If the gentlemen rejoined them, Lady Parr would flirt with Cahoon, and the Prince. Minnie would flirt with Simnel, and with the Prince, of course. Liliane would be clumsy; Olga would grow more and more wretched. Elsa would try to think of something to say, and end up being boring, and utterly predictable, as Minnie had said so damningly of Julius.
And yet one of them had murdered the woman in the cupboard.
The footman poured white wine for her.
Was it possible that whoever it was, his wife really had no idea?
How could you live with a man, take his name, lie in his bed, and know so little of him? Nothing that really mattered, such as what he believed, what frightened him or what he longed for. But then no one else knew what she really cared about either, only the trivial things she said.
She must be careful not to drink the wine and eat too little.
She would become tipsy. There was nothing uglier than a drunken woman: loud, indiscreet, desperately embarrassing.
Did one refuse to know what one’s husband was really like because it would be unbearable? One lived on dreams. Of what? Not wealth, certainly not fame or extraordinary beauty. Not power. What power did a woman have except to influence others because of her example? Dreams of being loved, by someone you could both love and trust in return. Someone you admired, who could make you laugh, make you feel as if the world were better, brighter, and wiser because you were in it. Someone you liked?
Lord Taunton was speaking to her. She replied politely, meaninglessly. The fish was served, and curried lobster or fricandeau brought in, and of course more wine.
If you could not have love, then perhaps the other great need was to do something of value. Many people looking at this glittering table with its burden of food, its women dressed in silks and jewels, its beauty, comfort, and wealth would envy everyone here. The men Elsa could understand-they were all excited, faces eager, planning and dreaming of a railway that would stretch the length of a continent, seven thousand miles of it. It would change the Empire, and the world. Probably in centuries to come it would be regarded as one of the wonders of human achievement.
But what did she do? She had no children. She had married too late for that. She wanted for nothing material. She was fed, clothed, and housed. She had health and the respect of others, because she was Cahoon’s wife. She had contributed nothing whatever.
She stared around the table and considered if there was anyone here whose life she really affected. Was anyone wiser, braver, or kinder because of her? She did not need to ask the question; the answer was already there. It would never have risen to her mind if there were anything at all to affirm it.
Minnie was laughing. She was as vivid as the flame-colored silk of her dress. The air around her seemed warm. Was Julius really in love with her, and his indifference was only a pretense, a shield to hide the hunger inside him for her to love him as much?
Elsa felt so sick she could hardly swallow, and the thought of another mouthful nearly made her gag. Perhaps Minnie was only flirting with Simnel in order to make Julius jealous. Was it a game between them?
How much would Elsa care if Cahoon flirted with someone? Not at all, except for the wound to her self- esteem because he so openly preferred someone else. He was talking now about timber for railway ties and steel for the rails themselves. He was speaking to Lord Taunton, but his eyes kept straying to Lady Parr. Was that a courtesy to give her the illusion of being included? No. He was smiling at her, his eyes warm. Elsa knew that look. So, apparently, did Amelia Parr, from the satisfaction in her face.
Why did one love one man and not another? Was there really anything noble or beautiful in Julius that was not in Cahoon, or did she imagine it was because she wanted there to be? She tried to think back to every time they had spoken, his visits to her home in company with Minnie. What had he said or done that had captivated her, made her see in him a sensitivity, an impression of tenderness, of strength to do something better than seek his own profit?
He was talking to Lord Taunton now. Simnel was watching him, waiting for the moment to interrupt. Under the assumed courtesy there was an anger inside him. His hand was clenched on his knife and he ignored the lobster on his plate.
“The biggest difficulty may be the Congo,” Julius was saying.
“King Leopold has dreams of extending Belgian dominion in Africa.
The price he will ask for passage could be enormous.”
“For heaven’s sake, Julius!” Simnel said impatiently. “The railway will benefit all Africa. And if Leopold doesn’t grant access to it, then go through German East Africa. They’re far more reasonable. You talk as if Leopold were the only one we could deal with. Do you expect everything to drop in your lap for nothing?” There was a light of bitterness in his eyes and his shoulders were stiff under the black fabric of his jacket.
“I don’t expect it for nothing, Simnel,” Julius replied, emotion hard in his voice also, as if this were not a new argument, merely the resumption of an old one in a different form. “But there are prices that are fair to pay, and some that are too high for the value you receive.”
“You deal with the diplomacy,” Simnel told him. “Leave the finance to me, or to Lord Taunton. You were never any good with money.” He seemed about to add something more, but bit it back.
“I was referring to diplomatic price,” Julius replied. He sounded tired, as if the whole project were too heavy, too much trouble, and something in him was disillusioned by it.
Simnel was obviously controlling his temper with difficulty. Elsa thought that if they had been alone there would have been a blazing quarrel, Simnel attacking and Julius defending himself, perhaps inadequately. Was that a lack of courage? Cahoon, for all his faults, had never been a coward. She pushed the plate away from her, only an inch or two-there was nowhere else to place it.
The footmen cleared away the course and brought the next: roast saddle of mutton, haunch of venison, or boiled capon and oysters, all accompanied by vegetables.
Cahoon was talking to Lady Parr. Elsa thought how charming he could be, how intense his power and intelligence. She remembered falling in love with him and being so excited, so flattered when he asked her to marry him. Would her marriage have become just as hollow if it had been to Julius instead? Did he talk to Minnie, trust her, share his ideas or his dreams with her, make her laugh, allow her into his disappointments or his pain?
She picked at the boiled capon on the plate and looked across at Minnie. Simnel was staring at her, but she was looking at her father, frowning, as if something puzzled her and she were trying in vain to identify it.
At the other end of the table Liliane was laughing. It looked so easy. She was very beautiful with those amazing gold-brown eyes.
Only because Elsa knew her did she hear the edge to her voice, and see how often her glance strayed to Hamilton, who was allowing the footman to refill his glass too often and beginning to look even more glazed. If he must drink so much, he should eat more. Maybe someone was going to have to help him later in order to prevent an embarrassment when he tried to stand up. It would be humiliating, impossible to pretend one had not seen.
There was another burst of laughter. Under cover of its sound Cahoon glared across the table at her. “Do your duty!” he mouthed angrily. “Don’t be so weak!”
She felt the color burn in her cheeks. The charge was true. She waited until she had heard enough of Lady Parr’s conversation to join in, then did so with concentrated good manners. She did not like the woman at all. Her face was handsome, but coarse; her lower lip was too full. The very effort of addressing her with enthusiasm took her entire concentration. They spoke of art, of the recent regatta at Hen-ley, of mutual acquaintances, safe things of no importance to either of them.
Yet another course was served, this time roast grouse and bread sauce, vol-au-vent of greengages, fruit jelly, raspberry cream, custards, and fig pudding, and naturally more wine.
After it came dessert. The gentlemen did not care for it and the ladies had already eaten more than was comfortable. Elsa was watching to see the Princess of Wales nod very slightly to Lady Parr to indicate that it was time for the ladies to withdraw.
Elsa was tired with the effort of pretense, and she saw the same moment of surrender, and the lift of the head and forced smile again in Olga.
Minnie swept by, her skirt swirling, her pale shoulders smooth, skin gleaming against the scarlet silk. She was twice as alive as any of them, watching, listening to everything as if not a gesture would pass by her unnoticed. She seemed to be filled with an insatiable curiosity that excited not only her mind but her emotions. In a hideous instant
