Betrayal Page 3

  And once more, he could not let her finish. “Yes.” Peculiar, how even after all these years he could not bear to hear it mentioned, the stain of his heir’s birth. Ash felt a headache build behind his eyes. “They have borne fruit.”

  His mother nodded, apparently rather pleased with this state of affairs. And why should she not be? After all, it had been her idea to send St. Asaph on a months-long tour through continental Europe before his entry into university. Soon, he would be regularly absent from Ashburnham Hall for months. And, perhaps, his absences would be long enough to put the ghosts of the past that still haunted the house to rest.

  In one long gulp, Ash downed the rest of his coffee, welcoming the scalding pain of the hot liquid.

  Chapter 3

  In the sweltering summer heat, the grass on the banks of the Main wilted and turned brown until even camels would have scorned it. In the Villa under the Linden Trees, the windows facing the river and thus the glare of the sun remained shuttered for most of the day. The back rooms of the house were transformed into a twilight world where specks of dust danced madly in lonely sunbeams.

  Frau Else stood in the front parlour and peered through the lace curtains at the small hill that hid the ice-house. “If we clear the ice-house and cut a window into the side—I’m sure I must have seen something like that before.” Thoughtfully, she cocked her head to the side. “I can’t remember the city or country, but I’m sure it can be done. And then we could have dinner in there.”

  “And forgo the ice creams for the rest of the summer?” Georgina asked, without sparing a glance at the ice-house. With narrowed eyes she looked around the small parlour and tried to calculate if the dining room set would fit in.

  Frau Else turned. “It would be a fine moral exercise, perhaps?” The next moment, though, she gave a little sigh of defeat. “No, I suppose not. In any case the ice-house would probably be much too glum for naturalists and bone-diggers. It’s not a terribly cheerful job, is it, digging for bones.”

  “Don’t they dig for other things, too?” Georgina walked into the middle of the room

  The old woman gave a snort. “Oh yes. For broken pottery—in Egypt of all places!”

  “If we remove this table, the settee and the chairs, we should be able to squeeze the dining room table in.” Georgina looked around the room once more. “I hear Egypt is thought to be a most magical place, what with the pyramids, the Sphinx—”

  “Whose nose that annoying little Frenchman is said to have hacked off.” Frau Else turned away from the window and went to stand beside Georgina. “The table and the settee, you say?”

  “And the chairs.”

  “Hm. Yes, I think that would do nicely. My dear, what would I do without you?” Frau Else laid an affectionate hand on Georgina’s shoulder. The next moment though, her face turned grim. “I wonder who in all the world started the rumour that the French are the most refined nation in Europe. Just look at what these ghastly soldiers did when they passed through this area five years ago! Razed Nied and Griesheim and God knows which other villages. Ate whatever cow and horse they could find and cut down three of our best cherry and apple trees.”

  At the reminder of those bleak November weeks after the Battle of Nations, Georgina couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her. They had only packed what was absolutely necessary, had put the most expensive fabrics on carts, and had fled to the hills and woods of the Taunus, where they had spent the night, cold and miserable, and had waited for Napoleon’s army to continue their retreat the next day. When they had come back, dead men and horses had lain all about the fields and in the ditches beside the roads. Houses had been plundered, gardens destroyed.

  “It was awful,” Georgina said quietly.

  “Barbarians!” growled the old woman. “Not that the others were any better. Barbarians, the lot of them!” She took a deep breath. “But enough of that. Rather let us discuss with cook the menu for the dinner with our bone-digging guests.” She linked arms with Georgina. “What do you say?”

  With a small sigh, Georgina let go of the memories of those dark days. Better to concentrate on the present. She gave her employer a weak smile. “I don’t think Dr. Neuburg actually digs for bones.”

  Frau Else frowned. “Doesn’t he? Well, what then does he do?”

  “Is he not a doctor?”

  “Heavens! And you say he’s not digging for bones? He is probably one of those newfangled medical men who think they can cure everything by poking around in the insides of a person.”

  “We shall ask him.”

  Frau Else patted her arm. “That we will do, my dear. That we will do.”

  ~*~

  “Dead birds?”

  Dr. Neuburg coughed delicately and did his best to ignore Frau Else’s eagle-eyed stare. “It is a unique collection of European birds. Indeed, almost all scientific papers written on the subject of European birds were based on the objects in Dr. Meyer’s collection.”

  If he had hoped this would appease the old woman, he was sadly and unfortunately wrong. If anything, Frau Else’s stare turned even more piercing. “Do you wish to tell me, young man, that scientific papers on the subject of living beasts were based on their dead counterparts?”

  The good doctor fingered his neckcloth, which had apparently become much too tight all of a sudden. To hide a smile, Georgina quickly raised her glass and drank from her wine. Across the table she saw Herr Renner do the same thing, and for a moment their eyes met in shared amusement. A twinkle of boyish mischief lit his dark eyes. At the sight of it, Georgina’s insides gave a little jump, and to her embarrassment, heat flooded her cheeks. She quickly lowered her gaze.

  Heavens, she was a silly goose, after all. It would not do to encourage him in any way. And even though it was nice to see warm regard in a man’s eyes—

  No, no, that would not do.

  Decisively, Georgina shoved the thought aside and turned her attention back to the conversation.

  “Be assured, gnädige Frau, that they have been stuffed in such a way to resemble most accurately the living specimens,” Dr. Rüppell cut in quickly. He was still very young; indeed, Georgina supposed he could be no more than five or six years older than her own son. Due to his exploits in Egypt his face was attractively—if unfashionably—browned by the sun. A crease between his strong, black brows gave him a saturnine appearance, which was not much helped by the fact that his thin mouth had remained unsmiling so far. Not even the nice Cupid’s bow of his lips lightened the overall effect. It made Georgina wonder whether the work of a man of science was truly so dull and void of joy as her employer had suggested.

  “Stuffed to resemble the living specimens?” Frau Else narrowed her eyes at Rüppell. “That, young man, is barbarous.”

  Drops of sweat popped up on Dr. Neuburg’s forehead. “But, gnädige Frau, were not wonderfully preserved bears all the rage in fashionable households a few years ago?” He attempted a smile. After all, he wanted to solicit a nice sum towards the acquisition of the collection from Frau Else. “And was not one of these beasts beautifully displayed in the entrance hall of the palace in Höchst?”

  With a sharp clang Frau Else’s cutlery met with the plate of fine Höchst china. “Stuff and nonsense! What good did that poor beast do but scare the children and give visitors the fright of their lives?” She levelled a suspicious look at Dr. Rüppell. “Have you brought home a dead camel, then?”

  This time, Georgina couldn’t help a half-smothered laugh escaping her. Grabbing her napkin, she pressed the cloth to her mouth. “Pardon me,” she murmured. She risked a glance through her lashes at Rüppell, whose brows had lowered in the most alarming fashion. One could hardly expect the poor young man to keep up with Frau Else’s flights of fancy.

  “A dead camel?” he echoed.

  “Of course, we hope we will some day be able to add a camel to our collection,” Dr. Neuburg said with forced cheer. “But for now... there is no camel.”

  Frau Else snif
fed. “No camel?”

  Once more, Herr Renner’s and Georgina’s gazes met, and he raised his brows in silent inquiry. Surely he too must wonder about the old woman’s sudden interest in camels.

  “No camel,” Dr. Neuburg said decisively, before he made a valiant attempt at changing the topic. “My dear Frau von Allesina, it is truly heartening to see members of the public take such interest in the activities of our young naturalist society. We must thank you most heartily. I am sure you must have heard that we are planning to build a new museum for Frankfurt and that the most honorable city councillor von Bethmann has been generous enough to support our endeavours.”

  “A museum for dead birds?”

  “Well...” At Frau Else’s sharp tone, he faltered, but recovered quickly enough. “Not only for birds, though we are fortunate indeed that Professor Freyreiss has started to send us specimens from Brazil. We want to build a collection, you must understand, that is unique in Europe. We have already been presented with four volumes of the Wetterauischen Flora by Scherbius and Meyer, together with instances of plants from the Wetterau area, as well as with the mineralogical collection of Freiherr Holzhausen. In addition, the Senckenbergische Naturforschende Gesellschaft is supporting Herrn Menge’s journey to Iceland this year, from where he will bring us samples of the fauna typical for this mysterious country,” Dr. Neuburg finished in almost triumphant tones, before he fell silent and eyed Frau Else expectantly.

  But she was busy finishing off her slice of roasted pork and did not even spare him a glance. To prevent the poor man from feeling utterly downcast, Georgina felt compelled to offer a remark. “It sounds rather fascinating.”

  “Indeed,” Herr Renner hastened to add. “Very fascinating.” He threw Georgina a look, then took a gulp from his glass.

  As her employer still didn’t show any signs that she would take up the conversation any time soon, Georgina cleared her throat and turned to the young explorer. “If not camels, what did you bring back home from your journeys in Africa, Dr. Rüppell?” She must have hit the right tone of polite interest, because he launched in a detailed description of the Egyptian wonders he had seen and the ancient papyrus scrolls he had brought back from his travels along the Nile. They had been sold to the city library of Frankfurt to finance in parts the purchase of Dr. Meyer’s wondrous collection.

  Frau Else dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “And thus we come back to the subject of the unfortunate dead birds. I assume”—she turned to Dr. Neuburg—“you wish me to help finance that purchase as well.”

  Oh dear, Georgina thought.

  Herr Renner grimaced.

  They both knew their employer had a dim view of people who tried to wheedle money from her for whatever grand purposes.

  “Of course, we would never simply assume...” Dr. Neuburg blushed a little. “But, of course, any contribution would be most helpful indeed.”

  “Indeed,” Frau Else echoed wryly, then surprised both her companion and her secretary by adding, “Very well. But”—she held up a hand before her visitors could utter any effusions of thanks—“you must understand that I am a tradesman’s wife and as such would never buy any stock prior to having thoroughly inspected it.” Expectantly, she looked from one man to the other.

  “But of course, gnädige Frau.” A broad smile spread across Neuburg’s face. “We will be most happy to show you the plans for the museum, and I am sure Dr. Meyer would gladly oblige and let you inspect his collection of birds for yourself.”

  “How utterly marvellous,” Frau Else chirped. “But surely you didn’t think I would come myself? An old woman like me?” She gave a little chuckle.

  Georgina’s jaw nearly dropped.

  “Oh no,” Frau Else continued merrily. “Come all the way to Frankfurt? I wouldn’t be able to face such a strenuous journey at my age, surely you must see that. But I would be most happy to send my secretary and my companion in my stead. I trust their judgment implicitly, and their eyes could not be any keener than my own.” With a beaming smile she turned her attention on Georgina and Herr Renner. “Is that not so, my dears?”

  Georgina’s heart sank. So none of this had been about dead birds or living camels after all. Instead, Frau Else was matchmaking.

  Chapter 4

  Ghosts, as the Earl of Ashburnham was about to find out much to his dismay, could not be suppressed forever. They waited patiently, abiding their time while the days passed and became weeks and the sweet, heavy scent of roses filled the gardens of Ashburnham Hall. As was his job, Mr. Cobbett kept St. Asaph occupied, enabling the earl to concentrate on the running of his estate. Why, Ash had even started to make plans to go to London in autumn and explore the delights of a big city for himself once more. After all, it was well past time he did.

  Once or twice, he acquiesced to the wishes of the dowager countess and hosted a dinner for the families in their neighborhood. On such occasions he found the exuberance of the young ladies and misses present rather disconcerting, but fortunately the drawing room at Ashburnham Hall was bare of all musical instruments, thus nobody could get it into their heads to roll up the carpet for some impromptu dancing. While he had attended such events in his youth, he now thought the hopping around in the confinement of a drawing room much too vulgar for his taste. Indeed, whenever he dined at somebody else’s house he made sure to leave well before this part of the entertainments commenced.

  Balls were, of course, different, as the music was provided for by professional players, and the notes of the fortepiano formed a discreet backdrop for flute and violin, blended together in perfect harmony. Thus, once or twice, he accepted invitations to one of their neighbors’ small balls, much to Lady Ashburnham’s delight.

  If he noticed that the Baron Marsden’s daughter threw him beguiling looks from limpid blue eyes, he never gave any indication of it. Finally, a careful word from the dowager countess to the mother ensured the girl was made aware of her place and cast her cow eyes at somebody else’s son.

  Curiously though, nobody seemed to notice the steady flow of letters addressed to the old vicar, who had seen the earl grow from a small, cheerful boy into the man he was today. Each and every letter he passed on to young St. Asaph, who had become a regular visitor at the vicarage. And nobody noticed when one or two days later the boy returned to the village with another letter for the vicar to post, attention to an address in a small town in Hesse-Nassau. If the maids thought the sudden increase in the demand for notepaper odd, none of them mentioned it to the housekeeper or the butler, for, goodness knew, the young master had always needed large amounts of paper of various sizes. And the old vicar, the only one who knew about the letters, kept silent about them. Yet whenever St. Asaph visited him, the young face much too pale and serious, his old, wise eyes rested on the boy in shrewd speculation.

  No, ghosts could not be suppressed forever. And one day—

  —they pounced.

  For that afternoon, when Ashburnham sat in his study, the windows flung wide open while the world outside dozed in the warm summer breeze, tones that he had not heard in years floated to him. At first, they came so softly he hardly noticed something was amiss. Only when the fine hairs on his body rose did he become aware of it—and ice gripped his heart.

  No, it could not be.

  Breathing became a struggle, and all the while the sweet notes of the grand piano lured him, mocked him. As if it were her fingers that danced over the keys.

  Memories teased and flickered—her slender figure sheathed in shimmering silk. The sight of the sweet swell of her white breasts as he leaned against the grand piano, staring down at her with lust heating the blood in his veins. Viewed from above, the dress was cut almost indecently low, yet she had left off the fichu—on purpose, he supposed—and he imagined his fingers slipping into the valley between those soft globes, tickling, seeking treasure, digging into pliant flesh. When she finally looked up, a mischievous smile played around her lips and her eyes sparkled as if she k
new... as if she knew how much she stirred him.

  Bitterness churned in Ash’s stomach.

  Oh yes, she had known how to play him even better than those blasted black and white keys! She had known what a besotted fool he had been, a brainless ninny in the throes of calf love...

  “No!” Ash pushed himself up, anger replacing the apprehension. It was not her playing the blasted instrument. Of course not. But whoever it was, how dared they touch the grand piano?

  His hands compressed into fists, he flung the door to his study open and marched towards the long-abandoned music room. The clear, sparkling sounds of the piano accompanied him, and with each haunting note his fury grew. It rolled through his veins like molten lava and seemed to devour him alive. It seared his lungs; his breathing became ragged.

  And then, finally, he was at the half-open door of the music room and would have stormed into the room, but—

  —abruptly, the music stopped.

  “Oh my lord,” he heard the voice of his housekeeper from inside the room. “It’s been years since somebody touched this instrument.”

  “Years?” St. Asaph said.

  Ash froze.

  St. Asaph?

  Very slowly, very quietly, he stepped even closer to the door.

  “Years, my lord,” Mrs. Cornwell said. “Why, nobody’s played the instrument ever since your mother—” She ended on a gasp.

  “My mother?” All of a sudden, St. Asaph’s voice was sharp.

  And when Ash leaned forward he could also see the boy, sitting on the old piano stool. One hand still on the instrument, he had half turned towards Mrs. Cornwell. “My mother?” he repeated.

  The housekeeper made a strange sound. Her hand rose to circle her throat. “Beg your pardon, my lord. I shouldn’t have m-mentioned her.”

  Oh yes, Ash thought grimly. You shouldn’t have. Had he not made this clear seventeen years ago after—