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My mind raced at the idea: Tscholikova, bent upon revenge. Castlereagh, unaccountably absent from home and unwilling to admit to the world how he had spent the hours between one o’clock and five in the morning. The lady, calling at his house with a porcelain box in her hands. Had it contained her jewels, as we had supposed? Or the letters she had received from Castlereagh, and intended to hurl back in his face?
Had it contained, even, a weapon?
She had not found his lordship at home. She had quitted the house. And four hours later, she lay in a ruined heap upon the flagway, with the lid of her porcelain box in pieces beside her …. Where had she hidden herself in the interval? Had she merely lain in wait for Castlereagh’s return? Or had they met elsewhere — by chance or appointment — to discuss the furor occasioned by the Morning Post?
And then I recalled the carriage described at the inquest, drawn up in the mews behind Berkeley Square: with sounds of passion — or violence — emanating from within. For the first time, I could picture the whole in my mind; but how to secure proofs?
“La comtesse is on the point of departure,” Manon hissed from the doorway. “You have seen the oh-so-curious passage I mentioned?”
“They are all of them curious,” I retorted.
Manon threw up her hands and withdrew. From the hall came all the bustle of two ladies’ adieux. I looked for the final entry — that which the Princess had pe
I have seen Ca
“Well, Jane,” Eliza said from the doorway, “I must say that I am pleasantly surprised. A
“Julia Radcliffe,” I concluded.
Chapter 21
The Opera Singer’s Tale
Saturday, 27 April 1811, cont.
“YOU KNOW, JANE, THAT I CAN NEVER ENDURE A friend’s misery, without feeling miserable myself,” Eliza said as she drew up a chair to the oak work table — seeming as much at home as tho’ she actually comprehended the art of cookery, rather than being the most helpless creature in a kitchen I have ever encountered. “It is so dreadfully affecting to see one’s oldest friend quite undone by the fear of age, and all the natural affection for her son that one should expect her to feel — particularly when one has lost a child oneself! I declare I was made quite as miserable as A
“We shall take it as given that you engaged in an orgy of sensibility,” I said. “But pray cut line, Eliza! What did the Comtesse say?”
“You were quite in the wrong of it,” my sister informed me. “It was not A
“But you said that d’Entraigues had demanded a divorce of his wife,” I persisted. “I collect that ca
“Indeed not, for I was in the right when I suspected the Comte is à coeur perdu over Julia Radcliffe, and that it is she he wishes to offer marriage — but A
“Eliza,” I demanded in an awful tone, “if you do not explain how the Princess’s jewels came to be in your friend’s possession, I shall leave the house for Surrey this instant, and require the truth from the Comtesse myself!”
“I told you she had them of Julia Radcliffe,” Eliza returned tartly, “and if you have not sufficient patience to hear the particulars of the story, Jane, I shall not try you further.”
I sighed a supplication to Heaven.
“This is how it was.” My sister turned a garnet bracelet indolently about her wrist. “When the Comte delivered his ultimatum to A
“The Duchess of York being too great an eccentric to support any new amusement for very long,” I supplied.
“Indeed! When I consider the wild beasts Her Grace suffers to wander the grounds at Oatlands, I am only too thankful I have never been distinguished by an invitation! Not that such a co
“How reckless of her. That would seem to declare one’s weakness to the enemy.”
“And only conceive how it must look to any chance observer! As tho’ she sought the acquaintance of a Demi-rep! However, A