The Seven Dials Affair, page 25
Justine smiled. "It's good to see you. I know that sounds odd with everything that's happened. I'm so sorry—"
"Thank you," Esquivel said. "And it's good to see you too." He gave a smile, genuine but a bit strained about the edges.
"I met the Rannochs and the Davenports and everyone else at the holidays," Justine said when Raoul had made formal introductions and they were all seated. "And I was already planning to come to London and stay with the Davenports. So of course I brought the bust to show them." She looked at Harry and Cordy. "They're both classicists."
"Yes. I wasn't thinking of that aspect." Esquivel nodded at Harry and Cordy. "I've heard about your work. I still follow classics journals when I can."
"The bust is an amazing piece," Harry said. "How did you come across it?"
Esquivel accepted a cup of coffee from Mélanie and steadied it on its saucer, as though weighing his words. "It's no secret we're in need of funding. We being those involved in the revolution. But Britain's treaty with Spain a few years ago forbids your country from supplying us with weapons."
"Which certain elements in Britain have managed to supply you with anyway," Julien said, quite as if he hadn't been involved in the supplying.
Esquivel nodded. "We also need funds to purchase the weapons and other things. It can be difficult to transfer money abroad. Some of our—friends—have sent valuable goods instead. As you must know, a number of art treasures made their way into various hands during the war."
"I saw some of that at Vitoria," Harry said.
"So did I," Julien said.
Mélanie set down her coffee. She had no idea what Julien had been doing at Vitoria, what side he'd been on, or whom he'd been spying for. Julien sent her an I'll tell you later look.
"I imagine sending art treasures as currency was particularly appealing to those connected to the British government who couldn't arm you directly," Malcolm said.
Esquivel met his gaze. "Precisely. You're an MP, Rannoch. You'll appreciate that I don't wish to say more."
"It's all right," Julien said. "We already know. My uncle was arming you. I helped facilitate shipments. So did Kitty."
Esquivel drew in and released his breath. "Your uncle was Alejandra's spymaster. I didn't realize he was yours as well."
"And mine," Malcolm said. "Though we all broke away from him. Hubert Mallinson has a way of getting his hooks in people."
"But you're all too intelligent not to have gone to work for him of your own free will," Esquivel said.
"Define free will," Julien said. "What one enters into with Uncle Hubert may be very different from the situation one subsequently finds oneself in."
Esquivel's jaw tightened. "I didn't come here to debate Alejandra's actions. Or to ask for excuses for them."
"This is the first I've heard of Hubert Mallinson's sending art treasures to fund arms purchases," Kitty said. "But it's like Hubert to be creative."
"I saw the bust in a shipment of valuables that had been sent to a colleague," Esquivel. "I recognized it as one Mr. Lambton had talked about. I wanted to get it in his hands. He instilled enough love of antiquities in me that I didn't want to leave it to serve as a bargaining chip."
Harry turned his cup in his hands. "I'm generally a pragmatist when it comes to your uncle, Julien. But using that bust as currency may be one of the most objectionable things I've heard of his doing."
"Considering Uncle Hubert's lack of appreciation for human life, I suppose his lack of appreciation for works of art shouldn't be surprising," Julien said. "But I confess it still brings me up short." He looked at Esquivel. "If—"
He broke off as the door opened and Valentin came back into the room. "Mr. Roth."
CHAPTER 32
Roth hesitated on the library threshold, a mirror of Esquivel a short time before.
"Come in, Jeremy," Mélanie said. This was either going to be good for the investigation or turn her library into a battlefield. Or both. "Mr. Esquivel just called to share some information."
"Esquivel." Roth took two measured steps forwards and inclined his head. "I suppose it was inevitable that we meet."
"Roth." Esquivel got to his feet to face Roth. "It seems we have something in common. Alejandra deceived both of us."
Roth moved to a straight-backed chair. "Allegra never made a secret of the fact that she wasn't happy in our marriage, so I'm not sure you could say she deceived me. Though it's true she wasn't open about your affair."
"Which surely was a betrayal."
"Of sorts." Roth seated himself. "Though I understand the two of you were open about such matters."
"It's not—" Esquivel looked round as though aware he was the only one in the room standing. He returned to his chair. Mélanie gave Roth a cup of coffee.
Roth accepted the coffee with a smile. "Harder, I would think, to be spied on. I should say I'm sorry for you, and I am in a way. Though I confess I'm less charitable about Allegra's having left our children."
"Are you saying you'd have let her take them to the Argentine?"
"No. Would you have stayed in Britain with her?"
"That would have been impossible. And presumably Alejandra would not have wished to do so, considering that she was spying on me and my work."
"You have a point there." Roth took a drink of coffee. "It seems neither of us knew her. I couldn't have explained why she left, and it seems you didn't know the real reason either."
Esquivel inclined his head, shoulders held at a military angle. "I admit you have a right to call me to account."
Roth laughed, though the sound was not a pleasant one. "My class don't use violence to settle disagreements."
Esquivel's gaze locked on Roth's. "Not in that way, perhaps."
For a moment swords might have clashed between the two men. "If you mean I had a motive to have killed Allegra, then I have to admit you're correct," Roth said. "I'd probably suspect myself first, were I investigating the case from the outside. The only person with an equally strong motive would be you."
"As you say." Esquivel set down his coffee cup. "Mrs. Rannoch, I should not impose on your hospitality longer. I imagine Mr. Roth has things to discuss with you."
"Marco," Kitty said. "Before you go. Did Alejandra ever suggest to you that there might have been anything odd about Edward's death?"
"Edward's—your husband's?" Esquivel asked.
"Yes. I spoke with Philip Ledgwood today and he mentioned that Alejandra suspected Edward had been murdered."
Esquivel dropped back into his chair.
"You needn't worry about speaking in front of this company," Kitty said. "Including Jeremy. As I was attacked last night, it's possible there's a connection to Allegra's murder. And in any case, as you can imagine, I'm interested in what happened to my husband. Or perhaps you wouldn't think it, based on our relationship, but I am."
Esquivel picked up his coffee and stared into the cup. "Allegra was shocked by the news of Ashford's death. I still remember the moment we heard. We were dressing for dinner when she received the message."
"From whom?"
"I assumed it came from you."
Kitty shook her head. "I was too busy dealing with the repercussions to be sending word to anyone."
Esquivel gave a slow nod. "Alejandra kept saying it didn't make sense. It's a shock, of course. Someone young suddenly dropping dead. But it does happen. I pointed that out. Alejandra said it was suspicious. She was—close to Ashford."
"They were lovers," Kitty said. "I didn't know until today, but it scarcely matters, and it seems you knew."
Esquivel gave a curt nod.
"Was it a heart ailment?" Roth asked. He looked from Kitty to Esquivel. "Forgive me. But investigating suspicious deaths is my stock in trade."
"The doctor who attended him believed so," Kitty said. "Edward had no history of a heart condition, but he drank heavily and he was fencing when he died."
"Had he eaten or drunk anything within hours of his death?"
"Probably. Edward drank fairly constantly. I hadn't seen him since the day before. By the time I was summoned, he was dead."
Roth looked at Esquivel. "Had Allegra—Alejandra—seen him more recently?"
Esquivel frowned. "Possibly. We'd been out separately the night before."
"Did she say whom she suspected?"
Esquivel reached for his coffee, as though for delay.
"She told Philip she suspected me," Kitty said.
Esquivel choked on a drink of coffee. "She was upset by a friend's death. She may have pointed out that your marriage had not been happy."
"Hardly a surprising insight. Did you consider who might have been behind it?"
"I was convinced Alejandra was being overly imaginative. Which led us to quarrel. Even granted the intrigues of the Argentine, it was hard to imagine Ashford's being murdered."
"According to Philip Ledgwood and my current husband, Edward was more involved in those intrigues than I realized."
Esquivel's gaze flashed to Julien.
"You must have heard about the silver mine," Julien said.
"Rumors," Esquivel said. "I had more substantial concerns."
"Did Alejandra talk about the silver mine?" Kitty asked.
"Not to me." Esquivel set down his cup. "Surely you don't think this has to do with why Alejandra was killed."
"Kitty was attacked the night Alejandra was killed," Julien said. "Edward Ashford is a link between them."
"But Alejandra thought—"
"That I was behind Edward's death," Kitty said. "Yes, that's rather a conundrum. Unless you think I had Alejandra killed because she was on to me, and then set up the attack on myself for cover. Of course, Alejandra said she suspected me some time ago. It's possible she'd learned something new."
"If she did, she didn't tell me. But then, as I've learned, I didn't know Alejandra at all. So god knows what other secrets she was keeping." Esquivel set down his coffee cup. "Mrs. Rannoch. Thank you again for your hospitality."
Justine and Gerry got to their feet in the silence after Esquivel left, and moved to the far end of the library to join the charades Sandy and Bet were organizing with the children.
Laura looked at Roth. "Do you want any of the rest of us to leave? Before you talk about what brought you here?"
Roth met her gaze and gave a faint smile. "Thank you. But no. That is—" He looked round the group. "I assume you all know about Judith?"
"It's part of the investigation," Malcolm said in an even voice.
Roth inclined his head. "And you're all working on it. I quite understand the need to share information. Which is why I came to share this." He took a gulp from his coffee cup. He seemed at a loss for what to do with his hands without his habitual notebook and pencil. "I need hardly state that Higgins and I are far from friends. But I still have friends at Bow Street. Hopkins—you know him, he's a patrol who often works cases with me—came to see me tonight. A risk, but he has the excuse that he was checking on how Harriet and the boys and I are doing. Which he did. But he wanted to speak with me in private." Roth took another drink of coffee. "Apparently Higgins learnt about Judith and me. Which I should have known would happen. And the home office are concerned. Because of who Judith is."
The words settled over the room for a moment, with implications no one quite wanted to voice.
"Fanny has always stood out in society," Raoul said, which was true, though also a cover for other things he left unsaid. "Unfortunate to draw more attention to the case, but I imagine Bow Street and the home office will want to keep Judith out of it. At times, the impulse to protect the aristocracy can be helpful."
Roth nodded. "I hope so. It's best for Judith and me to have as little contact as possible, but I hope you can get word to her to warn her."
"We will," Malcolm said. "She's staying at Fanny's."
Roth grimaced. "I wish to god she was as far out of this as possible."
"The women in this family have a way of not wanting to stay out of things," Mélanie said.
"I know that full well," Roth said. "But Judith's not—"
"I'm not sure any of us can say what Judith is at this point," Malcolm said. "Save that she's a great deal that none of us realized."
Kitty looked at Roth. The others had joined the charades game. He had stayed to answer some questions from her about Edward's death, though no detail she could offer had been conclusive of anything. She was fairly new to knowing Roth, compared to others in the group. But in her year and a half in Britain she'd come to appreciate his quick thinking and loyalty. He also had a tough outer shell. Which just now must be particularly battered. She knew something about both herself. "It seems we have something in common," she said.
"A deceased spouse?"
"Who may have been murdered. And left us with more questions than answers. Harder, of course, if one desperately loves them. But if one doesn't, there's all the guilt of not having loved them. All the questions about what the relationship meant. And if one feels relief at being free—I don't know that you do, but I did—that makes the guilt worse." She glanced towards the charades game. Timothy had a silk hat on and a bugle in one hand. "And then, if they're the parent of your children, that adds another whole layer."
Roth met her gaze. Behind the habitual defenses, she saw a spark of kinship and relief. "I thought I was free of her," he said. "But I think a part of me always wondered if she'd come back someday."
Kitty nodded. "You were left in an unbearable situation. But regardless, I think if your spouse died violently—which it now seems Edward did—there's the sense that one should learn what happened. I'd have sworn I didn't owe Edward anything, but I think I do owe him that. I owe the boys that. I confess I find it quite tiresome of Edward to have managed to interfere with my life again. Here I am focusing on him when I thought I was free."
"You have a remarkable way of putting things, Kitty."
"Better that than to dwell on it, don't you think? Or to pretend to feelings I don't have. I may feel I owe Edward something, but I find him just as provoking as ever. Though I'm beginning to suspect he may have been cleverer than I credited. What that says about my powers of perception is rather lowering, considering I lived with him for so long."
"But you just said you led separate lives."
"Touché. I'm not sure that lets me off the hook though. I was still his wife. I couldn't really avoid him."
Roth looked into the fire flickering in the polished iron grate. "I wasn't sure I knew Allegra when we were married. I was even less sure when she left. And now I find myself wondering if I knew her at all."
"Everyone has different sides to them. I can't come close to seeing all the sides of Julien. Though I do think I understand him as few do."
Roth looked up and caught her gaze with a smile. "What the two of you have is remarkable."
"It's worth it. As much of a risk as it was. And honestly, now I wonder at myself for being afraid of the risk. The risk was botching it and hurting each other, but we were both going to be hurt if we didn't try at all." She smoothed her chestnut velvet skirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you're tired of happy married couples trying to give you advice."
"Not that." His smile was surprisingly open and yet at the same time remote. "But you all have a tendency to draw false parallels."
"Everyone's different," Kitty said. "I used to think that about Malcolm and Mélanie, and Harry and Cordelia, and Laura and Raoul. Just because domesticity worked for them—even Raoul, who once seemed to epitomize being alone—didn't mean it would work for Julien and me. And of course, the fact that it works for them isn't why it works for us. And doesn't mean it would work for you."
"The situations are quite different."
"Oh, very. Julien was worried about being arrested, and didn't even have a legal identity. We thought we might have to flee the country. Which, come to think of it, was rather less terrifying than moving into Carfax House." She picked up her coffee and took a drink. "I do understand your qualms, Jeremy."
He regarded her with the look of one who knew the game she was playing. "I don't discount how daunting it must have been. But no one could doubt your right to be Countess Carfax."
"Believe me, many did. Because I'm Spanish. Because I was the widow of an untitled army officer. Because I lived in lodgings in Carnaby Street. Because Julien lived with me, though not everyone knows that. Julien would say people doubt his right too, for any number of reasons, but chiefly because his mother was the daughter of a slave. But the fact that his father was a Mallinson tends to trump that."
"As birth does."
"But given that none of us believes in birth determining fortune, why should that matter?"
"Because we don't live in the world we'd like to create. Allegra once told me she didn't believe in marriage, and I said I wasn't sure I did either. But it wasn't going to be good for her child—our child—to have parents who weren't married."
"An excellent point. But who exactly are you afraid of now? I don't think the views of the denizens of Mayfair matter a lot to you."
Roth shifted in his chair. "I'm afraid for Judith. She'd be giving up a lot."
"What, precisely?" Kitty glanced at the charades again. Sandy was sitting on the floor with his arm round Bet, who had Genny in her lap. "It's not like she's Sandy, who had his parents cut him off—though he doesn't seem to regret it. Judith wouldn't lose her fortune."
"She's scarcely more than a girl. She wanted something different from her marriage. When she decides she wants something different again, and gets restless—"
"You're afraid she's like Allegra."
"Judith accused me of that. No. She's more aware of others' feelings than Allegra ever was. So it would be much harder for her to be in a relationship that made her unhappy. To realize she'd closed off her options in life."
"Why should marriage necessarily do that? Unless you think a woman's only options are whom she chooses as a husband?"
To his credit, Jeremy didn't argue. He settled back in his chair. "A point. My sister would clout me. So would Judith, I suspect. But you can't deny marriage is one major option for a woman or a man."
