Frideswide took Lettice's arm and steered her back to Isabelle. I was stunned by her rudeness and decided there was no reason now for me not to act boldly on Margaret's behalf.

  "Have you plans for luncheon, Your Grace?" I asked, turning to Jeremy.

  "Really, Lady Ashton," he replied, stressing each syllable of my name. "There's no need for such formality. We've known each other since we were babies. I'm lunching at my club."

  "What a disappointment," I said. "I should so like to visit with you." Lady Frideswide flashed a look of disbelief. "Leave your club for tomorrow and join Miss Seward and me today."

  "Is there a man in Britain able to resist you, Lady Ashton? What time do you want me?" Jeremy's acceptance of this invitation would be viewed as a social coup. Luncheon was typically a ladies' meal; gentlemen preferred their clubs. My mother would certainly pay me a visit the moment she heard of this. I turned to Margaret as the duke and ladies left us.

  "You are going to be forever indebted to me for this."

  "Oh, he's perfectly agreeable. You didn't have to work on him at all. I love him already."

  "The gossips will say that I've set my cap for the Duke of Bainbridge."

  "Not once he turns his attentions to me."

  "How, precisely, do you plan to manage that? Are you going to speak to him directly about what you want?"

  "I was hoping you could broker it for me, Emily. Then I truly will be forever indebted to you."

  Margaret excused herself soon after we had retired to the sitting room following the luncheon. Jeremy squirmed uncomfortably, clearly surprised at having been left alone with me.

  "Have you contrived this meeting, Em?" he asked, addressing me as he had since he was five years old. "What's going on?"

  "Don't worry, Jeremy, you're quite safe from me. I've no interest in marrying you."


  He slumped in his chair. "That's a relief. Although I will say candidly that when at last I accept the inevitable and marry, I won't be able to find a more charming wife than you."

  "Don't waste your flattery on me."

  "Let me flatter you. Doing it to anyone else will set tongues wagging across town and lead to rumors of imminent marriage."

  "I know your plight only too well."

  "I suppose you do. But I thought you and Hargreaves..." He stopped.

  "Colin and I are not engaged," I said. "What about you and Lettice Frideswide?"

  "There is no affection between us. Lettice seems more terrified of me than anything, and there has never been any talk of an engagement except by our mothers. You and I are similar creatures. Each with perfect opportunity before us yet unwilling to take it. Perhaps we should join forces. If all of society believes we have an understanding, they'll leave us alone."

  "An interesting proposition, Jeremy, and very similar to the one I was about to make to you, but not for myself."

  "For whom, then?"

  "Margaret." I quickly described her situation. "If her parents think she's got a duke, they'll let her do whatever she wants."

  Jeremy laughed loudly. "This is priceless. What a lark. Tell her I'll do it," he said, continuing to laugh. "I'd never have expected such a devious plan from you."

  "All credit goes to Margaret."

  "And, Emily" — he grew serious — "if you ever...if Hargreaves doesn't...if you do need someone...I think you and I could come to a mutually satisfactory understanding."

  "Really, Jeremy, that has to be one of the most romantic proposals in all of English history. May I record it in my diary?"

  "I mean it, Em."

  "I shall keep that in mind, Your Grace."

  3

  To say that my mother was gratified by the attentions bestowed on me by the Duke of Bainbridge would be a grotesque understatement. Although our families were close, her friendship with Lady Frideswide had precluded her considering him as a potential husband for me. Now, however, she was convinced that the duke had strayed from Lettice of his own accord, and if her daughter was now the object of his affections, who was she to protest? I insisted to her that Margaret, not I, was in his sights, but she refused to accept this. No one could make her believe that a duke would choose an American over the daughter of an English peer.

  "I'll listen to none of this nonsense," she said, after she had accosted me on the banks of the Thames at the Henley Regatta. "Between the Duke and Colin Hargreaves, you're sure to make an excellent match before the end of the Season. Neither will be willing to let you wait knowing that the other is competing for your favor." She looked at me and frowned. "Where is your parasol?"

  "I didn't feel like dragging it along with me."

  "My child, I fear for you. You are mere days away from completely destroying your complexion." She tugged at my hat, trying to make it better shade my face. "I've had a lovely day. His Grace was kind enough to offer me a spot on Temple Island. How I wish you could have joined us!"

  "I didn't realize Jeremy was a member of the Leander Club." The island, which was for Leander members, not only provided an excellent vantage point, but also was the most exclusive area from which to view the race. Of its two merits, I knew it was the latter that most impressed my mother.

  "Don't play coy, Emily. You're perfectly aware of all of Bainbridge's attributes. I'm just glad to see that he's beginning to take notice of yours."

  "Mother — "

  "And this is as good a time as any to point out that your odd reading habits are beginning to disconcert people."

  "My reading habits are not — "

  "We all understand that it was terribly shocking for you to lose your husband. Mourning is a dreadful time. But now it is over and there is no need to persist in this morbid habit of reading tedious books. Lady Elliott told me that she saw you with a copy of the Odyssey in the park."

  "Do you have a particular objection to Homer, or are you against all ancient texts?"

  "There is no need to speak to me like that, Emily. I cannot imagine what possessed you to bring a book to the park."

  "The weather was fine and I wanted to sit outside. A shocking concept, I agree."

  "Well, open a window, or if you must be outdoors, stay on your own property. There's no need to flaunt your eccentricities in front of all of London." She removed a pair of spectacles from her reticule, put them on, and peered at my face. "I do believe you are getting freckles." She thrust her parasol over me.

  "Thank you, Mother. As always, your support overwhelms me."

  "Don't take a snide tone with me. You are the widow of a viscount and need to start acting like one."

  "Acting like a viscount?" I bestowed on her my most charming smile. "Perhaps that's what I'm doing when I'm reading Homer."

  "Your behavior is intolerable. You should take better care or you'll find yourself isolated from all the decent people in England." With that, she marched away.

  I left the river not long afterwards and returned home, exhausted, my cheeks and nose a distressingly bright shade of pink. On this count, at least, my mother had been correct. My hat, though very elegant, had not provided enough protection from the sun. I longed for a cool bath, but as soon as I had asked Meg to draw one, Davis announced a visitor. I looked at the card he handed me and walked, puzzled, to my drawing room, where I faced a woman I had never before seen. She was dressed in the unrelenting black of a new widow and darted towards me the moment I entered the room.

  "I shall not apologize for coming to you like this, Lady Ashton. You cannot be surprised to see me."

  "I'm so sorry, I've not the slightest idea to what you refer." I glanced again at her calling card. "Mrs. Francis? Is your husband David Francis?"

  "There's no need to play naïve with me, young lady. I know all about — " She stopped, her eyes brimming with tears.

  "Please sit down." I ushered her to a chair and rang for tea, growing more confused with each passing moment. "Have we met before?"

  This made her laugh, with a deep, nervous sound. "I am quite aware that you were my husband's mistress. Now that he is dead — "

  "Dead? Mr. Francis is dead?" I pictured him sitting in my library not two weeks ago and, though I had not known him well, was consumed with the horrible, sinking sensation that is the faithful spouse of all dreadful news.

  "He died two days ago."

  "I am more sorry than I can say. Was he ill?"

  "You know that he was not." Above their red rims, her eyes blazed with acrimony. The heat in my house was suffocating. I crossed the room and began flinging open windows. A parlormaid entered with a tea tray.

  "No, take it away," I said. "Bring us something cold."

  Mrs. Francis did not speak again until the girl had left the room. "His last words were about you."

  "How can that be? I only met him once."

  "I'll thank you not to pretend innocence. If it was only once — " She had started to cry again, and I could not bear seeing the pain etched on her face.

  "Please, let me comfort you." I took her hand, and though she would not look at me, she did not pull it away. "I know not how such a misunderstanding has come to pass. I was never your husband's mistress, nor was I romantically linked with him in any way. He was one of a group of my friends at the theater a week or so ago, and we all came here afterwards. Nothing of significance transpired between us."

  "Why, then, was it your name that he uttered with his last breath?"

  "I've no idea. You must know his friend, Mr. Michael Barber? He was here with us, and I'm sure he could put your mind to rest."

  "Michael was here?" Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

  "What did your husband say about me?"

  "He asked that I bring his snuffbox to you."

  "His snuffbox?"

  "It's a pretty silver thing that once belonged to Marie Antoinette. I assumed that he had promised it to you."


  This gave me a better sense of why he had wanted me to have the box. "Did he know he was dying?"

  "Yes." She raised her eyes to meet mine.

  "I can well understand why you suspect what you do. But I think, Mrs. Francis, that your husband was simply trying to protect you." I recounted for her our conversation about the thefts and the pink diamond, leaving out the bits in which he had described his wife. Any lady capable of confronting her husband's suspected paramour so soon after his death had far too much spirit to be painfully shy.

  "Now it is I who am confused. What is this pink diamond?"

  "The one that was stolen from your home. Your husband saw no point in upsetting you with the news of the theft, although I suppose once it was in the papers he had to come clean. Men do so like to think they're protecting ladies, don't they?"

  "We've never owned a pink diamond."

  "You're certain?" I asked, not terribly surprised. I remembered that Mr. Francis said that it wasn't the sort of thing his wife would have liked.

  "Without a doubt. I've always admired colored diamonds — the white ones seem to me altogether lacking in soul. David knows that better than anyone." She held out her hand to show me her wedding ring, a gold band with a large blue diamond set in it. "You say the newspapers reported this? We don't take them at the house, so I never see them. David prefers to read them at his club."

  "The thefts have been the biggest news of the Season." I frowned, wondering why Mr. Francis would have hidden the diamond from his wife. "Could your husband have only recently bought the diamond, intending it as a gift for you?"

  "He could not have afforded such a thing. Not anymore." The tears began again.

  "I'm sorry. I've done nothing but upset you."

  "No." She managed a smile. "I believe you when you say you were not David's mistress. Finding that he was unfaithful to me would be far more troubling than this pink diamond ever could be."

  "May I ask how he died? You said he was not ill. Was there an accident?"

  "No, Lady Ashton. My husband was murdered. His valet fell victim to the same poison yesterday morning." The air rushed out of my lungs and I could scarcely draw breath. Murdered. My heart felt torn in two for this woman, who, like me, had lost a spouse to violence.