Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“Just the two of us, the necessary witnesses, and one of Mrs. Katevatis’s feasts afterwards?” The cook at my villa had unparalleled culinary talents, and the thought of the sun on Santorini and a platter of spanakopita was more than a little tempting, particularly when I was trapped on a dank English estate.

“Precisely,” I said.

“Lots of ouzo toasts and a rather late night.”

“One that extends all the way to morning.” Our eyes met.

“I don’t see how we can go against the queen’s wishes,” he said.

“I was afraid you’d say that. I admire your loyalty and sense of duty to your country, Colin, but you go too far. I can’t bear the thought of waiting so long.”

“You were perfectly willing to put me off yourself for more months than I care to count.” His smile warmed every inch of me.

“I was dreadful.”

“You weren’t. I understand perfectly why you waited to accept me. If you did not value your independence so well, I wouldn’t have wanted to marry you in the first place.”

“We’re disgustingly well suited to each other.” I raised my lips to his, but he did not kiss me.

“Regardless, we shall have to wait. It wouldn’t do to displease Her Majesty.”

“I don’t suppose there’s even a hint of sarcasm in that statement?”

“Perhaps just a touch.”

“I do adore you,” I said. He pressed my hand to his lips. “But there will be no changing her mind. She’s offering Windsor to thank my mother for her assistance in machinating the engagement between Prince Eddy and May of Teck. Everyone’s convinced the girl will make an excellent queen.”

“If only Eddy would make an excellent king,” Colin said. The Prince of Wales’s eldest son had a reputation for being rather slowwitted and had been embroiled in any number of scandals, each worse than the last.

“Speaking against the royal family, Colin? If you’re already this disaffected, there’s hope that I may be able to persuade you to go against the queen’s wishes. I shall do all in my power to tempt you.”

He put his hand on my cheek. “My dear girl, resisting you will take all of my will.”

“I wonder if you have quite so much will as you think?” I stood on my toes and kissed him, slowly, once on each cheek. “What a pity you have to go shoot today. I can think of much more pleasant ways to pass a morning.”

As it was, there was very little about the morning that could be called pleasant. We had all expected an influx of guests the previous day—the prime minister and others would have brought their wives—giving us ladies someone new with whom to converse. Ivy was still upstairs overseeing her packing, the countess and Lady Fortescue were nowhere to be found, so Flora and I were left with the count, finding almost nothing in the way of amusement.

“I don’t understand why we can’t shoot,” Flora said.

“It’s never made sense to me,” I said, looking up from the letter—already six pages long—that I was writing to Margaret. “We’re allowed to foxhunt. I suppose directly killing a bird is unladylike, but pursuing a fox and leaving him to be torn to bits by dogs is not.”

“Have you abandoned Aristophanes?” the count asked.

“So far as performance goes, yes,” I replied. “I don’t think any of us is in the mood for theatrical entertainment.”

“I am!” Jeremy Sheffield, Duke of Bainbridge, who’d been a dear friend since we were children and now as resplendent as a man could be in tweeds, strolled into the drawing room.

“Jeremy!” I leapt up to greet him. “What a surprise! Where have you come from?”

“Highwater, not five miles from here. I headed for Beaumont Towers the moment I heard you were here.”

“Yes, Margaret warned me to look out for you.”

“She’s a terrible girl. Tell me this party’s not as tedious as the one I’ve escaped.”

“Tedious is perhaps not the right word,” I said.

“Pleasantly soporific?” he suggested.

I smiled. “Mildly diverting.”

“We didn’t have it even that good. Langston, our host, wouldn’t let all of us shoot at once—insisted that we go out in small groups, which meant hours of sitting around doing nothing. But I suppose you ladies are used to that, and I now feel your pain keenly. Mrs. Reynold-Plympton was the most amusing person at Highwater, and she was in such a dreadful mood I was afraid to speak to her.”

“Really?” I asked. “I’m surprised she’s not here.”

“As am I,” he said, lowering his voice. “What a relief to be able to gossip with you.”

“I’m equally delighted to see you,” I said.

His voice returned to normal. “I’ve come to ask you to walk with me,” he said. “If your friends can do without your company?”

“Lady Ashton will be missed, but we shall bear it as best we can.” The count’s smile was rather more familiar than I would have liked. I took Jeremy’s arm and escaped with him as soon as I’d put on a coat and hat.

“I’m more pleased to see you than you can imagine,” I said as we walked, glad to turn my back on Beaumont Towers’ multitudinous turrets and chimneys. The weather was far from fine; the air was chill, and the wind bit through my coat, but it was a relief to be cold outside, where one expected it, rather than in the house.

“You’ve no idea how it affects me to hear you say that.” His smile was as winning as it had been when, as a little boy, he’d begged my forgiveness for any number of juvenile offenses, most of which involved frogs or snakes. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided to throw over Hargreaves.”

“Really, Jeremy. You’re awful.”

“Always. But a chap can hope, right?”

“Who am I to deny you amusement? Particularly as we’ve no unattached ladies at this party with whom you can flirt.”

“I’ve always preferred attached ones. They’re much less demanding.”

“Oh, Jeremy, it is good to see you. I can always count on you to make me laugh.”

“If only you knew how serious I am. I’ve every intention of making a bid for your affections the moment you’re married.”

“And I look forward to spurning your every advance.”

“Where’s Ivy? I thought she’s the one who dragged you here for this miserable gathering.”

“She’s preparing to go home.”

I had just started to explain to him what had transpired between Robert and Lord Fortescue when Flora, no coat covering her dress, tears staining her face, came running out of the house.

“Emily, I must speak to you at once!” Her voice sounded torn as she screamed. “Something dreadful has happened!”

“What is it?” I asked, running towards her.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” Jeremy said, shrugging off his topcoat and putting it around Flora’s shaking shoulders.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m most obliged, but I think it’s best that we speak out here.” The contrast between her formal mode of speech and her ragged voice was frightening. She clung to my arm, and I wondered if the gesture was meant to steel her or me. “There’s been a terrible accident.”

“Tell us!” I said. “Is someone hurt?”

She took three deep breaths. “Lord Fortescue is dead.”

I was stunned. “Dead?” As I watched Flora’s shoulders tremble, I remembered it was probable that she was one of the dead man’s mistresses. If she cared for him, she must be crushed, but would not be able to grieve openly, and for this, I felt sorry for her. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Her tears would not stop. “He must have been shot.”

“Bird shot isn’t going to kill a man,” Jeremy said, handing her a handkerchief and placing a strong arm around her.

“I don’t know what else it could have been.”

“Did he fall ill?” I asked. “Collapse?” “No. The police are coming,” she said. “Was anyone else hurt?” I asked. “No.” The handkerchief was already soaked. “I don’t think so.”

“Does Lady Fortescue know?” Jeremy asked.

“No. That’s why I came to find you. The Groom of the Chambers told me the news and asked me to inform her, but I don’t think I can bear to tell her. Will you, Lady Ashton?”

“I’m happy to assist in any way possible,” Jeremy said, “but I imagine it would be best for her to hear such grim news from another lady.”

“Of course I’ll tell her.” The words flew from my mouth. I couldn’t imagine a more dreadful situation than having to tell your lover’s wife that her husband was dead. “Don’t worry. Do you know where can I find her?”

“She was in the drawing room with us,” Flora said. “Embroidering a cushion.”

“I hadn’t noticed her. She has a remarkable ability to fade away.”

“I’ll go to her at once,” I said. “And while I do, you let Jeremy take care of you.” Her tears had slowed somewhat, and she’d rested her head on his shoulder. She was in control enough to return to the house. As for me, I felt shocked, confused, and surprisingly sad.

Back inside, Flora and Jeremy discreetly gathered up the count and countess while I searched out Lady Fortescue, who had abandoned her embroidery for a stroll in the conservatory. I looked at her for a moment before I started to speak, knowing that her life would forever be divided between the time before and after the conversation that was to come. I can’t recall what I said, but in situations where irrevocable news changes everything in an instant, the words used to deliver it are irrelevant. She stared straight ahead, her body absolutely still. I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, blinked, and then all at once her eyes filled with tears, and she began to sob. I stayed next to her, considering the possibility that a man, no matter how dreadful he seems to others, may be something quite different to those close to him.

An artificial silence enshrouded us as the news spread through the house. Both Lady Fortescue and Flora had taken to their rooms, and the rest of us were speaking in whispers, as if our words could be carried along lengthy hallways and disturb the mourners’ grief. Jeremy had sent a servant to collect his things from Highwater, not wanting to leave in the midst of the confusion. Not that leaving would have been allowed.

Lord Fortescue’s death had been no accident; he had been shot, a single bullet through the head. No bird shot and hunting rifles; the weapon in question was a dueling pistol, and had been found beneath a tree some yards from where the guns had stood, shooting for sport. The police had arrived shortly thereafter, and questioned each of us, including Robert and Ivy, whose departure had been postponed.

“Have you noticed anything suspicious since your arrival at Beaumont Towers?” a very young and very eager inspector asked me when it was my turn to face the inquisition.

“I was surprised to see that Mr. Harrison carries a pistol under his jacket. Lord Fortescue is—was—an enemy of his. It’s possible—”

“Mr. Harrison’s gun was not used in the murder. Have you seen this weapon before, Lady Ashton?” He held it out for me to see.

“Yes, yes, I have.” Without thinking, I reached out for it.

He colored slightly and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he pulled it away from me. “When was that, ma’am?”

“Oh, heavens, I didn’t kill Lord Fortescue. I saw the gun in its case in the library when I was…” I paused, unsure if I ought to admit that I’d been rifling through the dead man’s possessions. “I was cataloging the art in the house.”

“Yes, well, I’m not quite certain how that would lead you to opening a pistol case.”

“I didn’t know what it was. I thought it might hold an artifact of some sort.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.” I looked at him, holding my gaze steady. “But there was only one gun in the case. Its mate was missing. I can only assume this is it.”

“The case is empty now,” he said.

“Do you think that—”

He cut me off at once. “I won’t need anything further from you at the moment, Lady Ashton. Thank you for being so candid in answering my questions.”

Some hours later, three gentlemen from the Foreign Affairs Office and two of Lord Salisbury’s aides descended upon the house, having traveled by special train from London. They, along with Colin, Mr. Harrison, and Sir Thomas, sequestered themselves in the room that was to have been used for their political meeting. None of them had emerged since.

“I hate feeling so useless,” Mr. Clavell said, pacing the room in an agitated manner. I wondered if this was because his wife’s grief was making him face head-on her relationship with Lord Fortescue, or if it was because he worried that the affair might make him a suspect in the murder.