The Adventuress (23 page)

“Is that Augustus?” I pressed my face to the dingy window of the cab. Colin rapped on the wall to signal the driver to stop. A thin figure in evening kit stood in the distance, leaning against a streetlight, but before I could see his face, he turned around and disappeared into the darkness. In a swift move, Colin followed, but he returned soon after, shaking his head.

“I could not find him,” he said. “Too many winding streets and too little light.”

It was before midnight when we returned to the hotel, and the lobby was teeming with activity. There were several lively groups in the lounge, and a party of gentlemen, whom I supposed were returning from the casino, made a loud entrance. Behind them, I saw Jeremy and Amity.

“You ought to speak to him,” I said to Colin. “If he was with Hélène…”

“Of course.”

“Should I say anything to Amity?”

“Not now, I don't think,” he said. “There is no point in troubling her.” He gave me a quick kiss and headed for Jeremy. “Bainbridge, you are just the gentleman I require. Join me in the smoking room? I have some particularly fine cigars and I have never known you to object to whisky.”

Amity did not look pleased to see her fiancé pried off her arm. “We ought to insist on going with them,” she said. “What are we left to do if they are so ready to abandon us?”

“Ladies are not allowed in the smoking room.” I frowned. “I approve no more than you do of this slight. Did you enjoy the casino?”

“It was everything I hoped,” she said. “Did you?”

“Me?”

“We saw you and Colin but couldn't get your attention. We had wanted you to join us for champagne. Did my mother do something to make you flee her little fête?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“Then you have smoothed over the incident of the hat?”

“Only so far as keeping her from insisting on placing the blame on me. Tomorrow I hope to start gathering answers as to who might have purchased it.”

“I do not doubt you shall succeed.” Her eyes were bright and her hair was escaping from its pins. “Are you as taken with baccarat as Jeremy? I found it tedious, but promise me you will never tell him so.”

“I would not dream of it. We were at the casino only briefly. Colin had to consult on a matter of business. Of course he would tell me nothing about it.” I hoped that lie would stop her questions.

“What would the gentlemen say if we insisted on as many secrets as they have?” Amity asked. “I promised Christabel I would go to her the moment I returned. Will you excuse me?” We bade each other good night, and I watched her go. Her hair was in a state of some disarray, as was her gown. The hem was damp, and sand clung to it. Obviously she had not spent the evening in the casino any more than I had. I waited until she had entered the lift to go upstairs myself, and then took the stairs to Cécile's room, where, as I had hoped, I found both her and Margaret. Margaret, who was standing on a chair, was reading aloud from Virgil.

“
Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.
”

“Cécile does not speak Latin, Margaret,” I said. “
If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell.
”

“
Merci
, Kallista,” Cécile said.

“I am afraid I bear sad tidings,” I said, as Margaret leapt down from the chair. My face must have betrayed the serious nature of my news. “Hélène is dead. Murdered.”

“
Mon dieu,
” Cécile said, shaking her head.

“How?” Margaret asked, pushing me into the chair she had just abandoned.

“Bashed over the head in her room and hidden under the bed. It happened some time ago. The body was in a dreadful state—” I choked back a sob and buried my head in my hands. The strain of hiding from Amity the events of the evening and pretending everything was normal and well had taken a toll on me. Margaret poured me a glass of whisky and forced me to gulp it down.

“Do Marie and the other girls know?” she asked.

“Not yet. We shall have to tell them in the morning.” I shared with my friends the few details we had ascertained from the scene.

“Monsieur Hargreaves is speaking to Bainbridge?” Cécile asked.

“Yes.”

We all sat in silence. Finally, Margaret spoke.

“So Mr. Neville and Hélène died in the space of only a few hours. If the times were reversed, I should be inclined to say that something awful happened between them and Mr. Neville struck the fatal blow, then took his own life after realizing what he had done.”

“But she was home in the morning,” Cécile said. “She collected the package the butcher left her.”

“Unless someone else did that,” Margaret said. “Whoever went to her room could have seen the note and realized that if the roast were left, the body would be discovered earlier than perhaps the murderer would have liked.”

“It occurs to me there is another scenario we ought to consider,” I said. “What if Hélène killed Mr. Neville, and what if she had been operating on someone else's orders? Someone who could not risk being seen at the hotel. Once the job was done, rather than leave her as a loose end, that someone else unceremoniously dispatched her.”

“Who would have wanted Mr. Neville dead?” Margaret asked.

“I could not say, but it does lead me back to another question: Who would have wanted Jeremy dead? What if Hélène killed the wrong Englishman?” I asked. “When the hotel manager came to our door that night, he said that the English duke was dead, not realizing that someone other than Jeremy might have been in his room.”

“Hélène might have been murdered for having failed at her mission,” Margaret said. “Which means there is still someone eager to see Jeremy dead.”

“No other attempts have been made on his life,” Cécile said.

“It was such a beautiful theory,” Margaret said, lighting a cigarette and sighing.

“You smoke too much,” Cécile said. There was a sharp knock on the door. I opened it, suspecting, correctly, that it would be my husband.

“When you weren't in our room I thought I might find you here,” he said.

“What did Jeremy say?” I asked.

“He admitted to having walked with Hélène after he left the casino, but only for a very short while. Swears it was no longer than that.”

“But what of his admission to having been with someone when he came into the hotel to see if Augustus was in the lobby that morning?” I asked. “That was the whole pretense of his coming in at such a strange hour and demanding more pillows. Was he with someone else?”

“He would not confide in me,” Colin said. “He insists he will speak about it to no one but you, Emily. He is waiting for you downstairs.”

 

Amity

“What has happened?” Christabel asked, her mouth hanging open as her friend entered their room. “Your dress!”

“Nothing at all out of sorts,” Amity said. “Jeremy and I decided to take a stroll on the beach. It is sandy and damp there.” She batted at the sand clinging to her hem, revealing the fact that she was wearing no stockings as she lifted her skirt.

“But your stockings—”

“I removed them in order that I might walk barefoot. You know how unpleasant sand is in shoes.” She had to admit that she found the look of horror on her friend's face vastly amusing.

“Not in front of Jeremy?”

“I did not let him see, if that's what you mean. Don't be such a prude, Christabel. Nothing untoward happened. It was rather disappointing, if you must know.”

“And the casino?”

“A sadly boring place.” Amity dropped onto a chair. “Not at all
too very
in the least. Do you remember all those nights in India when the heat was so fierce that we used to sleep on the roof of the house in Simla? How the air felt, so moist and warm? The way the edge of the moon was never crisp, but always covered with a gauzy haze?”

“Of course,” Christabel said, closing the photograph album she had on the table in front of her. “What is making you think of that?”

“The moon tonight, I suppose. I miss India.”

“You will go back.”

“Yes, my duke shall take me.” Amity smiled and pulled the album to her. “I see you are nostalgic tonight as well, going through your photographs. Will you follow Jack to India?”

“To Egypt, you mean,” Christabel said. “That is where he shall be posted for the foreseeable future.”

“He could put in for a transfer back to India,” Amity said. “Especially if he knew you desired it.” She flipped through her friend's pictures. “He looks rather handsome here. Like a young man in love. He would not hesitate to ask for India if he thought it were what you desire.”

“You might have that sort of sway over a gentleman, but I never could,” Christabel said, “so I suppose that it is fortunate I would not object to Egypt.”

“Would you not?” Amity studied her friend. “Have you and the dashing captain discussed the matter?”

“No, nothing of the sort. He is all politeness and reserve.”

“He is an English gentleman, a most infuriating breed,” Amity said. “You shall have to use all your wiles if you want him to notice that you are interested in more than friendship.”

“I could never do that,” Christabel said, a small sigh escaping her lips. “If he finds he is fond of me, then—”

“You cannot sit back and wait, Christabel. A girl must take charge of her own happiness. Do you think anyone else cares about it so deeply as you? If you do not act, you will find yourself married off to whatever nobleman your parents deem worthy.”

“My dowry would not attract even a minor nobleman.”

“A suitable vicar then,” Amity said. “There now, I got you to laugh, didn't I?”

“What would you have me do? Declare myself to Jack? The very idea is unconscionable.”

“It might put him off, you are right.” Amity tipped back her head as if studying the ceiling. “I shall give the matter further significant thought. We will get him for you, one way or another. I shall see to it personally. Your instincts may be right, but only for the moment and only if you take my advice. Rather than declaring yourself, try becoming ever so slightly more aloof when you are around him. How will our dear friend react when he begins to think you do not admire him above all other young gentlemen? You might even flirt with Mr. Fairchild.”

“I couldn't!” Christabel exclaimed. “I would never deliberately mislead someone.”

“Mr. Fairchild would enjoy the friendly attention, and it might spur the captain into action. They could duel over you.”

“Amity!”

“I am only teasing. I should never approve of such a thing.”

“Aloof,” Christabel said slowly. “Yes, I could do that.”

“We shall start tomorrow.”

 

16

When I descended to the lobby I did not see Jeremy. A cursory search of the area and the lounge did not reveal him, so I stepped outside, where I found him on the stoop, smoking. His face looked haggard, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Whatever had happened between him and Amity that evening had affected him quite differently than it had his fiancée, who had been all glowing dishevelment when I had seen her.

“You look a wreck,” I said.

“Walk with me, Em?” He offered his arm. “Can you bear the scandal if we cross La Croisette and walk to the end of the pier?”

“Given that I am married and that my husband sent me to find you, I hardly think anyone would bat an eye at seeing us.”

“They don't know Hargreaves sent you. Our actions could easily be mistaken for a romantic assignation.”

“I shall bear the risk with equanimity,” I said. “You are delaying. What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

He finished his cigarette and did not speak until we had reached the end of the dock. There were three other couples in our vicinity, but none of them had any interests beyond the moon and their respective partners. I rested my forearms on the railing; Jeremy leaned his back against it and crossed his arms. “Hargreaves told me about Hélène. What a terrible thing.”

“You knew her?” I asked.

“What a loaded question, Em,” he said. “Do you employ the biblical sense of the word?”

“Of course not.” Our eyes met. His expression reminded me of the one I had seen on his face frequently when he was a naughty schoolboy. “Should I?”

“Heavens, no. I realize that I have a certain reputation. As you know better than anyone, I have carefully cultivated it,” he said with a sigh. “Half the time I don't know myself why I bother. I suppose it amuses me and gives me an excuse for flirting with you, which is one of my preferred pastimes.”

“You shall have to curb the habit now that you are getting married.” I gave him a friendly jab on the arm.

“I find it not quite so difficult as I feared it would be,” he said. “I hope that does not cause you any pain.”

“Not the slightest bit,” I said, laughing. “You are far too pleased with your own charms. I am delighted that you have found your happiness. Amity is—”

“She is like a dream, Em. It is as if she knows me better than I know myself. She anticipates everything I could possibly want.”

“An ideal match.”

“Yes, save for one thing. I fear—and you must promise you will not laugh at me—that she may in fact be even more debauched than I.” He paused, bit his lip, and stared at the ground. “I adore her so very much, and I would never want to disappoint her. As a result, I have been steadily raising my game and it is exhausting me. The night of her father's party, I wanted nothing more than a quiet evening.”

I pressed my lips together. “I never thought I would live to hear you admit such a thing.”

“I do appreciate you managing not to laugh,” he said. “The gambling was amusing for a while, and the entertainment as good as anything I've seen at the Moulin Rouge. After the show, the girls sat with us, but I took little pleasure in it, and made my excuses—as feebly as possible so that the others would think I was up to no good—and I prepared to set off for the hotel. While I was waiting at the coat check for my hat, stick, and scarf, et cetera, et cetera, Hélène appeared.”