A friendship with his sister-in-law did not even occur to her until she realised how seldom Rosalind had mentioned Ailsa. In fact, it had been only twice, and then only to say that they had gone together to some event that had been Ailsa’s idea. Apart from that, they had had an interesting and entertaining afternoon without thought of her at all.
And yet Ailsa had appeared on other occasions to be so large a part of the Kynastons’ life. Was it actually only a kindness, including her because she appeared to have no other family?
Thinking back on the few occasions Emily had been in the company of both women, she remembered it as if Ailsa had somehow been in charge, like the elder sister, although she was probably several years younger. But there had been little actual warmth between them.
Was that of any importance at all? Possibly not. Nevertheless Emily determined to learn as much more about Ailsa Kynaston as she was able to, preferably when not in Rosalind’s company. Among many other things she had learned about Rosalind was that she was far wiser and more observant than she affected to be. It might be more than a little foolish to underestimate her.
Creating the opportunity to observe Ailsa was now the challenge. If Ailsa were indeed at the heart of the problem — the murder of Kitty Ryder — then it might be dangerous to be seen to enquire about her. The thought did not deter Emily, but she must plan it with care. She would find out Ailsa’s interests, what plays she liked, what exhibitions, who were in her circle of friends that Emily herself might also know.
As it turned out, fate played directly into Emily’s hands. Three days later she changed her earlier decision to decline, and instead accompanied Jack to a formal party with several other people in Government. Previously she said she would not go, afraid that she would appear clinging and a trifle possessive. Now her purpose regarding Ailsa changed everything. She was determined to support Jack not just tacitly, but positively, and oblige him to be aware of her and happy that she was present.
She dressed carefully in her favourite shade: palish green, more delicate than the earliest leaves, and known as ‘waters of the Nile’, but in the far more sophisticated French ‘eau-de-Nil’. It was the softest silk, floating when she moved, and the sheen of it caught the light. Naturally it was the latest cut: soft at the shoulder and neck, smooth and slender at the hip. Pearls might have been more appropriate considering the name of the colour, but she wore diamonds. She wanted the fire and the sparkle.
She was satisfied as she swept down the stairs towards Jack, who was waiting for her at the bottom, that she had achieved the result she wished. He said nothing, but his eyes widened and he gave a little sigh of satisfaction. So far, she was succeeding.
The effect of her entrance at the party was also gratifying. However, it took only a few minutes to realise that she certainly had no monopoly on beauty or attention. Moments later Ailsa Kynaston arrived, sufficiently late to be sure of everyone being aware of her, but not enough to be discourteous.
She was dressed in cream and gold. It was a daring combination for a woman of such pale colouring, but she carried it superbly, with a confidence that challenged anyone to find fault with her.
However, what took Emily’s attention was the fact that she was on the arm of Edom Talbot, whom she knew to be one of the men closest to the Prime Minister, even though he held no specific government position. But Emily knew from Charlotte that Talbot had taken a dislike to Pitt, and made his investigation of the Kynaston affair more difficult than it needed to have been. Or perhaps it was not Talbot’s intention, rather his necessity, because of the sensitivity of Kynaston’s position with the navy.
Looking at him very carefully now, Emily saw a man striking in appearance because of his height and casual strength. He carried himself as if he had tested and proved his physical superiority many times. There was a kind of unspoken arrogance in his posture, slightly intimidating.
Did Ailsa find that pleasing? To Emily it seemed slightly ill-bred. A gentleman did not ever intentionally make others feel uncomfortable, and to threaten, however tacitly, would do that.
Some women found dangerous men attractive. Emily considered their taste, conversely, to be a sign of some kind of inner weakness. And weakness was dangerous. It was those aware of their own disadvantage who attacked.
Someone spoke to her and she made a light and meaningless reply, smiling with the charm she had always known how to use.
Jack said something to her that she did not hear. She was busy watching Edom Talbot and Ailsa Kynaston, studying the way they moved together, who spoke and who listened, how often they met each other’s eyes, or smiled. Who was leading?
At first it seemed to be Talbot. He knew more people, and introduced them to her. She was gracious, but not eager. Nothing in their conversation was so very interesting. He clearly admired her striking appearance, but then so did at least half the men in the room, and the women both envied and resented it.
Emily had not been paying attention to her own duties. She gave Jack a dazzling smile and joined in the conversation.
It was over half an hour before she could watch Ailsa and Talbot again. Now she was leaning towards him, smiling. Then she spoke to someone else, the moment after back to Talbot. He did not take his eyes from her, almost as if he could not. She was flirting with him, but so subtly only Emily, an expert at such things herself, was aware of it. Others walked by, made some passing observation, smiled, laughed, and moved on.
Talbot put his hand on Ailsa’s arm, high, near the shoulder, as if to pull her a little closer to him. It was an oddly proprietorial gesture, almost intimate. Her face was turned away from him as she had been speaking momentarily to someone else. Emily saw the flash of more than distaste, it was almost hatred. Then deliberately she allowed herself to be drawn towards him before finding an excuse to move in a different direction.
Was she holding back through the memory of Bennett, the lost husband she could never forget? Or something else entirely? Perhaps something she knew of Dudley Kynaston and the adopted family whose loyalty to her she was repaying with a kind of protection now?
But protection from what? Could it be the same knowledge that Kitty Ryder had run away from? Or was killed for?
Perhaps Emily had been completely wrong in her estimation of Ailsa. That was something she had to find out. She must force herself to know her better, in spite of her instinctive dislike of her. Emily knew scores of people, perhaps hundreds. At least two or three of them must know Ailsa. She would begin looking for the best way forward tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
‘You bring ’er back ’ere by ’alf-past five, you ’ear me, young man? I don’t care ’oo you are, special police or not,’ the cook said fiercely, staring at Stoker as if he were an errant bootboy.
Stoker smiled, but Maisie got the answer in before he could speak.
‘Yes, Cook. Mr Stoker’s a Special Branch policeman. ’E wouldn’t never do nothing wrong.’ She lifted her chin up even higher and met Cook’s eyes directly, something she would not normally dare to do. But today she was in her best dress, the only one that she never used for work. The footman had polished her boots for her until the cat could see its face reflected in them. Mrs Kynaston’s new lady’s maid had put her hair up so that it was tidy, even at the back where she couldn’t see it herself. She was going out to tea with Mr Stoker, to be asked some important questions, so important they couldn’t be asked where other people might overhear them.