I wondered what he had hoped to achieve by doing such a thing. I could only imagine that he feared I would somehow learn of his role in this intrigue, and shuddered to think what he might have done if he thought I was prepared to report him to the police. I had seen the man with the scar just once following my return to London-the night he had met with Colin, whose role in this still confused me. After I had allowed Andrew to befriend me, he could easily have kept an eye on me himself, and I thought of the hours I spent in his company, all the time being watched. Despicable man! I forced my attention back to our conversation.
"I think, Andrew, that it is very unlikely Philip is alive. You and I have both fallen victim to putting too much faith in rumors and coincidences because they suggest something we wanted to believe. The best evidence came with the wedding picture, and we know it was not true."
"I'm sorry, Emily."
"Don't bother to apologize. I know that your intentions were the best," I said, glad to find I could speak such drivel without giving myself away. "Philip is the one who deserves my anger. Have you ever read Balzac?"
"No."
"'Behind every great fortune there is a crime.' I do not think I would have agreed with such a statement before now."
"You have suffered greatly, Emily." I tried not to openly seethe watching his eyes dance as he spoke.
"I would find it easier to forgive Philip if he had not presented himself as a man of such high principle. I shall never forget on our wedding trip-Oh, but I shall make you late for dinner. I cannot impose on your goodwill, forcing you to listen to my lament."
"I don't mind at all. It is such a relief to know that I do not have to hide all this from you any longer. Tell me whatever you wish. It may help you feel better."
"We were in an antiquities shop, and I saw the loveliest ring-gold, of course-with a picture of a horse on it. You know how I love to ride?"
"Better than most," he said. I could see he wanted to take my hand.
"I begged Philip to buy it for me, but he refused. Because the horse in question was apparently the Trojan horse, he felt the ring too significant a piece to be relegated to the role of bauble to a society wife. He actually said that-can you imagine?"
"I'm afraid I can," he said, shaking his head. How I would have loved to slap him.
"We argued for some time about it, even went back to the shop on more than one occasion, but he would not alter his position. In the end he said that he would consider buying the piece only to donate it to the British Museum. At the time I decided it was an inconsequential incident and actually admired the way he adhered to his principles."
"And now?"
"Now? Now that I know he was a common thief? That he took whatever he wanted for his own private collection while denying me a petty ring? I'm furious."
"You shall have to find the ring and buy it."
"It's in the private collection of a gentleman here in Paris. He'll never sell it."
"Everything has its price, my dear." At last the man spoke the truth. I gazed into his eyes and knew that I had him.
"If only that were the case." I sighed. "I would be eternally indebted to anyone who could convince him to sell. I'm sure it must seem trivial, but knowing what I now do about Philip, the ring has become something of a symbol to me."
"I do not think it is trivial in the least, Emily. The ring has taken on great significance to you."
"Angry though I am, I cannot abandon Philip in Africa. But given that it seems very unlikely he is alive, I do not want to risk your health or that of your brother in the venture. I have written to Lord Lytton asking him to arrange for an official search party of sorts. I'm not sure what he will be able to do, but I do not doubt that it will be adequate." I took his hand. "And so, my dear friend, I have called you here to relieve you from your duties as expedition director and to beg your forgiveness for my own shortcomings."
"There is nothing to forgive. I shall never breathe a word of this to anyone."
"Thank you, Andrew. I know that I am asking a great deal of you."
"Do not mention it again," he said, still holding my hand. "Will you return to London immediately?"
"No. The thought of going back to Philip's house no longer appeals to me. I think I shall stay in Paris and take on the role of eccentric widow." I looked in his eyes. "Although I will admit that being a widow is not quite as appealing to me as it once was. I didn't think it would be this lonely."
"You feel lonely because you have suffered so great a betrayal. It will not last forever."
"You are right," I said, forcing my face to brighten. "There is no cause for despair. I shall enter the Parisian social scene with a vengeance, announcing my intention of marrying the first gentleman who can produce for me the Trojan-horse ring."
Andrew laughed but met my eyes with a steady gaze.
"Of course, it would be rather embarrassing if Monsieur Fournier took the opportunity to offer it to me himself."
"Oh-it's in Fournier's collection?" Andrew said, his voice returning to its usual bored drawl. "I shouldn't think his wife would let him part with it."
9 JULY 1888
FLORENCE
I have taken to combing the city's antiquities dealers when not sightseeing-K not troubled at all when I leave her. She seems immensely gratified by her ability to speak Italian like a native. Think she must have something of a flair for languages, but she insists that her German is atrocious. We laugh often now, and her presence in my room no longer renders me speechless. I may not yet know her heart but am certain that we will spend our years together happily.
Although she does not invite me to take her in my arms, neither does she shun my advances. If I may flatter myself, I think she enjoys them, as it is one of the few times she abandons her reserve and allows her eyes to meet mine-"...the many-colour'd maid inspires / Her husband's love, and wakens her former fires..."
32
Three days passed with little incident. Cécile and I agreed that my discussion with Andrew had gone as well as we could have wanted; now we could only hope that the lure of my fortune would be great enough to tempt him to steal Fournier's ring. There was nothing more we could do.
Margaret sent a wonderful letter describing her sister's wedding in the most humorous detail. American socialites, apparently, are at least as silly as their English counterparts, and their antics made for delightful reading. Also enclosed were some simple passages in Greek from the Iliad. Mr. Moore be damned, she said, I was ready for Homer. Expecting that I would not receive her letter until my return from Africa, she suggested that I have my husband assist me with them. I succumbed to a brief moment of melancholy, knowing that the translation would be done without Philip's help, then fell to work, feeling uncompromised satisfaction when I had succeeded in translating the first, despite the fact that it was, not surprisingly, a passage lauding Achilles.
That same afternoon Cécile came for tea, and we were in the midst of discussing plans to visit Versailles when Meg told me that Andrew was at the door. This was wholly unexpected. He had made a great point of going on at length about how the demands of his business affairs would allow him little time to see me. Not wanting him to realize that she and I were acquainted, Cécile hastened to my bedroom, where she left the door slightly ajar.
"Are you expecting someone?" Andrew asked, glancing at the tea table, which contained far too much food for only myself. I gave him my hand, which he kissed with far more attention than I would have liked.
"I've just disposed of a most unwelcome guest," I lied. "A French acquaintance with perfectly dreadful manners. I thought she would never leave."