“But surely your solicitor—your barrister—someone will be able to discover who sent the message to Fortescue.”
“The only way to do that would be to send someone to Vienna, and no one aside from myself seems to think that’s a worthwhile endeavor. I realize that it is wrong of me to impose upon your friendship with my wife. With Hargreaves out of the country and my colleagues turning against me with dizzying speed, I’ve no one left with proven abilities to handle any sort of investigation but you. I asked Bainbridge, but…”
“He didn’t know what to do.”
“Precisely. But he did suggest that I speak with you. It is unconscionable to ask a lady to embroil herself in such a thing, but I can’t deny the fact that you’ve succeeded”—he sighed—“rather spectacularly when you’ve taken up cases in the past.”
“What would you have me do?”
“As little as possible. I don’t want to place you in any danger. If you could go to Austria and find out who sent the warning and get that person to talk—perhaps to Sir Augustus Paget at the embassy in Vienna—then the authorities here might be persuaded to believe me.”
“Do you know anything else that might be of use?”
“Only that Fortescue was concerned about a group of anarchists there, headed by a man called Schröder. But I don’t know if they are connected to any of this.”
“I will do everything I can,” I said.
“I am indebted to you beyond measure.”
“No, you’re not. I haven’t succeeded in helping you yet. But I hope, soon, to be able to say that you owe me your life.”
“I look forward to the day.” He managed a slight smile.
“I’ve something for you,” I said, and pulled out from behind my back a book. “It wasn’t easy to convince your jailer to let me bring it, but Jeremy’s wallet is very persuasive. I know your views on popular fiction, and can’t resist taking the opportunity to persuade you that sensational novels do, in fact, have some merits.”
He looked at the cover. “
“Even my late husband enjoyed it, and you know how seriously he took his academic pursuits.” Philip’s reputation as a gentleman scholar was unparalleled.
“I will read it, but only because there’s nothing else here for me to do.”
“Precisely why I thought now the perfect time to corrupt you.”
“First ladies drinking port, now this. Is there no end to your debauchery?” He was trying too hard to take a light tone.
“I will do everything in my power to secure your release.” Our eyes met only briefly, both of us all too aware that any power I might have was negligible at best. I squeezed his hand.
The warden coughed. “No touching the prisoner, madam.”
“I want to go to Vienna.” Ivy’s delicate complexion had lost all its glow. She’d hardly flinched when I told her she couldn’t come to Newgate, but her eyes were swollen and red when we returned.
“You must stay here. What if Robert asks to see you?” I was more concerned with what I could not say to her: If I failed to uncover anything in Vienna he might be executed before I returned to England. “And if he does, you can update him on anything I’ve discovered. It’s a pity they won’t let you touch him. Much can be said during a prolonged embrace.”
“Emily!” She looked at Jeremy.
“Let me assure you that I’ve heard far worse, Ivy,” he said. “I’ve been in the middle of far worse.”
“You’re very kind,” Ivy said, blushing.
“Good. I’ve made you smile again. There’s no use giving into melancholy, no matter how desperate the situation. It will all turn out in the end.”
“Thank you, Jeremy.”
“I wired Margaret. She sent a reply back express and is coming in from Oxford as soon as she can, so you won’t be alone. I want you both to stay at Berkeley Square while I’m gone.” After I’d sent a wire to Cécile informing her that I hoped to travel with her to Vienna at once, I’d dashed off quick letters to Colin’s brother and sister-in-law as well as my parents, all of whom were expecting to spend Christmas with me at Ashton Hall. Although William and Sophie would accept the change of plans with grace—they were accustomed to Colin’s work causing similar disruptions—my mother would not react well.
“Robert’s parents are already in town. I’m afraid they’ll want me to stay with them.”
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Margaret will take care of everything,” I said.
“And what about me? You can’t cut me out of the excitement now,” Jeremy said.
“Are you planning to stay in London or return to the country?” I asked.
“Neither,” he said, eyes full of mischief. “I’m coming to Vienna. You, darling, need someone to keep you out of trouble, and I am just the man for the job.”
“I don’t imagine Cécile will object to traveling with you, though she’s sure to remind you at regular intervals that you’re not as handsome as Colin,” I said.
“Looks aren’t everything, my dear girl.”
Chapter 8
Traveling with Jeremy was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Our mission was a grim one, difficult and daunting. But my friend patently refused to be morose, insisting that I would be in a better position to pursue my work in Vienna if I arrived relaxed. He goaded me, flirted with me, and if I so much as sighed, he read aloud to me from the script of Oscar Wilde’s new play,
Cécile met us at the Gare de l’Est when we arrived in Paris, and together we boarded the Orient Express. Along with an inordinate number of trunks and her minuscule dogs, Brutus and Caesar, Cécile had brought a picnic for us to share, preferring to dine in the privacy of our compartment so that we could speak freely about the plight of the Brandons. Although the food in the dining car would no doubt have been spectacular—we were on board the most luxurious train in Europe—we did not much suffer. Cécile’s basket was filled with magnificent treats, all of which were served on china and silver by an attentive member of the wagons-lits staff. Jeremy retired soon after we’d finished eating, though I suspect he did not stay alone long. The lure of the smoking car and the company he’d find there would have been too much for him to resist.
