And Only to Deceive (27 page)

16 S
EPTEMBER
1888
H
ÔTEL
C
ONTINENTAL,
P
ARIS

T
HE HOURS THAT PASSED AFTER
A
NDREW 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 seems 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?”

“I’m so sorry, Emily. I do not think we would ever have learned of the murder had Andrew not been arrested before Arthur. The Crown is indebted to you. Arthur, it seems, is much concerned with his own fate and wanted to make it perfectly clear that he was only an accomplice. He told me that on the way to our safari camp he acquired from an obliging tribesman a poison used on blow darts. Andrew must have slipped it into Ashton’s cup when he was pouring champagne for all of us. I had never suspected that he died of anything but natural causes. As I have told you, Ashton had been tired for most of the trip, but I suppose that was due to his worry over confronting his friends.”

For some time I could not speak, able to think only of my poor, murdered husband. I knew that Philip had left no records that implicated Andrew; I had lied about finding them in an attempt to goad him. Philip, true to his own code of ethics, had wanted nothing more than for his friends to stop their thievery. He never had any intention of bringing them to justice. A sob escaped from my throat, and Cécile took me in her arms while Colin politely pretended to look out the window. My tears were short-lived, however; I had already mourned the death of my husband.

Cécile wiped my face with her handkerchief, smoothed my hair, and marched over to Colin. “And why did this contemptible murderer try to
forge a relationship with Kallista? He would have been better to avoid her entirely,” she said.

“Andrew believed that Ashton had records that would prove his guilt. Ashton had said as much in Africa. The Palmers tried on numerous occasions to find them, but to no avail. Andrew bribed a servant—a footman, I believe—to search Philip’s papers in the library but met with no success. Arthur broke into Emily’s suite at the Meurice.”

“While I spent the afternoon at the Bois with Andrew,” I said. “And when Arthur found nothing, their strategy was to convince me to marry Andrew?”

Colin continued. “At first. It would have given him free access to all Ashton’s papers and, more important, a certain level of control over you. When you turned down Andrew’s proposal, the scheme changed again. Arthur suspected that you had started looking around when he saw you at the British Museum with Attewater, so he and Andrew decided to change their strategy lest you uncover the information before they did. They fabricated all the evidence to suggest that Ashton was still alive, knowing that you would insist on coming to Africa.”

“And what then?” I asked.

“Obviously you would not find Ashton, and Andrew would be close by to console you. Arthur said that Andrew expected to marry you in Cairo, but shortly thereafter you were to have fallen ill, just as Ashton had.”

“Leaving the heartbroken widower to return to London and collect your fortune,” Cécile said. “Vile man.”

“I hope that the queen realizes that this incident can no longer be quietly hushed up,” I said.

“I dare not anticipate what she will say. The Palmers, of course, will have to go to trial. As for the matter of the forgeries, I imagine it would be greatly appreciated if you would agree to quietly return the stolen items to the museum.”

“I never intended to do anything else.” I pressed my hand to my forehead. “This is all so awful. Poor Lord Palmer. He will be devastated.

And Arabella! What a disappointment to learn that her fiancé is no better than a common thief.”

“And an accomplice to murder,” Cécile added. “I shall discuss the matter no further; I have had enough of this dreadful business. Will you dine with us, Monsieur Hargreaves? I am certain that Kallista would enjoy your company.”

“I am afraid that I must refuse your kind invitation, Madame du Lac. I am long overdue at the police station and must also make a full report to Lord Lytton.”

“Oui, oui.”
Cécile sighed. “Will you excuse me? I must find Madame Fournier and thank her for her hospitality,” she said, giving me a meaningful look and leaving the room.

I turned to Colin. “I must apologize. I have thought the most terrible things about you. I am ashamed.”

“My own conduct has left much to be desired,” he replied. “I am afraid that I have offended your sensibilities on more than one occasion.”

“Not at all,” I said, thinking of our meeting on the Pont-Neuf. “Quite the contrary.”

“You are very generous, Emily,” he said, pacing in front of me.

“I am sorry that I did not trust you more. But I had reason to doubt you. Why did you meet with the man Andrew hired to follow me?”

“How do you know I did?” I told him about the glove. “It was reckless of you to have run after us. After I left your party that night, I went to Lady Elliott’s soirée. She lives in Albemarle Street, an easy walk to my house in Park Lane. As I crossed through Berkeley Square, I saw a man watching your house and confronted him. He denied any wrongdoing, of course, and before I could push further, he heard a sound and ran off. I chased him, but he got away from me.”

“I shouldn’t have run into the park.”

“If I had been more straightforward about Attewater and this forgery business, you might not have found yourself trying to uncover matters by yourself. But I was under strict orders from the palace to reveal no details to you.”

“Nothing would have convinced me to abandon uncovering the truth myself.”

“I’m not sure that I approve of your wanton disregard for your own well-being. Andrew is a dangerous man. If he had discovered your intentions, you would be dead now. On the way to Frascati, you asked me so many questions about him that I feared you had fallen in love with him. When I think that you pretended to be engaged to that man—the liberties he must have taken…” He sat next to me and picked up my hand. “I am more than relieved that you came to no harm in the end.”

“So am I.” I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled and touched his hand to my face. Before he could speak, the door opened and Monsieur Fournier entered the room.

“You have earned this, Lady Ashton,” he said, handing me his beautiful Trojan-horse ring.

From that day I wore it on my right hand. Philip, I suspected, would have donated it to the British Museum. Once again I found that my opinions differed greatly from those of my husband. I preferred the feel of it on my hand to seeing it in a case.

27 N
OVEMBER
1888
E
AST
A
FRICA