The Adventuress (9 page)

Christabel placed a hand on her friend's arm. “Now I understand your melancholy. Is it possible that you have thoroughly fallen in love with this gentleman before even having met him?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course I am not in love with him. By all accounts he is a dreadful boor,” she said, lines etching her normally smooth brow. “It is only that I had believed Jack would keep his word and introduce us. I am trying to keep my mother happy—you know why she has brought me here.”

“You do not fool me, Amity,” Christabel said. “You have set your heart on the Duke of Bainbridge. I hope the man himself does not prove a disappointment.”

“He won't. I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” She sighed. “From all that Jack has told me, he is perfect in every conceivable way.”

“Jack will come to us eventually, and if he is able to persuade his brother to join him in Cairo, we will be the first to meet him. Until then, would you not prefer to distract yourself with the magnificent sights that surround us?”

Amity crossed her arms across her chest. “You are unlikely to relent until I agree to climb this wretched pyramid.”

“Precisely. Come, your father has already hired guides to assist us.”

Amity did not enjoy a single moment of the excursion. She objected to the rough manner in which the guides—three of them per lady—all but dragged her up the enormous stone blocks of the pyramid. It was a singularly unpleasant experience. The view from the top, as she suspected, was pedestrian. To suggest the lights of Cairo were of any interest was ludicrous, and as for the stars … Amity had never understood why people found them so noteworthy. The full moon, she allowed, was spectacular enough, but she could have seen that from her bedroom window in New York.

While the rest of the party exclaimed over the panoramas, Amity sat on a stone and tapped her foot, glaring at her parents.

“There is no need to pout, child,” her mother said, poking her with a walking stick. “It is unbecoming.”

“Is there someone here I ought to be trying to impress?” Amity asked, a scowl across her pretty face.

“There is plenty of society to be found here, and you know well why we couldn't have started in London. Your reputation may have preceded you there, so we were forced to make acquaintances in far-flung outposts of the empire before descending upon the capital. Get up and either enjoy yourself or pretend to. I don't care which.” Mrs. Wells tugged on her sullen daughter's arm and brought her to her feet.

“Why do you bring up my reputation, Mother?” Amity asked. “No one aside from yourself and Daddy have the slightest inkling as to what happened in New York. I haven't ruined your chances of joining the aristocracy, although you ought to bear in mind that I will be the one with the title, not you.”

Mrs. Wells raised her hand and slapped Amity soundly. The ensuing red splotch blossoming on her daughter's fair cheek was plainly visible in the moonlight. “That is quite enough from you.”

 

6

The unsettling feeling that consumed me during my conversation with Augustus on the wall near the castle stayed with me for the remainder of the day. Everyone else enjoyed our outing, and when we arrived back at the hotel, Mr. and Mrs. Wells, along with Cécile, were waiting for us on the terrace, where they had caused three round tables to be pushed close together so that we might all converse with ease as the sunset painted the sky with colors of which our friend Renoir would have approved. Augustus did not acknowledge me when he appeared, taking a seat next to his mother and making no further attempt to speak to me that evening. If anything, he avoided me.

“I have had such a strange afternoon,” I said to Cécile, pulling her aside so that I could speak to her quietly. I wanted a word with her away from the group.

“I heard all about Bainbridge's fall,” she said. “It sounds like much ado about very little.”

“I am not sure that I agree,” I said.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, and I recounted for her Augustus's treatment of the butterfly. “Do you think Augustus pushed him deliberately? Why would he do such a thing? He does not seem particularly attached to his sister.”

I frowned. “I have observed the same. He does not seem particularly attached to anyone, yet he is the only of her brothers who is here, and that may in and of itself signify.”

“Jeremy's mother is not here,” Cécile said. “Does that signify something as well?”

“She declined the invitation because she is still recovering from la grippe. It would not have been wise for her to travel.”

“The south of France is known for its recuperative powers,” Cécile said. “If anything, it would have done her good to come.”

“Only if the journey itself didn't cause a relapse.”

Cécile shrugged. “I do not think she is delighted that her son is marrying an American. I have no basis for this,
bien sûr
, but my instinct tells me it is so.”

“She may have objected to Mrs. Wells's party in principle—a fortnight-long fête to celebrate an engagement is not the sort of thing to which she would be accustomed.”

“She would find it gauche, as do I,” Cécile said. “But that is of no consequence. I never object to a holiday in the south.”

“Be that as it may, Augustus unsettles me.”

“I am certain that if he ever spoke to me, I would feel the same. A man who torments a butterfly—”

“Could be guilty of far worse.”

“
Non, non, non
, Kallista. I agree his actions may indeed reflect extreme deficits in his character, but they do not necessarily correlate with—with what? Wanting to fling his sister's fiancé off a medieval parapet? Promise me you will not mention this to Monsieur Hargreaves.”

“Why ever not? Have you not always counseled me that honesty is essential in marriage?”

“I have, Kallista, but I am afraid that this current manner of thinking would only make him—and others—believe you are in some way jealous of Mademoiselle Wells.”

“I have never heard anything so absurd! We are speaking of her brother.”

“
Oui
, but by extension, you criticize his family, including his sister. Given that you and Bainbridge have shared such a close friendship, anything that suggests you do not wholly approve of his betrothal makes you appear envious.”

“That is absurd,” I said. “I have no objections to Amity.”

Cécile raised an eyebrow. “None?”

“Well, none of any significance. I only want Jeremy to be happy.”

“Then let him be, Kallista. The marriage will be what it will be. It is for you to judge neither its merits nor its flaws. Tolerate the Wells family with equanimity for the rest of our holiday. When we are back in Paris, we can then express ourselves with more candor.”

*   *   *

I took Cécile's words to heart, although I did not wholeheartedly agree with them. She was correct on one count: Jeremy's happiness mattered above everything, and if throwing myself into enjoying our time in Cannes would help secure his happiness, I would do so with abandon. The following afternoon, we embarked on a sailing expedition. Amity had planned a luncheon on the ship, and we were treated to all the delicacies of the region, served as a buffet: plump olives, tapenade, bouillabaisse, pissaladière, and raviolis niçois, which reminded me how recently the Riviera had been part of Italy. Waiters poured rosé wine as soon as we had stepped on board, and kept our glasses filled throughout the trip.

“If I consume any more wine my head will never stop spinning,” I said to Colin, glancing around me to make sure no one would notice as I tipped the contents of my glass over the side. “Do you think you could play horrified husband and refuse to let anyone pour more for me?”

“Amity has a rather specific idea about what a raucous afternoon must include, doesn't she?” Colin took the glass from me. “Fear not, I shall protect you.”

“Emily, do settle something for me, will you?”

I turned around to face Amity, who had Jeremy on her arm.

“Happily,” I said. “What is it?”

“I have been told that your extremely handsome husband swam across the Bosphorus for you when you were in Constantinople. Is it true?”

“Indeed it is,” I said. “Legend has it that Leander swam the Hellespont nightly to visit his love, Hero. The story has inspired countless others to follow suit as a means of proving their own love. A devoted lover chooses the Bosphorus as it is a more difficult swim. There is a tower called either the Maiden's or Leander's—”

“You were on your honeymoon, were you not?” Amity interrupted.

“Yes.”

“This, Jeremy, is not the Bosphorus, and we are not yet on our honeymoon.” Amity said, her words slightly slurred. The wine was having an even more profound effect on her than I. My mother would have been shocked at her indecorous appearance.

“That is true, but as you have not brought me to the Bosphorus, I will content myself with another feat,” Jeremy said. “Lord Byron didn't swim the same direction as Leander when he made his trip, and I take that as precedence for allowing the task to be altered as necessary.”

Colin scrutinized Jeremy. “Swimming now would not be a good idea. The sun may feel warm, but it is only April, and the water is cold. Byron, you may remember, Bainbridge, succumbed to a fever after his own swim.”

“I have not the weakness of character exhibited by the poet, gifted though Lord Byron was.”

“Character does not come into it,” Colin said. “The water is too cold for a swim.”

“Given that you pride yourself on weakness of character, I should think you would not dare to prove yourself more worthy on that count than Lord Byron,” I said.

Jeremy did not so much as acknowledge that I spoke, but instead turned to his fiancée. “I shall tell the captain to navigate toward that small island, there, the one with the monastery on it. We aren't so very far from it now, are we? Certainly not farther away than I can swim, although I suspect the Bosphorus is wider.”

“Colin, you must persuade him not to do this,” Amity said. “You of all people know what a gentleman in love is prepared to do for his lady, and I cannot bear the thought of him putting himself at risk. He has had rather a lot of wine.”

“This is a foolish idea, Bainbridge, far beneath your consideration.”

Jeremy looked not altogether steady on his feet, and his eyes showed signs of the overconsumption of spirits. “That, my dear man, is precisely why I intend to do it.” He strode off in the direction of the bridge, leaving Amity behind, wringing her hands.

“Is there nothing you can do to stop him?” she asked Colin. “Please.”

“When a man is bent on something so rash he is unlikely to be dissuaded on any account.”

“Someone at least ought to try,” I said, and followed after him. The captain, good man, refused to take any part in the scheme, but that did not put off Jeremy. Instead, he stalked toward the prow, peeling off first his jacket and then his waistcoat, dropping them both onto the deck.

“Jeremy!”

“I suggest, Em, that you retreat at once, lest you be offended by the sight of me
en dishabille.
” He unfastened his collar and flung it down.

“Jeremy, please! You must listen to reason.”

Reason was not part of his plan, however, and when he began unbuttoning his shirt, I felt I had no option other than to retreat. A few moments later, with a cry of tallyho and a splash, Jeremy plunged into the water. Now his friends were all on his side, cheering him on as he swam in the direction of the island. I alone refused to take any pleasure in his ridiculous stunt and leaned my back against the railing, crossing my arms and pointedly looking away from the spectacle.

“Don't be a spoilsport,” Margaret said, sidling up to me. “He's making quite an effort.”

“He is behaving like a reckless child,” I said. Mr. Fairchild and Jack were shouting accolades, and Amity was clapping and shrieking with delight. Irritation welled in me, but I did not turn to look. I did not want to be a spoilsport, but I could not escape the feeling that something sinister lay beneath everything that had occurred since our arrival in Cannes. Then, just as the sun slipped behind a cloud, throwing us into shadow, the tenor of Amity's voice changed. Panic replaced exuberance.

Turning back around and clinging to the rail, I saw Jeremy flailing, far away from the boat. He was waving both his arms in the air, as if to signal us. He was too far away for any cries to reach us, but I was convinced he was shouting for help. Colin must have believed the same, as he stripped off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and dove off the side of the boat without the slightest hesitation. Jack ran for the captain, and within moments, they had launched a dinghy. Colin reached Jeremy before it, and held him afloat until he could remand him to his rescuers. When Mr. Fairchild and Mr. Wells helped them back on board, we wrapped them in heavy blankets and plied them with coffee to ward off the cold. The sun had not reappeared, and rain clouds threatened from above, bringing with them a stiff breeze.

“I admit, Em,” Jeremy said, through chattering teeth, “that there was a certain amount of wisdom in your efforts to stop me, but you know me too well to have thought I would abandon my scheme.”

“You had better hope Colin doesn't fall ill,” I said. “I shall never forgive you.” In the past, this would have been Jeremy's cue to tell me that his intention all along had been exactly that. That he wanted Colin finished off by some dreadful illness, so that, at last, we could be together. I would roll my eyes and make some sort of vaguely biting reply while Colin laughed. This time, however, Jeremy let the opportunity pass without so much as a word.

“I hardly think Colin is the one we need to be worried about,” Amity said. “Jeremy was in the water far longer and is at much greater risk.”