Elizabeth Kidd (15 page)

Antonia smiled even more brightly, not attempting to hide her glee but hoping Melville would see it as gratitude for his offer.

“Won’t you have another scone, my dear sir? And the gooseberry jam is made at our country estate. It is quite delicious, I assure you.”

* * * *

When Antonia closed the door on her guest half an hour later, she leaned her back against it and sighed aloud.

“Is there anything I may get you, my lady?” Trotter enquired blandly. “A restorative of some kind perhaps?”

“Do not be impertinent, Trotter. There are occasionally reasons to flatter persons whom one would ordinarily not invite to tea.”

“Yes, madam,” Trotter said stonily. Their butler was no longer surprised at anyone whom her ladyship or the viscount might bring into the house, but he did not have to approve of them. He had his standards.

“Thank you, Trotter,” Antonia said, recognizing that flattery would get her nowhere with him, but grateful nonetheless for his unquestioning—and often eerily perspicacious—devotion to her every whim.

She went up to her room, feeling suddenly in need of a nap before dinner. It had been too long since she had been obliged to exercise her mind in a conversation, and she was sadly out of trim. She must begin to invite more stimulating guests to her own parties, to make up for the insipid gatherings she was obliged to attend outside her home. She wished Julia Wilmot would come to her occasionally.

She had been peremptorily summoned by her husband’s aunt earlier that day and dared not refuse the summons, being hopeful that Julia had learned something about the mysterious Dimitri Metaxis. When she arrived in Berkeley Square, Hester had been away from home, which was not unusual, but Julia had been bursting with news, which was. She rarely varied from her calm delivery of even the most startling gossip.

“It is not gossip, my dear Antonia,” Julia had assured her, when Antonia had completed the ritual of kissing her on the cheek, admiring her new cap, remarking on what a fine day it was, and making herself as comfortable as possible in the not very comfortable chair Julia put her visitors in. “You know I do not put credence in mere rumor—not until I have had it confirmed from at least three sources.”

“You are more reliable than any Fleet Street dispatch,” Antonia said, smiling and folding her hands in her lap for lack of anywhere else to put them in her armless chair.

“Good gracious, I should hope so,” Julia replied acerbically. “Even the
Times
does not have my sources of information.”

“What have your sources revealed lately?”

“Not so fast,” Julia said. “Tell me what Kedrington has been up to lately.”

“Has he not been to call on you?” Antonia temporized. “I’m sure he intended to.”

“Not for nearly a week,” Julia said, “although he has apparently been visiting in any number of strange venues in the meanwhile.”

Antonia tried not to laugh, but she felt her mouth twitch. “Well, he does have any number of—er, interesting friends.”

Julia harrumphed and glared at Antonia, who finally gave up and giggled. “Oh, very well—since you will doubtless hear about it from somewhere…. I believe I told you that Duncan has been—ah, assisting an old army friend who is the caretaker of the Elgin marbles at Burlington House. Doubtless, some other former soldiers are also involved, and it would be those men he has been seen with.”

“And what is he doing to assist this person?”

Antonia mentally debated whether to tell Julia as much as she herself knew about the missing sculpture and finally decided that if she was her husband’s principal confidant, Julia was the second, and, as Antonia often feared, probably the more discreet of them. She settled on giving her a sketchy outline of the events of recent days, concluding, rather cravenly, that Julia could ask Duncan for further details.

Julia apparently decided to accept Antonia’s version of the story for the time being, and did not press her, saying only that she would put her mind to the mystery. Antonia had the impression that she did so even as they spoke, although she did not immediately respond to her tale of intrigue.

Instead, she said, “Talking of Montagu House reminds me of the scandal of the first duchess—although since she was the duke’s second wife, I am not absolutely sure that the appellation applies.”

Antonia recognized this diversion for what it was— Julia was able to think while talking, and talked to keep her listeners from interrupting her train of thought. She obediently played her part by making no remark, but merely nodding to indicate that she was dutifully treading this bypath behind her hostess.

“The duke spent all his money on building his new house and then repaired his fortune by marrying, after his first wife died, the Duchess of Albemarle, who was very rich. She was also completely insane.”

Antonia raised her eyebrows and looked interested.

“She declared that she would marry no one but a crowned head, so Montagu had to convince her that he was the emperor or China. She married him, but thereafter insisted that everyone who served her do so on bended knee.”

Julia paused here, and Antonia looked expectant. Julia frowned off into space for a moment, and then asked offhandedly, “What is the name of Kedrington’s friend—the one who is keeping guard at Burlington House?”

Not
on bended knee, Antonia thought, but said promptly, “Robin Campbell. I suppose his first name must be Robert, but I know little about him other than that he is very personable and comes, I believe, from a Scottish family.”

“You seem to know a little about a great deal this morning,” Julia remarked dryly.

Antonia judged it best not to respond to this gibe, and presently Julia asked, “And who does Kedrington believe to be behind this plot?”

“He has not formed any definite opinion on that head, since there are a number of possibilities.” Antonia hoped that Julia would not ask her to enumerate these, but apparently Julia felt herself capable of thinking of them herself, for she did not ask.

Suddenly, however, she said, “Do you recall asking me about Dimitri Metaxis?”

At last! Antonia’s ears warmed in anticipation. “Yes, indeed. Have you heard something, Aunt Julia?”

“Possibly no more than you have.”

Antonia doubted this, but dutifully replied, “Well, I told you that he is Miss Melville’s brother, and that I fear he had something to do with Elena’s break with Carey. Other than that, I know only, from Elena’s guardian, that he is an ardent Greek patriot—and even
that
is thus far an unsupported supposition.”

“That appears to be true. I have also learned that he is an artist—even, I am assured, a talented one, if not brilliant. He has done numerous drawings of the Elgin marbles which may be purchased at several galleries in town.”

Antonia had not expected this, but was, when she thought about it, not surprised. Her next thought was a surprise, however.

“Why—that must be why Miss Melville was so taken aback when we saw the Drummonds’ collection of drawings! She must have recognized them as her brother’s work and….”

Julia regarded her quizzically. “And what?”

Antonia was uncertain. Why should Elena have been surprised to see them if she knew Dimitri had done them, or even if she had not known? The marbles would seem a natural subject for a young Greek artist proud of his heritage.

“Perhaps she did not know at the time that he was in town,” she ventured.

“That would be my guess,” Julia said. “Apparently he has been staying at Grillon’s Hotel, but we could not find him in at any time.”

“
We
? Surely you did not go there yourself, Aunt Julia?”

“Certainly not. And you need not fear that I sent Hester. I am not so foolhardy. Webster went on a pretext which I will not reveal to you, but it has availed us nothing—except to put Webster in good odor with the manager of the hotel, so that if Mr. Metaxis does go to ground, we will know it, although his comings and goings are reportedly irregular, to say the least.”

Antonia jumped up to hug Julia. “Dearest Aunt, you are invaluable! I shall tell Duncan at once.”

“You tell him I want to see him, nothing more,” Julia instructed her. “When he deigns to call on me again, I shall tell him myself.”

“That is coercion, you know.”

“Yes, I do. But if it is the only way to get my nephew to do his duty by an old lady, I do not hesitate to employ it.”

Antonia laughed and rose to take her leave, promising to deliver the message exactly.

“And see that you call back yourself soon,” Julia shot after her as Antonia left, “and not only when you want something!”

Chapter 13

“Well, Robin,” Kedrington said, “I am somewhat reluctant to leave you in the tender care of my wayward brother-in-law this evening, but I trust you can prevent his wandering the streets unsupervised.”

“Unfair!” Mr. Fairfax protested, laughing. “I’m in fighting trim again and ready for any rumpus.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Robin assured Kedrington that they would not be alone with the marbles that night in any case, whereupon Kedrington admitted that he had avenues of his own to pursue.

The three gentlemen were gathered in Mr. Campbell’s office just before the display was to open to the day’s visitors. Carey had spent the previous night there, but did indeed seem his usual self, despite lack of sleep. Kedrington envied him his youthful resilience.

“I’ve talked to Winslow,” Robin said. “You haven’t met him, but he’s stopping at Hollister’s place as well. He was with the engineers, and he’s bringing some more of his old regiment tonight to patrol. They will also have a look at the marbles and perhaps suggest ways we have not thought of by which they might have been spirited out of here.”

“I believe half the army must be living in that house with you,” Kedrington remarked, “but I’m glad to hear you’ve enlisted some more useful assistance.”

“Now just a minute—!” Carey interrupted. “I’ve hardly had a chance to help, and you’ve already put me down as useless.”

“I have done no such thing,” Kedrington said mildly. “I concede that you have been called in somewhat belatedly. I was referring to myself, not being here when the second piece went missing.”

“But you spotted it,” Robin said. “I might not have done so.”

“Let us not waste breath in reassuring ourselves that we are doing all we can, and simply do it.”

Carey saluted. “Yes, sir, captain—er, major. What rank did you get discharged with anyway, Duncan?”

Kedrington grinned. “Officially, colonel—and officially, I still hold that rank, which is more than I can say for
you
, Lieutenant Fairfax.”

“I suppose that means that you may
officially
pull rank.”

“I never did so in Spain, and I have no intention of starting now. Lieutenant Campbell—”

“Sir!” Lieutenant Campbell snapped to attention.

“Don’t you start. Just ask Winslow to have a look around and give me his impressions later. I shall return after dark.”

“Don’t Tonia ask where you go off to every night?” Carey enquired.

“Not every night,” Kedrington replied, smiling. Carey’s face turned pink, and Robin laughed.

“You’d better be off,” he said to the viscount, “while he’s speechless.”

“That’s more than I will be by tonight,” Kedrington said. “I’m off to the House of Commons.”

* * * *

The ancient Royal Chapel of St. Stephen in the Palace of Westminster, in which the House of Commons met, was a cavernous building with stained glass windows and high turrets at each corner, redolent of age, history, and dust. The speeches today were as dry as the air, and sparsely attended. Kedrington seated himself discreetly in the shadows of the visitors’ gallery, observed that Sir John Drummond was present, and made himself comfortable, prepared to wait.

Drummond left the chamber without speaking, however, and Kedrington rose to intercept him in the corridor.

“Ah, Kedrington,” Drummond said, emerging from the chambers, his robe and wig left behind. “Come to take your place in the Lords at last, have you?”

Kedrington grinned. “And bore myself into an early grave? Certainly not.”

“You could enliven these ancient stones up with a few good speeches.”

“I’m a man of few words, John.”

Drummond eyed him skeptically. “I expect you’ve come to extract a few from me rather. What do you want, Duncan?”

“To take you to dinner at my club.”

“In exchange for what?”

“My dear Drummond, how suspicious you are. I should like to hear what is happening in Parliament from a live source rather than the arid columns of the
Times
, nothing more. I assure you, I have no special agenda.”

“So you say. I suspect you will get whatever it is out of me without my knowing I have given it away.”

“If you have nothing to hide, my dear fellow, you have nothing to lose either. White’s?”

Kedrington was a member of both Brooks’s and White’s clubs, since he was too discreet to reveal a partiality to either the Whigs or the Tories, and neither group wished to chance losing his support—should he ever reveal where it lay—by blackballing him from the center of their social universe. Drummond, on the other hand, was firmly in the Tory camp, and so it was to White’s that the two gentlemen repaired.

“The old place isn’t the same since George left,” Kedrington observed, when they had made themselves comfortable in a private parlor with a view of St. James’s and broached a bottle of claret in anticipation of their meal.

“Which one?” Drummond said. “Byron’s in Italy and Brummell’s somewhere in France, I imagine, living in the wretched circumstances so many debtors come to. Did you attend Christie’s auction of his Chapel Street leavings?”

“Some of the leavings, as you call them, were very fine pieces, but no, I did not attend. I attempted to assist the Beau while he was still here, but by the time I came back to the country from Spain two years ago, he was already too far down the path to ruin to be turned back.”

“You won’t see anything you may have lent him again.”

“I did not expect to. It was not a great amount. I referred to Byron earlier, however.”