The Adventuress (27 page)

“You are no better off than I,” I said. “What happened to you?”

“I was to meet Augustus—dreadful bloke—and he stood me up.”

“Where were you to meet him?” I asked, as the lift operator opened the door and ushered us in, looking unhappily at the puddles that had formed around us.

“A little café not far from the ferry dock. When I couldn't find him, I took a stroll along the water until the rain started. It took me ages to get a cab.”

“Had you arranged in advance to meet him?” I asked.

“No, he sent a message.”

“Did he ring the front desk?”

“Yes, why?”

“That is more or less what happened to me, although I thought I was to meet Amity,” I said. “Come back downstairs once you are dry again. Something most peculiar is happening.”

*   *   *

Much as I longed for a luxurious soak in a hot tub, I forced myself to hurry and, hence, was still chilled when I returned to the lobby. Jeremy was not yet there—nothing would induce him to rush his ablutions—but I quickly explained to Colin and our friends what had occurred. By this time, Margaret and Cécile had arrived, both utterly dry, I might add, Cécile being far too wise to ever let a cab get away from her.

“Has anyone seen Augustus?” Margaret asked. “So far as I know, he did not depart the Villa Vallombrosa until after us.”

“He joined his parents and Amity about twenty minutes ago,” Colin said, nodding toward the table near the lounge where they were all seated. He was still wearing a flower in his buttonhole, but I did not doubt he would have been meticulous enough to replace the one he had lost on the battlement.

“Where is Christabel?” I asked.

“I have not seen her all day,” Jack said, “but I believe you lunched with her, did you not, Fairchild?” I detected a tone of irritation in his voice.

“She was with Mrs. Wells and Amity,” Mr. Fairchild said. “They invited me to join them. I have not seen her since then.”

“Is that so?” Jack dragged so hard on his cigarette it was almost as if he meant to attack it.

“Quite.” Mr. Fairchild said.

“Who extended the invitation?” Jack asked.

“Does it matter?” Mr. Fairchild looked away, a smug expression on his face. “If you must know, it was Christabel.” Thunder brewed in Jack's eyes, but he was too much the gentleman to do anything but bury his emotions.

“I spoke to the desk clerk who answered the telephone and took the messages for both Jeremy and myself,” I said, redirecting the conversation before it became more awkward. “He did not recognize their voices, but he did insist that both callers were English.”

“So not Augustus and Amity,” Margaret said.

“When I pressed him on the point, he insisted that, yes, there could be no doubt that they were English, but he did not know whether they were German or Swiss.”

“The words
English
and
tourist
are all but interchangeable here,” Colin said. “It is one of the things I find the most charming about the Côte d'Azur. Dumas wrote about it, I believe.”

“In the end, he owned that he could not identify anything about the voices other than one was a man, the other a woman,” I said.

“Amity certainly did not ring the front desk. She has been in the hotel all afternoon,” Mr. Fairchild said.

“Augustus could have made both calls,” Margaret said. “He might have disguised his voice to make it sound feminine.”

“Or he might have paid a woman to make the call for him,” I said.

“Or it might not have been Augustus at all,” Colin said.

“This is where our bedraggled flower becomes important,” I said, poking at the sorry yellow specimen I had left on the table and explaining how it had come to be in my possession. “I cannot doubt that Augustus is the one who sent me on this useless errand.”

“For what end?” Colin asked.

“I have not the slightest idea,” I said.

“If he wanted to send you on a useless chase, why would he have left the flower?” Mr. Fairchild asked. “Surely he wouldn't have wanted you to identify him.”

“I am not so sure about that,” I said. “He may have done it with the express purpose of me knowing it was his work. It could have been a way of putting me on notice.”

“Notice of what?” Jack asked. “Augustus is a bit eccentric, to be sure, but I do not believe him to be vicious. What are you suggesting, Emily?”

“Perhaps I am wrong altogether,” I said. “He is not the only gentleman in Cannes, surely, to wear a yellow carnation. It could be nothing more than a coincidence.” I did not feel there was any merit in arguing the point. I could not prove what had happened, and would win no friends by insisting that Augustus had deliberately tormented me. Regardless, I felt no shred of doubt that he had left the message for me, possibly to repay me for what he viewed as my impertinent questions at the Villa Vallombrosa.

Jeremy appeared and slumped into an empty chair with a long sigh. “I have directed the barman to send a hot toddy over for you, Em. You are still shivering despite your best efforts to clutch that shawl around you. You look rather like a well-to-do refugee.”

“Are there such people?” Cécile asked. “I cannot believe it.”

“Where have you been, my dear?” Amity asked as she crossed to us. “Jack tells me you abandoned him.”

“I was off … er…” He stumbled over the words. “Nowhere of interest. When did your brother return?”

“Ages ago,” Amity said. “Why do you ask?”

“I had a message to meet him,” Jeremy said. Soon, we had told Amity the entire story. I watched her reaction carefully. Her face was very still, but her eyes animated, and her cheeks colored prettily when we were done.

“So you think my brother sent you both on a fool's errand?” she asked.

“I can only assume you did not leave a message asking me to meet you in the café?” I asked.

“No. I have been here all afternoon.” She frowned. “Augustus does like a good joke, and he certainly did get the better of you both. You won't be too stern with him, will you? I am certain he meant no harm. The yellow carnation might as well be his calling card. He would have left it deliberately to make you laugh.”

“To make me laugh?” I asked.

“Yes,” Amity said. “As I already mentioned, he likes a good joke.”

“I hardly see how this could be construed as a good joke,” Colin said, after Amity and Jeremy had left us for her parents' table.

“That can only mean that you have not spent much time in conversation with Augustus,” I said. “He makes the weird sisters from Macbeth seem levelheaded.”

“The rain has stopped,” Mr. Fairchild said, glancing outside. “I wonder if that means the fireworks will be on tonight. I'm going to ask at the desk.”

Jack abandoned us shortly thereafter. Christabel had reappeared, and he intercepted her before Mr. Fairchild returned.

“Alone at last,” Margaret said. “Do you want to hear what Cécile and I learned while you were traipsing about in the rain?”

 

Amity

“It really is a most singular story,” Birdie said when Amity and Jeremy had joined them at their table in the hotel lobby. “My dear boy, I do hope you don't fall ill after having been so drenched. Augustus, what possessed you to do such a thing?”

“It was not me, Mother,” Augustus said, closing his eyes as he spoke.

“Of course it was,” Amity said. “No one else shares your eccentric sense of humor. You really are too very, Augustus, although it is bad of you. He sent Emily off as well, you know, and she was even more soaked than poor Jeremy.”

“Emily?” Augustus asked, and glanced at his father.

“Evidently she was looking for me,” Amity said, “and I feel unaccountably responsible, an unpleasant sensation that I blame you for entirely, my dear brother.”

“I have no doubt Emily is of a hearty enough constitution to recover with very few ill effects, if any,” Birdie said. “Gentlemen, do leave us alone for a moment. I want to speak to my daughter.”

They acquiesced without delay. Very few people stayed when Birdie suggested they should leave. Why would they want to? “What is it, Mother?”

“I do not believe this story of theirs,” Birdie said, bristling. “Do you not find it a strange coincidence that they both disappeared from the hotel and returned within moments of each other, soaked to the bone?”

“It was raining,” Amity said. “Neither of them had an umbrella.”

“They are hiding something and have concocted a ludicrous story to cover whatever it was they were doing.”

“What are you suggesting, Mother?” Amity dropped her elbows onto the table and rested her chin on her hands.

“I do appreciate your attempts at befriending the woman, but it is beneath you, Amity,” Birdie said, reaching across to remove her daughter's elbows from the surface. “Gentlemen will always have their flirtations; that is unavoidable. That is no reason to welcome the viper into your bosom.”

“I find this insulting,” Amity said, rising.

“Certain events from your past—events we will not revisit here or elsewhere—have led you to the delusion that you are wise with experience,” Birdie said. “That is a mistake, Amity. Jeremy will make a fine husband, of that I have no doubt, but you must take him firmly in hand.”

“I will hear no more of this.” Amity turned on her heel, but her mother reached forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her back around.

“And I will not have this family further embarrassed,” she said. “Speak to your fiancé at once or I shall have your father do it instead. I am giving you the chance to save what little face you have.”

“I despise you,” Amity said, her words full of venom. “How dare you?”

“You cannot play the innocent with me, my dear. It is a role that never suited you anyway. Put your house in order and stop this dalliance at once.”

*   *   *

Amity knew she would not be able to halt the flow of tears, so when she saw Jack all but scoop up Christabel and start to walk into the games room off the lobby, she followed them, keeping her face down so that no one could see her distress. She hesitated at the door, but once she ascertained that her friends were the only ones inside, she entered the room.

“I am so sorry to intrude upon your solitude,” she said. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief as a little sob escaped her throat. Christabel rose from the table where she had been seated opposite of Jack, a chessboard between them, and rushed to her side.

“Whatever has happened to you?” she asked, putting an arm around Amity's shoulder.

“Mother has just said the most awful thing to me,” Amity said. “It is so dreadful that—oh, Jack, will you despise me forever if I ask you to leave us? I couldn't bear for you to hear what I have to say.”

“I could never despise you; you know that,” he said. “Do you need anything at all? Should I have some tea sent in?”

“That would be lovely. You are so thoughtful.” Amity's chin trembled as she looked up at him through damp eyelashes. Jack excused himself and she pulled Christabel to a cushion-covered settee in a corner of the room. “My mother believes that Jeremy and Emily—” She could not continue.

“No! You can't possibly think—”

“Of course not,” Amity said. “She has ordered me to confront him. Can you imagine? He will think I am some sort of shrewish harpy.”

“He knows you are nothing of the sort,” Christabel said.

“I do not know what I shall do. They were off together walking this afternoon and got caught in the rain. Not wanting to embarrass me, they came up with some ridiculous story about Augustus tricking them both. I believed it—it did sound rather like him—until my mother pointed out the inadequacies of the explanation.”

“Augustus is not much fond of Emily,” Christabel said. “I could well imagine him setting into motion a plan that would leave her trapped in the rain.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Amity picked up a cushion and placed it on her lap. “We do not even know for sure that Jeremy was with her. It is only that they returned to the hotel one after the other.”

“But they did not come in together?” Christabel asked.

“No.”

“So the timing of their respective arrivals was a coincidence?”

“Exactly. It is hardly surprising given the weather. They both started back to the hotel at similar times in an effort to get out of the rain.” Lines etched her brow. “You do believe me? Tell me you do not take my mother's side.”

“No, I would never do such a thing.” Christabel's tone was less than enthusiastic.

“I could never doubt Jeremy,” Amity said.

Christabel smiled. “Nor could I. He adores you, and even if he were walking with Emily, what harm is there in that? This is nothing more than a tempest in a teapot.”

“You do not think I am being naïve?” Amity asked. Christabel shook her head. “Good.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, shaking off the bad feelings her mother had drilled into her. “Now, we must discuss you and Jack. Whatever were you thinking coming in here alone with him? Do you want him to propose or not?”

Christabel's eyes brightened and she leaned toward her friend, her voice low. “I think, Amity, that is exactly what he was about to do.”

“Over a chessboard? Oh, Christabel, you have so much to learn.”

 

19

The sky cleared almost as quickly as it had earlier darkened, and the sunset was like a tapestry of scarlet and gold. Colin and I dined in our room but rejoined the others afterwards, and we all crossed to the hotel's dock to watch the fireworks that were being shot off a barge in the harbor. A damp chill had remained in the air after the rain, but Mrs. Wells, in a kind attempt at keeping us all comfortable, caused hot chocolate to be sent out for us, a gesture that was much appreciated.