Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“The fire?” I leaned back against the wall and rubbed my forehead. “Tell me you didn’t.” 

“Stand up straight, Emily. Have you no concern for your posture? Of course I put it in the fire. What else would you have me do with such a vile thing? I opened it up. ‘I can resist everything but temptation’? What sort of a person says such a thing?” 

“I found it rather amusing,” I said. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s wholly inappropriate for a lady in Ivy’s condition, and you, my dear, aren’t even married.” 

“But I was married,” I walked to the fireplace and knocked the logs with a poker, but every trace of the script was gone. 

“And Miss Seward! What if she were to get her hands on such a thing?” 

“Oh, Lady Bromley, I would never give it so much as a passing glance,” Margaret said, a broad smile on her face. 

“Now there”—my mother nodded at Margaret—“is a girl with good sense.” 

“Where is Cécile?” I asked. 

“She’s bathing,” my mother said, doing her best not to frown. “The French do have different habits than we English. But Madame du Lac is from an excellent family. Did you know, Miss Seward, that I believe they may have connections to royalty?” 

“Fascinating,” Margaret said. “I always thought I saw something regal in Cécile’s manner.” 

“I am looking so forward to getting to know you better while I am here, Miss Seward. I’m beginning to think my initial impression of you was entirely wrong.” 

“Will you excuse me, Lady Bromley? I’m going to the library to try to find something inspiring for Ivy to read.” Margaret winked at me as she backed out of the door.

“Go with her, Emily,” my mother said. “Ivy needs to rest. You may come up in a few hours and say a quick hello, but you must not bother her.” 

I threw a sympathetic glance Ivy’s way as I left the room. Margaret was waiting for me in the hall, sitting on the floor, laughing silently. 

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked. 

“I’ve decided to befriend your mother.” 

“You’re awful,” I said, pulling her to her feet and heading back downstairs. “Be careful, or she’ll have you engaged by the end of the month.” 

“There’s no danger of that happening. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.” 

“Is Cécile really bathing?” 

“She is. Meg was assisting her. Odette and Davis left together hours ago. Everyone belowstairs is buzzing about it.” 

“How do you know?” I asked. 

“Because after I watched them leave, I went downstairs myself to see what everyone was saying. You’ve a charming group of servants.” 

“Would you expect anything else?” 

“No. They’re awfully protective of you. And terrified to learn who will go with you to Park Lane and who will be left behind once you’re married.” 

“I’ve not even begun to think about that.” 

“Hearts will be broken. Depend upon it.” 

Just as we reached the bottom of the steps, someone knocked loudly on the front door. 

“I’ll play Davis,” Margaret said to the footman who’d stepped forward to answer it. He bowed and returned to his post while she swung open the heavy door to reveal a distinguished-looking gentleman. “Mr. Michaels!” Margaret grinned. “What a surprise to see you. Come in. You remember Lady Ashton?”

“Of course.” He nodded at me, started to reach for my hand, then stopped and turned to Margaret. “I was concerned when you did not reply to my last note.” 

“So you came back to London?” 

“I thought you might have taken offense to my most recent comments on Ars Amatoria.” 

“No, far from it. I thought they were quite brilliant,” Margaret said. “Shall we go to the library?” My mother came down the stairs just as we started for the hallway, and I hung back to wait for her. 

“Who is that?” she asked. 

“Mr. Michaels. He’s a don at Oxford.” 

She wrinkled her nose. 

“I understand he’s from a very wealthy family,” I whispered. “Have you heard the stories about Henry Elliott?” 

“No. Do tell.” 

“I will as soon as I return. I’ve an appointment I must keep.” I felt a wicked smile on my face. “Could you chaperone them for me?” 

“With pleasure.” 

Margaret turned back and winked at me. She had no idea what was in store for her.

I made my way to Paddington Station and caught the first train to Windsor, where I found Mrs. Reynold-Plympton in her animal-filled drawing room sewing a black mourning band onto a handkerchief. She hardly looked up when her butler announced me. 

“How did you find Mr. Hamilton? Was he of any use to you?” 

“In a way,” I said. 

“Do you want tea?” 

“No, thank you. I want to ask you a question that’s undoubtedly inappropriate.” 

She tossed aside the handkerchief. “My favorite kind. What is it?” 

“Why did Lord Fortescue propose to Mary Sanburne?” 

“It does seem an unlikely match, doesn’t it?” she asked. “She brought him no money, and she’s certainly no beauty.” 

“And it does not appear there was much affection between them.” 

“There was enough to make the arrangement palatable to both of them.” 

“But he adored you,” I said. 

“In his way, yes.” Her smile was thin. 

“Why did he choose her?” 

“It was odd, really. Quite unlike his usual decisions. Basil told me in no uncertain terms that he’d always felt bad about what had happened to her family, especially after the queen gave him her father’s title and estate.” 

“So he married her in an attempt to make up for all that?” 

“Essentially, yes.” 

“Did she know that?” 

“I believe he told her when he proposed.” 

I rested my hand on my chin and bit my lip. “I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to watch the man you love marry someone else.” 

“Marriages are just a form of doing business,” she said. “It never troubled me.” 

“I can’t believe that. You love him.” 

“Loved him. He’s gone now, and I can’t even mourn him openly.” She closed her eyes, one hand clutching at her knee, the other clenched in a fist brought to her mouth. 

“He shouldn’t have married her,” I said. “He should have waited until…until he could have had you.” 

“Yes, well, Basil was never the sort of man to bow to anyone else’s wishes. We got along well precisely because I could accept that.” 

“But it’s so sad.” 

“Yet much better than nothing.” She folded her hands in her lap and straightened her back. “It was the right thing to do, marrying her. How could I fault him for it? It was the only thing I’ve ever known him to do that was completely selfless.”

Two more days passed without a word from Colin. Without knowing even the name of the town where he had gone, there was no way I could reach him, or even send an inquiry to the authorities. The kaiser would arrive in Vienna tomorrow and attend the court choirboys’ performance the following day. I should have told him everything I’d learned from the empress, not just skeletal facts. Withholding the information hadn’t accomplished anything positive, only put innocent people at risk. But surely he’d figured it out.

If he were still alive.

A sentence that I couldn’t bear to say aloud. Not to Margaret, or Ivy, or Cécile, or even to myself. I tried to focus on Robert in Newgate, hoping that would push thoughts of Colin from my mind. This was futile, of course, but also unnecessary. I should have realized that my mother’s presence would serve as its own monumental distraction.

“I’m not sure what to think of this don of Miss Seward’s,” she said, accosting me in my bedroom as I was dressing for dinner. “He’s well-mannered and decent enough looking. A bit old for her, perhaps, but she’s the sort of girl who could stand a firm guiding force in her life.” 

I raised my eyebrows and looked in the mirror, watching Meg expertly win another struggle to force my hair into submission. “They are very well suited to one another, but I’m not sure that Margaret has any intention of getting married.” 

“You talk such nonsense, Emily. The girl needs to be married. Mr. Michaels has a decent income. Not spectacular—I certainly wouldn’t want you to settle for such a thing—but she is American, after all, and she does have a fortune of her own. It’s a pity she and the Duke of Bainbridge were never able to work out their differences, but really, she may be better off where she is.” 

“Can it be, Mother, that you’re contemplating the arrangement of a love match?” 

“Love’s all well and good, so long as it doesn’t distract from what’s really important. You never did tell me why you object to Henry Elliott for her.” 

“Well…” I watched her in the mirror. “It’s not so much that I’ve an objection to Henry. But I’ve heard that there is a certain young woman with an impeccable background and egregious fortune who’s set her cap for him.” 

“Really? Who?” 

“I’m not at liberty to reveal a confidence.” Particularly when it was entirely fictional. 

“Does Henry know this?” 

“If he doesn’t, he will soon.” 

“How interesting. I shall tell Lady Elliott to keep her ear to the ground. Perhaps I should speak with Mr. Michaels this evening.” 

Already I felt sorry for Mr. Michaels. He did not stand a chance.

I missed Ivy that night. Cowed by my mother, she was keeping to her bed, but I was beginning to think she was enjoying herself. I’d slipped her my copy of Lost and Saved, Caroline Norton’s sensational novel of Beatrice Brooke, who is tricked into believing that her lover has married her after she falls ill while they’re on an illicit trip to Egypt. Melodrama at its best.