A Crimson Warning (8 page)

Barnes’s grandfather doted on him, sparing no expense to give him the best. He sent him to England for his education, where the boy excelled academically. Barnes sailed through Cambridge, and had spent the subsequent years working in politics. He’d made himself indispensable to nearly every prominent liberal in the past twenty-odd years, spending all his time in London save a two-year return to the land of his birth when his grandfather died.

“It’s not so romantic as you think,” Mr. Barnes said. “Unless you’ve a fondness for muggy nights and enormous insects.”

“I shouldn’t think I’d like it,” Ivy said.

“It can be hard for a delicate constitution to adjust to the extremes of island weather. England does not well prepare one for heat.” Mr. Barnes’s smile was wide and bright, his voice soft. He didn’t quite look English, but neither did he look like a native West Indian. It was as if the familiar and the foreign lived side by side in him. “I’m sorry to be calling so late, Lady Emily. I’ve no right to intrude in so intimate a gathering.”

“There’s no need for apology,” I said. “We’re delighted to have you join us.”

“I confess I was hoping to see your husband,” he said. “This red-paint business is causing quite a political stir. I’d like to speak to him about it.”

“You don’t think Mr. Gladstone will find his house vandalized, do you?” Ivy asked.

“No,” Mr. Barnes said. “I think we’re all aware of the prime minister’s quirks and eccentricities. I don’t think there’s much left for him to hide. But to see so many families under the threat of whoever is behind this smear campaign is disturbing. The government are taking it quite seriously. They feel no one in London is safe at the moment.”

“Safe?” Ivy said.

“From scandal and rumor,” he said.

“My husband’s not home at the moment, but I shall tell him you called,” I said. “Will you be at the Fannings’ ball tonight? If so, you’re sure to see him there.”

“I’ll look for him,” Mr. Barnes said.

“I worried Mrs. Fanning wouldn’t soldier on,” Ivy said. “Her house was covered with red paint yesterday. Not just the steps and the door, either. The whole front, including the windows, was splashed. She’s a brave woman not to cancel the party.”

“If I were going to be exposed for some grim deed I’d rather it be in the comfort of my own home,” Jeremy said.

“Would you go on with the party, Mr. Barnes?” I asked. “If you found yourself in Mrs. Fanning’s position?”

“A person can’t be daunted in the face of adversity. One must go on. And if one is to be taken down, one may as well do so in excellent company.”

“I always knew I liked you, Barnes,” Jeremy said. “We really must dine together more often. Generally I avoid you Old Etonians. You’re such an insular lot. But you’re different. Bearable, even.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Mr. Barnes said, his voice low and melodic.

“I like you very much, Mr. Barnes,” Ivy said. “Have you promised away all your dances tonight? I can think of several young ladies to whom I’d like to introduce you.”

“Don’t bother to make me your project, Mrs. Brandon,” he said. “Much though I appreciate the gesture, you’d find yourself quickly frustrated. Wealth and political influence are not the only things required by the parents of society brides. I shan’t disturb the lot of you any longer, but will look forward to seeing you all this evening.”

“He’s a good man,” Ivy said after he’d left. “And so open about his past. Never apologizing for it, never hiding from it.”

“It would be impossible for him to conceal it,” Jeremy said. “He might look English enough, but there’s too much of the exotic in him to pass as one of us. Even his voice sounds magical.”

“We must help him find a wife no matter what he says,” Ivy said. “I can’t think of anyone more worthy of a good partner.”

“Not even me?” Jeremy asked.

“Especially you, Jeremy,” Ivy said. “I shudder at the thought of what your wife will suffer.”

11 June 1893

Belgrave Square, London

I am so fond of Mr. Barnes! How unfortunate that he’s not been able to secure a worthy bride. His heritage, no doubt, has made it difficult, but it should not be impossible. I shall make it my mission to find him a suitable girl. Probably one of many sisters—he’s enough money to make the details of a dowry irrelevant—and from a family without political aspirations. I’ve a few candidates already in mind and shall call on their mothers this week to begin planting the idea with them.

This is a pleasant distraction in the midst of so much upheaval. Mrs. Fanning is a wonder to go on with her plans for the ball despite the paint. I do hope her guests don’t let her down, though I suppose there’s little chance anyone will cancel on her. They’ll all be interested to see what, if anything, happens. On my way home from Emily’s, I heard that Lady Althway’s house has been painted as well. She’s Mrs. Fanning’s closest friend. It must be a comfort of sorts to have someone who understands the hardship of being marked by this villainous soul and his paint.

I wonder if they were targeted at the same time for a reason. Could they together have done something grievous? I do know Lady Althway can hold a grudge longer than most. She’s a most unforgiving sort of woman. Will she now want others to forgive her?

Must go dress for the ball. I shall wear my golden gown tonight. I want nothing close to red.

8

For Colin and me, the evening began well enough. We had dawdled pleasantly over our toilettes, as was our habit, spending more time talking over glasses of wine than dressing. When my maid had become stern, insisting we would be late if we didn’t finish, I’d submitted to her ministrations. Colin, whose appearance required no improvement from its natural state, was dashing and ready to go long before I. He stepped around Meg, who was slipping jeweled combs into the sides of my coiffure, and presented me with a slim parcel. I pulled open the strings to reveal a beautifully bound blank book, its red cover fashioned from the smoothest leather I’d ever felt.

“I thought you should have a notebook to chronicle your suffragette adventures,” he said. “I’m immeasurably proud of what you accomplished in Westminster.”

“Thank you,” I said and kissed him. “It was a necessarily slow start, but a good one.” Colin had received a slew of notes from MPs imploring him to put an end to my suffragette activities. Or at least to limit them in a way that would preclude me from troubling them.

“I appreciate you agreeing to hold off on the investigation until a time it’s appropriate for me to involve you.” He threw a neat white silk scarf around his neck. “Have you heard about today’s paint?”

“Yes, the Althways,” I said. “Any idea why?”

“Lord Althway has had more than his share of dodgy business deals. He’s more enemies in the British Isles than we have sailors in the navy.”

“An obvious choice, then. All that remains, I suppose, is to see which of his dastardly deeds will no longer go unpunished.”

Meg motioned for me to stand in front of her, stepped back, and took a long look, evaluating her work. “Perfect, madam,” she said. “You’re lovely. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you,” I said.

“I’ll make sure the carriage is waiting,” she said. “And please do consider what I said to you about Paris. We need to go as soon as possible. Your hats are in danger of being unfashionable.”

This was a complete fallacy. My hats were in danger of nothing.

“I should have paid better heed when I read
Frankenstein,
” I said. “I know you just want to see Paris again.”

“I’m only looking out for your best interest, madam,” Meg said. “I have my ways of keeping abreast of the latest fashions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “The carriage?”

“Of course, madam.”

As soon as she’d disappeared downstairs, Colin took me in his arms and kissed me. “You’re stunning tonight. Is that a new gown?”

“It is.” Mr. Worth, the greatest dressmaker in the world, designed it in Paris after I chose the fabric, a gorgeous midnight-blue silk that he’d covered with an intricate pattern of shimmering silver beads. My waist had never looked so tiny. I snapped a heavy sapphire necklace in place and slipped its matching bracelet over my wrist. “Something’s troubling you, my dear. What is it?” I asked.

Colin rubbed his forehead. “Forgive me. I’ve tried in vain to distract myself. It’s this paint.”

“Have you learned anything new?” I asked.

“The pattern of attacks seems to be changing. Two more victims, the Fannings and Althways, before the secrets of the previous ones—the Musgraves and Riddingtons—have been revealed.”

“It’s early in the game to be analyzing patterns,” I said.

“True.” He started to pace, and I followed him into our bedroom. “But if my instincts are right, this man is more calculating and vicious than I’d thought. He’s interested not just in exposing these people, but in tormenting them.”

“By making them wait?” I asked. “It would be agony wondering what he’s uncovered.”

“I don’t think they wonder about
what
he’ll expose, but
when
. People are keenly aware of those things they wish to hide.”

“Do you have something you wish to hide?”

“You can’t be asking that seriously,” he said. “If I have something that must be kept from public knowledge, I keep it private. There’s no wishing involved. As for our villain, I think the torture for his victims comes from the waiting, not the wondering. They know exactly what lies in store for them.” The clock on our mantel chimed. “Come. Meg’s right, we’ll not arrive before everyone’s called to go down to dinner if we don’t get a shift on.”

The Fannings’ house should have done nothing but sparkle that night—between the diamonds around ladies’ necks, the garden lanterns bobbing in a perfect breeze, and the thousands of candles suspended from chandeliers in the ballroom, one wouldn’t have thought anything else possible. Social carnage was not welcome. Our hostess, certainly, was doing her best to carry on in what many would have considered a deadly situation. Not only had she brazenly refused to let the paint be cleaned off her doorstep, she’d chosen to wear a crimson dress and had every lady presented with a bright red rose as she entered the house. “Have you seen how unsuccessful other’s efforts were to remove the stuff?” she’d asked as she stood at the landing in the center of her stairs greeting us. “Far better to embrace a flash of color.”

“She’s an impressive woman,” Colin said, escorting me the rest of the way up the grand marble staircase, moving us towards the sound of gay music. “I almost wonder if she’s proud of her secret.”

“I think she’s terrified,” I said. Her smile had exuded a confidence belied by her eyes. “And much to be admired.”

The room could not have been more perfect. Enormous urns overflowed with more red roses, guests devoured delicious lemon ices or drank champagne to cool down after taking vigorous turns on the dance floor. Every eligible bachelor in town was in attendance, which should have sent the mothers of debutantes into excited flutters. Instead, their heads bent together in worried conversation. Would it be wise to allow one’s daughter to enter into an engagement in the current climate and risk exposing her to untold scandal should her new fiancé wake up to red paint one morning?

We danced and ate and drank champagne. It was like any other ball until a young man in a German officer’s uniform barreled past me, nearly knocking me into the pillar.

“Sir, you—” Colin began to go after him, but the man didn’t pause. He stalked on, peeling off his gloves as he approached another gentleman, Harry Croft, and shoved his shoulder. Before Croft could react, the officer lifted a glove and used it to soundly smack his face.

Croft appeared unsteady on his feet only for an instant, then stood tall and stepped closer to his attacker, his cheeks sucked in with rage.

“You call me out?” he asked. The musicians had stopped playing and the room fell silent, all eyes focused on the altercation.

“I do, sir, I do.” The reply came in a heavy, German accent.

“For what?”

“Your infamous affairs.”

Everyone in the room was aware of Mr. Croft’s reputation. He was something of a dandy and would have made Casanova feel ashamed of his comparatively small success with the ladies. But his charm and good nature kept him in society’s good graces. After all, at least a third of its members were in love with him.

“There’s nothing infamous about my affairs,” Croft said. “Step away from me while I’m still willing to let you save face.”

“There will be no stepping away. I’d fight you now if I could. No decent person would forgive you for what you’ve done.”

“Enlighten me.” Croft folded his arms. “My sins are no greater than any gentleman’s, my affairs no better or worse.”

“I speak of your lovers, Mr. Croft.”

If silence could become louder, it did in that moment.

“You know to what I refer, don’t you?”

Croft shook his head. “How dare you address me in such a manner! My personal relationships are no business of yours.”

“Your personal relationships are insignificant to other gentlemen, perhaps. But I should think the ladies involved would feel otherwise.”

“That’s quite enough,” Croft said.

“What kind of man turns into rivals two such dear friends?”

Now the eyes of the observers in the room began to dart around, and a soft murmur rippled through the crowd.

“You will stop there.” Color drained from Croft’s face. “I accept your challenge. There’s no more to be said in the current company.”

“I don’t agree.” The officer turned, searching the crowd around him. “Where is our inestimable hostess?”

Mr. Fanning pushed his way to the man. “Remove yourself from my house at once.” He stood tall, his stout frame rigid with dignity, not the sort to be daunted by any controversy.

“You should have this one ejected instead.” He glared at Croft, then raised his voice louder. “Lady Althway, how do you feel to learn the object of your affection is shared by your dearest friend?”