"Yes, yes, though I cannot imagine what my father is going to do with them. At any rate, you must take this," he said, handing me the package.
I hesitated, knowing that I should not accept anything from a man to whom I was not engaged. But surely Andrew, who had such a sporadic respect for the rules of society, would not consider my taking his gift to mean more than it did. I opened the paper and gasped. Inside was an ancient bronze coin bearing a portrait of Alexander the Great.
"Where on earth did you get this? It's fascinating," I said, looking at it closely.
"Some dusty old shop in Bloomsbury. I thought you might like it and knew my father would approve."
"It's lovely, Andrew. I shall treasure it."
After accepting the coin, I began to consider more seriously my relationship with Andrew. I did not love him and wondered if I ever could. I thought of the passages in Philip's journal relating to the early days of our engagement. It would be terrible to love someone so much who did not return the feeling. Although I did not believe that Andrew loved me, I did not want to do anything to increase his attachment to me. If I were ever to love a man, I wanted to do so completely; nothing less would satisfy me, and clearly Andrew would not be the man. It would be best if he considered me nothing more than a good friend; I would not allow him to kiss me again.
I started seeing him less frequently, turning down most of his invitations. When I was with him, I tried to make sure it was in a large group of friends or with other members of our families. One evening I invited him and his brother to dine with me, anxious to see if Arthur planned to propose to Arabella anytime soon. Unable to broach the subject during dinner, when the conversation kept to the usual sort of polite nonsense, I brought it up after we retired to the library.
"I saw Arabella yesterday, Arthur. She spoke highly of you."
"She is an excellent lady." I did not like his tone; it suggested that she was a fine piece of livestock.
"Do you see her often?" I asked, not feeling the need to inquire delicately to such a man.
"Yes, quite as often as I can." He was pacing around the perimeter of the room, vaguely looking at the titles of books on the shelves in an attempt to find something to read aloud.
"I wonder if I should encourage her feelings for you?" I continued. "I would not like to see her hurt."
"I assure you my intentions are honorable, Lady Ashton." He opened a volume of Ovid. "Are all his Greek books in this section?"
"Ovid was Roman, Mr. Palmer," I said, disliking the easy manner with which he dismissed the subject of Arabella. "The Greeks are on the next shelf."
"Shall we have port tonight, Arthur? Emily tells me Ashton left quite a stash." Andrew turned to me. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not." I rang for Davis and was shocked that when he arrived, Andrew directed him to bring the port rather than letting me do so. Davis nodded to him politely, as he always did, and turned to me.
"You would like me to bring port to the gentlemen, Lady Ashton? And for you?"
"Port for all of us, please." I waited until the butler had left the room to turn my attention to Andrew. "I don't like you directing my servants."
His blue eyes laughed. "Don't you realize that I will persist in taking whatever liberties I can with you, Emily? You have been very cold to me lately. If I cannot kiss you, I shall have to resort to playing man of the house with your butler."
"Don't do it again," I snapped, shocked that he would say such a thing in front of his brother. I was about to say so when Davis returned.
"How did you like Ashton Hall, Emily? I never inquired after the trip you took there." Andrew laced his long, thin fingers together and laid them in his lap.
"It's a remarkable place. Have you been there?" I asked coldly.
"Now, don't hold me in contempt, Emily. It doesn't suit you, and you shall break my heart if you continue." He looked around the room as he spoke. "What a shame my brother is relentless in his pursuit of literature.
I should like to go to the drawing room so that you could play for us." Arthur was continuing his tour of the shelves, pulling books down occasionally and leafing through them.
"I have no desire to play the piano," I replied. "Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Palmer?"
"No, Lady Ashton, just at a loss to choose something. I apologize if I seem distracted. My mind is elsewhere this evening."
"My brother has been rather elusive on the subject of Miss Dunleigh, don't you think? I happen to know, Emily, that there is more to the story than he has revealed."
"I'm sure that if Mr. Palmer wants me to know, he'll tell me himself."
"You persist in punishing me!" Andrew cried. "Dreadful girl! What shall I do to return to your good graces?"
Truth be told, Andrew was beginning to tire me, and I doubted that I should want to remain even his friend for much longer. His disrespectful attitude, which initially I found amusing and even a bit exhilarating, had begun to grate on my nerves. Happy though I was to escape from some of the bonds of society and its elaborate rules of behavior, I did not desire to remove myself completely. I did not want to embark on a lengthy discussion with Andrew concerning his faults, nor did I want to be subjected to one of his drawn-out apologies. I decided to be charming for the rest of the evening and subsequently distance myself from him.
"I shall reprimand you no further, Mr. Palmer," I said, bestowing on him my most attractive smile. "Tell me, have you any further news of Emma Callum and her Italian count?"
"I'm afraid that I must disappoint you on that subject. Her family has closed ranks and is revealing very little."
"Too bad. Perhaps I shall call on them the next time I'm in Italy. I wonder where the count lives."
"Venice, I think. Do you plan to travel there soon?"
"No, not at all. I shall most likely stay in England for the winter and then go to Greece in the spring."
"Ah-to the villa."
"Yes. Have you been there?" I asked, watching Arthur continue his perusal of my husband's books.
"Of course. I would be happy to arrange for your trip. I'm quite familiar with Santorini."
"Thank you for the kind offer, Andrew, but Mr. Hargreaves promised Philip he would take care of everything."
"Really? I'm stunned to know that Ashton would consider Hargreaves qualified to do such a thing."
"Especially after that screaming argument they had in Africa," Arthur said, wrinkling his nose.
"I didn't know they argued," I said.
"Oh, yes, nasty row the night before Ashton got sick," Arthur continued. "No offense, Lady Ashton, but I can't say I've ever thought much of Hargreaves. Something about him's not quite cricket."
7 SEPTEMBER 1887
BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON
Hargreaves arrived last week, bringing a much-appreciated supply of port. We took the boat across the caldera and spent a capital day exploring the old volcano. Discussed the possibility of funding an excavation of the island-I wonder if beneath the remains of ancient eruptions one could find treasures similar to those at Pompeii?
Have arranged to visit Delphi next week. Villagers there have been selling the most astounding artifacts-all from the remains of Apollo's oracle. Terrible crime that the site is not better protected. I fear that the significance of many of the objects will never be fully understood, as they are mercilessly ripped from their environs, robbing scholars of the opportunity to study them in context.
19
The next morning I received Cécile's reply to my letter asking her to find out what she could of Philip's purchase of the Praxiteles Apollo.