As I started to walk in the direction of Kensington Palace, a gentleman rushing down the path nearly bowled me over.

"I am terribly sorry," he said, looking up. "Emily!"

"What brings you to the park, Mr. Hargreaves?"

"The same as you, I would imagine. Excellent day for a walk."

"It would appear that you are running. Are you late for some engagement?" I asked.

"No, I've just come from one," he replied tersely.

"In the park? Tell me, Mr. Hargreaves, were you meeting a lady?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Am I to wish you joy?"

"Hardly, Emily. You of all people should know that. I've just seen Palmer; he tells me that you plan to accompany him and the others to Africa."

"That's right," I said, lowering myself onto a nearby bench, once again delighted by how much easier even the simplest things became in the absence of a corset. "I want to see Philip as soon as possible."

"Emily, please listen to me," he said, sitting next to me. "I know you hate being told what to do and that when you get an idea into your head you are loath to turn away from it. I understand your need to believe that your husband is alive. Perhaps sending a search party for him is necessary for you to realize that he is dead. But it simply is not wise for you to embark on such a journey."

I looked into his eyes as he spoke, wondering at this choice of words. "I am quite aware of the potential danger."

"I don't believe that you are," he said. "I cannot imagine what Palmer is thinking, letting you go."

"In the first place, he realizes that I may be of assistance to Philip; in the second, he, unlike some other members of my acquaintance, realizes that he has no control over what I choose to do."

"If Ashton were alive, he would thrash Palmer for putting you in harm's way," Colin retorted.

"Well, we shall let him handle the matter himself." I stood up and adjusted my gloves. "I, however, am quite confident that Mr. Palmer and his brother will be able to provide more than adequate protection against whatever dangers we may face. I shall have to beg your leave. There is much I need to do before the trip."

He stunned me by leaping up and taking my face gently in his hands.

"Please do not put yourself at risk, Emily," he said softly. "That is what you will do if you insist on carrying out your plan. I will have no way of protecting you."

"I'm much obliged for your concern, Mr. Hargreaves," I said, removing his hands. "But I assure you that I shall be fine." I started to walk away, then turned back toward him. "I am certain that my husband will wish to have words with you upon his return."

With that I turned quickly on my heel and marched away from him. Clearly, it was in his best interest to keep me in London, away from Philip for as long as possible. Colin's perfect manners, handsome face, and charming demeanor would not deceive me; I would never give in to him. I slowly made my way back to Berkeley Square, where I was surprised to find Ivy opening the door for me.

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, walking into the cavernous entranceway. "Why are you answering the door? Has Davis completely taken over the household and made himself master? I would not have thought he had it in him."

"I've been watching for you for nearly half an hour," Ivy whispered. "There is a very mysterious gentleman called Wesley Prescott waiting to see you."

"Are you acquainted with him?" I asked, removing my hat and handing it to Davis, who appeared completely unperturbed by my friend's behavior.

"No, I've never seen him before in my life," Ivy replied, still speaking so quietly that I could hardly hear her. "Imagine his nerve at calling without first obtaining a proper introduction."

"Did he tell you why he came?"

"Not at all. Insisted that he would speak only with you and that he would wait any length of time. Davis wouldn't let him into the house at first, but eventually I felt sorry for the man."

"I have put him in the drawing room," Davis said.

"Thank you, Davis." I nodded. "Come with me, Ivy. We must hear what Mr. Prescott has to say." I marched into the drawing room and found myself staring at a tall, rail-thin, sunburned man who was dressed terribly. He rose to his feet as soon as I entered the room and began apologizing for his intrusion into my home.

"Perhaps you had best tell me why you are here, Mr. Prescott. I do not have much time; I am preparing for an extended trip."

"I am with the Anglican Church Missionary Society, Lady Ashton, and have spent the past ten years converting the unfortunate pagans in eastern Africa. Nearly a year ago, a tribesman brought to us an Englishman who was very, very ill. Apparently the local medicine man had done all he could and no longer wanted the burden of a white man's life on his hands."

"Philip!" I said, clutching my hand to my throat.

"Yes, your ladyship. We did not know his name for some time; he did not speak coherently for several weeks. The best we could tell, he had yellow fever and hadn't been able to rest enough to fully recover. When he began to get better, his memory was not entirely intact, but over the course of the following months, he regained it, along with much of his strength. He carried this with him." Mr. Prescott handed me a dirty envelope, which I opened immediately. In it was a photograph taken of me on our wedding day. I gasped. It was the picture I knew Philip had brought to Africa, the same one he showed to Renoir when he'd commissioned the portrait of me in Paris. There was no conceivable way that this man could have the photograph unless Philip had given it to him.

"I do not know what to say." I handed the picture to Ivy, who rang for Davis and ordered brandy. I could hardly breathe; my hands trembled uncontrollably. "He really is alive."

"Oh, yes, quite alive," Mr. Prescott replied. "When I left the mission, he was still not well enough to travel. I'm afraid he suffers terribly from malaria. Knowing that I would return to England before he could, he asked me to bring this picture to you to reassure you."

"Did he give you anything else?" Ivy asked.

"Yes, a letter to a chap called Palmer, which I posted for him in Cairo. I apologize for not getting here sooner, but I had planned to stop in Dover to see my parents before journeying to London. I only see them on my rare visits to England."

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Prescott. Could I beg one more favor of you?"

"Certainly, Lady Ashton."

"Could you call on my friend Mr. Andrew Palmer and tell him the precise location of the mission? We have already planned a trip to bring my husband home."

"I would be honored to, Lady Ashton," he said with a rather undignified bow. I quickly penned a letter of introduction for him to give to Andrew and thanked him again. After he was gone, I hugged Ivy, Davis, and anyone else who crossed my path, delighted by this final confirmation that Philip was still alive. The trip to Africa did not seem nearly as daunting now that we knew where to find him; we might even be home before Christmas.

"Emily, I am so sorry I doubted that Philip might be alive," Ivy lamented. "Yellow fever and malaria! You shall have to take very good care of him."

"I have every intention of doing exactly that," I said, beaming.


31 DECEMBER 1887

ASHTON HALL, DERBYSHIRE


Anne's son showed signs of great intelligence, I think, when he tried to chew on the statue of Alexander the Great I presented him as a Christmas gift. My sister chastised me for giving the tot such an inappropriate gift-suppose wooden blocks would have suited her better, but I would rather serve as the uncle who inspires the little lord to greatness. Next year shall give him a copy of the Iliad to put under his pillow.

Have given Emory explicit directions on how to handle the impending arrival of my shipments. Much though I would like to supervise this myself, I see no need to alter my plans for Africa.

K has given me a small spyglass for Christmas. She and her friend Miss Ivy Cavendish were quite amused by the gift, which they selected together, and suggested that I take it on safari. I have not heard K's laughter before; it sounds like silver.

25

At last the day of our departure arrived. THE weather did not cooperate in the least, but the blinding rain had no effect on my high spirits. My heart was full of the joyous anticipation that should have marked the days preceding my wedding. Instead of picturing my groom at the altar, I imagined finding Philip tossing in a primitive bed, his straight hair damp with sweat. I would rush to his side, place my hand on his forehead, and he would immediately lie still. His eyes would open; the sight of me would give him the strength to sit up and kiss me passionately. After a pleasant interlude, I would admonish him to remember his health and he would agree to rest. I would sit with him, holding his hand until he slept, this time peacefully, with a slight smile on his face. I hoped we would be able to bring him home at once. The remainder of my romantic fantasies would be better executed at home, or at least at Shepherd's Hotel in Cairo, than in a remote African village.

Meg interrupted me before my reverie carried me further, saying, her voice filled with dread, that the carriage was waiting. I had realized that it would be highly inappropriate to travel with only Andrew and Arthur and decided to take her with me as far as Cairo. Beyond that, I hoped that the presence of guides would be enough to satisfy the proprieties. My poor maid had cringed at the thought of having to go abroad once again, but I was determined to turn her into a traveler. I presented her with a copy of Amelia Edwards's reminiscence, A Thousand Miles Up the Nile, with the hope that she would read it and be inspired to explore at least Cairo and its environs while the Palmers and I searched for Philip.