Buckingham Palace Gardens Page 15

  Julius was smiling. Was it to hide pain, or had he simply not understood her implication? Or was that what he did to conceal embarrassment? “Have you ever seen a dry lightning storm?” he inquired of nobody in particular. “You get them sometimes in summer. Spectacular, and rather dangerous. In Africa they can set the grassland alight and the fires consume thousands of acres.”

  “How destructive,” Olga murmured uncomfortably.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But the new growth afterward is marvelous. There are some plants whose seeds only germinate in the extreme heat.” He looked very quickly at Elsa, his eyes soft for an instant, then away again. Or did she imagine it?

  Minnie was temporarily confused, aware she had been bettered, but not certain how it had happened. She smiled dazzlingly at Simnel. “I think storms can be rather fun, don’t you?”

  He was uncomfortable, as if somehow guilty, but he could not drag his gaze from her.

  Olga moved even farther away from him, her face almost colorless. Her body was all angles, as if she might be clumsy enough to knock over ornaments balanced on the side tables. Had she any idea how naked her feelings were?

  Elsa looked at Julius and saw the pity in his face. For an instant it was the most beautiful thing she knew. He was utterly different from Cahoon. Cahoon had no patience with the weak. Mercy was an impediment to the march of progress. She had heard him say so many times, and inside herself she had longed to protest. What about the beautiful, the funny, the kind, which might also be vulnerable?

  She was afraid of Cahoon. She knew it with a sort of sickness that made the thought of eating repulsive. How could she get through the evening without fumbling, dropping knives and spoons, making stupid remarks because her mind was on the woman in the cupboard, and the knowledge that one of these men had killed her? Was it Simnel, because he lusted after Minnie and loathed himself because he could not control it? Did he imagine that killing some poor woman who awoke the same in him would make anything better? Or Hamilton Quase, for God knew what reason? Because he was drunk and frightened and suddenly lost all sense? Perhaps the woman had laughed at him. Elsa tried to imagine it. It was pathetic and disgusting. She hoped profoundly that that was not true. She refused to think it could be Julius. That was unbearable. What a pity it could not have been Cahoon.

  What a terrible thought! How could she have allowed it into her mind? She had lain in his arms. Once she had even thought she loved him, imagined awakening in him a tenderness toward her he had felt for no other person in his life.

  How naïve! The only person he had ever loved was Minnie, and even that was equivocal. She was too like him, too strong to be controlled, and he resented that.

  The footman announced that dinner was about to be served. They all trooped after him from the guest wing to the magnificent state dining room hung with portraits of past members of the royal family, framed in ornate gold. It was far too big for such a gathering and Elsa wondered why the Prince of Wales had chosen it. The red curtains and carpet warmed the almost cathedral-like vault of the pale golden walls and domed and fretted ceiling. Still it dwarfed them, and the table seemed lost in its enormity. The chandeliers glittered; the light on the silver and crystal was blinding. The white mantel and white tablecloth were as virgin as snow. The scent of lilies on the table reminded her of a hothouse. Everywhere there were more footmen in livery, gold buttons gleaming, white gloves immaculate.

  The Prince and Princess of Wales welcomed them. She looked magnificent in cream and gold and blue, blazing with diamonds. She was a beautiful woman, with classic features; calm, remote, and slightly bemused.

  Elsa curtsied and smiled, and wondered how much the Princess was aware of anything going on around her. It must be a purgatory to be deaf, never knowing quite what was happening, like seeing everything through thick glass. See but never hear, know but don’t touch, never quite understand. How often do people get frustrated and simply not bother trying to communicate anymore?

  Did she even know that there had been a murder? Probably not. Perhaps she always lived on the edge of everything.

  Lord Taunton and Lady Parr were shown in and presented, then introduced to everyone else. She was dressed in plum-colored silk. It was very rich and complimented her skin, though it clashed hideously with Minnie’s scarlet. It amused Cahoon. Elsa could see it in his face.

  Dinner was announced and they went to the table in exact order of precedence, the Princess of Wales on Lord Taunton’s arm, followed by Elsa and Cahoon. She saw the flash of discontent in his eyes. He would like to have been in Taunton’s place, but he had no title, no status except that of money, and all the money in the world counted for nothing here.

  Next came Hamilton and Liliane, Simnel as elder brother, with Olga, then Julius with Minnie, and lastly the Prince of Wales with Lady Parr.

  The first course of julienne soup was served, or alternatively fillet of turbot and Dutch sauce, or red mullet. Elsa ate very sparingly. She knew there would be entrées of meat or fowl, then a third course of heavier meat, possibly including game, maybe venison at this time of year. Then there would be a fourth course, probably some kind of pastry dish—fruit pies, tarts, custards—and lastly a dessert of grapes or other fresh fruit, and after the meal, cheese.

  It would drag on for hours before the ladies would withdraw and the gentlemen pass the port and cigars. The gentlemen would talk of Africa and the railway; the ladies, if they spoke at all, would simply gossip.

  If the gentlemen rejoined them, Lady Parr would flirt with Cahoon, and the Prince. Minnie would flirt with Simnel, and with the Prince, of course. Liliane would be clumsy; Olga would grow more and more wretched. Elsa would try to think of something to say, and end up being boring, and utterly predictable, as Minnie had said so damningly of Julius.

  And yet one of them had murdered the woman in the cupboard.

  The footman poured white wine for her.

  Was it possible that whoever it was, his wife really had no idea? How could you live with a man, take his name, lie in his bed, and know so little of him? Nothing that really mattered, such as what he believed, what frightened him or what he longed for. But then no one else knew what she really cared about either, only the trivial things she said.

  She must be careful not to drink the wine and eat too little. She would become tipsy. There was nothing uglier than a drunken woman: loud, indiscreet, desperately embarrassing.

  Did one refuse to know what one’s husband was really like because it would be unbearable? One lived on dreams. Of what? Not wealth, certainly not fame or extraordinary beauty. Not power. What power did a woman have except to influence others because of her example? Dreams of being loved, by someone you could both love and trust in return. Someone you admired, who could make you laugh, make you feel as if the world were better, brighter, and wiser because you were in it. Someone you liked?

  Lord Taunton was speaking to her. She replied politely, meaninglessly. The fish was served, and curried lobster or fricandeau brought in, and of course more wine.

  If you could not have love, then perhaps the other great need was to do something of value. Many people looking at this glittering table with its burden of food, its women dressed in silks and jewels, its beauty, comfort, and wealth would envy everyone here. The men Elsa could understand—they were all excited, faces eager, planning and dreaming of a railway that would stretch the length of a continent, seven thousand miles of it. It would change the Empire, and the world. Probably in centuries to come it would be regarded as one of the wonders of human achievement.

  But what did she do? She had no children. She had married too late for that. She wanted for nothing material. She was fed, clothed, and housed. She had health and the respect of others, because she was Cahoon’s wife. She had contributed nothing whatever.

  She stared around the table and considered if there was anyone here whose life she really affected. Was anyone wiser, braver, or kinder because of her? She did not need to ask the question; the
answer was already there. It would never have risen to her mind if there were anything at all to affirm it.

  Minnie was laughing. She was as vivid as the flame-colored silk of her dress. The air around her seemed warm. Was Julius really in love with her, and his indifference was only a pretense, a shield to hide the hunger inside him for her to love him as much?

  Elsa felt so sick she could hardly swallow, and the thought of another mouthful nearly made her gag. Perhaps Minnie was only flirting with Simnel in order to make Julius jealous. Was it a game between them?

  How much would Elsa care if Cahoon flirted with someone? Not at all, except for the wound to her self-esteem because he so openly preferred someone else. He was talking now about timber for railway ties and steel for the rails themselves. He was speaking to Lord Taunton, but his eyes kept straying to Lady Parr. Was that a courtesy to give her the illusion of being included? No. He was smiling at her, his eyes warm. Elsa knew that look. So, apparently, did Amelia Parr, from the satisfaction in her face.

  Why did one love one man and not another? Was there really anything noble or beautiful in Julius that was not in Cahoon, or did she imagine it was because she wanted there to be? She tried to think back to every time they had spoken, his visits to her home in company with Minnie. What had he said or done that had captivated her, made her see in him a sensitivity, an impression of tenderness, of strength to do something better than seek his own profit?

  He was talking to Lord Taunton now. Simnel was watching him, waiting for the moment to interrupt. Under the assumed courtesy there was an anger inside him. His hand was clenched on his knife and he ignored the lobster on his plate.

  “The biggest difficulty may be the Congo,” Julius was saying. “King Leopold has dreams of extending Belgian dominion in Africa. The price he will ask for passage could be enormous.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Julius!” Simnel said impatiently. “The railway will benefit all Africa. And if Leopold doesn’t grant access to it, then go through German East Africa. They’re far more reasonable. You talk as if Leopold were the only one we could deal with. Do you expect everything to drop in your lap for nothing?” There was a light of bitterness in his eyes and his shoulders were stiff under the black fabric of his jacket.

  “I don’t expect it for nothing, Simnel,” Julius replied, emotion hard in his voice also, as if this were not a new argument, merely the resumption of an old one in a different form. “But there are prices that are fair to pay, and some that are too high for the value you receive.”

  “You deal with the diplomacy,” Simnel told him. “Leave the finance to me, or to Lord Taunton. You were never any good with money.” He seemed about to add something more, but bit it back.

  “I was referring to diplomatic price,” Julius replied. He sounded tired, as if the whole project were too heavy, too much trouble, and something in him was disillusioned by it.

  Simnel was obviously controlling his temper with difficulty. Elsa thought that if they had been alone there would have been a blazing quarrel, Simnel attacking and Julius defending himself, perhaps inadequately. Was that a lack of courage? Cahoon, for all his faults, had never been a coward. She pushed the plate away from her, only an inch or two—there was nowhere else to place it.

  The footmen cleared away the course and brought the next: roast saddle of mutton, haunch of venison, or boiled capon and oysters, all accompanied by vegetables.

  Cahoon was talking to Lady Parr. Elsa thought how charming he could be, how intense his power and intelligence. She remembered falling in love with him and being so excited, so flattered when he asked her to marry him. Would her marriage have become just as hollow if it had been to Julius instead? Did he talk to Minnie, trust her, share his ideas or his dreams with her, make her laugh, allow her into his disappointments or his pain?

  She picked at the boiled capon on the plate and looked across at Minnie. Simnel was staring at her, but she was looking at her father, frowning, as if something puzzled her and she were trying in vain to identify it.

  At the other end of the table Liliane was laughing. It looked so easy. She was very beautiful with those amazing gold-brown eyes. Only because Elsa knew her did she hear the edge to her voice, and see how often her glance strayed to Hamilton, who was allowing the footman to refill his glass too often and beginning to look even more glazed. If he must drink so much, he should eat more. Maybe someone was going to have to help him later in order to prevent an embarrassment when he tried to stand up. It would be humiliating, impossible to pretend one had not seen.

  There was another burst of laughter. Under cover of its sound Cahoon glared across the table at her. “Do your duty!” he mouthed angrily. “Don’t be so weak!”

  She felt the color burn in her cheeks. The charge was true. She waited until she had heard enough of Lady Parr’s conversation to join in, then did so with concentrated good manners. She did not like the woman at all. Her face was handsome, but coarse; her lower lip was too full. The very effort of addressing her with enthusiasm took her entire concentration. They spoke of art, of the recent regatta at Henley, of mutual acquaintances, safe things of no importance to either of them.

  Yet another course was served, this time roast grouse and bread sauce, vol-au-vent of greengages, fruit jelly, raspberry cream, custards, and fig pudding, and naturally more wine.

  After it came dessert. The gentlemen did not care for it and the ladies had already eaten more than was comfortable. Elsa was watching to see the Princess of Wales nod very slightly to Lady Parr to indicate that it was time for the ladies to withdraw.

  Elsa was tired with the effort of pretense, and she saw the same moment of surrender, and the lift of the head and forced smile again in Olga.

  Minnie swept by, her skirt swirling, her pale shoulders smooth, skin gleaming against the scarlet silk. She was twice as alive as any of them, watching, listening to everything as if not a gesture would pass by her unnoticed. She seemed to be filled with an insatiable curiosity that excited not only her mind but her emotions. In a hideous instant Elsa wondered if Minnie actually knew what had happened to the woman in the cupboard, and who had done it. Then she dismissed the idea as absurd. It was just Minnie showing off, being the center of attention as usual.

  Olga straightened her shoulders and followed after her, but there was no swagger to her walk and she did not look to either side of her, as if just for the moment she could not bear to meet anyone’s eyes.

  Liliane glanced back before the drawing room door closed. Elsa thought she was taking one more glance at Hamilton to reassure herself that he was still upright, or even catch his eye and warn him. Then Elsa realized it was at Julius that Liliane was looking, and there was anger in her face, just for a moment, and an unanswered pain, as if he had denied her something.

  Elsa’s head was spinning. Lady Parr was saying something and she had no idea what it was. Liliane and Julius had been in Africa at the same time, before either of them were married. It had been at the same time as Eden Forbes had died.

  They took their seats, all watching the Princess of Wales. Elsa was invited to sit next to her. It was going to be hard work, but for some reason the Princess seemed to wish her to.

  “Your husband is a very commanding man,” the Princess observed conversationally, but she was watching Elsa’s face as she spoke. Perhaps that was how she guessed at people’s replies: She read the emotion when she could not distinguish the words.

  Elsa smiled. “Yes, he is, ma’am.” She inclined her head in agreement. “And he cares passionately about this project.” She kept her sentences short.

  “Of course,” Alexandra said with humor in her voice. “It has much to offer.”

  Did she mean to Africa, to the Empire, or to Cahoon personally? Had she read in his face how hungry he was for recognition, a seat in the House of Lords, and all the social honor that that would bring him? She must be used to being courted for her position, not for herself. For that matter, had she any idea how many wo
men the Prince flirted with, touched intimately, even slept with? Or did she refuse to look because it was unbearable?

  How much would Elsa be wounded in mind and heart if she knew Cahoon had made love to Lady Parr? Not much; only revolted if he came back to her afterward. And if she were honest, she thought perhaps he would not. That was a strange kind of rejection too, a sort of loneliness half wanted, half painful.

  Alexandra was asking something again. Elsa thought how difficult it must be always having to be the one to initiate every conversation, but one did not speak to royalty until they spoke first. She could not help, much as she wished to.

  “You will miss your husband when they begin to build,” Alexandra went on. “Or will you go to Africa yourself?”

  “I don’t yet know, ma’am,” Elsa replied.

  “I hear Africa is very beautiful,” Alexandra continued.

  Elsa must make an effort. She could see the look of open contempt on Minnie’s face.

  “You should go,” Minnie said suddenly. “It would give you something to talk about. It is such a bore to have nothing whatever to say.” She knew that with her face turned toward Elsa, Alexandra would not hear her.

  “Frightful,” Elsa said tartly. “Especially to those who insist upon saying it just the same.”

  Alexandra turned to look at Minnie in time to see her face flame red. She seemed to understand as well as if she had heard. “It seems a shame to miss an adventure,” she said quietly.

  “She has nothing to keep her at home,” Minnie added. She did not say that Elsa was childless, but it was implied. Minnie herself was childless, but still young enough to change that.

  “I imagine you will be going,” Olga said suddenly to Minnie. “You will certainly want to follow the men!”

  Minnie arched her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?” she replied icily, but there was a hot flush in her cheeks still.

  Lady Parr’s face flickered with amusement.

  “Do you wish me to repeat it more loudly?” Olga inquired.