Death At Epsom Downs

“Marriage is not important,” Lillie said, “except in this instance. Marriage to Suggie offers me something I want much more than mere money. It offers me social distinction, a title, respectability. I love Jeanne-Marie, but she must be content with our little deception until I am safely married to Suggie. Then I will joyfully tell the whole wide world that she is my daughter.” She spread her arms dramatically. “I will publish it in the Times, if she wishes, or proclaim it from the stage, if that will satisfy her! But for now-”

“No, Aunt Lillie,” a voice said, clear and firm. “You will never publicly acknowledge that you are my mother. I forbid it.”

Kate turned. Jeanne was standing in the drawing room doorway, dressed for travel, with a valise in one hand. Her face was pale, but there were two spots of color in her cheeks, and she had the look of a lioness.

“You don’t mean that, Jeanne,” Lillie said softly, holding out her hands. “Come to me, ma petite cherie. We will kiss and make up and everything will be right again.”

“No!” Jeanne flung the word, fierce with indignation and pent-up anger, at the woman on the sofa. “I am going back to Jersey, where I at least know who I am. I will make my appearance in court, since His Highness has so kindly arranged it, but you are forbidden to attend. And I forbid you to claim me as your daughter. Do you hear? Never!”

“But I want to acknowledge you, Jeanne!” Lillie cried shrilly. “I want it so desperately! It is my deepest, truest heart’s desire. But the world doesn’t give us what we wish for, and we must be practical. I want-”

“You want to be Lady de Bathe far more desperately than you want to be my mother,” Jeanne broke in. “Out of the thousands of lies you have told throughout your life, that, I believe, is the single truth.” Her voice was strong and measured, her eyes magnificently defiant. “So now I repudiate you. Do you hear that, Aunt? You are not my mother and never will be. I repudiate you!”

And with that, she turned away, picked up her valise and was gone. A moment later, the crunch of wheels was heard in the drive.

Lillie’s eyes were full of what Kate hoped were genuine tears. “Oh, dear,” she said brokenly. “Have I lost her forever? Tell me, Beryl-have I lost her?”

Kate could not answer that question. The natural bond between daughter and mother was incredibly strong. But if a mother refused to acknowledge her child, how could she expect to claim that child’s love? And perhaps it was better for Jeanne, after all, to learn to stand strong in her own right and for herself, rather than hoping against hope that her mother would declare who she was.

For a few moments, Lillie sat quietly, the tears streaming down her face. Then she took out a handkerchief and began to dab at her eyes. “I am sure Jeanne will think better of this in a few days,” she said. Her voice became more firm as she continued: “She will see that as a stage actress I cannot do a great deal for her, or make her life easier in any important way. But as Lady de Bathe, I can help her to make an excellent marriage. In fact, I already have my eye on one or two young men, friends of Suggie’s, who would be very fine candidates. One of them will inherit a baronetcy. The other has strong investments in-”

Kate cleared her throat. She could not say what she wished, but she had to say something, or she was afraid that she would scream. “I’m sure it will all work out in the end,” she said, thinking how banal and cliched the words sounded, and how false. But truth was not a valued commodity in this house.

“You’re right, of course,” Lillie said, tucking her handkerchief away. “It will all work out in the end. Jeanne is temperamental. By tonight, she will have forgotten all about our little contretemps.” She looked up brightly. “Now, for this afternoon-I was thinking of taking a drive into Bury St. Edmond to call on an old acquaintance there. Do you wish to accompany me-or would you prefer to spend time in the garden?”

Lillie’s tone made it plain that she was not eager to take Kate calling, and Kate did not prefer either of the options she was offered. She stood.

“Thank you for the invitation. I think, though, that it might be time to bring my visit to an end. We’ve determined that we won’t be staging ‘The Duchess,’ and I believe we’ve concluded our interview. I’m quite sure I have enough material for an article.” She arranged a smile on her face and forced herself to lie. “You have been a wonderful hostess, Lillie. I’ve enjoyed my visit very much.”

“Oh, have you?” Lillie asked cheerily, cocking her head to one side. “I’m so very glad, Beryl! You must come again, and next time I promise that we shan’t be bothered by any of my little domestic tragedies. But you must let me tell Williams to have the pony cart brought round to take you to Newmarket. You’ll be catching the train?”

“Lord Charles is still in Newmarket,” Kate said. “I think I shall stay over for a time, to see our young friend Patrick ride in Friday’s race. But I would like the pony cart, thank you.”

She went quickly up the stairs, meeting Amelia in the hallway. She grasped her hand and pulled her into the bedroom. “We’re packing, Amelia,” she said. “Hurry! I want to be out of here just as soon as we can!”

“Has something gone wrong, my lady?” Amelia asked in surprise.

“I can’t bear to stay in the same house with that awful woman for one more minute!” Kate exclaimed. “And don’t bother with careful packing-just throw the things in.” She went to the wardrobe and seized a dress. “Here-I’ll help.”

Between the two of them, packing took only ten minutes. Kate put on her hat and gloves and a short cloak over her green dress. Then Amelia went down the back stairs to get help with the luggage, and Kate, her purse in her hand, went down to the drawing room to say goodbye to Lillie. As she stepped into the room, however, she saw that the only occupant was a man standing by the window, gazing out, a brandy snifter in his hand. At the rustle of her skirts, he spoke without turning, his voice hard, unsoftened by even the slightest affection.

“What took you so long?” He put the snifter on the table. “You know that I do not like to be kept waiting.” He turned. Seeing Kate, he colored. “Forgive me,” he said with a slight bow. “I was expecting Mrs. Langtry.”

“I am Lady Sheridan,” Kate said, holding out her gloved hand. “Mrs. Langtry’s houseguest. And you, sir, are-?”

“My dear Lady Sheridan.” With a charming flourish, the man bent over her hand. He was impeccably dressed, nearing fifty, perhaps, and becoming stout. His hair was brown, his side-whiskers just going gray. He was quite a distinguished-looking man, Kate thought, but there was a certain quality of shrewdness beneath the surface, evident in his swift, measuring glance, as if he were seeing and calculating all her weaknesses so that he would know how to use them. There was something of the predator in him.

The French doors opened, and Lillie came in. “Ah, Spider!” she said ebulliently, going to him with both hands out.

“Mr. Jersey, I presume,” the man said playfully. He put his arms around her and bent to her throat for a familiar kiss. “Out seeing to your new horse, eh? Do you like him?” He smiled.

Lillie pushed the man back, but his arms tightened for a moment. Then, as if teasing her, he laughed and let her go.

“I adore him, Spider!” Lillie exclaimed. “And you are such a dear, such a very sweet and loving dear, for giving Tarantula to me. You must come out to the stable and tell me all about him.” She caught a glimpse of Kate. “Oh, Beryl, I thought you had gone. Well, you must come too. Really, Tarantula is a most exciting horse! He has the look of a winner.”

The man turned toward Kate with a slight smile. “Your charming guest and I were just getting acquainted.”

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Kate said.

“Oh, just call him Spider,” Lillie replied playfully. “It’s ever so much more descriptive than his own name.” She tucked a hand through the man’s arm and glanced at Kate. “Coming, Beryl?”

“I think I’d better be getting on my way,” Kate said. “Williams will have loaded the luggage into the pony cart.” She added, convincingly, she hoped, “I must thank you again for a most delightful visit.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Lillie said carelessly. She tugged the man toward the French doors. “Come along, Spider. And Beryl, my dear Beryl,” she added over her shoulder, “I do hope you’ll come back. You’ll