"I am sorry that I did not trust you more. But I had reason to doubt you. Why did you meet with the man Andrew hired to follow me?"
"How do you know I did?" I told him about the glove. "It was reckless of you to have run after us. After I left your party that night, I went to Lady Elliott's soirée. She lives in Albemarle Street, an easy walk to my house in Park Lane. As I crossed through Berkeley Square, I saw a man watching your house and confronted him. He denied any wrongdoing, of course, and before I could push further, he heard a sound and ran off. I chased him, but he got away from me."
"I shouldn't have run into the park."
"If I had been more straightforward about Attewater and this forgery business, you might not have found yourself trying to uncover matters by yourself. But I was under strict orders from the palace to reveal no details to you."
"Nothing would have convinced me to abandon uncovering the truth myself."
"I'm not sure that I approve of your wanton disregard for your own well-being. Andrew is a dangerous man. If he had discovered your intentions, you would be dead now. On the way to Frascati, you asked me so many questions about him that I feared you had fallen in love with him. When I think that you pretended to be engaged to that man-the liberties he must have taken..." He sat next to me and picked up my hand. "I am more than relieved that you came to no harm in the end."
"So am I." I kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled and touched his hand to my face. Before he could speak, the door opened and Monsieur Fournier entered the room.
"You have earned this, Lady Ashton," he said, handing me his beautiful Trojan-horse ring.
From that day I wore it on my right hand. Philip, I suspected, would have donated it to the British Museum. Once again I found that my opinions differed greatly from those of my husband. I preferred the feel of it on my hand to seeing it in a case.
27 NOVEMBER 1888
EAST AFRICA
Despite my best attempts, this season's safari has not lived up to the expectations raised by the previous one. We are finding less game, but I think that is due more to my own cluttered mind than any change in the animal population; I fear I am virtually useless to the party. Hargreaves has had more success on this trip than the rest of us, an accomplishment that he can rarely claim, because of his habit of wandering off to investigate terrain rather than focusing on his quarry. That he is doing so well is a testament to the situation at hand.
"The man who suffers, loudly may complain; / And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain." I do not rage, of course, but the general effect remains the same. Everyone is aware I am dissatisfied. I am aggravated even by the howler monkeys, whose antics in camp used to amuse me. Now their sole purpose appears to be dumping out every cup of tea I pour for myself. I will not tolerate this nonsense again tomorrow.
I do not, however, despair completely, and insist that I shall get my elephant and return triumphant to England and my wife. Am very much looking forward to the arrival of the rest of our party tomorrow. I hope that conversation with Palmer will put my mind at ease.
35
The case against the Palmers proved to be fairly straightforward. Arthur admitted everything to anyone who would listen, but Andrew stubbornly refused to speak again on the subject after he left Monsieur Fournier's, not that it mattered. They would both be tried in England for the thefts of the objects from the museum as well as for Philip's murder, because he had died in a British colony. In France they would be charged with the illegal sale of antiquities. The crime of murder being a capital offense, Andrew at least would probably never make it to trial in Paris. Lord Lytton accompanied me to the police station when the time came for me to give my own detailed statement, after which I felt a pleasing sensation of relief. Finished with my part of the administrative aftermath of the affair, I realized that I really ought to return to London; I wanted to speak with Lord Palmer and Arabella Dunleigh in person.
Mrs. Dunleigh had already planned a trip to Cairo, where she hoped her daughter would be more successful in catching a husband than she had been in London. She appeared rather affronted that I called on Arabella, seeming to hold me responsible for exposing Arthur's criminal past. The fact that he had participated in such terrible crimes did not trouble her nearly as much as the fact that all of society had learned about it. Arabella, eating as many tea cakes as ever, exhibited few signs of a broken heart. Knowing that one man had proposed to her improved her confidence immeasurably, and it was clear that she looked forward to the Season in Cairo.
More distressing was my visit to Lord Palmer, whose life had been profoundly affected by the turn of events. The dear old man seemed to have aged a lifetime since I last saw him. I asked him to assist me in organizing the return of the stolen pieces to the British Museum, a request that he gratefully accepted. Together with him and Colin, I took everything from Ashton Hall to Mr. Murray after the museum had closed for the day. Having completed this task that I knew to be so important to my late husband brought me great satisfaction. Afterward Lord Palmer presented me with the monograph on Achilles and the great Alexander, published on Philip's behalf. Mr. Murray, feeling keenly Lord Palmer's distress at having Andrew and Arthur betray him so completely, gave him a lovely small statue of Athena from his own collection. Unfortunately, it was now the only authentic piece in Lord Palmer's possession; we found none of the pieces stolen from him among those recovered by Philip.
When she learned all that had transpired in Paris, my mother flew into a rage that has since become legendary. I did not tell her myself, instead leaving the unpleasant task to my father, whom I had called to my side as soon as I arrived at Berkeley Square. She came to me the instant he finished relating the story to her, and I was subjected to a solid hour of her ranting; like Mrs. Dunleigh's, her primary concern was the scandal raging through society.
"It is insupportable that you should have exposed your own husband in this dreadful manner." She took a seat at last, indicating that the end of her lecture drew near.
"Philip did nothing wrong, Mother. No one suspects him of wrongdoing."
"You have turned him into a murder victim instead of a gentleman who met a noble death on safari," she said. "Why would you want to bring such notoriety to the family?"
"You would prefer that his killers go free?" I asked.
"It is impossible to speak with you, Emily." She wrung her hands. "I fear for your future more than ever."
"There is no need to worry, Mother. I have no interest in remaining in London at present and plan to depart for Greece as soon as possible; you will be glad to know that I have found a most excellent traveling companion."
"That, at least, is a relief. Who is she?"
"Cécile du Lac," I replied. It had taken some considerable arguing to convince my friend to leave Paris, but eventually she agreed to accompany me, on the condition that she could bring Caesar and Brutus. I firmly believe that her unwillingness to accept my invitation was merely a ploy to trick me into allowing those odious little beasts to travel with us.
"Perhaps there is hope for you, Daughter," my mother said, sighing. "I am certain that Madame du Lac can present you to any number of very eligible young men. But must you go to Greece? I do not know of any society to speak of there. Why not Italy instead? Perhaps Florence? I believe that the Duke of Middleton's son plans to travel there with a large party after the New Year."
"I am going to Greece, Mother. I want to see the villa and, frankly, would prefer to avoid society entirely."