Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

The inside of the case was fitted to hold two guns, cradled in crushed velvet, but the second space held no weapon. Fabric tabs protruded from both edges of the lining, and when I pulled on them, the interior fitting lifted out of the box. Underneath, against bare wood, were the charred remains of a burnt piece of paper that crumbled when I tried to examine them. Frustrated, I closed the box and moved upstairs to unoccupied bedrooms. As I walked into a small anteroom on the second floor, I saw a woman sitting, one hand over her eyes, her shoulders shaking.

“Lady Fortescue?” I crossed to the windows and pulled open the heavy drapes to let some light into the room, which was a charming space: cozy, warm, comfortable. Quite unlike the rest of the house. “Are you all right?”

“I—I—oh, Lady Ashton, forgive me.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m rather overwhelmed at the thought of tonight’s dinner. I prefer a quiet life to political entertaining.” The prime minister as well as several cabinet ministers were due to arrive after lunch, when the day’s meetings would begin.

“There’s no cause for worry. Lord Salisbury is perfectly amiable. But surely you’ve met him before?”

“No, Lord Fortescue knows I am happier when I can stay at home and only rarely asks me to socialize with him. We’ve a very comfortable arrangement. But one can’t very well bow out of a party one is hosting.”

“You’re fortunate to have such an understanding spouse,” I said, resolved not to make a cynical comment about marriages and arrangements.

“I’m loath to refuse him anything. He’s returned me to my family’s estate after many miserable years.”

“I can’t imagine the difficulties you’ve been through,” I said. She looked away, then wiped her eyes again. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t bring up unpleasant subjects.”

“Some things, Lady Ashton, are simply too painful to revisit, no matter how much time has passed. It is most distressing when one is forced to. Will you excuse me? I’ll need to change my dress before we walk out to join the gentlemen for lunch.” She gave me what might be construed as a semismile, then left the room.

When I saw her that afternoon she was perfectly composed, standing quietly by herself, hands neatly folded in front of her. She had not walked with the other ladies and was waiting near a large pavilion that would shield us from the slightest hint of inclement weather. Ivy and I arrived with the count and his wife, who somehow managed to look elegant in the ankle-length tweed skirt and sturdy shoes that were de rigueur for trekking from the house to the field. The morning’s bag had been lined up for us to admire before we ate, and we all did our best to muster appropriate enthusiasm over the bounty.

“How many of them are yours?” I asked Colin.

“I didn’t count,” he said, giving me his arm and steering me away from the group.

“It’s rather obscene, don’t you think? There must be fifteen hundred birds here.”

“At least. But I spent a weekend in Buckinghamshire, where we shot nearly four thousand. Even Bertie speculated that perhaps we’d overdone it.”

“Obscene, particularly as the Prince of Wales is not known for his moderation. If he thought—” I stopped at the sound of raised voices coming from the edge of the field.

“That’s quite enough, Brandon.” Lord Fortescue’s face was a brighter-than-usual shade of red as he walked towards the rest of the group.

“Sir, I’m—” Robert’s reply was interrupted at once.

“What you are is not trustworthy.” His voice strained as it grew louder. “You had no business speaking to Gladstone.”

“I only thought—”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to think. Get out of my sight.” He threw down the rifle he was holding and stalked towards the pavilion, turning back once to look at Robert. “Go!” Robert hesitated for a moment, nodded at his wife, and set off in the direction of the house. Ivy started to follow him, but a quick shake of his head told her to stop, which she did, wavering as she stood. Colin moved to her side at once and steadied her.

“What happened?” I asked, joining them as the rest of the party looked on in shocked silence.

“They’ve been arguing all morning. Your husband and Lord Fortescue don’t share the same views on the Irish situation. Evidently Mr. Gladstone learned that and approached Brandon looking for support for a Home Rule bill. Fortescue, as you might imagine, does not approve of his allies speaking to the opposition.”

“What a dreadful scene,” Ivy said, her face blanched, hands trembling. “Everyone’s staring.”

“Fortescue shouldn’t have reprimanded him in public,” Colin said.

“He shouldn’t have reprimanded him at all. I don’t see that Robert’s done anything wrong,” I said. The count approached us, smiling.

“My dear Mrs. Brandon, Lord Fortescue’s temper is notorious. Think nothing of this little incident. Come, join me for lunch. This will all blow over in no time.”

Ivy took his arm and gave a brave smile. “You’re right, of course,” she said. They walked ahead of Colin and me.

“Is he right? Will this blow over?” I asked.

“Fortescue’s not the sort to forgive what he views as a lapse in loyalty. Robert’s career will face a serious obstacle if he loses his mentor’s support.”

A luncheon following such an event could not be pleasant, despite the fact that the spread before us was lovely. The pavilion itself was rustic, formed from unhewn logs, but the tables inside were decorated with every bit of finery: bright flowers cascaded from tall silver vases, and the flatware that surrounded each set of porcelain plates was polished to a nearly blinding shine. But all the beauty in the world could not cut through the tension engulfing us. Which was fitting, considering that I planned to take the opportunity to confront Mr. Harrison.

“Why did you do it?” I asked, sitting in a chair next to his.

“Do what?” His smile took away none of the coldness from his eyes.

“I suppose you’re just another of Lord Fortescue’s lackeys,” I said. “I should have known better than to believe that you would be here if you weren’t in his good graces. You were invited to help him in his quest to destroy me.”

He laughed. “Destroy you? How pre-Copernican! The universe does not, in fact, revolve around you, Lady Ashton. It revolves around the sun. You give yourself too much importance. Fortescue’s merely trying to free Hargreaves for his daughter—a crime no worse than those plotted daily by mothers in drawing rooms across England.”

“Why did you steal my bracelet and leave it in Lord Fortescue’s room?”

“I couldn’t risk letting him know that I’m the one who wanted the papers.”

“But you don’t have the papers. You gave them back to him.”

“I copied all the essential information from them. Our plan worked flawlessly.”

“For you, perhaps,” I said. “I’m somewhat less pleased. Don’t try to involve me in another of your schemes.”

“My dear Lady Ashton, if I need your assistance, I’ll have no trouble persuading you to help me.”

“You could not be more wrong, Mr. Harrison.”

The remainder of the luncheon break did not improve. Our host snapped at everyone, guests and servants alike, and eventually we were all left sitting in uncomfortable silence. The food itself was spectacular—no beer and sandwiches here. A man of Lord Fortescue’s girth required regular and substantial meals, and we were treated to service that rivaled that inside the house. I did not, however, feel entirely right eating pheasant stuffed with truffles after seeing how many of the birds’ brethren had rained out of the sky that morning. And there was more shooting to come. Once we had finished eating, the ladies dutifully watched the gentlemen return to their sport, Ivy standing with me at Colin’s side.