“Simon—” Mr. Foster stepped towards his friend. “I don’t know what to say. Why?”

“It was the only way forward,” Mr. Barnes said. “The only way to bring this country into a new age of enlightenment.”

“Not like this, Simon, not like this. You wouldn’t have had to blackmail me.”

“That was just insurance,” Mr. Barnes said.

“You should have trusted me. Trusted me to reach these heights on my own,” Mr. Foster said. “And trusted me to keep you as my closest adviser.”

Mr. Foster sank into a chair, and they both sat, silent, until Scotland Yard arrived. After the usual sorts of administrative detail, they formally arrested Mr. Barnes and took him away. As I watched him go, I almost wished I’d asked what secret about Colin he’d meant to expose. But I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know.

“Excellent work, Hargreaves,” Mr. Foster said, slapping my husband on the back. “Capital job.” There was no enthusiasm in his voice.

“Sorry the result wasn’t happier for you,” Colin said.

“Nothing to be done,” Mr. Foster said. “Difficult to see one’s friend stoop to such levels.”

“Yes.” Colin put the gun on top of Mr. Barnes’s desk. “But there is something we need to discuss. This match factory.”

“Let me assure you I knew nothing about it.”

“I never suspected otherwise,” Colin said. “But you are the registered owner of it.”

“Would be deeply grateful if you could make it all go away,” Mr. Foster said.

“Shouldn’t pose a problem,” Colin said. “I’ll personally see to fixing the records. The rest the government will have no objection to burying. Emily has already begun organizing a better situation for the people working in the factory.”

“Do let me know if you require anything from me. I’ve money, whatever you need. I can’t tell you how distressed I am to have had my name associated with something like that.”

“Barnes knew you’d feel that way,” Colin said. “Which is why he thought it would give him power over you.”

“There’s something else,” I said. “All the rest of the fraud. You claim you knew nothing about it. Yet you were so jumpy when I broached the subject in my library.”

Mr. Foster sighed. “Barnes came to me some weeks ago. He told me he’d learned that there had been tampering in my first election and was worried I might be exposed for it, even though there was no proof of any involvement on my part. I swear to you I knew nothing about it at the time.”

“That was the beginning of his setting into motion the final part of his plan,” Colin said. “He was getting ready to exert his control over you.”

Mr. Foster bounced on his toes. “Is this likely to haunt me in the future?”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Colin said.

“I appreciate it more than you could ever know, Hargreaves,” he said. “Pity to have one’s career ruined for reasons beyond one’s control.”

“No one wants to see that happen,” Colin said.

“Thank you,” Mr. Foster said. “And Lady Emily, don’t be a stranger. I’ll soon be in a better position than ever to help forward your political agenda.”

Another smile, and he left us.

“Are you absolutely certain he knew nothing about what Barnes was doing?” I asked.

“As certain as I need to be,” Colin said.

“Shouldn’t his possible role in all of it be examined?”

“It would ruin him, even if in the end he was found innocent.”

“Don’t you want to know the truth?” I asked. “To be sure? This doesn’t seem right.”

“I understand how you feel, Emily, I do,” he said. “But there’s nothing more to be done. Take comfort in the fact he’s a decent man and will do good work for the empire. In the end, that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t agree, Colin.” I crossed my arms. “The means matter just as much.”

“In this case, we can’t have both,” Colin said. “And I’m willing to accept what’s best for England. You should be, too.”

38

“That’s all fine for the lot of you,” Jeremy said. “But I’m never showing my face in public again.” We’d gathered in the library, each of us still reeling from the events of the previous week. “It’s all over and I’ve got not a single drop of paint to show for it. Not a drop! Meanwhile, our darling Em—my darling Em—is the only one of us to have made the cut. She gets paint.”

“The paint was for Colin,” I said, centering on the table my favorite Greek vase, its black figures depicting the siege of Troy.

“Right,” Jeremy said. “Hargreaves, the model of everything good in England, has something to hide? You’ll never convince me it wasn’t meant for you.”

“This isn’t funny, you know,” Ivy said. “People are dead. And think of all those whose lives have been decimated.”

“I hate to agree with old Barnes, but you can’t say they didn’t deserve it,” Jeremy said. “It never pays to live badly unless you’re happy for others to know.” He puffed on his cigar and looked contemplative for a moment. “I say, that was a bloody good phrase. You think Oscar Wilde would want it?”

“You think too highly of yourself, Jeremy,” I said.

“We shouldn’t be joking about this.” Ivy pressed her pink lips together. Her face was drawn and pale.

“It’s all over now,” I said. “There’s no more need to worry.”

Her whole body trembling, she started to cry.

“Ivy, darling, what is it?” I asked.

“I can’t live with myself any longer,” she said. “I’ve done something so wretched. Every day has been agony, waiting to see if my secret was the next to be exposed.”

“You?” Jeremy doubled over, laughing. “Ivy, there’s no one in England—no, the world—less likely to have done something dreadful than you. I’ve seen you remove ants from picnic blankets in lieu of smashing them.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said, her voice raw.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Barnes has been stopped, and you’ve nothing more to fear.”

“Nothing but your censure and my husband’s,” she said. “After all these weeks of worrying, I’ve decided I must confess everything. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. And I certainly couldn’t live through another period terrified of exposure.”

“There’s no need, Ivy,” Colin said, moving to sit next to her.

“I must.” She took a deep breath. “I did something terrible when you were all in Vienna and Robert was in Newgate, awaiting trial for murder.”

“That was a dreadful time, Ivy,” I said. “Anyone might have strayed into morally ambiguous territory. You were afraid your husband was going to be executed.”

“Very afraid,” she said. “And although I had faith in your skills as an investigator, Emily, I still worried that you might not be able to clear his name. I was frantic. And I couldn’t think of any other way to save him.”

“We were all frantic,” I said.

“But I did something immoral,” she said. “I found a man, a poor man. A man with no income, an invalid wife, and more children than he could ever hope to feed. He’d lost his job in some dreadful factory and couldn’t find another that paid enough. So I made an offer to him.”

We all sat, our stillness almost inhuman. Ivy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Colin handed her a handkerchief.

“I told him that if he would agree to confess to the murder, I would see to it that his wife received the best medical care money could buy and that I would support his family in a style better than any in which they’d ever lived.”

“But if he confessed—” I started, but she interrupted.

“Yes, he would be hanged for the crime,” she said. “But he would die knowing his loved ones would be looked after in a way they couldn’t be if he were alive and trying to care for them.”

“Oh, Ivy,” I said.

Tears poured down her face. “I know how awful it was to do,” she said. “I’m ashamed of myself. But I’m not like you, Emily. I’m not strong enough to live without my husband.”

“Ivy Brandon!” Jeremy rescued us from the heavy silence engulfing the room. “That you, of all people, would make me look a paragon of English goodness.”

“It’s no joking matter, Jeremy,” she said.

“No?” he asked. “I seem to remember Emily clearing Robert’s name and your husband being released from jail. Correct?”

“Yes,” she said.

“So, your working-class bloke? Did he ever make his confession?”

“No.”

“Which suggests—now, do correct me if I’m wrong for I’ve not Emily’s investigative mind—it suggests he was not, in fact, hanged?”

“No,” Ivy said.

“And do tell us, Mrs. Brandon, about the plight of his family today.” Jeremy had never performed with such bravado. “Did you, upon finding you didn’t need them, cut them off from all support?”

“Heavens, no!” she said. “I’ve looked after them the whole time. They’re happily settled in Newcastle. The children have a governess. Their father has no need for a job.”

“And the health of the man’s dear wife?” Jeremy asked.

“She suffers from consumption, but receives the best care possible.”

Jeremy threw his hands in the air. “Only you, Ivy, could turn a very nearly terrible sin into a great act of charity.”

“I was going to let the man hang for a crime he didn’t commit,” she said.

“I don’t believe for one second you would have ever gone through with it,” I said. “Look how tormented you are over just having thought about it. In the end, you wouldn’t have stood by and let it happen.”

“And furthermore,” Colin said, “the police would require more than a vague confession. This man would never have been able to give them the necessary details to convince them he was responsible for the murder.”