Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“I don’t—” 

“Nothing more. I must run.” She kissed me on the forehead and left for the train station. Not much later, Robert was back, holding my coat. 

“We must go, Emily. Bainbridge is coming, too. He’ll meet us at the station.” 

The argument over who would go to Vienna was a heated one. In the end, Cécile agreed to stay in London with Ivy, who obviously was in no condition to travel into such dangerous circumstances. Margaret, who felt it keenly that she had missed the finales of my last two adventures, insisted on accompanying us. She did, however, send a wire to Mr. Michaels in Oxford before we left. 

Robert’s parents came to the station with us, clearly displeased that their son was bent on traveling. Ivy clung to her husband’s arm, sorry to lose him again so soon after his return, but there was no trace of anxiety on her face. Her porcelain skin was perfectly smooth. She knew he would come back to her. 

“You must be delighted to be out of bed at last,” I said, hugging her as I was about to board the train. 

“It is a relief, I confess. But your mother was very kind to me in her way.” 

“Be careful, my dear,” I said. “She’s prepared to watch over you for the next six months.” 

“Wire us as soon as you have news,” Ivy said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until we hear from you. I hope—” She stopped. 

“So do I,” I said. 

“I don’t know why you’re all so worried.” Cécile kissed me on both cheeks. “Do you forget that Monsieur Hargreaves is not only devastatingly handsome, but exceedingly clever, too? This Harrison is no match for him. And keep your eye on Jeremy. I expect you to send me news of what is transpiring between him and Rina.” 

We’d barely reached our compartment when a telegram boy burst in, holding an envelope. My heart leapt, certain that it was news of Colin. 

It was not. 

It was for Margaret, from Mr. Michaels. She did not tell me what it said, but it made her blush, and after she read it, she buried herself in some poem of Ovid’s she was translating. 

My stomach lurched as the train started, and it felt as if every nerve in my body was charged with a nervous, biting energy. When I thought about how long it would take for us to get to Vienna, it seemed intolerable, and I wondered how I would survive. Jeremy had drifted off almost before we left the station. I envied him. If only I could sleep. 

Then Robert handed a book to me: Gerard; or, The World, the Flesh, and the Devil by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. “I believe it is her latest,” he said. 

“When did you have time to get it?” I asked. 

“I sent one of your footmen out while Meg was packing your things.” 

“Dare I hope that you’ve begun to see the value of popular fiction?” 

“Not as such. Worthless drivel, all of it, and quite corrupting. But you have convinced me that there are times when that’s precisely what the mind requires, and I think, my friend, that for you this is one of those times.” 

“You enjoyed Lady Audley’s Secret?” I asked. 

“Immensely.” He leaned close and spoke in a low voice. “But I’ll never admit that to anyone but you.” 

“There’s hope for you yet, Robert.” 

He squeezed my hand. 

The crossing to Calais was stormy, but the churning water had little effect on me. I was too lost in my thoughts and worries to take notice of anything short of a biblical gale. When we reached France, it was raining, a cold winter rain that with very little encouragement would turn to sleet. I stepped carefully down the ferry’s gangplank, grateful for Robert’s steady arm, Margaret and Jeremy walking in front of us. We were standing on the dock, prepared to head for the train that would take us to Vienna, when I saw him.

He was walking with purpose towards the ferry, carrying a satchel, a book tucked under his arm. All of it clattered to the wet ground when he looked up to see me running towards him.

“Colin!” I threw my arms around him, nearly knocking him over. His embrace engulfed me, and he kissed every inch of my face before pulling back to look at me. “You’re hurt,” I said, gently touching a ragged gash next to his eyebrow.

“Kristiana is dead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I seemed unable to stop repeating the words. We had all gone straight back onto the ferry and were on our way to England, Margaret, Jeremy, and Robert leaving Colin and me alone in my cabin.

“I am too,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Was it Harrison?”

“Yes. She had persuaded Kaufman—one of Schröder’s associates—to talk to her. When she went to meet him, Harrison was there instead.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The most awful part is that I already knew the details of their plans. She needn’t have met him at all. She didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, pulling his head onto my shoulder.

“When I left Vienna before New Year’s, it was to divert the shipment of explosives that was going to Schröder. His plan was to set off a series of bombs while the emperor and the kaiser were attending a performance of the court boys’ choir. I learned the details from the explosive carriers.”

“How?” I asked.

“When I realized I could infiltrate the group, I decided not to return to Vienna. The town we were in was remote. I couldn’t wire her.”

“Colin—”

“I hadn’t planned to be there so long, but it became clear that if I stayed, I’d have the opportunity not only to uncover the plot, but to sabotage the explosives.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, not that it mattered in the end. We were able to stop them before they planted the bombs. But I always like to take deeper measures of prevention when I can—a double layer of subterfuge, if you will. If I hadn’t this time, though—”

“You can’t think that way,” I said.

“No, I can’t.” His expression was imperturbable, marked by the calm that I’d seen every time he faced difficult circumstances. “She went to my rooms and took the letter and the wires you sent me. Karl found them in her room and gave them to me, afterwards. If she’d only opened the letter, she would have seen that you already knew the plot.”

“I should have told you everything as soon as I learned it. I—I—was so scared. Scared that if I did, you’d take dramatic measures to stop Harrison, and that Schröder would kill you.”

“You must learn to trust my instincts when it comes to things like this,” he said. “But I’m glad you left the letter for me detailing Schröder’s plans.”

“If I’d shared what I knew earlier, Kristiana wouldn’t have died.”

“You just told me not to think that way. It’s time to take your own advice.” He touched my lips. “You did a marvelous job for Robert.”

“And you did a marvelous job saving the world.”

“A bit dramatic,” he said.

“Maybe.” I kissed him on each cheek. “Or not.”

“Harrison had arranged it to look as if the British government was involved in the attack. We prevented something that could well have instigated a war. But there’s something tugging at me. There was a small measure of truth in what Harrison believed: if we went to war with Germany today, there’s no question that we’d be victorious.”

“But there’ll be no war,” I said.

“Not now, but what if it comes later? What if it is inevitable? He’s right about the kaiser wanting to strengthen his navy.”

“Which doesn’t mean that he’s bent on fighting with Britain.”

“Of course not. But if he does, and he builds an army and navy that could threaten ours, it could mean the deaths of tens of thousands of our men. I’ve stopped an attack on innocent victims, but in doing so, have I left the door open for even more death in the future?”

“No, no,” I said. “The kaiser is the queen’s grandson. He’d never go to war with England.”

“I’m afraid the era of gentlemen’s diplomacy may be coming to an end, Emily, and I wonder what it will mean for us. For our world.” He gave a weak, closed-lip smile. “But let’s talk no more of that. I’m concerned about you. You’ve faced horrors in these past weeks.”

I met his gaze but did not speak. He pressed his hands to my face, his skin cool against my cheeks.

“I don’t know which is worse,” he said. “The terror you feel the first time you witness such things, or the numbness that comes after it starts to become ordinary.”

“I can’t imagine any of this becoming ordinary.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I didn’t realize I was starting.”

“You’ve proven your investigative abilities to me repeatedly, Emily. I think I may be able to use you as a partner, not just a wife.”

“For your work?”

“Yes.”

“Will the queen approve?” I asked, at once shocked and delighted and full of more than a little pride.

“I find that I care about her opinion less and less.” He leaned forward and kissed me, his lips soft and light.

“How much less?” I asked, returning his kiss. “Enough to have the ship’s captain marry us?”

Laughter stopped his kisses. “Brandon’s right. You do read too many sensational novels. No, not that much.”

“A great loss for both of us,” I said.

Our return to England should have been filled with unchecked exultation—and it was for Ivy and Robert, Margaret and Cécile. But Colin and I could not fully give ourselves over to celebration until we’d washed away the memory of death, something that would only come after months had passed. Of all my friends, Cécile understood this best, coming to me at night, when dreams brought me to tears.