And Only to Deceive (28 page)

T
HE CASE AGAINST THE
P
ALMERS PROVED TO BE FAIRLY
straightforward. Arthur admitted everything to anyone who would listen, but Andrew stubbornly refused to speak again on the subject after he left Monsieur Fournier’s, not that it mattered. They would both be tried in England for the thefts of the objects from the museum as well as for Philip’s murder, because he had died in a British colony. In France they would be charged with the illegal sale of antiquities. The crime of murder being a capital offense, Andrew at least would probably never make it to trial in Paris. Lord Lytton accompanied me to the police station when the time came for me to give my own detailed statement, after which I felt a pleasing sensation of relief. Finished with my part of the administrative aftermath of the affair, I realized that I really ought to return to London; I wanted to speak with Lord Palmer and Arabella Dunleigh in person.

Mrs. Dunleigh had already planned a trip to Cairo, where she hoped her daughter would be more successful in catching a husband than she had been in London. She appeared rather affronted that I called on Arabella, seeming to hold me responsible for exposing Arthur’s criminal past. The fact that he had participated in such terrible crimes did not trouble her nearly as much as the fact that all of society had learned about it. Arabella, eating as many tea cakes as ever, exhibited few signs of a broken heart. Knowing that one man had proposed to her improved her confidence immeasurably, and it was clear that she looked forward to the Season in Cairo.

More distressing was my visit to Lord Palmer, whose life had been profoundly affected by the turn of events. The dear old man seemed to
have aged a lifetime since I last saw him. I asked him to assist me in organizing the return of the stolen pieces to the British Museum, a request that he gratefully accepted. Together with him and Colin, I took everything from Ashton Hall to Mr. Murray after the museum had closed for the day. Having completed this task that I knew to be so important to my late husband brought me great satisfaction. Afterward Lord Palmer presented me with the monograph on Achilles and the great Alexander, published on Philip’s behalf. Mr. Murray, feeling keenly Lord Palmer’s distress at having Andrew and Arthur betray him so completely, gave him a lovely small statue of Athena from his own collection. Unfortunately, it was now the only authentic piece in Lord Palmer’s possession; we found none of the pieces stolen from him among those recovered by Philip.

When she learned all that had transpired in Paris, my mother flew into a rage that has since become legendary. I did not tell her myself, instead leaving the unpleasant task to my father, whom I had called to my side as soon as I arrived at Berkeley Square. She came to me the instant he finished relating the story to her, and I was subjected to a solid hour of her ranting; like Mrs. Dunleigh’s, her primary concern was the scandal raging through society.

“It is insupportable that you should have exposed your own husband in this dreadful manner.” She took a seat at last, indicating that the end of her lecture drew near.

“Philip did nothing wrong, Mother. No one suspects him of wrongdoing.”

“You have turned him into a murder victim instead of a gentleman who met a noble death on safari,” she said. “Why would you want to bring such notoriety to the family?”

“You would prefer that his killers go free?” I asked.

“It is impossible to speak with you, Emily.” She wrung her hands. “I fear for your future more than ever.”

“There is no need to worry, Mother. I have no interest in remaining in London at present and plan to depart for Greece as soon as possible;
you will be glad to know that I have found a most excellent traveling companion.”

“That, at least, is a relief. Who is she?”

“Cécile du Lac,” I replied. It had taken some considerable arguing to convince my friend to leave Paris, but eventually she agreed to accompany me, on the condition that she could bring Caesar and Brutus. I firmly believe that her unwillingness to accept my invitation was merely a ploy to trick me into allowing those odious little beasts to travel with us.

“Perhaps there is hope for you, Daughter,” my mother said, sighing. “I am certain that Madame du Lac can present you to any number of very eligible young men. But must you go to Greece? I do not know of any society to speak of there. Why not Italy instead? Perhaps Florence? I believe that the Duke of Middleton’s son plans to travel there with a large party after the New Year.”

“I am going to Greece, Mother. I want to see the villa and, frankly, would prefer to avoid society entirely.”

“What on earth can you possibly mean by suggesting such a thing? Avoid society?”

“I am going to spend a considerable amount of time determining what it is I want from my life, and the villa will provide the right amount of seclusion required for serious contemplation.”

“What you want from your life? Emily, I have lost all interest in attempting to understand you.” She sighed again and fluttered her eyelids. “Well, I can assure you that a woman like Madame du Lac will not suffer to sit around at some tedious villa for months on end. I shall quite depend upon her to see to your return to society. I shall write to her today.”

“Thank you, Mother,” I said through clenched teeth, taking comfort in the knowledge that Cécile’s version of society was infinitely preferable to that of my mother. “If you will excuse me, I have much to attend to if I am to have any hope of being ready to receive you and the rest of the family at Ashton Hall for Christmas.”

“I have several other errands to run and have already tarried here for longer than I intended,” she said as she rose from her seat. Unfortunately, before she could leave the room, Davis entered to announce the arrival of Colin. As soon as she heard his name, my mother sat back down and smoothed her skirts. “I believe I would like to speak with Mr. Hargreaves.” I dropped my head into my hands, barely looking up when Colin entered the room.

“Good day, Mr. Hargreaves,” my mother said. “I am forever in your debt for saving my darling daughter from the clutches of that dreadful man.”

“I assure you, Lady Bromley, that Emily had the situation well in hand herself,” he replied. “I was not even there when she exposed Mr. Palmer.”

“It’s lovely to see you, Mr. Hargreaves.” I smiled as he kissed my hand.

“And it is even more lovely to see you out of mourning, Lady Ashton.” I could hardly take my eyes off his handsome face as he lingered over my hand.

“My mother was just preparing to leave, Mr. Hargreaves,” I said with a wicked grin. “I am certain that you will take no offense if she stays with us no longer.” My mother scowled at me and tapped her parasol on the floor.

“Of course not.” Colin bowed politely to my mother. “As always, Lady Bromley, it has been a delight to see you.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Hargreaves.” My mother rose from her seat once more, not willing to argue with me in front of an extremely eligible gentleman. “Will we have the pleasure of seeing you at Mrs. Barring’s tonight?”

“Unfortunately not; I have a prior engagement.” He bowed again, and my mother left, shooting me a cutting glance on her way out. Colin closed the door behind her and leaned against it with folded arms. “I am afraid that I am here on business.”

“You look dreadfully serious,” I replied.

“I’ve read the statements you gave to the police. You made quite a point of telling them that Aldwin Attewater had nothing to do with the thefts.”

“That is true. Mr. Attewater is a frustrated artist who sells his work to whoever will buy it. He does not deceive his clients. They are fully aware they are buying copies.”

“Surely you do not believe that?” Colin asked, looking at me skeptically.

“Why shouldn’t I? I imagine that if you investigate Mr. Attewater’s financial concerns, you will find that he is a man of very limited means. Surely he would be much better off if he chose to present his copies as originals.”

“Is it true that you have commissioned a work from him?”

“I have.”

“I know that you have conversed with him at great length and that it was he who identified for you the fakes in the British Museum. Are you certain that he showed you all of them?”

“Quite certain.”

“And you would swear that he never was involved in deceiving the museum?”

I paused for an instant to consider my answer. “A lady, Mr. Hargreaves, should never swear.”

“Is that all the answer I am to expect?”

A smile was the only response I gave him. Frankly, I liked the idea of Mr. Attewater’s fragment staying in the museum. Perhaps, in the very faraway future, it would be identified as a copy and appreciated in its own right, like the Roman versions of Greek originals.

“Very well. I am not convinced that Attewater is the innocent you believe him to be, Emily, but have no evidence to prove it. He does not appear to have the sorts of connections that would enable him to continue the Palmers’ work, so I shall leave him alone for the time being. You, however—” He stopped. “No. I shall never again warn you off an acquaintance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hargreaves,” I said. “I appreciate your respect for my judgment.”

“Think nothing of the kind. I make it a practice not to waste my time on futile endeavors.”

“Then we shall abandon the subject entirely,” I said. “I’m sorry you shall not be at Mrs. Barring’s tonight. It’s sure to be a tedious evening. I should like to have danced with you, though.”

“I’ve grown rather fond of dancing with you in sitting rooms.” He reached for my hand and pulled me from my chair. He wrapped his arm around my waist and brought me close to him; the feeling of him so near caused me to tremble as I looked up at his face. I am certain that we would have started to waltz had our eyes not met, but they did. Neither of us moved, and we stood for some time staring silently at each other. Finally he lifted my chin gently with a single finger, bringing my lips to his and kissing me softly.

“‘Andromache! My soul’s far better part,’” he murmured against my neck. “I cannot adequately explain the effect you have on me. Your slightest touch ruins my self-control.”

“I know the feeling very well,” I whispered, kissing him back.

“I am the worst type of cad to do this without asking your permission first and fully expect you to slap me again.” He touched a curl that had escaped from my pompadour.

“I don’t think you shall be slapped today,” I replied, burying my face in his chest. “If pressed, I would admit to having liked it very much when you kissed me on the Pont-Neuf.”

“I should never have done it, Emily. Not then.” He lowered me onto the settee and sat next to me. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“My recent behavior suggests that I have.” I smiled. He leaned closer, as if he would kiss me again, and then stopped.

“Is it too soon? I know that you are out of mourning, et cetera, et cetera, but the emotional upheaval of the past months must have taxed you greatly.”

“No, I assure you, I am all right now. I am happy to have suffered what I did. If I had not, I should have been consumed with the guilt of neither having loved my husband nor grieving the loss of him. In the end I truly mourned him. He deserved nothing less.”

“He was a most excellent man, Emily.”

“I know. It is a pity that I did not realize it sooner, but it would be foolish for me to dwell on romantic fantasies of what our marriage could have been like. I did grow to love him after his death, but I might never have if he were still alive.” I shrugged and caught myself feeling suddenly French. “At any rate, that chapter of my life is over, and I have no regrets.”

“I am glad,” he said, sighing, as he looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I really must leave. My brother is expecting me in Richmond. When do you go to Ashton Hall?”

“Tomorrow. I shall return to London only briefly before I journey to Santorini.”

“I should not have arranged the trip so well for you.” He smiled and rose from the settee. “I wish I had thought of delaying your departure so that I could see you again before you go.”

“When will you return to London?”

“Most likely not until the spring. I have business in Berlin and will travel there soon after the New Year.”

“What sort of business, Colin? Anything that might interest me?”

“Not in the least,” he replied firmly, and pulled me to my feet. “I shall miss you, Emily.” He kissed me lightly and slipped a small box into my hand. “Happy Christmas.”

He took his leave before I opened the gift and thus cheated himself of seeing my expression as I realized what he had given me: a golden apple inscribed
“Tê kallistê.”

“I
ALWAYS KNEW
I liked Mr. Hargreaves!” Ivy cried, holding the apple as we sat in the library after dinner that evening. “What a marvelous gift! And you, Emily, seem quite in danger of falling in love with the gentleman.”

“I shall make no attempt to deny the possibility.”

“It seems ridiculous now that we ever thought he was the ringleader of the forgers.”

“Given what we knew at the time, it was a perfectly reasonable hypothesis. His behavior made him appear quite suspicious.”

“I am glad the whole business is over.” She grinned wickedly. “But it was rather exciting. It is shocking, though, that Andrew and Arthur should have turned out to be so awful.”

“‘So fairly form’d, and only to deceive.’ Lord Palmer has suffered greatly,” I said.

“I am glad to see that he is not being cut by society.”

“His own character is spotless. He deserves all our sympathy.”

Ivy nodded in agreement and leaned close to me. “Is Davis really bringing port to us, Emily? I don’t know that I shall have the nerve to drink it in front of Robert.” She glanced at her husband, who sat across the room from us contentedly reading the newspaper.

“There’s no one here but the three of us, Ivy. What better occasion to get him used to the idea?”

“He is a very conservative man,” she whispered.

“There may be hope for him yet,” I replied. “Perhaps someday we can get Colin to sponsor him at the Reform Club.”