What, if anything, had the Torringtons known about the dauphin's escape? Had they helped the boy? And if so, what did Lady Elinor know of it? I had to consider my next move very carefully. So much for letting my thoughts simmer.
30
Ever since Sebastian told me that he hadn't stolen the silver snuffbox, I'd intended to see if it had turned up for sale anywhere, but one distraction after another had kept me from this task. Today, at last, I was determined to search for it, and by two o'clock had visited no fewer than seven shops, many of them of dubious reputation. I was not foolish enough to think that I would stumble across it on display. Rather, I hoped that one of the shopkeepers could be convinced to reveal anything he'd heard about such an item appearing for sale on the black market.
So far I'd learned nothing, although I had purchased two red-figure vases, both fifth century, one depicting the myth of Zeus and Io, the other the birth of Apollo and Artemis. And though I wrestled with the ethics of it, I also bought a fragment from a charming frieze of the three Graces dancing, their arms entwined, hair and robes flowing. The dealer selling it was notoriously unscrupulous, and the provenance he offered was laughable. I hated to do business with anyone furthering the illegal trade of antiquities, but the piece was so exquisite that I couldn't bear to leave it behind. If I owned it, it would go to the British Museum; in the hands of someone else, it might be lost forever to scholars. Not a satisfying way to reconcile such a purchase, not when I knew that, in theory, the only way to stop black-market transactions was by eliminating the demand for objects that lacked a verifiable history of acquisition and ownership.
I was musing over whether this was a realistic possibility in my lifetime as I browsed through my eighth shop, and was nearly ready to quietly approach the owner to see if he had anything else in the back, when something caught my eye: a delicate pin in the shape of a bird of paradise, set in gold with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. I recognized it at once as the one Lady Elinor had been wearing the day Margaret and I first saw Jeremy in the British Museum. My strategy changed at once.
"What an exquisite brooch!" I exclaimed.
The shopkeeper, who had been keeping an eye on me from a distance, gave me a broad smile and walked to the counter in front of me. "Eighteen-carat gold, madam, and the finest-quality stones."
"However did you get it?"
"The same way I get most of my jewelry. If you'll pardon my saying so, you ladies tend to exceed your allowances."
"I should love to buy it, but it's awfully familiar to me. I'm afraid it belonged to a friend of mine, and it would be rather embarrassing to turn up with something of hers. I don't suppose you could check?"
"Can't do that, madam. I offer my clients absolute confidentiality."
Apparently, absolute confidentiality was worth somewhere in the vicinity of six shillings. I left the shop with the pin and confirmation that Lady Elinor had sold not only it, but several other very valuable pieces in the past few months. I may not have been able to locate the snuffbox, but I was beginning to think that I had a fair idea of who might have taken it.
If Colin had been in town, I could have asked him to make discreet inquiries with the Routledge family solicitor to determine just how dire Lady Elinor's financial situation was. His connection to the palace would be invaluable in such a situation. I would have to rely on more imaginative means, and decided to call on Lord Pembroke's mother, the only person I could think of who might have insight into the matter.
"Forgive me for being so direct, Lady Anders, but did you and your husband enter into any sort of negotiations with Lady Elinor when your son wanted to marry Isabelle?"
"Not in any formal sense. I discussed matters with her in a casual sort of way once it had become clear that Tommy was serious about the girl. As I told you before, there's not a lot of money left, so her dowry would have been very small."
"How small?"
"Nonexistent, really. I'll be quite candid with you, Lady Ashton. Lord Pembroke and I would never have allowed Tommy to marry the girl, regardless of how fond he was of her. I hinted as much to Elinor. She's been a friend, you know, and I hated to think her daughter might have her hopes set unreasonably high."
"Is it that bad? I thought Mr. Routledge was quite well off."
"He left Elinor well settled, but somehow the money's gone. Isabelle's lucky she managed to secure Charles Berry. I don't think most gentlemen would consider taking her for so little."
"Why did Berry take her, then? He's no money of his own."
"There must be a very great attachment on his side. Either that or he wants a bride with a good English heritage. Excellent thing for someone with royal blood, you know. There's hardly a monarchy in Europe without a connection to our own dear queen."
That may have been true, but to marry the penniless granddaughter of a viscount was a far cry from allying oneself with even a minor princess in the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Charles Berry had no money, and he had no throne. He needed a wife who could bring him a fortune. It made no sense at all that he had agreed to marry Isabelle, unless Lady Elinor had something else to entice him. Or a way to prove that he was not who he claimed. Maybe she was blackmailing him.
I thanked Lady Anders and considered my options as I drove back towards Berkeley Square. I needed to talk to Sebastian. He surely had some way of proving that he was the true descendant of Louis XVI and was perfectly capable of stopping Mr. Berry. I would have to go, yet again, to the Times, a course of action that was fast becoming infuriating. Why must he make it so difficult for me to contact him? I stuck my head out of the carriage window and called for Waters to stop.
Sebastian had followed me on enough occasions that I thought it reasonable to surmise he was doing so now. I got out of the coach, crossed Knightsbridge, and went into the park, sending the carriage home without me, assuring Waters that I would be safe there on my own. He was not easily convinced, but I eventually managed, pointing out that his loitering outside the park would serve no purpose and refusing to have one of the footmen accompany me. I appreciated my staff's concern, but I needed to be alone.
I walked slowly along the entire length of the Serpentine, all the while watching for signs of being followed. There were none. I continued on, turning into Kensington Gardens, where I sat on a bench in the most secluded spot I could find. There I waited for three quarters of an hour, going over the facts of the case, making lists of questions whose answers I needed to discover, and checking, at far too frequent intervals, the gold watch pinned to my bodice. Finally I gave up, stood, and surveyed the scene before me. It was getting late, and there were few people in the garden. None, in fact, that I could see, but I was certain that Sebastian was there, lurking somewhere out of sight.
"Sebastian?" I called. "I know you're here. Won't you come talk to me?" Leaves rustled in the wind, and I heard the sound of a dog barking far off in the distance, but my admirer did not present himself. "Please! I need your help! Sebastian!" I stamped my foot in frustration and dropped back onto the bench.
"You really shouldn't lose your composure like that, Kallista darling." He came, seemingly from nowhere, and sat next to me.
"Why do you insist upon skulking about like this? It's infuriating."
"You are lovely when you're in a temper."
"Answer the question."
"I'm merely keeping an eye on you. Do you think it's safe to trot about, unescorted, after all that's been happening to you?"