"Mr. Murray, I have been considering for some time making a significant donation to the museum in memory of my husband. How would I go about arranging the details?"

"I would be honored to assist you in any way I could. Perhaps I could set up a meeting with the director of the museum? You could share with us your ideas and let the solicitors handle the rest."

"Excellent. I shall look at my calendar and send you a note."

"And, Lady Ashton, if you are as interested in Homer as you appear to be, you might want to attend a lecture being given at University College next week by a young scholar, Mr. Jeremy Pratt. I believe he plans to address the differences in translations of the Iliad."

"Thank you, Mr. Murray. In fact, I am planning to go with a friend of mine. Perhaps I will see you there."

Back at home that evening, I found that a decanter filled with port had replaced the sherry in the library. Davis, it seemed, had decided to accept my new eccentricities. I rang the bell, and he entered the room almost immediately.

"Thank you, Davis. I appreciate your consideration."

He smiled at me. "I draw the line at the viscount's cigars, madam. Ask for them and I shall give my notice."


31 MAY 1887

BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON


"What winning graces! what majestic mien! / She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen!"

The future Lady Ashton is found, although I am afraid she is, as yet, not much impressed with me. Expect to have a capital time changing this. I watched her at the ball tonight, every eligible peer in Britain vying for her attention. She danced all night-and how she moves!-but took little notice of her partners, regardless of their titles or fortunes. Had the sublime pleasure of waltzing with her and am convinced that somewhere beneath her demure smile is the only woman I shall ever love. Aphrodite be damned! Paris should have given the apple to Lady Emily Bromley, who forevermore shall be known to me as Kallista.

11

I allowed myself the luxury of being the distraught widow for several more days before returning to the realities of life. As I made the requisite round of calls, I realized that I had begun to look forward to my friends' mentioning Philip; talking about him brought me great pleasure now that I genuinely mourned him. I went so far as to invite his sister, Anne, to stay with me for a few days, and I found her a great comfort. She regaled me with stories of their childhood and his years at university, uncovering another facet of him to me. Philip had confided in her and wrote to her frequently when he was not at home. After hearing her stories and continuing to read his journal, I felt that I had a nearly complete knowledge of my late husband's character.

Eventually I decided the time had come to go through the rest of Philip's possessions. Soon after his death, my mother, in a rare moment of helpfulness, had assisted me in selecting those things he possessed of sentimental value and setting them aside. Now I needed to remove his clothing and toiletries from his dressing room. I asked Davis to coordinate this, telling him to dispose of the items in any way he felt appropriate. Before he set Baines and one of the other footmen to their task, I went into the dressing room myself.

I don't think I had ever gone into that room before. On our wedding night, Philip and I had entered the bedroom together, and Meg had immediately ushered me into my own dressing room. As she had shut the door behind me, Philip had pulled it open.

"Take your time, Lady Ashton. I shall be in my dressing room and will not leave it until you call for me. I only ask that you don't keep me waiting all night." He smiled. "Please make yourself as comfortable as you can in our room and try to relax." I remember that his use of the phrase "our room" had horrified me, not because of what I knew must transpire between husband and wife but because I realized that I would have no privacy, even when sleeping. I had always loved lounging in my bed, reading the morning post, having breakfast sent up to me; it was one of the rare places I could escape my mother and enjoy solitude. Now was I to have no escape?

Meg had misunderstood my look of panic and offered me a glass of sherry, which I'd blindly accepted and drunk despite my dislike for the stuff. It took her a considerable length of time to undo the nearly endless row of tiny pearl buttons that fastened my dress, and I was thankful for the respite. She unlaced my corset and removed the pins from my hair. Once the lace-covered nightgown was over my head, she left me alone. I sat for a while longer brushing my hair and then went back to the bedroom, where I leapt into the large bed. I tried the pillows on each side before deciding where I would sleep, then sat bolt upright, my skirt billowing around me, put a pillow on my lap, and called for my husband.

I can still recall the sight of Philip in his nightshirt, his hair slightly disheveled, climbing into the bed. He sat next to me and took my face in his hands.

"I am the happiest man in the world." He brushed the hair away from my face and began gently kissing my lips. "You taste like sherry," he murmured.

I remembered my response. "I don't know what you taste like."

"Port" was his reply. I smiled as I thought of this, wondering if it had something to do with my opinion of the drink itself.

Now, standing in his dressing room, surrounded by his clothes, I imagined that I could almost smell him. I closed my eyes as I remembered his soft touch on my body, then took a last look around and went back downstairs, passing Davis in the hall.

"Please try to have them finish quickly," I admonished him, heading for the library; I wanted to read Philip's account of our wedding night and hoped that he had been indelicate enough to write about such a thing. Before my curiosity could be satisfied, the parlormaid interrupted me, informing me that my parents awaited me in the drawing room.

"Good morning, Mother," I said, and kissed my father. "I'm surprised to see you out this early in the day."

"I was so pleased to receive your invitation to dine that I asked your father to bring me here immediately to accept. Besides, we haven't seen much of you since your return from Paris, and I do so want to hear more about your trip."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," I replied skeptically. "We shall have a lively party Wednesday. I've invited Lord Palmer and his younger son, Arthur. Robert and Ivy will be there, as well as Arabella Dunleigh and her mother."

"How thoughtful of you to invite the Dunleighs."

"I never really liked Arabella, but I think that was perhaps due to her close connection with Emma Callum. Now that Emma is getting married, it seems that she has quite thrown over poor Arabella."

"Arabella has been out two seasons without receiving a single proposal."

"Yes, and Emma is marrying a younger son. At any rate, I think Arabella could be rescued from the influence of Emma."

"She might do nicely for Arthur Palmer. But what about the older brother?"

"Andrew is still in Paris."

"I understand you saw quite a bit of him while you were there." Now I understood the reason for her kindness; she had already decided that I should marry Andrew. The rank of his family ensured she would overlook his lack of money.

"Yes, he's quite charming."

"I saw Lord Palmer yesterday, and he informed me that Andrew is besotted with you."

"Be that as it may, Mother, I have no intention of entering into any sort of understanding at this time."

"No, of course not." She beamed. "You would want to wait until you're out of mourning."

"Catherine, stop meddling," my father interrupted. "Leave the girl alone."

"I count only nine guests, child. You need one more gentleman," my mother continued. "I think you are wise not to limit your options. Have you considered Lady Easton's son, Charles? His prospects are spectacular. He's already made quite a name for himself in the House. There's talk he may get a cabinet position in the next government. Perhaps you should include him in the party."

"I've already asked Colin Hargreaves."

"Excellent man, Hargreaves," my father said. "Best man at your wedding, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He was Philip's dearest friend."

"Well, I don't see the point in inviting him." My mother paused. "Unless you were thinking of him for Arabella. What is his income? His family is very well off, I believe. Have you seen his house on Park Lane?"

"Mother! This dinner party is not meant to be an exercise in matchmaking. I am trying to provide an evening of good conversation for my friends. Behave, or I shall drop you from the guest list and have Davis turn you away at the door."

"I never thought I should live to hear my own daughter speak to me in such a manner. Samuel, where are my smelling salts? I think I'm ill." My father, humoring her, put the smelling salts under her nose.

"Go easy on your mother, my dear. She's not as young as she once was," he said. "Why don't we get her some tea?"

I rang the bell. Davis brought the tea quickly.

"How are things progressing upstairs, Davis?"

"We are nearly finished, madam."

"Good work."

"Thank you."

"Find anything interesting?" I asked.

"Yes, in fact, we did. One of Lord Ashton's antiquities."

"Is it a good piece?"

"In my untutored estimation, I would have to say that it is one of his finest. Would you like to see it, madam?"