Diamonds & Deceit (9 page)

“And so I say to you, the education of women is more than a right, more than an economic necessity.” Laurence’s words rang into the rapt audience of the Oxford Union like the chimes of Big Ben. “It is a patriotic duty. Thank you for your attention.”

He bowed and seated himself and, as if moved by a physical reaction, the audience leapt to their feet in a storm of applause, catcalls, and hoots. Ada rose with them, her color high and her hands clapping furiously as if they had a will of their own. For half an hour she had forgotten where she was. Laurence’s commanding voice, arguing for the rights of women, had entranced her completely.

“I do admire my brother,” Emily said in her ear as she applauded. The two of them had been sitting together in what had become known as the suffragettes’ gallery. “As a child, he could win any argument—and that skill has never deserted him.”

“It sounds like an intoxicating power to have,” Ada returned. A moment later she reproached herself for not sounding more enthusiastic. “He is our strongest supporter, and we are lucky to have him on our side.”

“Yes, sadly, until we have a real voice of our own, we need men like Laurence.” Emily continued, “Have you read this week’s editorial in
The Times
by Hannah Darford? Now, there’s a woman who could take on the House of Commons.”

“Yes! It was so inspiring,” Ada replied eagerly. “I loved her approach to the subject—appealing to the economic argument for women in the professions. She must be a very brave woman to practice as a lawyer despite all the discouragement she has encountered.”

Laurence was stepping down from the podium, and the other speakers came to clasp his hand and shake it. Ada saw him bowing his head, nodding seriously at their words, waving away a compliment with a modest smile.

“Let us go and congratulate him.” Emily turned toward the exit, and Ada followed. They made their way down the stairs and met Laurence at the bottom.

Ada smiled at him as he laughingly took her arm and guided them to the door through the jostling crowd.

“What a lot of people!” he said in her ear. She could hear a slight self-conscious note in his voice and knew he knew how good he had been. They stepped out into the golden afternoon.

“You were magnificent,” she said as soon as they were outside. She squeezed his arm impetuously. “You’ve certainly made a convert of me.”

He laughed, but there was a pleased smile on his face. “My subject spoke for itself.”

“Confess: you enjoy orating no matter the subject,” Ada said, teasing him. “You could argue that two plus two were five and I’d believe you. You just like persuading people.”

He smiled, but didn’t rise to the bait. Emily glanced between him and Ada. “I am sure you two would enjoy some time alone to stroll by the river,” she said. “I’ll read a book in the tearooms—and pretend that I don’t know you are unchaperoned, Ada.”

Ada laughed and blushed. Feeling a little embarrassed, she watched Emily walk away, self-contained and controlled as a cat.

“My sister is a dear, but a little lacking in tact.” Laurence smiled, and, as always, Ada was reassured by his gentlemanly air. He offered her his arm, and Ada took it.

They strolled in companionable silence down the cobbled streets. Before them the river glittered in the sun. Punts filled with undergraduates drifted down the water, the men holding lacy parasols above the girls’ heads.

“With this sun and these buildings we could be in Italy.” He gestured to the glowing old walls of the Oxford colleges. “Shall we go there for our honeymoon? I’d love to show you Florence.”

Ada did not answer immediately. Her eye had been caught by three turbaned young men lounging on the banks among the summer flowers. Their white summer jackets were bright against their skins, and she heard a familiar lilt in their voices as they talked and joked with each other.

Ravi and I once walked on this path together, she remembered, as the leaves of a weeping willow and the pillar of the bridge came into view. That day we quarreled over Empire politics. The memory rushed over her—the sound of the water flowing lazily past, the hard kiss of a cricket ball against the bat. Ravi’s expression as he walked toward her after their argument, the way their eyes had met and she had known, they had both known, that no argument mattered compared to the strength of their desire to be together. No matter what the consequences, no matter what the risks. A sunbeam dazzled her; she put a hand to her eyes.

“Ada?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked up, a stab of guilt in her heart. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair to betray Laurence. Not even in thought. “Of course, Italy would be wonderful.”

He took her hand, and Ada felt his light, strong grip through her glove. “So when shall we go? September? It’s the best time, after the heat and before the storms make sailing a bother.”

“September?” She felt a jolt in her chest. It was May already. “I thought I’d begin university in September.”

“Why not wait a year? We can be married, see Florence, see Paris, go farther if you like…Greece? The Acropolis? Egypt perhaps?” He was tempting her.

“Why not next May?”

“That is a whole year away. I can’t wait so long.” He moved closer to her as they walked. She felt his warm breath on her neck. “You can go to university once we’re married, after all. There’ll be all the time in the world, once we’re married.”

All the time in the world,
Ada thought.
All the time in the world…to spend with you.

“But we must get the season over, and then Papa will be so disappointed if our wedding interferes with his shooting, and then it’s winter, and no one gets married in winter.”

“You’re playing with me.” He struck at the tree with his cane.

“Not at all. I just don’t see what the rush is.”

He spoke quietly, his low voice caressing. “When you have a beautiful butterfly, you’ll do anything to keep her fluttering around you.”

Ada was not sure she liked the comparison. “Don’t you trust me?” she said.

“Of course,” he said shortly.

Ada heard the annoyance in his voice. She moved toward him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Laurence. I will marry you. I dream of it every day. But surely you understand that I cannot simply forget my other responsibilities.”

He nodded, appearing to be pacified, and she took the chance to change the subject. “In fact, I wanted to ask your advice,” she said quietly.

It was a good move. Laurence liked to be needed, she knew that.

“On anything,” he said at once.

“This Alexander Ross. The Duke of Huntleigh.” She felt him tense. “He and Lady Rose have been dancing together a good deal since they met at the state ball.” She hesitated over her words, trying to find the right ones to explain her vague sense of unease, her concern. “You know Lady Rose is not used to society. I would not want her to be…disappointed. She seems very happy, happy for the first time since our father adopted her.”

“I have the greatest respect for your father, but such a radical decision cannot be without consequences,” Laurence answered.

Ada forced a smile. “I hope that a little more time spent in her company will convince you that my father was right in his decision to ennoble her.”

“I don’t doubt that Lady Rose would grace any company. I simply mistrust anything that flies so entirely in the face of convention,” he added, with a gracious smile. “But I daresay you’ll think me an old stick-in-the-mud.”

“No—no. You are eternally reliable, and I cannot say how much I appreciate that.” Her voice was almost trembling. “That was why I wanted to ask you about the Duke of Huntleigh—and Rose.”

He was silent.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I can believe the Duke of Huntleigh has been misrepresented,” she said. She wanted it to be true. But the look in Laurence’s eyes silenced her.

“I’m afraid he has not,” he replied.

A cold iron weight seemed to settle on Ada’s heart.

Laurence went on. “I have known Huntleigh since Eton, and he’s a bounder. His only interest is novelty. I don’t believe he’s ever had serious intentions toward a woman in his life, though he’s been mixed up with enough of them. He was sent down from Oxford, and I understand his travels to the Continent were not of his own volition. His father was not proud of him.” Laurence sounded very serious. “I am glad you spoke to me about this, Ada, because I would have had to raise the subject otherwise. As you say, Lady Rose is very vulnerable, because of her extraordinary position, and I am afraid she is easy game for a man such as the Duke of Huntleigh.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“I am certain.” He hesitated, then added, “May I ask if he is aware of Lady Rose’s…origins?”

“You mean that she used to be a housemaid?” Ada said bluntly. She hesitated. “I expect so. That is, everyone knows.…”

“Everyone in society. But as we know the duke has done his best to distance himself from society until this year. He has few close friends now in London. It’s quite possible that he doesn’t know—and if he did, I think you would find his attitude to Lady Rose substantially changed.”

Ada nodded silently. There was no choice. Rose had to be warned—for her own good.

Ada toyed with her toast, now and then glancing at Rose, who was humming to herself. Her father was reading the newspaper, a troubled frown on his face. She knew the news from Europe had been bad—there was so much anxiety about German airships. Yet it seemed incredible that the Kaiser would really move against Britain—after all, he was the King’s close relative. Other things troubled her more—like protecting Rose.

“Invitations,” Charlotte announced, entering the breakfast room with a handful of letters. “I intercepted Jevins. Here you are, Mama.” She handed the envelopes to her mother and sat down.

The countess made her way through the envelopes with a bored expression on her face. “Cowes, the Duke of Westminster wishes us to join him on his yacht. It will be terribly boring but we must say yes. Tea…tea…another ball… Oh! How very provoking!”

“What is it, my dear?” Lord Westlake enquired.

The countess sourly displayed the gilt-edged invitation. Ada read the words: Bal Masqué. “Mrs. Verulam is to have a costume ball on the evening of the Royal Horticultural Flower Show.”

“A costume ball!” Charlotte exclaimed.

“That does sound rather fun,” Ada said.

“Yes, but the wretched woman has simply stolen the limelight once again. Of course everyone will leave town as soon as it is over, and all anyone will think about is the ball. I was hoping to make another splash before the end of the season, but no chance of that now.”

“Well, as long as I get a new dress I don’t mind too much,” Charlotte said.

“Of course, it will be necessary. For you, at least—I can’t be expected to go to the expense of dressing up Rose.”

“My dear, you receive a dress allowance to clothe
all
my daughters,” the earl said, with an edge to his voice. There was an uncomfortable silence. The countess looked mutinous but began to open the next invitation in silence.

“Ah, now
this
is interesting,” she said, as her gaze skipped across the sprawling handwriting. “For you especially, Charlotte.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Do tell, Mother.”

“The Duke of Huntleigh writes to invite us to his box at the opera for the new performance of Stravinsky’s
Rite of Spring
.”

“Oh!” Rose exclaimed, and dropped her knife with a clatter. Ada looked at her, as did everyone. Rose met their eyes and blushed.

“That is—I would very much like to see the
Rite
.”

“Really.” The countess made a disbelieving face. “I don’t see what chance you might have had to develop an interest in ballet, but at any rate it seems you will get your wish. He most particularly invites
all
of us.”

“Didn’t the audience riot at the premiere in Paris?” Charlotte made a face. “I shan’t wear my best hat if there’s any risk of its being crushed by anarchists.”

“It sounds inconvenient.” The countess sniffed. “Be that as it may, it is an invitation from the Duke of Huntleigh, and so we will go.”

Ada caught Rose’s eye. It was clear from her heightened color and her smile that she thought the invitation was meant specially for her. Ada’s heart sank. Her sister had the look of a girl in love, and it was no pleasure to think that she might have to shatter Rose’s dreams.