And Only to Deceive

22

"I don't think I've ever seen you so distracted!" Margaret exclaimed as we sat together in the library discussing Homer. "You just agreed with me that Achilles is a superior male."

"Did I?" My eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, Margaret. My mind is not entirely here today."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not at all. I just miss Philip and find myself spending more time than I ought wondering what our life together might have become." I felt more than a bit guilty at not telling my friend what had motivated these thoughts, but I could not bring myself to tell her that I hoped my husband was, in fact, alive. I still did not want anyone to point out the logical implausibility of such a thing's proving to be true.

"There's nothing surprising in that. But focus instead on the reality of the situation, Emily. Take comfort in the fact that no matter how wondrous he seems in death, in life Philip was a typical English nobleman. He may not have reacted well to your having decided to educate yourself."

"Perhaps."

"Don't be offended by this, Emily, but I think that if Philip were still alive, you would be in exactly the same position as Ivy."

"And what is wrong with that?"

"Nothing, for Ivy. She is content with her role. I do not think you would be. Eventually you would have wanted more, and your husband probably would have been shocked, if not horrified, to realize that he had married a woman with an active mind. Was Philip so unlike Mr. Brandon?"

"I cannot say," I said.

"Don't be so melancholy," she admonished me as she took her leave. "Seek solace in Homer. Your plight is far less than Hector's."

Resolved to take her advice, I dove into the Iliad, quickly losing myself in the poetry. I hardly heard Davis enter the room to announce Mr. Attewater, who had come to update me on the progress of my sculpture.

"Mr. Attewater, this looks delightful!" I exclaimed, peering closely at the sketches he held out before me and examining the paper on which they were drawn. "I am so pleased that you have already begun work on my commission."

"I am a busy man, Lady Ashton, but I consider you to be one of my most important patrons. I have chosen Aphrodite as the subject of this sculpture because she, alone among the Olympian gods, approaches your own beauty." He executed a perfect little bow as he spoke.

"There is no need to flatter me, Mr. Attewater; I have already agreed to pay you."

"I assure you, Lady Ashton, that any compliments which spring from my lips are entirely genuine," he said, puffing up his chest. "I am a man of high principles." This comment made me laugh despite myself.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Attewater, I mean no offense."

"It is nothing," he replied. "I realize the contradiction in my person that stems from the nature of my work. But remember, only once have I strayed from my principles. Do not judge me based on the lack of scruples enjoyed by the majority of my patrons."

"Let me assure you I do not, Mr. Attewater," I said, smiling warmly at him. "I am very curious about your other patrons. I believe that I know one of them rather well."

"I would imagine that you know any number of them. My pieces grace the collections of many aristocrats. Not everyone can afford originals, you know."

"Yes, I am quite aware of that and know better than to press you for names."

"I appreciate that, Lady Ashton," he said. "This is a fine library, if I may say so, but shockingly short on art. Where did the viscount keep his collection?"

"Nearly all of it is in our country house. I do have a lovely bust of Apollo in the drawing room."

"Oh, yes, the Praxiteles. We saw mine in the British Museum, didn't we? A very difficult piece to complete," he said, clearly proud of himself. "Not many could have pulled it off. Do you know who did yours?"

"Praxiteles, actually," I said, raising an eyebrow. "It's a bit embarrassing, I'm afraid."

"My dear lady, I assure you that I do not hold it against you at all. I was already aware of that"-he paused, searching for a word-"habit of the viscount's. I can guarantee you not only my absolute discretion but also of my respect for any man who has such a profound appreciation for beauty. A great man with a fortune at his disposal can hardly be blamed for wanting to own the original of such a thing."

"I do not blame him for wanting it. Accepting that he went through with the purchase has been somewhat more difficult for me."

"Had he not, my own work would not be so prominently placed in the museum for the pleasure of thousands," Mr. Attewater replied. I almost pitied him, knowing how much it must bother him that he received no credit for his work by the viewing public.

"Please do not think that I consider your work unremarkable. It is the deception that troubles me."

"I understand completely, Lady Ashton. It is the same concern that keeps my involvement a step away from where I would have to be if I wanted to become really well-off from selling my works."

"That, Mr. Attewater, brings me back to the subject of my friend, the one who I believe is a customer of yours. Mr. Colin Hargreaves."

"Why do you mention him, Lady Ashton?" he asked, looking rather concerned. "I have never told you that he is a patron of mine."

"But he is, isn't he?" I asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

"I'm afraid that I must stay true to my policy of not discussing clients."

"So you admit that he is one?"

"I have said no such thing," he stated, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. "Suffice it to say that he is a man who has a significant effect on my business."

"How is that, Mr. Attewater?"

"Please, Lady Ashton, you will make things terribly difficult for me if you press the issue. I can neither confirm nor deny the name of anyone I work with. Should I start making exceptions, it would undermine my position greatly."

"But you told me that Lord Ashton never contacted you," I said.

"I did that, Lady Ashton, against my better judgment, because I could see the pain in your eyes. Do not ask more of me."

"Did you ever contact Lord Ashton?"

"What makes you think I would?" he replied.

"I have found two notes that warned of grave danger. Both were written on heavy paper-like that on which you sketched your plan for my sculpture," I said, walking over to the desk. I unlocked the drawer, pulled out the notes, and handed them to Mr. Attewater, who turned slightly pale.

"I had heard rumors. Nothing specific, mind you. Although I had no direct dealings with Lord Ashton, I knew of his reputation as an excellent patron and thought that he deserved to be warned."

"What were these rumors?" I cried emphatically.

"People said he had angered a powerful person and was in danger. It had something to do with antiquities he had purchased, but I really know nothing else." Although I pressed him, Mr. Attewater insisted that he was ignorant of further details, leaving me to wonder whom my husband had angered and why.

7 NOVEMBER 1887

DARNLEY HOUSE, KENT

Lord Bromley hosted a magnificent foxhunt to mark the opening of the season. K rode but did not follow the hounds, instead choosing to tear about the grounds with her friend Miss Ivy Cavendish. Told me she hoped the fox would escape-but the spark in her eyes suggested she was teasing me.

I managed to evade our chaperone in the garden for a mere five minutes. Not enough time, but-at last-I have kissed my bride.