The Hyde Park Headsman (21 page)

“They could not have created an illusion like this. She was with a group of actors, my dear! And she was so obviously at ease with them, it was not an accident of chance that they left together. Anyway, the Gaiety. Your Mama would never have been in there, would she?” She laughed at the absurdity of it,
a hard, tinkling sound, like breaking glass. “And with such people!”

“I don’t think I would know a group of actors if I saw one,” Emily replied with a chill. “You have the advantage of me.”

Lady Malmsbury’s expression tightened and she raised her flat eyebrows very high. “I know you have been out of society in your confinement, my dear, but surely you would recognize Joshua Fielding? He is quite the darling at the moment. Such an interesting face, remarkable features. Not in the least what you could call regular, but quite full of expression.”

“Oh, if it was Joshua Fielding then I assume he was visiting the Gaiety, not playing there,” Emily observed with elaborate casualness. “Isn’t he a more serious actor?”

“Yes, of course he is,” Lady Malmsbury agreed. “But still hardly the company a lady would keep—not socially, I mean.” Again she laughed, still staring at Emily.

“I really don’t know,” Emily said, staring back. “I have never met him.” That was a lie, but the occasion had not been in public, so Lady Malmsbury would not know of it.

“He is an actor,” Lady Malmsbury repeated. “He makes his living on the stage.”

“So does Mrs. Langtry,” Emily remarked. “And she seems to be quite good enough for the Prince of Wales, socially, I mean.”

Lady Malmsbury’s face hardened. “Not the same thing, my dear.”

“No,” Emily agreed. “I am not sure that one could really say Mrs. Langtry earned her chief remuneration on the stage—acting possibly, but in a different position, and a somewhat less public venue—at least most of the time.”

Lady Malmsbury blushed to the roots of her hair. “Well really! I am afraid I must say I consider that remark in the worst possible taste, Emily. Since you have remarried, my dear, you have changed a great deal, and not for the better. I am not surprised your poor Mama does not show herself in society as much as she used to. Even in a silk turban and a dress with no discernible waist.”

Emily contrived to look puzzled, although inside herself she was seething with alarm. “I cannot imagine why anyone should show themselves in society in such a garb.”

“At the Gaiety Theatre,” Lady Malmsbury said. “Really most peculiar.”

“Most indeed,” Emily agreed. She had nothing left to lose
now, so she said exactly what came into her mind. “I hope you had a thoroughly enjoyable evening beforehand? A good dinner—an excellent dinner?” She lifted her eyebrows. “And convivial …” She pronounced the word carefully, and looked at Lady Malmsbury with an unwavering gaze.

Another tide of color swept up Lady Malmsbury’s face. The suggestion was delicate, but not so subtle that she had missed it. “Pleasant, but not indulgent,” she said between her teeth.

Emily smiled as if she did not believe a word.

“So nice to have seen you, Lady Malmsbury, and looking so … robust.”

Lady Malmsbury let out her breath sharply, searched for something to say that was equally cutting, failed to find it, and swirled away in a rustle of black-and-green taffeta.

Emily had won the verbal victory, but she was nevertheless seriously worried. She did not doubt for an instant that it had been Caroline whom Lady Malmsbury had seen, dressed bizarrely and in the company of Joshua Fielding and his friends. She was going to have to do something about it, but for the time being it eluded her as to what.

For the moment she must be charming and give everyone the impression she had not a worry in the world, except how best to be a help and support to Jack while he won his parliamentary seat, even though she was not at all sure that he would win. The Tories were strongly supported in the area, Jack was very new to politics, and Nigel Uttley had many friends with power and, no doubt at all, the secret and pervasive help of the Inner Circle.

She assumed an expression of intelligent interest and sailed forth to do battle.

The following day she prepared for conflict of a completely different kind. There was no need to dress especially, this time; the armament was entirely mental and emotional. Accordingly she was in a very casual spotted muslin gown when she alighted from her carriage and presented herself at her mother’s front door in Cater Street.

“Good morning, Maddock,” she said briskly when the butler answered. She had known him since childhood and stood on no formalities with him. “Is Mama in? Good. I wish to see her.”

“I am afraid she is not down yet, Miss Emily.” Maddock did
not refuse to let her in, but he effectively blocked her way to the foot of the stairs.

“Then perhaps you would tell her I am here and ask if I may come up?” Then a sudden and totally appalling thought seized her. Caroline must be alone! Surely? She could not have so far lost her wits as to—Oh, dear Heaven. Emily was cold all through, and her legs were weak.

“Are you all right, Miss Emily?” Maddock said with some concern. “May I bring you a little tea? Or a cool lemonade, perhaps?”

“No. No thank you, Maddock.” She took a deep breath. This must be faced, whatever the truth. “Just tell Mama I wish to see her urgently.”

“Is anything wrong, Miss Emily?”

“That remains to be seen. But yes, I fear there is at least one problem.”

“Very well, if you care to be seated, I shall tell Mrs. Ellison you are here.” And without further argument he went up the stairs and disappeared around the corner of the landing.

It seemed like a quite wretched age while Emily paced the hall waiting for him to return. Could Caroline really be having a full-blown affair with Joshua Fielding? It did not bear thinking of. She must have taken total leave of her wits. That was it. Papa’s death had driven her mad. It was the only answer. Dependable, predictable, ordinary Mama had become unhinged.

“Miss Emily.”

“Oh …” She whirled around.

Maddock had come down the stairs and she had not even heard him.

“Mrs. Ellison will see you, if you care to go up to the bedroom,” Maddock said calmly.

“Thank you.” Emily picked up her skirts by the fistful in hasty and unladylike manner and raced up the stairs, clattering her heels on the wood, whirled around the corner at the top of the landing, and with hardly a knock flung open the door to her mother’s bedroom.

Then she stopped abruptly. It was all quite different. The old, sober coffee and cream tones were gone, as was the dark wood furniture. In its place was a riot of pinks and wines and peaches mixed together in florals, a brass bedstead with gleaming knobs and pale furniture made of who knew what. The room looked twice the size, and as if it had been bodily transported
out of the house and set up in the middle of a garden. As if the rose floral curtains and bedspread and canopy were not enough, there was a huge crystal bowl full of roses on the dressing table, and since it was still only early May, they must have been grown in someone’s hothouse.

Caroline was sitting up in bed in an apricot silk peignoir, her hair trailing over her shoulders, and looking very happy indeed.

“Do you like it?” she asked, regarding Emily’s startled face.

Emily was horrified at the utter change, the unfamiliarity of it, but honesty compelled her to admit that she did find it pleasing. “It’s—it’s lovely,” she said reluctantly. “But why? And it must have cost—I don’t know—a fortune.”

“Not really,” Caroline said with a smile. “But anyway, I spend a great deal of time in here, probably almost half my life.”

“Asleep,” Emily protested with a sinking horror in her stomach.

“All the same, I like it like this.” Caroline looked around with obvious happiness. “It is my room. I’ve always wanted one full of flowers. And it feels warm, even in the middle of winter.”

“You don’t know that,” Emily argued. “I was here in March, and you hadn’t done this then.”

“Well it will do,” Caroline said with certainty. “Anyway, March can feel like the middle of winter. We frequently get snow in March. And I shall spend my money how I please.”

Emily sat down on the bed. Caroline did look extraordinarily well. Her skin was glowing and her eyes were brilliant with vitality and enthusiasm. It made Emily sick to think how it would all change when Joshua grew tired and went his way. Suddenly she hated him.

“What is it?” Caroline asked, frowning a little. “Maddock said you had something you wished to speak to me about urgently, and you do look a little anxious, my dear. Is it to do with Jack and the by-election?”

“Only in the remotest way—actually, no, not at all.”

“You sound confused,” Caroline pointed out. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what it is, and we can decide what it has to do with afterwards.”

Emily stared sideways at the window with its wonderful festoons of flowers.

“I was at a dinner party yesterday evening,” she began, then
stopped. Now that she came to tell it, it sounded so trivial. She searched for the right words.

“Yes?” Caroline prompted, sitting a little more upright against her pillows. “I assume you met someone of importance?”

“Oh several people. But this particular person was of no importance whatsoever.”

Caroline frowned, but she kept her patience.

“It was what she said,” Emily continued. “Actually it was Lady Malmsbury …”

“Selina Court’s mother?” Caroline looked surprised. “By the way, have you seen Sir James lately? He used to be really quite agreeable, now he has become very portly and is losing his hair already. I always thought Selina could have done rather better, but Maria Malmsbury wouldn’t wait.”

“Yes, I never thought much of him,” Emily agreed. “But Lady Malmsbury said to me that she saw you outside the Gaiety Theatre, dressed in a silk turban and a gown with no waist to speak of, with Joshua Fielding and some other actors. Or to be more correct, she said it couldn’t possibly be you. But of course she meant that it was.”

“Oh yes, we had a most excellent time,” Caroline said enthusiastically, her eyes bright with the memory. “It was such fun. I never realized how catchy some of those songs can be. And I haven’t laughed like that for years. It is very good for one to laugh, you know? It makes the face look so agreeable.”

“But in a silk turban,” Emily said in anguish.

“Why not? Silk is a delicious fabric—and turbans are most flattering.”

“A turban, Mama! And a dress with no waist! If you had to go at all, couldn’t you at least have worn something ordinary? Even the aesthetes gave those up years ago.”

“My dear Emily, I have no intention of allowing Maria Malmsbury to dictate what I should wear—or where I should find my entertainment, or in whose company. And I don’t give a fig about the aesthetes. And dearly as I love both you and Charlotte, I shall not allow you to dictate to me either.” She put her hand over Emily’s. “If it embarrasses you, I’m sorry; but there have been in the past a few times when you have sorely embarrassed me. Your involvement with Thomas’s detecting, to begin with.”

“You have involved yourself,” Emily said indignantly. “Less than six months ago. How can you be so …”

“I know,” Caroline said quickly. “And if circumstances should offer me the opportunity, I shall do so again. Experience has taught me I was quite mistaken to be embarrassed. Perhaps in time it will do the same for you.”

Emily let out a wail of frustration.

“Is that the only thing that troubles you?” Caroline inquired pleasantly.

“For Heaven’s sake, Mama, isn’t it enough? My mother is keeping company with an actor half her age, and the fact that it will ruin her in society doesn’t seem to bother her at all. She is seen in the Strand dressed like I don’t know what!”

“Well, my dear, if it frightens your respectable voters, it may endear me to those less respectable,” Caroline said cheerfully. “Let us hope they outnumber the prudes. But if you wish me to stay at home and dress in purple so Jack can be elected, I am afraid I am not going to oblige you, dearly as I hope he wins.”

“I am not thinking of Jack. I am concerned for you,” Emily protested, truthfully, because she did not think Jack would win anyway. “What will happen when all this is over? Have you thought of that?”

The joy went out of Caroline’s face, leaving her so intensely vulnerable Emily wanted to clasp her in her arms and hold her, as she would have a child.

“I shall be older, alone, and have memories of a glorious time when I was happy, and loved, even if it could not be mine forever,” Caroline replied very quietly, looking down at the rose-colored quilt. “I shall have had laughter, imagination and friendship such as few women ever have, and I shall keep my memories without bitterness.” She raised her eyes to Emily’s. “That is what will happen. I shall not go into a decline, or expect you or Charlotte to sit with me while I weep over it. Does that make you feel any better?”

Ridiculously, Emily found there were tears in her eyes.

“No—I shall—I shall hurt for you so terribly!” She sniffed and fished for a handkerchief unsuccessfully.

Caroline passed her one from under her pillow.

“That is the price of loving, my dear,” she said softly. “Usually it is parents who agonize for their children, but sometimes it is the other way too. The only way to avoid that is not to love anyone enough for their pain to hurt you. But that is like having part of you that is dead.”

Emily let out her breath in a long sigh. There was nothing to say to that, no argument.

“Tell me about the campaign,” Caroline suggested, retrieving her handkerchief. “And about the new house of Charlotte’s—have you seen it?”

“Yes. It’s awful, at the moment. But it could be really very nice indeed, with a great deal of work, and at least a hundred pounds spent on it, possibly even two.” And she proceeded to tell Caroline about it.

As she was leaving half an hour later she met her grandmother in the hallway. The old lady was dressed entirely in black, as was her custom; she believed widows should behave like widows. She leaned heavily on her stick and watched Emily come all the way down the stairs to the bottom before she spoke.