A Poisoned Season
A Poisoned Season
Tasha Alexander
For Xander, who prefers
his books read aloud
Contents
THERE ARE SEVERAL THINGS ONE CAN DEPEND UPON DURING THE…
WHAT A BIZARRE INCIDENT,” DAVID FRANCIS SAID AFTER LISTENING to…
TO SAY THAT MY MOTHER WAS GRATIFIED BY THE ATTENTIONS…
AFTER PENNING A HASTY REPLY TO MRS. FRANCIS, I CHANGED INTO…
I’M SO SORRY, MADAM,” THE MAID SAID, WIPING UP THE…
INSPECTOR MANNING ARRIVED AT MY HOUSE EARLY THE NEXT MORNING,…
I STOOD IMPATIENTLY ON THE STEPS OF THE MARLBOROUGH CLUB,…
MY HEART POUNDED AGAINST MY CHEST SO LOUDLY THAT I…
JEREMY AND MARGARET DINED WITH CÉCILE AND ME THE FOLLOWING…
LADY ASHTON! MY DEAR CHILD! ARE YOU UNWELL?”
IVY LEFT WITH MY COPY OF MARY ELIZABETH BRADDON’S MOUNT…
THURSDAY WAS CÉCILE’S LAST DAY IN LONDON, AND HER IMPENDING…
DID YOU PUT THESE HERE?” I ASKED MY FOOTMAN, WHO…
BEFORE I RETURNED TO MY INVESTIGATION OF MR. BERRY, I HEADED…
THE DAY AFTER THE BALL I CALLED AGAIN AT THE…
IT WAS WITH A CERTAIN DEGREE OF TREPIDATION THAT I…
MY APPEARANCE AT THE OPERA SAVED ME FROM BEING COMPLETELY…
MY MOTHER’S EFFORTS ON BEHALF OF MY REPUTATION WERE NOT…
DAVIS WAS CERTAIN THAT NO ONE HAD COME THROUGH THE…
THIS IS BECOMING A TERRIBLE HABIT,” I SAID AS HOSKINS…
CODE BREAKING, IT TURNED OUT, WAS AN EXCRUCIATING, FRUSTRATING endeavor.
IT’S NOT WORKING, EMILY.” IVY HANDED THE BOOKS I’D GIVEN…
I WAS NOT SURE WHAT TO DO NEXT. THE MATTER…
EVEN BEFORE I COULD RING FOR DAVIS, THE POLICE WATCHING…
WHATEVER SUBSTANCE SEBASTIAN SLIPPED INTO MY CHAMPAGNE had been innocuous…
MY HANDS TREMBLED AS I HELD THE BOOK. “DO YOU…
YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE TRUSTED HER,” MARGARET SAID THE NEXT…
DAVIS, PROVING ONCE AGAIN TO BE NOT ONLY INVALUABLE BUT…
BEATRICE WAS NOT AT HOME WHEN I CALLED. SHE HAD…
EVER SINCE SEBASTIAN TOLD ME THAT HE HADN’T STOLEN THE…
THE MOMENT I RETURNED HOME, I PULLED OUT THE LETTER…
IT WAS HIS DAY OFF,” DAVIS EXPLAINED, AS I FOLLOWED…
THE INSPECTOR BROUGHT ME HOME, WHERE DAVIS, TIRED BUT CLEARLY…
I WAS IN GREECE BY THE END OF THE FOLLOWING…
Other Books by Tasha Alexander
AT LAST THE SECRET IS OUT
A
t last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the teacups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
The scent of elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.
—
W. H. Auden
L
ADY
E
MILY
A
SHTON
(“K
ALLISTA”)
—Daughter of Earl Bromley, widow of the Viscount Ashton (Philip), and a scholar of Greek language and art
C
OLIN
H
ARGREAVES
—A gentleman of independent means who is frequently called upon by Buckingham Palace to investigate matters requiring discretion
C
ÉCILE DU
L
AC
—A French woman of a certain age, an iconoclast and patron of the arts
I
VY
B
RANDON
—Emily’s childhood friend, a perfect English rose
R
OBERT
B
RANDON
—Ivy’s husband, an up-and-coming politician and very traditional gentleman
M
ARGARET
S
EWARD
—Daughter of an American railroad tycoon, a Bryn Mawr–educated Latinist with little tolerance for society’s rules
L
ADY
C
ATHERINE
B
ROMLEY
—Emily’s mother, wife of Earl Bromley, former lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria
C
HARLES
B
ERRY
—A gentleman newly arrived in London who claims to be a direct descendant of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI
J
EREMY
S
HEFFIELD,
D
UKE OF
B
AINBRIDGE
—Childhood friend of Emily’s whose twin goals are to avoid marriage and to be the most useless man in England
D
AVID
F
RANCIS
—A gentleman and patron of the arts
B
EATRICE
F
RANCIS
—David Francis’s wife
L
ADY
F
RIDESWIDE
—A terrifying society matron bent on seeing her daughter married to the Duke of Bainbridge
L
ETTICE
F
RIDESWIDE
—Lady Frideswide’s daughter, who is not in the least interested in marrying the Duke of Bainbridge
L
ORD
B
ASIL
F
ORTESCUE
—Queen Victoria’s most trusted political adviser, widely considered the most powerful man in the Empire
M
RS.
R
EYNOLD
-P
LYMPTON
—A lady who takes great interest in politics
L
ADY
E
LINOR
R
OUTLEDGE
—Longtime friend of Emily’s family, widow of the Chancellor of the Exchequer
I
SABELLE
R
OUTLEDGE
—Lady Elinor’s extremely romantic daughter
L
ORD
T
HOMAS
P
EMBROKE
(“T
OMMY”)
—the Viscount Langley, eldest son of the Earl of Westbrook
L
ADY
E
LLIOTT
—A devoted friend of Lady Bromley’s and one of London’s most fiercely judgmental society ladies
M
ICHAEL
B
ARBER
—A sculptor
J
ANE
S
TILLEMAN
—Beatrice Francis’s maid
M
OLLY,
B
RIDGET, AND
G
ABBY
—Maids at the Savoy hotel
M
EG
—Emily’s maid
D
AVIS
—Emily’s incomparable butler
T
HERE ARE SEVERAL THINGS ONE CAN DEPEND UPON DURING THE
London Season: an overwhelming barrage of invitations, friends whose loyalties turn suspect, and at least one overzealous suitor. This year was to prove no exception.
Having recently come out of mourning for my late husband, Philip, the Viscount Ashton, I was determined to adopt a hedonistic approach to society, something that I imagined would involve refusing all but the most enticing invitations and being forced to cull disloyal acquaintances. This would allow me to enjoy the summer months instead of trudging from party to party, feeling like one of the exhausted dead, finding myself the subject of the gossip that fuels young barbarians at play.
However, it became clear almost immediately that my theory was flawed. Declining to attend parties proved not to have the desired effect. Instead of dropping me from their guest lists, people assumed I was in such demand that I was choosing to attend events even more exclusive than their own, and there are few better ways to increase one’s volume of invitations than by the appearance of popularity. So for a short while—a very short while—my peers held me in high esteem.
It was during this time that I found myself at the home of Lady Elinor Routledge, one of the finest hostesses in England and a longstanding friend of my mother’s. By definition, therefore, she was more concerned with a person’s societal standing than with anything else. Despite this, I had decided to attend her garden party for two reasons. First, I wanted to see her roses, whose equal, according to rumor, could not be found in all of England. Second, I hoped to meet Mr. Charles Berry, a young man whose presence in town had caused a stir amongst all the aristocracy. The roses surpassed all of my expectations; unfortunately, the gentleman did not.
When stepping into the garden at Meadowdown, one was transported from the gritty heat of London’s streets to a sumptuous oasis. For the party, lovely peaked tents were scattered between hedgerows, trees, and beds of flowers, ensuring that guests would never be more than a few paces from refreshment, and the sounds of a small orchestra wafted through the grounds. Young ladies flitted about, their brightly colored dresses competing with the flowers for attention and rarely losing the battle. The gentlemen, turned out in dark frock coats, were elegant, too, keeping their companions well supplied with ices, strawberries, or whatever delicacies might catch their fancy.
Et in Arcadia ego
. It would take little effort for one to imagine in this scene an eligible prince, all courtesy and ease, graciously bestowing his favor on those around him. But there was no such gentleman at Lady Elinor’s that day. The only prince present—if he could be called that—was a grave disappointment.
The romantic ideals swirling around the heir to a throne are seldom capable of surviving close scrutiny. In the case of Charles Berry, these ideals hardly stood observation from afar. His appearance was not unpleasant, but his manners were dreadful, and to say that he was prone to drink more than he ought would be a very diplomatic statement indeed. The young ladies who followed his every move with admiration happily ignored all of this; they were captivated by the notion of
marrying into a royal family. The situation was rendered all the more ridiculous when one considered the fact that the throne to which Mr. Berry aspired no longer existed.