Lizzie was standing in the hallway outside the drawing room and opened the door for us. "Will you want tea for Mrs. Francis, madam?"
"Yes, please," I replied, thinking it was odd that Lizzie knew the identity of my caller. Surely Davis would not have sent her to hover outside the room. This thought was entirely forgotten, however, when I saw Beatrice's tear-streaked face.
"The police have proof that Jane Stilleman delivered the poison to David's room," she said, pulling on her black-hemmed handkerchief with such force that I thought it would rip.
"My dear friend, sit," I said, ushering her to a chair. "You must try to calm down."
"This is too awful to bear," she said, sobbing. "They will hang her, you know."
"What is their evidence?" I asked.
"One of the housemaids was changing the bed linens the day before David died. While she was in the room, Jane came in with a bottle of shaving lotion. The maid remembers this, because the valet—"
"Stilleman?"
"Yes. He was also in the room and told Jane that it was not the proper kind of lotion. David always used Penhaligon's, and this was from Floris. She insisted that it had been delivered for Mr. Francis and persuaded her husband to set it with the other toiletries."
"Has this maid any reason to want Jane found guilty?" Cécile asked.
"Of course not. I've told you, Jane is a sweet girl. No one would want to harm her."
"I know you're distressed," I said. "But we must look at the facts before us with as little bias as possible. Jane was having an affair. There may be persons other than her husband who were upset by this. I shall come to Richmond tomorrow and see what I can uncover."
"I don't know what I would do if I couldn't turn to you."
Davis opened the door. "Mrs. Brandon to see you, madam." Ivy came in, looking more drawn and fatigued than I had ever before seen her. As soon as she saw Beatrice, however, she forced a bright smile and acted delighted to make the acquaintance. Beatrice, too, pulled herself together with remarkable speed. They conversed effortlessly, breezing through society's favorite banal subjects, neither of them paying any real attention to what the other said. It was as if the exchange were perfectly choreographed.
I was unnerved to see how well Ivy had slid into the role of society lady, hiding her emotions, concerned only with putting on a polite appearance. And as for Beatrice, although I did not know her so well as I did Ivy, it was an extraordinary thing to watch her bury emotions that only moments before had completely overwhelmed her. I tried to catch Cécile's eye, but she was busy removing Brutus from a battle with my velvet curtain. I'm sorry to say that the curtain appeared to have lost the struggle.
"Emily and Cécile, I've no desire to keep you from your charming friend," Beatrice said. "Forgive my intrusion, and please accept my thanks for your assistance." She took her leave just as Lizzie entered with a tea tray.
"Are you well, Ivy?" Cécile asked.
"Everything is lovely, thank you, Madame du Lac," Ivy replied, watching the maid pour. "Those are beautiful teacups, Emily. Have you always had them?"
"I never took you for a connoisseur of china," I said. Brutus, not pleased with being pulled off the drapes, turned his attention to Lizzie's skirts. I picked up the dog, dropped him into Cécile's lap, and dismissed the maid. "Come now, what is troubling you?"
"I'm perfectly fine," Ivy said, her pretty brow furrowed.
"There are no servants here. You are free to say anything you wish."
She cringed. "Am I so obvious?"
"Oui," Cécile replied. "And I think you will speak more frankly if I leave you to Kallista."
"Oh, madame, I wouldn't want to drive you from your tea."
"Do not trouble yourself. I've no interest in tea and only drink it when Kallista forces it upon me." She collected her dogs — Caesar, never as bad-mannered as Brutus, was sitting quietly under his owner's chair — and sailed out of the room, giving Ivy a reassuring pat on the arm as she passed her.
"I'm afraid I've had a rather brutal day," Ivy said. "Robert's mother and I have been working together to rearrange the paintings in the family portrait gallery." Ivy's mother-in-law had a tendency to meddle, but Ivy, brilliant in her ability to manage people, had quickly figured out how to make the former mistress of her house feel useful, even necessary, without bowing to her every wish.
"Surely you've made her think that your ideas are her own, and the pictures are precisely where you'd like them."
"Not quite. I couldn't bear to spend another moment surrounded by Robert's ghastly ancestors all looking as if they're sitting in judgment on me, and had a footman remove a picture of some woman with her thirteen hideous children. Mrs. Brandon was rather affronted."
"I can well imagine. What brings on this sudden animosity?" I had my suspicions, but instead of saying so, put my arm around my friend and drew her head onto my shoulder.
"Do you ever speak with Philip's mother?" she asked.
"Not often. She calls on me occasionally if she's in town."
"I suppose you would see her more often if you and Philip had a child."
"Is Robert's mother beginning to prod you about producing an heir?"
"She would never bring up such a delicate subject."
"But she can't help applying subtle pressure," I said.
"It's not just her." I poured her more tea, and she emptied the cup in one gulp. "Robert and I have been married for almost a year. Every person to whom I speak inquires pointedly after my health."
"That's common courtesy, Ivy."
"I don't think so." She filled her cup and drained it quickly again. "They look at me. To see if I'm tired. Or flushed. It's intolerable."
"My poor dear. Has Robert commented on the situation?"
"He dances around the issue, asking me every few weeks if I have any news."
"Well, I suppose — "
"When he knows perfectly well that...that...he would have to...that with him gone so frequently..." She poured still another cup of tea but this time did not drink it, just stirred and stirred the contents with a small silver spoon.
"Is he neglecting you?"
"Of course not! But entering politics is awfully time-consuming, and he winds up going to his club most evenings after we come home."
"And he doesn't want to wake you when he returns?"
"He almost never comes to me," she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.
My heart broke for her. The most obvious explanation for her husband's behavior would be a mistress, though I found it hard to believe he would have strayed so early in their marriage. "Are things between you well otherwise?"
"You know Robert. He's a consummate gentleman. Attentive, kind, generous."
"But not quite attentive enough."
Ivy turned red to her fingertips. "How was it with you and Philip?"
"Oh, Ivy, you can't compare that. We were hardly together beyond our wedding trip."
"I'm probably overreacting," she said. "When he needs my comfort, he'll find me. I have to learn to be more patient."
I stopped her stirring her tea. "Ivy, marriage is a partnership. Your need for comfort is as important as his, and it's obvious that you need more than he is giving you. Can't you talk to him? Tell him your feelings?"
"I would never want to be a source of worry to him."
"Surely a man who loves you would not want you to feel so unhappy?" I wondered if Robert did love her and continued quickly. "Perhaps this is nothing more than a miscommunication. Why don't you tell him that you'd like to see him after he gets home?"
"I couldn't do that!"
"Why on earth not?"
"It would be as if I were...really, Emily, I could never say that!"
"That is most unfortunate."