Diamonds & Deceit (18 page)

Ada knew at once that she had gone too far. “Céline, forgive me. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just so worried.…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “How long have we before the Royal Horticultural Society show?”

“The cars are ordered for twelve, my lady.”

“Very well. We must say that Lady Rose has catarrh, that she isn’t feeling well, that you will bring everything necessary up to her, but she is not to be disturbed. That will work. Well?”

Céline nodded silently.

“Good.” Ada took a deep breath. Perhaps she could still save Rose’s reputation—if they were lucky.

“So Rose is still unwell,” Charlotte said as she and Ada walked down the green paths in the gardens of the Chelsea Hospital, scents of summery flowers drifting toward them. “I can’t say I’m sorry. It’s so embarrassing having to cover up her faux pas.”

Ada said nothing. Laurence’s hand was on her arm, protective and controlling. She wanted to leap to Rose’s defense—but she was uncomfortably aware that at this very moment Rose was committing the worst of faux pas, one so unthinkable that not even Charlotte would think to accuse her of it. One did not spend the night in the company of a man. Not even Ada had been guilty of that. She still could not understand what had possessed Rose.

She looked away from Charlotte’s curious gaze, trying to distract herself by watching the crowd. Stately men in morning coats, their top hats gleaming like well-brushed horses, their watch chains glinting and buttons shining, strolled among the orchids and rhododendrons, accompanied by their wives, their figures still showing the influence of the Edwardian S-bend. The younger, elegant debutantes were pretty in their looser, freer summer dresses, and the young men up from Oxford or Cambridge who sauntered past were the picture of debonair, carefree summer. Ada felt detached from all of it. Ravi’s words kept running through her head. She was afraid that she would forget herself and blurt them out loud.

“The show looks quite marvelous.” The countess waved her program like a fan, her furled parasol picking out the way before her. “I’m very pleased, the hothouses at Somerton need restocking.”

“It’s a delightful new venue,” Lord Westlake said, looking around appreciatively. “A stroke of genius to hold it here. The grounds of the Chelsea Hospital are admirably suited.”

“I quite agree, my dear. It’s a charming way to end the season.”

Ada caught the note of affection between Lord Westlake and the countess. That at least was a relief, she thought. The gulf that Rose’s adoption had created between them seemed to be healing. Perhaps the countess was finally getting used to the situation.

“I must see the Japanese dwarf trees,” the countess exclaimed, surging forward into the crowds. “Come, Charlotte.”

Charlotte followed her. Laurence hesitated, then placed a hand on Lord Westlake’s arm. He drew them into the shadow of a grapevine.

“Sir, there has been an unpleasant incident,” he said under his breath.

Ada started, for a second imagining he had somehow found out about Ravi. But the searching glance he gave her was not because of that.

“Ada is behaving very bravely, but you must know that this morning three duns came to the house, after Sir William’s debts, and they upset her very much.”

“What are you telling me?” Westlake exclaimed, a look of shocked anger on his face. “This is unconscionable.”

“I think so too. I’m appalled that Ada was exposed to such a situation.”

“Really, I—” Ada protested faintly. “I am quite all right.”

“You’re in shock, anyone can see it,” Laurence said tenderly, his gaze protective.

“My dear Ada,” her father said. “I am so sorry I was not there to shield you from such impertinence. I feel ashamed that it was allowed to happen.” He scowled, and Ada felt the weight of anger that clung around his shoulders. “If I had known when I adopted William…but it is too late now. My only desire is to secure a future for you and Georgiana—a future for Somerton.”

Ada nodded. Laurence spoke next, not to the earl, but to her. “Lord Westlake has stopped William’s allowance, so we hope he will run up no more debts. But we must act to reassure people. And there is only one way to do that.” His gaze met Ada’s, and he took her gloved hand in his. She was aware of the thin layer of leather that separated them. “Let us set a date, Ada. It is the right thing to do. For me, for you—for Somerton.”

Ada looked deep into his eyes. She saw the warmest respect, the deepest affection. She looked to her father. He had turned away discreetly as Laurence spoke, but she saw the white hair glinting at his temples. It had not been there a month ago.

She took a deep breath and drew herself up. “And Oxford?” she faltered, feeling low for bargaining.

Laurence’s words tumbled eagerly over each other. “As soon as we are married. It’s unconventional, but why shouldn’t we take rooms there? You can attend the university. I can easily travel to London when Parliament is in session, and I shall enjoy revisiting my old haunts.”

Ada looked at her father. Part of her almost wanted him to forbid it. But he spread his hands. “Once you are married to Laurence, you are his. I think women’s education unnecessary, and I can’t understand why you wouldn’t rather be decorating Gravelley Park, but if you prefer to take a degree, why not?” He smiled. “Married women are allowed a latitude that unmarried women are not.”

“And I will be the most generous husband,” Laurence said warmly. “Just say when. Everything can be arranged—we can be granted a special license if necessary.”

“The twenty-first of August,” Ada said quietly.

It was the date that had been running through her head ever since that morning, the day Ravi would be waiting under the great clock at Paddington Station. She was doing the right thing, she knew it; and yet she felt as if two halves of her soul were slipping apart. She was too weak, too easily tempted. It was unthinkable to betray Laurence. She could never see Ravi again, and he knew that. The best thing to do was to put the meeting entirely out of her own power.

“Let us be married on the twenty-first of August at midday,” she said again.

Laurence clasped her hands tightly. His voice trembled, triumphant. “You will make me the happiest man alive!”

He drew her close. Ada’s father coughed and took a few hasty steps away, appearing to have become very interested in the fronds of a palm tree. Laurence held Ada’s wrists so tightly that the kiss he drew her into was awkward, uncomfortable. Their lips met, and yet she still felt detached from herself, as if something divided them, or divided herself from herself.

It will take time, she told herself. But I have done the right thing.

By the time they returned to the house, Ada was exhausted from the countess’s barrage of instructions, advice, and commands about wedding preparations. Her father had announced the news at once, and there had been no other subject of conversation since.

“Your bridesmaids will be Charlotte, Georgiana, and Rose,” the countess went on as they stepped down from the motorcar onto the sun-glaring pavement. “And Lady Gertrude and Lady Cynthia.”

“But why?” Ada exclaimed, roused at last to respond. “I don’t even like them. Nor do they like me.”

“It makes no difference. I promised their mothers, and these things are very important. Now, about the conveyance. I expect we shall hire a landau, and then I think it may be best to hire a chef to arrange the wedding breakfast. We will need a special license because of the time of day, but since Laurence’s godfather is the Archbishop of Canterbury, that should not be too difficult to arrange.”

Ada stepped with relief into the coolness of the hall and handed her hat to Sanders. The countess’s words seemed to have nothing to do with her. It was just another ball or tea dance that was being arranged, another grand society event. Was Rose back? That was Ada’s only thought. She pushed any thought of Ravi out of her mind. That was over.

“Well, well, that was a delightful afternoon after all, and we have restocked the gardens.” The countess swept into the drawing room, carrying her new bonsai tree. “Ah, Sebastian, do look. Isn’t this a vision? I imagine the whole of the south end re-landscaped and a miniature fairyland created. I must redecorate the Russian rooms too—Japan is sure to be the next craze, if the enthusiasm for these little trees is anything to go by, and I intend to be the first to introduce it. I was lucky to secure this one—I had to practically
wrest
it from the claws of Mrs. Verulam.” She placed the bonsai on the sideboard. Ada walked in after her to find Sebastian standing at the sideboard, reading
The Times
. Rose was nowhere to be seen.

Sebastian cast a glance toward the tree. “Very nice, Mother,” he said without enthusiasm, and returned at once to the newspapers.

“Well, you
are
gloomy.” The countess sniffed and went to sit on the sofa, her silken skirts rustling and falling into elegant pleats. “What happened? Has your tailor disappointed you again?”

“I do hope not,” Charlotte chimed in. “I was so looking forward to seeing you as Sinbad tonight.” She perched in the chair next to her mother. She had been rather silent for the afternoon, but now she cast a mocking glance toward her brother. “Pale-blue silk harem pants, the rumor goes.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Sebastian snapped. The countess raised an eyebrow. Ada was startled, but as Sebastian continued to turn the pages of the newspapers, she began to realize what might be wrong. She stood and moved as if casually toward the sideboard. Glancing over his shoulder she saw that she was correct. The headline, in letters as black as mourning, read “Somerton murder scandal: Campbell pleads guilty, transferred to Pentonville.” There was a grainy photograph of Oliver, surrounded by walls of policemen, being escorted into the police wagon.

Charlotte assumed an expression of deep hurt. “Too much champagne last night? Too little?”

Sebastian slapped the paper closed and turned to face his mother and sister for the first time. “I wish you could understand that there are more important things in the world than your wretched social merry-go-round,” he said.

“That will do.” The countess’s voice was at its coldest. “I expect to see you in better spirits this evening, or you may consider your account at Pennycuick of Jermyn Street closed.”

Sebastian’s face hardened. Ada took a quick step toward him. But a sudden, violent shrilling shattered the tension. Ada started. “What on earth is that awful noise?” She covered her ears.

The countess looked baffled. “I have no idea. Is it something in the street?”

Charlotte went to the window.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the noise ended. There was the sound of Sanders speaking in the hall.

“Who—?” The countess interrupted herself with a laugh. “Of course, the telephone! I quite forgot I’d had one installed.”

“Well, is it always going to make that dreadful noise?” Charlotte looked appalled. “Couldn’t it play a pleasant piece of music to alert our attention, perhaps? There must be a way to arrange it.”

There was a discreet knock on the door, and Sanders entered. “The telephone for you, sir,” he addressed Sebastian. “Master Michael calling.”

“Michael!” the countess exclaimed. “What
has
he done now?”

Sebastian left the room, and the countess and Charlotte looked at each other with deep suspicion.

“I don’t see why you have to assume he’s done wrong,” Ada said mildly.

The countess sniffed, and Charlotte cast Ada a withering glance. “My dear, let us be realistic. He’s probably been expelled again.”

“If he has,” the countess said, reddening, “I shall disown him.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t!” Ada exclaimed. But the conversation was interrupted as Sebastian raced back into the room.

“Sebastian, what has happened?” the countess demanded. “You look as if you have swallowed a jumping bean.”

“I can’t explain. There’s no time. I have to be off—Good-bye, Mother—please make my excuses to Mrs. Verulam.”

Ada looked at him in astonishment. The countess started to her feet. “Sebastian, what are you saying? Where are you going?”

“Something’s come up, Mother. I’m sorry.”

Sanders appeared at the door with Sebastian’s hat and coat, the footman hovering behind with the cane. Sebastian snatched them and headed for the door, pulling on his coat as he went.

“Sebastian!” The countess’s voice was almost a shriek. She ran after him into the hall. “Is this to do with Oliver?”

Sebastian’s silence was answer enough.

“You cannot go. What will people think?” she hissed.

“I don’t care. I don’t care anymore.” Sebastian went out the door, his hat askew. The footman who leapt to open it for him was too late. The countess took a few more steps after him, then stopped, clenching her fists. Ada, who had followed her in concern, saw her face reflected in the hall mirror. She expected to see fury in it, but to her astonishment, she saw fear. What was the countess so afraid of? she wondered. Just before the door swung shut behind Sebastian, she saw a determined, rough-looking man cross the road beyond him.