The Chemickal Marriage

out and issued them himself!’

‘But why should he? If he has waited so long –’

‘O Celeste, why should a man do anything?’

‘So if Axewith is gone –’

The Contessa pulled Miss Temple to the door. ‘Then we, little piglet, are undone!’

The door was thrust open by a heavy woman with hair as bright as a Spanish tangerine. For an instant each side smiled in apology, but then the heavy lady’s face went white with shock.

‘You! How dare you! How dare you show yourself here!’

‘Lady Hopton, how unexpected –’

‘Harlot! I have just come from Axewith House!’

The Contessa stepped back, eyes lowered before the other woman’s rage, hands submissively behind her back. ‘Indeed? I trust Lady Axewith is well –’

‘You trust! Lady Axewith is dead! But, unlike her physician, I am not blind to the cause!’ Lady Hopton raised a fist. She shook it at the Contessa – still cowed by the woman’s anger – then wheeled round with a snort for the far door. ‘Out of my way, you filth! Once I speak to the Queen –’

The Contessa lunged, a cord in her hands. In a flash it was around Lady Hopton’s throat.

Lady Hopton careened in a circle, straining for the door she’d come through. Her face went cherry-red, her mouth a garish, gasping hole. The Contessa tightened the cord with a convulsive snarl, dislodging Lady Hopton’s tangerine wig. The hair beneath was thin and grey. But still the woman bulled forward, swiping at Miss Temple, her voice a terrified rasp.

‘Help –’

‘Stop her!’ grunted the Contessa. ‘If she opens that door we will be seen!’

Miss Temple froze, transfixed by the bulging eyes – this poor proud woman who had spoken to the Contessa just as Miss Temple had always wanted to. With a helpless clarity Miss Temple saw where she had placed herself, and how desolate her future had become.

She ducked Lady Hopton’s arms and seized her dress, wrenching the woman from the door. Lady Hopton whined with dismay, but the Contessa twisted the cord and the sound soured to an ugly rattle. For five seconds the three of them hung suspended, then Lady Hopton collapsed. Without pause the Contessa knelt on the fallen woman’s chest and, leverage improved, pulled the cord taut for another half-minute.

‘Took you long enough.’ The Contessa dragged the dead woman to the nearest wardrobe niche. ‘Pick up her filthy wig.’

The attendants were told with a tactful nod that Lady Hopton required privacy for a conversation, and that any new arrivals might be shown to another attiring room altogether. Back on the mildewed landing, Colonel Bronque waited alone at the rail. The older lady who had shown them to the attiring room called with a knowing smile. ‘Did you meet Lady Hopton?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The old woman’s eyes glittered. ‘I believe she took your same route to the baths.’

‘We did not see her for the steam,’ the Contessa answered blandly. ‘No doubt Lady Hopton waits upon Her Majesty even now.’ The Contessa turned to Colonel Bronque and raised an eyebrow.

‘Lord Axewith was called away.’ Bronque indicated the satchel at his feet. ‘I am entrusted with his errand.’

‘Called away?’

‘The city is on fire.’

The Contessa wound an errant strand of hair around a finger. ‘How much of the city?’

The old lady cleared her throat with a peevish determination. ‘Not one to make your enemy, is Lady Hopton.’

The Contessa’s reply was interrupted by a door opening behind them and the Duchess of Cogstead, wrapped in a robe, stepping through.

‘You!’ she called.

Miss Temple did not move.

‘Colonel Bronque!’ shouted the Duchess, with impatience. ‘You have Lord Axewith’s papers?’

Bronque clicked his heels together. ‘I do, Your Grace –’

‘Then you are required, sir! At once!’

Bronque rattled down the stairs and disappeared after the Duchess. The Contessa turned to the old lady.

‘I am obliged for your kindness.’

The old lady glared. ‘Kindness played no part in the matter.’

The Contessa grinned. ‘It so very seldom does.’

Miss Temple’s hands shook. Half the time it seemed as if her senses would overwhelm her – but when she had been in her mind and thinking clearly, what had she done but assist with outright murder?

‘Why am I here?’ she demanded recklessly. ‘You are a terrible woman!’

They were hardly alone, and the well-dressed men and women passing in either direction turned at Miss Temple’s angry tone. With a tight smile, the Contessa pressed her mouth to Miss Temple’s ear. ‘Once we are alone –’

‘Signora?’ An older man in a topcoat had approached the Contessa. She showed him a graceful smile, keeping hold of Miss Temple’s arm.

‘Minister. How do you do? May I present Miss Celestial Temple – Celeste, Lord Shear is Her Majesty’s Minister for Finance.’

Lord Shear had no interest in Miss Temple. ‘Signora, you know Matthew Harcourt.’

‘By acquaintance only, my lord.’

‘Still, perhaps you can explain –’

‘You know Robert Vandaariff,’ Miss Temple blurted out, stinging at the memory of Lord Shear through the mirror at Harschmort, kneeling like the rest. ‘If he asked it, you would lick his shoes. And then I daresay you would lick his –’

The Contessa spun Miss Temple to the nearest door and shoved her through. ‘I beg your pardon – the girl’s not well – father ruined, drink and gambling –’

She slammed the door in the face of the sputtering peer. The Contessa snatched a paper-knife off a writing table. Miss Temple backed away, arms outstretched. She opened her mouth, wanting to shout her defiance, but no words came. Her chest shuddered. She could not breathe. Miss Temple sank down to her knees, her words a half- voiced wail.

‘What has become of me?’

She choked with sobs, cheeks wet and hot, half blind. The Contessa advanced. Miss Temple swatted at her, fingers splayed. But instead of an attack the Contessa knelt and extended the hand without the knife to Miss Temple’s face.

‘You are not so very pretty, you know, that you can withstand such fits. Round faces when they redden extinguish sympathy in a person. You are better served by disdain. Which I suppose is usually your own luck.’

Miss Temple sniffed thickly. Though soft, the Contessa’s voice was not kind.

‘There are two things I can think of to address your problem – you may well imagine what they are – but both will make you scream’– here the Contessa smiled and Miss Temple whimpered – ‘and too many people are too near.’

‘That woman – Lady Hopton –’

‘Had to die, and at once. But half the court has seen you with me, and, while I may brazen out an ignorance of Lady Hopton, I can hardly do so for you – and so …’ She tapped Miss Temple’s nose with the paper-knife. ‘I cannot take your life here. Unless, Celeste, you give me no other option.’