And Only to Deceive (20 page)

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
I
CAME FACE-TO-FACE WITH THE
man I had avoided since refusing his proposal of marriage. I received Andrew in the drawing room, on this occasion preferring it to the library, the scene of my rejection of him. He looked more handsome than I expected and behaved so properly to me that I would have thought him a completely changed man if it weren’t for his slightly wry smile.

“Lady Ashton, thank you for seeing me,” he said, waiting to sit until I invited him to do so.

“Andrew, please do not revert to formality with me,” I said, smiling back at him. “That would be unbearable.”

“I hardly know what to say, Emily. So much has changed between us since our last meeting, yet my feelings for you are unaltered.” He rose to stand before me. “The level of my affection leaves me no alternative other than to do whatever will make you happy. In this case that means restoring to you the man you never stopped loving, even though my own heart will break to see you reunited with him.”

“Andrew, I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, darling.” He paused and looked into my eyes. “But I must not call you that any longer. Had you accepted me, we would still be faced with the fact that Ashton is alive. I would have been plummeted from the greatest joy of my life to the deepest despair. It is better that you never agreed to be mine. That way I avoid the pain of having to give you up.”

There was nothing I could say in response to this, so I remained silent, staring down at my hands on my lap. Andrew sat in a chair across from me and crossed his legs.

“My intention was not to come here and make you feel terrible. Forgive me if I have done that; I am not quite ready to abandon the role of rejected lover,” he said, smiling again. “But I am also here in another capacity entirely. Arthur and I have everything in place for our departure to Africa. Is there anything you would like me to take to Ashton? A letter or some small memento?”

“Actually, I had something else in mind,” I began, hardly daring to look at him. “I want to accompany you. I shall go mad waiting for you to return with him. I need to see him as quickly as possible and imagine I shall understand what he has suffered better if I am there when you find him.”

“Are you certain?” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Africa is a singularly inhospitable place. You would be much more comfortable at home.”

“How can I think of my own comfort when my husband has languished near death far from everyone he loves? I must go to him, Andrew.”

“I confess I had rather hoped you would say that,” he replied. “I would never ask you to do such a thing, but I reckon it would be immensely beneficial for Ashton to see you. We do not know what his physical condition will be when we reach him. Whatever the stage of his recovery, it cannot help being positively influenced by you. I can conceive of no one better to nurse him than you. The sound of his calling for you when he first fell ill still haunts me.” He gazed toward the window. “He repeated your name over and over. It was dreadful knowing that we could not respond to his wish.”

“Well, then it is settled,” I said. “I shall be prepared to depart with you. If you would be so good as to arrange the travel details, I will see to everything else.”

“I would be honored, Emily.”

“And, Andrew…” I paused. “Please do not be offended when I say this. I know enough of your finances to realize that this trip is beyond your means. I have already instructed my solicitors that anything you and Arthur need shall be paid for out of my accounts.”

“That is not necessary,” he said, looking at me quite candidly.

“Perhaps not, but it is an expense I cannot ask you to bear. If you should like to take the matter up with Philip when we return to England, you may.” I smiled. “I shall never be able to thank you adequately for this, Andrew.”

“I see the happiness in your eyes, Emily, and that is enough.”

There was a soft tap on the door, and Ivy peeked into the room. “I hope I am not interrupting,” she said.

“Not at all,” Andrew said jovially. “Emily and I are planning quite a trip, and I shall depend on you, Ivy, to ensure that she has an appropriate wardrobe. These trailing skirts of hers would be a disaster in the bush.”

“We have anticipated the problem, Andrew, and already have the matter well in hand,” Ivy said. “I think you will be most pleased.”

“I expect so,” he said.

“Emily, I came in to tell you that I’m off to Victoria’s,” Ivy said. “Are you certain you do not need my assistance with anything else? I should not mind missing tea at all.”

“No, go Ivy. I shall be fine. Send everyone my regards,” I replied.

Andrew bowed as she left and then turned to me. “Emily.” He stopped. “May I beg one final favor from you?”

“Of course, Andrew. What is it?”

“May I kiss you good-bye? I know that when I see you next, we shall be immersed in our search for your husband and that I never again will enjoy the closeness we shared during these past several months. I should like very much to end that wonderful chapter of my life with a kiss. Of course, it is entirely inappropriate, but then so was most of our courtship.” He smiled at me, but I thought I could see the pain of rejection in his eyes. What harm could come from one kiss? I walked over to him, took his hands in mine, and raised my lips to his. He kissed me deeply for what seemed like a very long time.

“Thank you, Emily. From now on I shall try very hard to think of you as Lady Ashton, but in the recesses of my heart, I shall cling to that kiss.” He raised my hand to his lips and departed.

T
HE FOLLOWING DAYS FLEW
by quickly. I managed to locate several walking suits and two pairs of sturdy boots that I hoped would prove adequate for the African plains. We were to stop in Paris because of a prior business engagement of Andrew’s and then continue on to Cairo, where we would meet the native guides who would lead us to British East Africa. Upon leaving Cairo, we would take the railroad as far south as possible and then continue on horseback. Andrew and Arthur had very clearly stated to me the dangers we would meet on our journey; the land itself would provide a considerable challenge, and there was no guarantee that the region would not be in a state of political unrest. Possible danger, rather than deterring me, made me all the more determined to complete my mission and bring Philip home.

Margaret’s excitement was palpable, and she lamented daily that she could not join me on the adventure, cursing her sister for deciding to marry at such an inopportune time. She swore to join any safari Philip planned in the future. I pointed out that then it would be
her
turn to be the only female in the party, as I had no intention of ever participating in a big-game hunt. Margaret only laughed and made me promise to write down every detail of the journey so that she might enjoy it vicariously.

Ivy, on the other hand, grew more nervous as the time for me to leave grew near. She hovered over me, wringing her hands, wishing I would agree to stay in Cairo. Despite her worries, she never wavered in her support and promised not to breathe a word of my plans to Robert. She herself wrote to my mother, asking if she thought some time in the country would do me good. My mother, always happy to believe that she controlled me, replied to Ivy that she really must take me away from London; it vexed her no end that I had remained in town after the opening of grouse season. Thus my alibi was established.

Three days before my trip, I put on one of my new traveling suits and walked down South Street to Park Lane and Hyde Park, where I spent the afternoon circumnavigating the Serpentine and meandering through the park’s wide paths without any specific purpose. The bright sun did not
take much of the chill out of the air, but I walked at a brisk pace, welcoming the turn of season. The freedom brought by a simple change of clothing was extraordinary. With no corset I could breathe deeply, and my sturdy boots did not threaten to twist my ankles every time I increased my speed. I felt as if I could conquer the world. I paused for some time before the great statue of Achilles, contemplating my husband’s opinion of the hero. Eager though I was to see Philip again, I was also a bit nervous. His return would once again alter my life; all the independence I had enjoyed for nearly two years would be gone. Philip might prefer that I not walk alone in the park; he might not like my taking over his library and disagreeing with his views about Homer. He almost certainly would not like my drinking his port. I felt a flicker of insecurity as I wondered if he would love this version of his Kallista, but I could not really believe that our reunion could be anything less than romantic perfection.

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.