The Women of Eden (17 page)

From where Burke sat in his position of relative obscurity in an upholstered corner of the Gentlemen's Smoker off the Great Hall, he watched in silent amusement the curious duo seated at the round table, both physically large and powerful, though there all similarity stopped.

At least John Murrey Eden could be credited with one achievement—the union of these two disparate voices, one arguing for tradition and monarchy, the other publicly advocating the formation of an English republic with an elected president and constitution, similar to that which America enjoyed.

Grateful to be excluded, Burke sipped at his brandy and felt satiated with too much rich food, too much ostentation, too much tension of the sort which suggested that beneath the expensive new veneer of Eden Castle were currents of feelings which as yet Lord Ripples had not been able to identify.

Then perhaps he'd better be about the task that had brought him here, which was to find out all he could about John Murrey Eden. Thus far he'd learned exactly nothing, as the great man himself always seemed to be involved with others, a negligence Burke had determined was not altogether accidental. There was no possible way that he, an American exile, could serve John Murrey Eden, and he had the distinct impression that this was a financial and political gathering as much as a social one. Substantiation of this private theory was in the fact that Burke had yet to glimpse any of the beauties who supposedly formed that exclusive club known as the Women of Eden, They had been promised to the largely male gathering tonight, the living counterparts taking part in the unveiling ceremony.

He drained his glass and started out into the crowd, moving toward the laughing threesome composed of Andrew Rhoades, Lord Richard Eden and Professor Nichols.

While he was still a distance away, he noticed that Andrew Rhoades had observed his approach. Burke saw him place a restraining hand on Professor Nichols' shoulder, apparently halting the man in midstory, and calling out to Burke v^th warm cordiality, **This way. Stanhope—come and join us. We were just speaking of your country.'*

Grateful that he had been remembered from that single luncheon, Burke drew near, smiling. "Then perhaps I'd best move on," he joked. "One seldom hears compliments for the Colonies from an Englishman's lips."

"Now, that's not true, Mr. Stanhope," Professor Nichols soothed. "I was just telling Richard and Andrew about a young student of mine, an American lad, so bright, far in advance of his English counterparts."

Burke nodded, though suspected that the man was lying. There was no aspect of that statement that warranted the earlier laugh which had first attracted Burke's attention. Still, it was a harmless deception, designed to put him at ease. Since his true host had not

deigned to make that effort, Burke was grateful for the kindness, regardless of its nature.

In an attempt to cover his well-meaning deception, Professor Nichols abruptly changed the subject, stepping back as though not to exclude Lord Richard, who was standing on his right.

"I trust you are enjoying yourself, Mr. Stanhope." Nichols smiled, clasping his hands behind his back and standing at ease.

Burke nodded. "It's been an—interesting few days," he replied safely.

Lord Richard entered the conversation, a knowing look on his face. "I'm afraid you're not seeing us at our best, Mr. Stanhope," he said graciously. "In spite of its size, I've always felt that Eden was happiest with a limited population."

Considering that at that moment they were being jostled on all sides by laughing, talking gentlemen, awaiting the stellar event of the evening. Lord Richard's claim held great appeal. "Still," Burke added considerately, "it's quite spectacular—the castle itself, as well as what Mr. Eden has done with it." His journalist's instincts began to surface. "Since everywhere I look I see new and major renovation, I can only assume that the castle had been allowed to—deteriorate."

Lord Richard laughed. "That's a kind way of putting it." He stepped closer, a likable man, mild-mannered, very approachable.

"You probably won't believe this," he went on, "but there was a time when, owing to certain harsh circumstances, we tethered our cow and several goats in this very hall."

Andrew Rhoades now stepped forward with a fresh subject. "And where, may I ask, is your distinguished companion? I trust he is enjoying himself."

"I can't speak for him," Burke said politely, "but I think he's found the occasion as—interesting as I have."

Briefly he enjoyed a private amusement. If only the gentlemen knew that they were at this moment speaking with Lord Ripples!

Lost in his own thoughts, Burke was not at first aware of the three men staring at him, as though someone had posed a question he'd failed to answer. "I—beg your pardon," he murmured, embarrassed, and sent Lord Ripples away—at least for a while.

Andrew Rhoades laughed. "I asked if you knew of Mr. Delane's whereabouts. I believe we have a few moments before John—"

Burke nodded. "He's in the Smoker, though you may be surprised at his companion of the moment. He's in deep discourse with Mr.

Bradlaugh." He was prepared to say more, but the look of disbelief on the three faces around him canceled the need.

"I don't believe it," Rhoades said flatly.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Burke said, nodding, and entering into the spirit of fun. "And I heard it as well. Mr. Bradlaugh was giving him a detailed lecture on the nature of republicanism when I left."

"My God," Andrew Rhoades marveled. "Well, I must see this for myself. Come, gentlemen," he said to Nichols and Lord Richard. "I'll need eyewitnesses. I have friends in Fleet Street who will say I've lost my mind."

But Lord Richard begged off, claiming, "I must wait here, Andrew. Professor Nichols and I are awaiting a late-arriving guest. He should have been here hours ago, but—"

Surprised, Rhoades looked back at them. "I thought everyone was here who was supposed to—"

"He's an ex-student of mine," Professor Nichols interrupted apologetically, "a bright lad by the name of Parnell, coming all the way from Ireland. But knowing Charles, he's stopped at every inn and pub along the way."

"Shall I alert the watchmen at the gate?" Rhoades asked.

"I've already done so," Lord Richard told him. "No cause for worry. Charles follows his own timetable. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he didn't show."

"Well, then," Rhoades said, backing away from the group, *'if John comes looking for me, tell him I'm in the Smoker."

As he was about to turn away, his eye apparently fell on someone just descending the Grand Staircase. "Damn," he muttered beneath his breath.

As all heads swiveled in that direction, Burke looked up and saw John Murrey Eden. To his right was the artist, Lawrence Alma-Tadema. The Dutchman had arrived in the company of the gentlemen of the Royal Academy only two days earlier and had been invisible since, putting final touches to his new masterwork, or so the rumor had been circulated.

To Mr. Eden's left was a young man, dark-skinned yet garbed with equal fashion in classic Western black.

"Too late," Rhoades muttered. "It looks as though the main attraction is under way."

As the rumble of predominantly male voices settled into a low

hum, Burke saw Andrew Rhoades signal Lord Richard. "I believe this is our cue," he said with a smile. "If you gentlemen will excuse us "

From where Burlce stood he saw Lord Richard exchange a warm smile with Nichols, as though the one man were supplying the other with moral support.

In spite of the glance, Lord Richard needed further reassurance. "Where will you be-"

Professor Nichols stepped forward. "I'll be right here when it's over. With Mr. Stanhope's kind indulgence, I'll view the Festivities in his company. How fascinating it will be to glimpse our English pomp through his American eyes."

Looking beyond their shoulders, Burke saw John Murrey Eden and the young man gazing out over the audience, clearly in search of someone.

A pronounced hush fell over the vast room. Burke looked up to see Andrew Rhoades and Lord Richard disappearing at the top of the stairs. The young Indian lad was missing as well, though still standing at midstair was John Murrey Eden, while two steps behind him was Alma-Tadema, looking uncomfortable in the limelight.

"Can you see?" Professor Nichols whispered thoughtfully and, without waiting for a response, he guided Burke to a position near one of the columns which afforded a perfect view of the Grand Staircase and the corridor leading to the Library and the scene where the unveiling would take place.

All at once, when the tension of waiting could be stretched no further, Burke heard the musicians commence a waltz and he was conscious of all heads lifting in anticipation toward the top of the stairs. Still, nothing was visible but the elegance of the staircase itself. Behind him Burke felt Professor Nichols step close in soft alarm. "My God, no slipup, I hope."

Then the waiting was over. The tempo of the waltz seemed to increase as at the top of the stairs appeared a pale, fair woman beautifully garbed in lavender silk, her long hair done up and softened with a fringe of curls framing her face, and carrying a small nosegay of violets. She was on the arm of a very tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman, who seemed almost to be supporting her, their arms locked together.

"Who—" Burke began.

"Mrs. John Murrey Eden," Nichols whispered. "A charming lady,"

he added, "though of a weak disposition and not by nature, I'm afraid, designed for this occasion."

Burke detected a tone of sympathy in the man's voice, as though it distressed him to see anyone uncomfortable. Feehng his fondness for the man increase, Burke asked further, "And the gentleman with her?"

"Her father. Lord Harrington. You've not met him yet?" he asked, surprised.

Burke shook his head.

Again all talk ceased as the two at the top of the stairs started down. For some reason they seemed mismatched, one resembling a lion, the other a lamb.

Suddenly at the top of the stairs and padding down softly behind her there appeared an enormous gray cat. At the cat's appearance a rustle of amusement arose from the guests, pleasantly breaking the tension.

"Wolf." Nichols smiled. For Burke's edification he added, "The cat's name—an enchanted cat, or so Lady Lila claims—over two hundred years old."

Confident that his mistress was under way, the cat disappeared into the Library, where shortly the unveiling would take place.

"He'll be assured of a ringside seat," Nichols added, laughing with the rest of the guests.

With the comic appearance of the cat over, Burke heard the audience fall into silence as the pair on the steps drew even with Eden. Burke saw the woman hesitate again and it appeared as though she would speak to her husband. But no words were exchanged and again her father seemed to tighten his grip on her arm and lead her steadily to the foot of the stairs, less than twenty feet from where Burke and Professor Nichols stood.

From this close proximity she looked as though she were just recuperating from an illness or on the verge of succumbing to one, though probably it was just the tension of the occasion.

With their disappearance into the Library, the musicians commenced a second waltz, and as the top of the stairs was again devoid of life and movement, Burke listened closely to Professor Nichols' succinct explanation of Mrs. John Murrey Eden.

"She has produced two sons and lost four in miscarriages. Richard fears for her health."

As would any sane man, Burlce thought, consciously aware that he was storing up any excuse to disHke John Murrey Eden.

Then there was movement again at the top of the steps, a very diflFerent pair this time, Andrew Rhoades smiHng out over the gaping faces, not only making eye contact with Eden but winking massively as though to say, "We two at least know what a colossal bit of rubbish this is."

On his arm was Delane's friend, the charming older woman named Elizabeth whom they had rescued from her near-tumble out of her carriage door on that first day. This woman looked as though she were quite at home at center stage, was never happier than when admiring eyes were assessing her.

Burke looked closer, suffering again that twinge of recognition. Had he seen her before?

He now saw her pull free from Andrew Rhoades and draw near to Eden where, standing on tiptoe, she delivered a kiss to his bearded cheek. For the first time since Burke had witnessed that glacial man, he saw him respond to the affectionate gesture, his hand caressing the side of her face, their mutual love displayed for all to see.

In spite of the public nature of the event, the moment was good because it was honest. Burke had the feeling that it would have been beyond her to suppress that kiss and now saw that her affection was spilling onto the artist, Alma-Tadema, who with courtly dignity accepted her hand and kissed it.

As Andrew Rhoades and the woman started down the corridor toward the Library, Burke stared closely after her, that mysterious recognition still plaguing him. He had seen her before; he would swear to it.

There was no time for further questions as a new pair had now appeared in the arena at the top of the Grand Staircase, a dark, lovely beauty who was being escorted by the young man whom Burke had seen earlier in the company of Eden.

Was it his imagination or were the musicians playing more loudly as though to mask the new silence which had descended over the guests? From where he stood, he saw heads leaning forward, as though the majority of those present knew all too well the relationship of this woman to John Murrey Eden, knew her tragic history as well.

Now, unlike Mrs. Eden, who had appeared shy to the point of collapse, and the woman named Elizabeth who had, with warm-hearted

abandon "performed" her way down the lengthy staircase, this woman stood with remote serenity, as though she neither dreaded nor enjoyed what she'd been asked to do.

"Can you imagine?" Professor Nichols whispered, "the courage it requires for her to appear here tonight?"

When Burke didn't respond, Nichols went on. "Eden's mistress, you know," he said.